
which poor Toby and myself had bestowed upon our youthful guides the afternoon
we entered the valley. They were evidently reserved for gala days; and during
those of the festival they rendered the young islanders who wore them very
distinguished characters. The small number who were similarly adorned, and the
great value they appeared to place upon the most common and most trivial
articles, furnished ample evidence of the very restricted intercourse they held
with vessels touching at the island. A few cotton handkerchiefs of a gay
pattern, tied about the neck, and suffered to fall over the shoulders, strips of
fanciful calico, swathed about the loins, were nearly all I saw.
    Indeed, throughout the valley, there were few things of any kind to be seen
of European origin. All I ever saw, besides the articles just alluded to, were
the six muskets preserved in the Ti, and three or four similar implements of
warfare hung up in other houses, some small canvas bags, partly filled with
bullets and powder, and half a dozen old hatchet-heads, with the edges blunted
and battered to such a degree as to render them utterly useless. These last
seemed to be regarded as nearly worthless by the natives; and several times they
held up one of them before me, and throwing it aside with a gesture of disgust,
manifested their contempt for anything that could so soon become unserviceable.
    But the muskets, the powder, and the bullets were held in most extravagant
esteem. The former, from their great age and the peculiarities they exhibited,
were well worthy a place in any antiquarian's armoury. I remember, in
particular, one that hung in the Ti, and which Mehevi - supposing as a matter of
course that I was able to repair it - had put into my hands for that purpose. It
was one of those clumsy, old-fashioned English pieces known generally as Tower
Hill muskets, and, for aught I know, might have been left on the island by
Wallace, Carteret, Cook, or Vancouver. The stock was half rotten and worm-eaten;
the lock was as rusty and about as well adapted to its ostensible purpose as an
old door-hinge; the threading of the screws about the trigger was completely
worn away; while the barrel shook in the wood. Such was the weapon the chief
desired me to restore to its original condition. As I did not possess the
accomplishments of a gunsmith, and was likewise destitute of the necessary
tools, I was reluctantly obliged to signify my inability to perform the task. At
this unexpected communication Mehevi regarded me, for a moment
