ALTHOUGH, from its novelty, life at Captain Bob's was pleasant enough,
for the time; there were some few annoyances connected with it
anything but agreeable to a "soul of sensibility."
Prejudiced against us by the malevolent representations of the consul
and others, many worthy foreigners ashore regarded us as a set of
lawless vagabonds; though, truth to speak, better behaved sailors
never stepped on the island, nor any who gave less trouble to the
natives. But, for all this, whenever we met a respectably-dressed
European, ten to one he shunned us by going over to the other side of
the road. This was very unpleasant, at least to myself; though,
certes, it did not prey upon the minds of the others.
To give an instance.
Of a fine evening in Tahiti - but they are all fine evenings there - you
may see a bevy of silk bonnets and parasols passing along the Broom
Road: perhaps a band of pale, little white urchins - sickly
exotics - and, oftener still, sedate, elderly gentlemen, with canes;
at whose appearance the natives, here and there, slink into their
huts. These are the missionaries, their wives, and children, taking a
family airing. Sometimes, by the bye, they take horse, and ride down
to Point Venus and back; a distance of several miles. At this place
is settled the only survivor of the first missionaries that
landed - an old, white-headed, saint-like man, by the name of Wilson,
the father of our friend, the consul.
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