For just one moment we have a seeming flash of comprehension of, the Kanaka’s reason for exiling himself:  he goes away to acquire civilization.  Yes, he was naked and not ashamed, now he is clothed and knows how to be ashamed; he was unenlightened; now he has a Waterbury watch; he was unrefined, now he has jewelry, and something to make him smell good; he was a nobody, a provincial, now he has been to far countries and can show off.

It all looks plausible—­for a moment.  Then the missionary takes hold of this explanation and pulls it to pieces, and dances on it, and damages it beyond recognition.

“Admitting that the foregoing description is the average one, the average sequel is this:  The cuffs and collars, if used at all, are carried off by youngsters, who fasten them round the leg, just below the knee, as ornaments.  The Waterbury, broken and dirty, finds its way to the trader, who gives a trifle for it; or the inside is taken out, the wheels strung on a thread and hung round the neck.  Knives, axes, calico, and handkerchiefs are divided among friends, and there is hardly one of these apiece.  The boxes, the keys often lost on the road home, can be bought for 2s. 6d.  They are to be seen rotting outside in almost any shore village on Tanna. (I speak of what I have seen.) A returned Kanaka has been furiously angry with me because I would not buy his trousers, which he declared were just my fit.  He sold them afterwards to one of my Aniwan teachers for 9d. worth of tobacco—­a pair of trousers that probably cost him 8s. or 10s. in Queensland.  A coat or shirt is handy for cold weather.  The white handkerchiefs, the ‘senet’ (perfumery), the umbrella, and perhaps the hat, are kept.  The boots have to take their chance, if they do not happen to fit the copra trader.  ‘Senet’ on the hair, streaks of paint on the face, a dirty white handkerchief round the neck, strips of turtle shell in the ears, a belt, a sheath and knife, and an umbrella constitute the rig of returned Kanaka at home the day after landing.”

A hat, an umbrella, a belt, a neckerchief.  Otherwise stark naked.  All in a day the hard-earned “civilization” has melted away to this.  And even these perishable things must presently go.  Indeed, there is but a single detail of his civilization that can be depended on to stay by him:  according to the missionary, he has learned to swear.  This is art, and art is long, as the poet says.

In all countries the laws throw light upon the past.  The Queensland law for the regulation of the Labor Traffic is a confession.  It is a confession that the evils charged by the missionaries upon the traffic had existed in the past, and that they still existed when the law was made.  The missionaries make a further charge:  that the law is evaded by the recruiters, and that the Government Agent sometimes helps them to do it.  Regulation 31 reveals two