Page:Popular Science Monthly Volume 48.djvu/244

232 to Major Abercrombie, an eyewitness of the ceremony, one man begins the chant alone; a second soon joins him, then a few more, till finally all present have taken it up, accompanying the wild music by much pantomime and earnest gesticulation. The time is beaten upon a wooden drum by one of their number, and is occasionally accentuated by a general clapping of the hands. After a certain climax has been reached, the music stops quite abruptly with one loud clap.

Yangona, the national beverage, is then served. This liquor is brewed with much formality, accompanied by low chanting. The great wooden bowl having been brought into the center of the room, the operator in charge sits down cross-legged before it. The yangona root is grated (it was formerly chewed by young men selected for the purpose) and deposited in the bowl, the inside of which has, from long use, become covered with a beautiful purple enamel. The requisite number of cocoanut shells of water are measured out and poured over the grated root, the whole being stirred to the music of a solemn chant. The floating particles of the grated root are collected and removed by means of a net of hibiscus fibers skillfully handled by the person in charge of the brew. The liquor thus prepared is handed round in cups of cocoanut shell, the chief being the first to drink. Taking the cup between his two palms, he slowly swallows its contents without removing it from his lips, while the onlookers join in a measured clapping of the hands. When the cup is finally thrown down with a spinning motion, to show that it is empty, all unite in the chorus, "A matha, a matha"—it is finished. The others now drink in a certain order of precedence. The liquor is of a dirty yellow color and has a bitter, aromatic taste, not altogether disagreeable. Used in moderation, it acts as a stimulant, but if indulged in too freely a temporary paralysis of the lower extremities follows, and the victim, while perfectly rational, reels and staggers as if drunk.

It is at these meetings around the yangona bowl that the numerous legends and fables of which the Fijians were passionately fond have been handed down in song from generation to generation. As a specimen of these mythical tales we give one which has been rescued from oblivion by the Rev. Thomas Williams and recorded by Mrs. C. F. Gordon Gumming in her At Home in Fiji. It tells of a gigantic bird called "Duck of the Rock." This monster carried off Tutu Wathi Wathi, the beautiful wife of the god Okovo and sister of Rokoua. The two gods gave chase in a large canoe, and as they voyaged came to an island inhabited by beautiful goddesses. Here the brother wished to remain, but, the husband protesting, they sailed on to the Yasawas, the most westerly isles of the group. Here was the cavern in which dwelt the