Pittsburg dispatch. [volume] (Pittsburg [Pa.]) 1880-1923, 1891-05-10

to me-" said Donat, q shade perturbed, "she
spoke to the ghost of the dead man." And
the purport of her speech was this: "See
there! Donat will be . fine feast for you
tonight"
Diverting the Ghosts Attention.
I'M. Donat called it jest, !" wrote at the
time in my diary. "It seemed to me more in
the nature of terrified conjuration, as
though she would divert the ghosts attention
from herself. Acannibal race may well have
canniba1 phantoms." The guesses of the
traveller appear foredoomed to be erroneous;
yet in these I was precisely right. The
woman had stood by in terror at the
funeral, being then in dread spot-the
graveyard. She looked on in terror to the
coming night. with that ogre, new spirit
loosed upon the isle, and the words she had
cried in Donat's face were indeed a terrified
conjuration, baseIy to shield herself, basely
to dedicate another in her stead. One thing
is to be said in her excuse. Doubtless she
partly chose Donat because he was a man Of
great good nature, but partly, too, because
he was man of the half caste, for I be-
lieve all natives regard the white blood as a
kind of talisman against the powers of hell.
In NO other way can they explain the un-
punished recklessness of Europeans.
With my superstitious friends. the
islander, fear am not wholly frank, often
leading the way with stories of my own, and
being always a grave and sometimes an eI.
cited hearer. But the deceit is'scarce NOR
tai, since am as pleased to hear as be to
tell. as pleased with the story as he is with
the belief; and, besides, it is extremely
needful. For it is scarce possible to e1ag-
gerate the extent and empire of his supersti-
tions; they mold his life, they color his
thinking; and when he does not speak to
me of ghosts, and gods, and devils, he is
playing the dissembler and talking only
with his lips.
The Spirits In the Bush.
will give but few instances at random,
chiefly from my own own doorstep in Upolu,
during the past month (October, 1Ss0).
One of my workmen was sent the other day
to the banana patch, there to dig; this is a
hollow of the mountain, buried in the woods,
out of all sight and cry of mankind; and
long before dusk Lafaele was back again
beside the cookhouse with embarrassed
looks; he dared not longer stay alone, he
was afraid of "spirits in the bush." It
seems these are the souls of the unburied
dead, haunting where they fell, and wear
ing woodland shapes Of pig, or bird, or in
sect; the bush is full Of them, they seem to
eat nothing, slay solitary wanderers appar-
emily in spite. and at times, in human form,
go.down into the villages and oonsort with
the inhabitants undetected.
I once lived in a village, the name of
which I do not mean to tell. The chief and
his sister were persons perfectly intelligent;
gentlefolk, apt of speech. The sister was
very religious, great churchgoer, one that
used to reprove me if I stayed away. I
found afterward that she privately wor-
SHIPPED shark. The chief himself WAS
somewhat of freethinker; at the least. a
latitudinarian; he was man besides file
with European knowledge and accomplish.
ments; of an impassive, ironical habit; and
should as soon have expected superstition
in Mr.. Herbert Spencer.
Hear the sequel. I had discovered by un.
mistakable signs that they buried too
shallow in the village graveyard, and I
took my friend, as the responsible authority
to task. "There is something wrong about
your graveyard" said /, (which you must
attend to or it may have very bad results"
"Something wrong? What is it?" he
asked, with sn emotion that surprised me.
"If you care to 60 along there any evening
about 9 o'clock you can see for yourself"
said I. He stepped backward. "A ghostr
he cried.
In short in the whole field of the South
Seas, there is not one to blame another,
Hall blood and whole. pious and debauched,
intelligent and dull, all men believe in
ghosts, all men combine with their recent
Christianity fear, and lingering faith in
the old island deities. So, in Europe, the
gods of Olympus slowly dwindled into
village bogies; SO to-day, the theological
Highlander speaks from under the eye of
the Free Church divine to lay an offering by
a sacred well.
1t is from sundown to about in the
morning that the kinsfolk camp upon the
grave, and these are the hours of the spirits
wanderings. At any time of the night-it
may be earlier, it may be later-a sound is
to be heard below. which is the noise OF his
at sharp, another and louder
marks the instant of the mprisonment;
between whiles, he goes his malignant
rounds.
"Did you ever see an evil spirit?" was
once asked of Paumotuap. "Once."
under what form?" "It was the form of
crane" "And how did you know that
crane to be spirit?" was asked. "I will
tell you," he answered; an this was the
purport of his inconclusive narrative. His
father had been dead nearly fortnight;
Others had wearied of the watch, and as the
sun was setting, he found himself by the
grave alone. It was not yet dark, rather
the hour OF the afterglow, when he was
aware of a snow-white crane upon the coral
presently more cranes came, some
white, some black; then the cranes
s.kA he IN at -.