"To-Morrow!"

Tempo Of Life In The Polynesian Islands.

Prom Our Own Correspondent.

Papeete, Feb. 6.

PEOPLE whose whole life is ordered in Iterms of kilowatts', calories, dyna mic units, and quadratic equations suffer terribly when they come to the South Seas. The deliberate, unhurried and, apparently, haphazard way in which work is carried on horrifies and exasper ates them beyond measure.

What appears to irritate them*most of all is the schedule of inter-island schoon ers.

The visitor, his illusions somewhat shaken by the electric lights, petrol sta tions, and sophisticated natives of Tahiti.

resolves to seek in the out-islands the elysian paradise of primitive simplicity he has read about in the books.

He engages passage on an inter-island schooner, and is told she will depart on Wednesday at 5.30.

Wednesday at 5.15 o’clock he arrives with his luggage at the quay to find there a vacuum. No one is in sight. The schooner, silent and empty, rides peace fully at anchor. As the shops have closed at 5 o’clock he can seek no en lightenment there. Finally he discovers a native sitting on the edge of th,e quay; his gaze fixed thoughtfully on the hori zon. After much pointing and many re petitions of the Tahitian verb, “To go”, the native comprehends and answers: — “Ananahi Paha” (To-morrow, perhaps).

With this cryptic phrase the interview terminates and the native resumes his contemplation of the horizon.

Going back to his luggage and inquir ing diligently from passers-by the voy

ager is finally informed that the depar ture has been postponed until Thursday at 5.30.

Arriving with his luggage at 5.15 on Thursday he is gratified to see what appears to be the entire native popula tion of Papeete gathered at the place of embarkation. The big, globular bundles, tied up in red Pareu (the universal lug gage carrier of Polynesia) and contain ing the personal belongings of his fel low passengers, piled up on the quay; the arrival of last minute freight; and the weepings and wailings of partings, indicate that the time of departure is at hand.

Meanwhile, there are sounds of travail in the engine room. These continue un til, at 6.25 o’clock, a sooty and oil-streak ed face emerges from the depths to an nounce that the fuel pump apparatus will not function.

After inspections and consultations in the engine room the skipper decides that the ship will be able to sail on Friday at 5.30 p.m.

The schooner actually sails at 11.45 a.m. on Saturday.

Now, all of this is looked upon as nor mal and natural and as it ought to be, by every one concerned except the visi tor. He is full of fury, the form of his visage is changed and his speech is full of strange thunders and lightnings which, however, merely echo and reverberate from the solid wall of Tahitian custom.

In times gone by, men of energy and resolution have essayed to breach that ancient fabric. They have come bearing charts, cost forms, efficiency schedules and other paraphernalia of U.S.A. high pressure management.

Then, for a season, we have been en tertained by the spectacle of irresistible force meeting the immovable body. This age-old problem of the scientists has been solved before our eyes.

Invariably, the immovable body has emerged from the encounter unblemish ed, while the irresistible force has re tired in a state of apoplectic exasperation or remained to become submerged in the tempo of the Islands.

Yet—by what seems a miracle to the men of energy—much work is carried out and finished in due season. The schoon ers, which depart so erratically, always return with their cargo of copra in am ple time for the steamer; roads are kept in repair; bridges constructed; houses erected, and Papeete is a spotless town —all achieved without the clank and clamour, the cerebral hyperaemia and neurasthenia of countries where effici ency reigns. We read the journals of those countries and, nightly, the sounds of their voices are in our ears through the agency of the radio. Everything there seems to be caught in the vortex of a whirlpool of confusion. As speed and efficiency increase, confusion appears to become worse confounded.

Perhaps the pace of the Islands is more in accord with the cosmic time-piece than is theirs.