killed, and so falls a victim to the priest’s resentment, who, no doubt (if necessary), has address enough to persuade the people that he was a bad man.  If I except their funeral ceremonies, all the knowledge that has been obtained of their religion, has been from information:  And as their language is but imperfectly understood, even by those who pretend to the greatest knowledge of it, very little on this head is yet known with certainty.[3]

The liquor which they make from the plant called Ava ava, is expressed from the root, and not from the leaves, as mentioned in the narrative of my former voyage.  The manner of preparing this liquor is as simple as it is disgusting to an European.  It is thus:  Several people take some of the root, and chew it till it is soft and pulpy, then they spit it out into a platter or other vessel, every one into the same; when a sufficient quantity is chewed, more or less water is put to it, according as it is to be strong or weak; the juice, thus diluted, is strained through some fibrous stuff like fine shavings; after which it is fit for drinking, and this is always done immediately.  It has a pepperish taste, drinks flat, and rather insipid.  But, though it is intoxicating I only saw one instance where it had that effect, as they generally drink it with great moderation, and but little at a time.  Sometimes they chew this root in their mouths, as Europeans do tobacco, and swallow their spittle; and sometimes I have seen them eat it wholly.

At Ulietea they cultivate great quantities of this plant.  At Otaheite but very little.  I believe there are but few islands in this sea, that do not produce more or less of it; and the natives apply it to the same use, as appears by Le Mair’s account of Horn Island, in which he speaks of the natives making a liquor from a plant in the same manner as above mentioned.

Great injustice has been done the women of Otaheite, and the Society isles, by those who have represented them, without exception, as ready to grant the last favour to any man who will come up to their price.  But this is by no means the case; the favours of married women, and also the unmarried of the better sort, are as difficult to be obtained here, as in any other country whatever.  Neither can the charge be understood indiscriminately of the unmarried of the lower class, for many of these admit of no such familiarities.  That there are prostitutes here, as well as in other countries, is very true, perhaps more in proportion, and such were those who came on board the ships to our people, and frequented the post we had on shore.  By seeing these mix indiscriminately with those of a different turn, even of the first rank, one is at first inclined to think that they are all disposed the same way, and that the only difference is in the price.  But the truth is, the woman who becomes a prostitute does not seem, in their opinion, to have committed a crime of so deep a dye as to exclude her