SUNSHINE AND SURF.
Sunshine and Surf. By Douglas B. Hall and L -Ira Albert Osborne. (A. and C. Black. 12s. 6c1.)—This story of "A Year's Wanderings in South Seas" reminds us of The Earl and the Doctor" of some twenty years ago. The subject is a somewhat perilous one; it is only too easy, when the scene is laid in the Pacific islands, to transgress, either in fact or fiction, quite necessary rules of convention, or shall we say of decency ? The authors of Sunshine and Surf use sufficient tact and taste, and they are very entertaining. You cannot write about Samoa and Tahiti in a way that would commend a volume for a Sunday- school prize; but there is no serious cause for complaint, while as to the amusement to be got out of the story there can be no question. And there is nothing forced about the fun ; it is the quiet humour that one would expect from gentlemen. Not the least ludicrous of the stories told is of the old white man whom the travellers saw much tattooed. He was a deserter from a whale ship, and had fallen in love with an island princess, who declared that she could not marry a man not tattooed. He had himself made a picture, or gallery of pictures, and then the girl threw him over,—a white man tattooed looked too ridiculous. There he was, stranded, bating to be where he was, but knowing that it was impossible to go home. Once he seems to have made an effort ; he boarded an American ship and declared that he was an American citizen (which was perfectly true). "You an American citizen !" said the skipper. "Bo'sun, give him five dozen." And five dozen he had. Sometimes our authors have a serious thing to say. The indictment of British rule in Fiji is not by any means a trifle. "The whole islands are little better than a British slave colony." The whites pay no taxes, and forced labour without pay, or even food, is common.—To another book on the same subject, The Log of an Island Wanderer, by Edward Pallander (C. Arthur Pearson, 6s.), we cannot accord equal praise. It is certainly not written in good taste ; it comes at least perilously near to the forbidden. It may easily be understood that a writer who says, even in jest, that "morality is latitude" will soon find himself on very thin ice indeed. In fact, he reminds us of what Sallust says about travellers. " Veluti peregrinantes " is the illustration which the historian uses when he wishes to describe persons without a sense of responsibility. Of course, we have something against missionaries. One might be more disposed to listen to these attacks if one could suppose that writers of this class had any comprehension of a missionary's difficulties or sympathy with his aims. It is instructive to com- pare the two volumes in what they say of the "missionary laws" of Rarotonga.
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