me with acclamation.  It was impossible to be deceived; this was a genuine feeling:  they were proud of their private game, had been cut to the quick by the want of interest shown in it by others, and expanded under the flattery of my attention.  Tembinok’ puts up a double stake, and receives in return two hands to choose from:  a shallow artifice which the wives (in all these years) have not yet fathomed.  He himself, when talking with me privately, made not the least secret that he was secure of winning; and it was thus he explained his recent liberality on board the Equator.  He let the wives buy their own tobacco, which pleased them at the moment.  He won it back at cards, which made him once more, and without fresh expense, that which he ought to be,—­the sole fount of all indulgences.  And he summed the matter up in that phrase with which he almost always concludes any account of his policy:  ‘Mo’ betta.’

The palace compound is laid with broken coral, excruciating to the eyes and the bare feet, but exquisitely raked and weeded.  A score or more of buildings lie in a sort of street along the palisade and scattered on the margin of the terrace; dwelling-houses for the wives and the attendants, storehouses for the king’s curios and treasures, spacious maniap’s for feast or council, some on pillars of wood, some on piers of masonry.  One was still in hand, a new invention, the king’s latest born:  a European frame-house built for coolness inside a lofty maniap’:  its roof planked like a ship’s deck to be a raised, shady, and yet private promenade.  It was here the king spent hours with Rubam; here I would sometimes join them; the place had a most singular appearance; and I must say I was greatly taken with the fancy, and joined with relish in the counsels of the architects.

Suppose we had business with his majesty by day:  we strolled over the sand and by the dwarfish palms, exchanged a ‘Konamaori’ with the crone on duty, and entered the compound.  The wide sheet of coral glared before us deserted; all having stowed themselves in dark canvas from the excess of room.  I have gone to and fro in that labyrinth of a place, seeking the king; and the only breathing creature I could find was when I peered under the eaves of a maniap’, and saw the brawny body of one of the wives stretched on the floor, a naked Amazon plunged in noiseless slumber.  If it were still the hour of the ‘morning papers’ the quest would be more easy, the half-dozen obsequious, sly dogs squatting on the ground outside a house, crammed as far as possible in its narrow shadow, and turning to the king a row of leering faces.  Tembinok’ would be within, the flaps of the cabin raised, the trade blowing through, hearing their report.  Like journalists nearer home, when the day’s news were scanty, these would make the more of it in words; and I have known one to fill up a barren morning with an imaginary conversation of two dogs.  Sometimes the king deigns to laugh, sometimes to question