Let us suppose that a party of Europeans have arrived at a village, and are the guests of the chief and people generally.  Food is at once brought to them, even before any visits of ceremony are paid, for the news of the coming of a party of travellers has doubtless been brought to the village the previous day by a messenger from the last stopping-place.  The repast provided may be simple, but will be ample, baked pork most likely being the piece de resistance, with roast fowl, baked pigeons, breadfruit (if in season), and yams or taro, with a plentiful supply of young drinking-coconuts. (Should the host be the local teacher, some deplorable tea and a loaf of terrible bread are sure to be produced.) This preliminary meal finished, the formalities begin by a visit from the chief and his tulafale, or “talking-man,” accompanied by the leading citizens.  The talking-man then makes a speech, welcoming the guests, and is by no means sparing of “buttery” phrases which indicate the intense delight, &c., of the inhabitants of the village at having the honoured privilege of entertaining such noble and distinguished visitors, &c.  A suitable reply is made by the guests (through an interpreter, if no one among them can speak Samoan), and then follows a ceremonious brewing and drinking of kava.  This is a most important function in Samoa, and to the stranger unaccustomed to the manner of making the beverage, the ordeal of drinking it is an exceedingly trying one.  It is prepared as follows:  The dried kava root is cut up in thin slices and handed to a number of young women, who masticate it and then deposit it in a large wooden tanoa, or bowl.  Water is then added in sufficient quantity till the tanoa is half-filled with a thin yellowish-green liquid, which is carefully strained by a thick “swab” of the beaten bark of the fau-tree.  This straining operation is performed only by a very experienced lady, and is watched in respectful silence.  Then the drink is handed round in a polished bowl of coconut-shell.  But for a full description of all the details of a kava-drinking, let me commend my readers to the best and most charming book ever written on South Sea life, “South Sea Bubbles,” by the late Earl of Pembroke and Dr. Kingsley.  Nowadays, however, many Samoan households, out of deference to European tastes, have the kava root grated instead of being chewed.

The kava-drinking over, all stiffness and formality disappears for the time, and the visitors are surrounded by the villagers, eager to learn the latest news from Apia, and from the world abroad.  The discussion of political matters always has a strong attraction for Samoans, who are anxious to learn the state of affairs in Europe, and their knowledge and shrewdness is surprising.  Should there be any white ladies present, the brown ones make much of them.  The Samoans are a fine, handsome race, and the faces and figures of many of the young women are very attractive;