The Polynesians have. a literature hundreds of years old, but, like the Homeric poems in their earliest stage, it is oral and unwritten, and has been handed down from generation to generation by public and private recitations. That literature consists of genealogies of their gods and noblemen, songs in praise of their chiefs and ancestral heroes, mythical stories and folk-songs. In India, and specially in the province of Rajpaland, there is a class of professional bards, whose duty it is to treasure in their memories the genealogy of each noble family and the folk-lore of the race. At certain tinies of the year, such a bard sets out on his journey of visits, travelling from the court of one prince to another; and is everywhere received with kindness and welcomed. If, since his last visit, some joyful incident has happened in the family of the host, as the birth of a boy or the marriage of a princess, he sings a poetical and much embellished account of the ancestors and their brave deeds, and adds something new to suit the occasion. At banquets he gives songs and recitations of any kind that his patron or guests may ask for.

Among the Polynesians something similar has long existed, and I shall now speak of that branch of them which occupies the Samoan group of islands. A very large body of native tradition about things human and divine is preserved as folklore in the memories of certain official men, who may be called "legend-keepers." These are honorable men, both by morals and by rank, for by birth-right they are mostly alib, that is, chiefs," and as an idea of sacredness attaches to their rank and their office, they are above the suspicion of falsifying the records which they keep, or of allowing them to be corrupted, for that would be sacrilege. Of course, I am now speaking of Samoa as it was half a century ago. I chance to have in my possession a considerable bundle of myths from Samoa, written down, there, about that time by an English missionary, who labored long in that field, and who, having gained the con

fidence of one of these "legend-keepers," was allowed to preserve in writing to his dictation many of these interesting records. One of these myths has been chosen as my present theme.

It has for title “Le malaga na alu i le laga," that is, "The travelling-party that went [up] to the heavens." It so much resembles the classical story of The war of the gods and the giants," that it may interest you to trace the local coloring which thes Polynesians have given to that story. And for that purpose I will first write an outline of the myth, as translated from the text, and will then offer some remarks.

THE MYTH.

In the pantheon of the Samoans, the supreme god is Tangaloa, who dwells in the highest heavens; a region of unclouded brightness and unruffled calm. He has many sons, who are called the Sa Tangaloa, for Sa in Samoan means "race, family." Some of these sons he permits to dwell in the lower heavens and rule there; others, the sons of these, but born of human mothers, remaining on the earth below, and many of them are giants with such names as Losi, Pava, Le-Fanonga, Moso, Tié-tié-a-Talanga. These giants are not reckoned among the Sa-Tangaloa, but are treated as inferiors. The chief of them is Losi, who was the fisherman of the gods and had charge of the sea. He is the son of Malae-La,* who is the husband of the daughter of the first human pair of Samoans.

One day the Sa-Tangaloa, the young demi-gods in the lower heavens, wanted some fish to eat; so they sent down a message to Losi. Losi obeyed orders, went and caught some very large fish, tied them by the tail to a long rope, and then told the messengers to come and take the fish. They came, but the fish were lively and dragged them hither and thither, so that they had to call to Losi for help. He said, "You go on first and I will take up the fish." So he went up with one hundred large fish; he took so many because the large house in the heavens, where the single young men lived, had a hundred doors. When he arrived there, Losi placed a fish over night on the threshold of each door; and in the early dawn, when the young men were coming out, each stepped upon the slippery thing and fell down. One got a broken arm, another a wounded head, and so on; this took away all the enjoyment of their fish, and left them a grudge against Losi for his practical joke.

Hospitality, however, required that the young men should prepare an oven of food as a compliment to their guest, and Losi went and stood beside them, looking at its preparation. In those days there was no tare food, or bread food or yams on

• Malae is the open space in a village where the people assem2 e on public occasions, Lan the "sun

the earth below. Losi, therefore, slily picked up and secreted one of the scraps of taro about his person under his girdle. The young men observed his movements, and, suspecting what he had done, they laid hold of him, and searching him they most indecently exposed his person; but they did not find his treasure. He went off in great indignation at the disgrace. On the earth below, he planted the taro; it became very productive, and he got from it a fine crop. After a while some of the Sa-Tangaloa came down to earth, and, seeing his plantation of taro, they said: "After all, he did bring down the things of heaven.' And so they carried off all his fruit. This incensed him still more, and he resolved to have revenge.

And Losi took council with his brethren, the earth-born giants, who were men of prodigious strength and bigness. So they all met and went up to the heavens as a friendly travelling party of visitors. But the Sa-Tangaloa suspected their design, and, although offering the usual civility of food, they meant to attack the giants when engaged in eating. Losi's men were on their guard, and while the rest of them looked on, two of the brethren came forward and ate up all the offering, along with the yoke-sticks on which it had been brought and the baskets; not a thing was left. So the Sa-Tangaloa were foiled.

Next day, the visitors were invited to share in the sports and trials of strength. The young men had one champion, Tangaloa of the-eight-livers, who they thought would conquer and kill all their adversaries. This was a chief, about whose body hung his livers-eight in number. But the earth-born Moso encountered him; the two joined in a hand-to-hand combat with clubs; they lifted up their blows and the eight-livered hero got a gash; one of his livers was cut off; again another blow caught him and another liver was cut off; the eightlivered became weak. Then his friends the Lava-sii came forward to pay his ransom. So again the Sa-Tangaloa were foiled, and earth-born Mosa got all the honor.

Again the next day, came on the sport of floating on the bosom of the river, which, with its impetuous current, was likely to sweep away the visitors not accustomed to it. But Lautolo, one of them, stood in the midst of the water, and when any one of his friends was swamped, he took hold of him and lifted him out. The Sa-Tangaloa looked for drowned men; but, lo! the giants were there on the bank of the river, shaking the water out of their hair, and all safe.

Last of all, the next day, the rain-maker in the heavens brought down a deluge of rain. The visitors were prepared for that, for Moso had caught many birds, and taking off their wings and feathers he had decked himself with them and, sitting down like a gigantic brood hen, he sheltered all his comrades from the rain under his wings. When the rain ceased, the warriors came out and attacked the Sa-Tangaloa, beat them cruelly and made them acknowledge themselves vanquished.