The mahie, which has been mentioned as a succedaneum for ripe bread-fruit, before the season for gathering a fresh crop comes on, is thus made: 

The fruit is gathered just before it is perfectly ripe, and being laid in heaps, is closely covered with leaves; in this state it undergoes a fermentation, and becomes disagreeably sweet:  The core is then taken out entire, which is done by gently pulling the stalk, and the rest of the fruit is thrown into a hole which is dug for that purpose, generally in the houses, and neatly lined in the bottom and sides with grass; the whole is then covered with leaves, and heavy stones laid upon them:  In this state it undergoes a second fermentation, and becomes sour, after which it will suffer no change for many months:  It is taken out of the hole as it is wanted for use, and being made into balls, it is wrapped up in leaves and baked; after it is dressed, it will keep five or six-weeks.  It is eaten both cold and hot, and the natives seldom make a meal without it, though to us the taste was as disagreeable as that of a pickled olive generally is the first time it is eaten.

As the making of this mahie depends, like brewing, upon fermentation, so, like brewing, it sometimes fails, without their being able to ascertain the cause; it is very natural, therefore, that the making it should be connected with superstitious notions and ceremonies:  It generally falls to the lot of the old women, who will suffer no creature to touch any thing belonging to it, but those whom they employ as assistants, nor even to go into that part of the house where the operation is carrying on.  Mr Banks happened to spoil a large quantity of it only by inadvertently touching a leaf which lay upon it.  The old woman, who then presided over these mysteries, told him, that the process would fail; and immediately uncovered the hole in a fit of vexation and despair.  Mr Banks regretted the mischief he had done, but was somewhat consoled by the opportunity which it gave him of examining the preparation, which perhaps, but for such an accident, would never have offered.[9]

[Footnote 9:  “This paste,” we are told in the missionary account, “makes a most nutritious and sweet pudding, and all the children of the family and their relations feast on it eagerly.  During this festive season they seldom quit the house, and continue wrapped up in cloth:  And it is surprising to see them in a month become so fair and fat, that they can scarcely breathe.  The children afterwards grow amazingly.  The baked bread-fruit in this state very much in taste resembles gingerbread.”  This delicate and wholesome provision, it is said, is not confined to the chiefs and wealthier people, as all who will be at the pains to provide an oven, may readily be supplied with bread-fruit from their neighbours.  Such is the generosity of these interesting people, that all of a man’s own rank are at all times ready to contribute largely to his support, on his making known his need.  In how many respects are these islanders worthy of being held up as examples for us!—­E.]