Now when the singing was done, one of the daughters came with the bowl. Desire of that kava rose in the missionary's bosom; he lusted for it like a swimmer for the land, or a bridegroom for his bride; and he reached out his hand, and took the bowl, and would have drunk. And then he remembered, and put it back. "Drink!" sang the daughter of Miru. "There is no kava like the kava of the dead, and to drink of it once is the reward of living." "I thank you. It smells excellent," said the missionary. "But I am a blue-ribbon man myself; and though I am aware there is a difference of opinion even in our own confession, I have always held kava to be excluded." "What!" cried the convert. "Are you going to respect a taboo at a time like this? And you were always so opposed to taboos when you were alive!" "To other people's," said the missionary. "Never to my own." "But yours have all proved wrong," said the convert. "It looks like it," said the missionary, "and I can't help that. No reason why I should break my word." "I never heard the like of this!" cried the daughter of Miru. "Pray, what do you expect to gain?" "That is not the point," said the missionary. "I took this pledge for others, I am not going to break it for myself." The daughter of Miru was puzzled; she came and told her mother, and Miru was vexed; and they went and told Akaanga. "I don't know what to do about this," said Akaanga; and he came and reasoned with the missionary. "But there _is_ such a thing as right and wrong," said the missionary; "and your ovens cannot alter that." "Give the kava to the rest," said Akaanga to the daughters of Miru. "I must get rid of this sea-lawyer instantly, or worse will come of it." The next moment the missionary came up in the midst of the sea, and there before him were the palm trees of the island. He swam to the shore gladly, and landed. Much matter of thought was in that missionary's mind. "I seem to have been misinformed upon some points," said he. "Perhaps there is not much in it, as I supposed; but there is something in it after all. Let me be glad of that." And he rang the bell for service. MORAL. The sticks break, the stones crumble, The eternal altars tilt and tumble, Sanctions and tales dislimn like mist About the amazed evangelist. He stands unshook from age to youth Upon one pin-point of the truth. XVII.--FAITH, HALF FAITH AND NO FAITH AT ALL. In the ancient days there went three men upon pilgrimage; one was a priest, and one was a virtuous person, and the third was an old rover with his axe. As they went, the priest spoke about the grounds of faith. "We find the proofs of our religion in the works of nature," said he, and beat his breast. "That is true," said the virtuous person. "The peacock has a scrannel voice," said the priest, "as has been laid down always in our books. How cheering!" he cried, in a voice like one that wept. "How comforting!"