This tradition, it appears, had been piously handed down from family to family.  The natives of Hawai—­who are not more extravagant in the matter of idols than some nations who boast a larger amount of civilization, but who do not destroy them so often—­enrolled Rono amongst the list of their divinities.  An image of him was set up, sacrifices were instituted in his honor.  Every year the day of his departure was kept sacred, and devoted to religious ceremonies.  The twelfth hundred moon had just set, when a large boat appeared in the bay, and a man came ashore.  The high priest of the temple, Raou, and his daughter, On La, priestess of Rono, solemnly declared that the man in question was Rono himself, who had returned at the precise time named, and in the manner he promised.

It was, therefore, clear from this statement that Willis was to be henceforward Rono the Great.

Jack was rather pleased than otherwise to learn that he was the companion of a real live divinity.  It assured him, in the first place, that the danger of his being converted into a stew or a fricassee was not imminent.  He did not forget, however, that the consequences might be perilous if, by any chance, the illusion ceased; for he knew that the greater the height from which a man falls, the less the mercy shown to him when he is down.  As soon, therefore, as the ceremonies had a little relaxed, and Willis was left some freedom of action, Jack went forward, and knelt before him in his turn.

“O sublime Rono,” said he, “I know now why your nose has escaped all the rubbings that mine has had to undergo.”

“Do you?” said Willis; “glad to hear it, for I am as much in the dark as ever.”

Jack then related to him the fabulous legend he had just heard.

After a while, Willis shook off his entourage as gently as possible, and succeeded in getting out of the temple.  Accompanied by Jack, he proceeded towards the shore, receiving, as he went, the adoration of the people.  The route was strewn with fruit, cocoa-nuts, and pigs, and the natives were highly delighted when any of their offerings were accepted by the deified Rono.

The islanders appeared mild, docile, and intelligent, notwithstanding the singular delusion that possessed them.  Living from day to day, they were, doubtless, ignorant of those continual cares and calculations for the future that in the old world pursue us even into the hours of sleep.  Were they happier in consequence?  Yes, if the child is happier than the man, and if we admit that we often loose in tranquillity and happiness what we gain in knowledge and perfection:  yes, if happiness is not exclusively attached to certain peoples and certain climates; yes, if it is true that, with contentment, happiness is everywhere to be found.

The houses of the Hawaians are singular structures, and scarcely can be called dwellings.  They consist of three rows of posts, two on each side and one in the middle, the whole covered with a slanting roof, but without any kind of wall whatever.