rewards and punishments after death. They have a sort of conjurers amongst them, for whose art they entertain great reverence, and in whom they place a strict reliance. To them they apply in all cases of great emergency. Their art consists in having a large bunch of straws, which they fold double and tie in a great many different ways; if, after the straws are thus folded, doubled, and tied, they can be drawn out without being in any manner entangled the one with the other, the omen is propitious; but otherwise, the contemplated undertaking is relinquished. On the following morning it is again resorted to, and so on until success is promised. It must never be tried but in the morning, and only once on the same day. The morning I took Lay from the natives, the chiefs had recourse to this art before they would allow him to speak to us; they were promised good fortune, otherwise he would have been concealed from us. He who cannot perform the mysteries of this art, is not allowed to drink from the same cup with him who can. They had a great aversion to hearing us whistle, particularly in their houses, and would invariably run up to any of our people when they were whistling, and with a fearful look, beg them to stop; saying, it would bring spirits about the house that would make them sick and kill them. If one of them has wronged another who has died, or if they were enemies, he never eats without throwing away a portion[13] of his food to appease the ghost of the departed. At a meeting we had with the chiefs on shore, the captain remarked an old man in the circle, whose name and character he asked of Lay or Huzzy; being replied to, he said, in a stern manner that he did not like his face, meaning that he looked like a bad man. The old fellow, seeing himself the subject of conversation, asked the interpreter what the captain was saying about him. On being told, his countenance expressed the utmost dismay, and in a day or two afterwards, he died. There was not a native on the islands with whom Lay or Huzzy conversed, that did not believe the captain's dislike killed the old man. They seemed to entertain the most singular notions of the captain's supernatural powers. For the purpose of ascertaining what idea the high chief entertained of a God, the captain asked him several questions, to which his answers were vague and unsatisfactory. He thought he had conceived the right one, when he asked the chief who he thought made it thunder. After a moment's hesitation, he looked at the captain and replied, "I suppose you can make it thunder." This was as satisfactory as any thing he could be made to express. Thunder he believed was produced by the agency of a being superior to himself, and the captain he conceived to be infinitely his superior.