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holed me, and said, "I come to thank you for your words about the priest Tamiene. I shall report your words to my priest and the bishop, who will be much gratified.”

There was a fierce battle over the Taxes Bill. It was in vain for us to explain that the abolition of interest on arrears was a large concession, and that the land-tax of 9 dollars was no higher than the old poll-tax, since the education rate had been abolished. It was in vain that we promised that as soon as the country was out of debt we would consider a proposal of reduction. The majority had expected in a vague way that Parliament would reduce the individual taxes from £2 to £1 a man; and, had the country been out of debt, we should have been ready enough to recognise that their request was reasonable, for direct taxation, vexatious to a Tongan as to a white man, is only defensible when it is light. But the Government knew that any reduction would mean a deficit in their Budget, unless Parliament would consent. to abolish some half of the offices of the cumbrous Civil Service, and they declared their intention of resigning in a body if they were beaten. Then the aged Niukabu rose sobbing, and cried aloud, imploring the Premier not to act fakapapalagi (in white man's fashion). "We are all Tongans, not white men, therefore pity us and reduce our taxes." But the Ministry were obdurate, and Niukabu's sobs were drowned by those who dreaded a change of Ministry worse than taxes.

I had now been eleven months in Tonga, the greater part of my Code had become law, and the remainder was certain to be passed without alteration: the Ministry had the confidence of Parliament, and there was a sufficient

balance in the Treasury to meet all immediate liabilities, after paying off two instalments of the debt to Civil servants for arrears of pay. My work was done: there remained only the printing of the Code, and this I was to superintend in Auckland. For the last five weeks I had been working the House at high pressure, for they were not accustomed to sit for six successive days in the week. It was time to leave them to finish the session after their own fashion. The last days before the arrival of the steamer were spent in leave-taking. The Privy Council met in order that I might take a formal leave of the king. I was spared any speech-making. The old man said a few words full of quiet dignity and regret that pleased me more than any elaborate and effusive thanks would have done. Later in the day a formal letter of thanks, signed in his tremulous handwriting, was brought to me. On the day of the steamer's arrival a message was conveyed to me that my presence in the House was not desired. During the course of the morning Nuku, now converted into an ardent supporter of the present Ministry, by his threatened impeachment, and by a term of imprisonment for a civil offence, appeared in correct parliamentary attire, and presented me with an address of thanks. He added a message that the House was waiting to receive me. I went first to say farewell to the king, for whom I, in common with every one who knew him well, felt a strong respect and affection. There was in this good-bye an added sadness, in that we both knew that we should never meet again. May God guard you!" he said, as we shook hands. "Who knows whether we shall meet again, tama? but I think not, for my time is near."

As I passed the gates he was still standing in the sun looking after me. I never saw him again, for eighteen months later he was carried to the Malaekula, full of days and honour, wanting but four years to complete a century of life.

In the House every member was in his place. As soon as I had taken my seat Tungi left the chair and came to the table. He had, he said, been deputed by the House to tender to me the thanks of the chiefs and people of Tonga, and to ask me to accept from them a memento of my sojourn among them. At the end of his speech he put a heavy bag into my hands. In my reply I explained that the rules of my service forbade me to accept any present from them, and that for doing no more than was required of him no man was entitled to reward. Instead of so valuable a present, I begged them to give me something of little value to remind me of them when I was far away,-whose value should lie in the associations that clung to it instead of in its intrinsic worth; for I should prize such a present even more highly, in that it would not carry with it the discharge of an obligation. afterwards found that, despite my representations, they had asked the High Commissioner to present me on their behalf with a beautiful service of plate, a gift that I shall always prize the more that it was sent after I had left them, and any temporary heat of enthusiasm had had time to flame out, leaving a steady warmth of feeling behind it.

I

As I spoke of the vicissitudes of life that throw men into close companionship for a common work, and then separates them, perhaps for ever, I saw that they as well

as I were overcome with emotion. It was hard to part with men who had been such staunch comrades in a hard fight, knowing that in the ordinary course of the world I should never see them again.

The king's band had meanwhile assembled outside the House, struck up a march as we came out, and I found myself the centre of a procession led by the band, and followed by all the members of Parliament. The third whistle had long sounded, and the steamer began to cast off as I said my last good-bye. The propeller churned the sleepy water into foam, we glided seawards, and in a few moments the faces became indistinct, and faded into a confusion of waving draperies,-fainter and fainter, till the low shore grew grey and woolly, merged into a cloud-bank, and disappeared. We were alone in the Pacific, bound for the great world, and all the brief turmoil of Tonga and its turgid politics slid into a pleasant. memory as unreal as the clouds that hung over the spot on the horizon where it had vanished.

J.M.C.

POSTSCRIPT.

MANY things happen in three years. My narrative should properly have ended where I have left it; but, since circumstances have combined to defer its publication, I cannot pass over all that has happened since 1891. I left Tonga clear of her embarrassments, with a strong popular Government, and every promise of prosperity. In 1894 she is divided in her councils, suspicious of her rulers, and financially unsound. Her destiny depended upon the wisdom of the king's advisers. It was too much to hope that, without any European assistance, a native Government could steer clear of difficulties; but I hoped, at least, that the lessons of economy they had learnt so painfully would ensure the native Cabinet against living beyond their means. When I left, Mr Moss was appointed clerk to the Premier, and for a time all went well. In December 1891 there was a balance of £8000 in the treasury, after all debts had been discharged. Then came a series of disasters. Mr Moss died, and there was keen competition for his vacant place. While they were still wrangling and intriguing, the king was taken suddenly ill, and after only four days' illness he died on February 18, 1893. He had alarmed them so often with his sudden seizures that the blow came upon the people almost unprepared. They had come to look upon their king of ninety-six as immortal. Even the oldest of them could not remember a time when George Tubou was not a central figure in the country. All work came to an end. The cocoa-nuts lay unhusked upon the ground for months: