A Haven No Longer

Mrs. Grundy Moves In At

Tahiti

From Our Own Correspondent

Papeete, Nov. 4.

'X'AHITI once had repute as a refuge * of peace for the man harassed by the ciatter and din of teacups and galled by the gyves of decorum. There was, indeed, a time when this was true.

In those happy and spacious days, we foregathered about heavily-laden tables at each others houses or we went on picnics to some shadowy valley where the music of brawling water and the roar of a distant waterfau, echoing and re-echoing among the high cliffs of the mountains, made an orchestral back ground for the strange harmonies of Polynesian voices. There we bathed, and sang, and feasted until the sun was low in the west. And when we came home it it was to sleep dreamlessly, to awaken in time to see Tautrua-e-Hiti-i- Matavai (the morning star) a flaming jewel in the eastern sky and breathe the wine-like air of aahita (before the dawn). It was like living in that golden age, when the world was young.

All that is changed now.

Instead of the chuckling laughter of water among the boulders of its river bed, our ears are assaulted by the bray of saxophones and the bellow of trom bones at dances which last until morn ing. We are deafened by the clatter of tongues and spoons at afternoon teas.

We are flogged with scorpions in post mortems over our errors at the bridge table. And, what is worse, the cool, airy comfort of our customary apparel has been interdicted and we are com pelled to suffocate in the grim black of formal dress.

We have battled valiantly for our liberties, but the forces against us are overwhelming. Mrs. Grundy has moved in with all her baggage!

One by one, the weapons to reduce rebellious husbands to the state of quak ing jelly-fish have been placed in the hands of our womenfolk. The shackles from which we escaped when we fled our native Suburbia are again riveted on our limbs.

We are told that we ought to be heartily ashamed of our atavistic yearn ings, but we are not. It is fear only which keeps us in the paths of rectitude and progress. For we know that if we look back too often, the fate of Lot’s wife will overtake us, and we shall end a.> melancholy pillars of salt in the bleak desert of non-conformity.

Mr. M. M. Brodie, manager in Suva of the Pacific Biscuit Co., and Union Soaps, Ltd., returned to Suva from a business trip to Australia by the Matua on October 26.

Rev. and Mrs. G. H. Eastman, London Mission Society workers in the Gilbert and Ellice Islands recently arrived at Beru from Suva, Fiji, by the John Wil

liams V, after furlough in England.