Note Back to Main Text — Chapter VII

"Ori had never seen a phonograph in his life, but his interest was that of a clever and civilized person—with none of the ignorance and terror and superstition of a savage. He was more than interested in everything relating to Louis and Tamaitai,[30] asking all sorts of questions, intelligent ones, too, about their life in Samoa; then in San Francisco; about Tamaitai's personal appearance—if her hair was gray; whether she had a town house and country house, and whether they were near the ocean and the mountains. He had a perfect picture when we had answered them all, and he was so pleased and grateful to us—bearers of interesting news. All this time we sat out on the veranda of his cottage, on a moonlight night almost too heavenly to be real—a tropical night filled with beauty and romance. Then there was a lull in the conversation, and Ori said: 'And now tell me about John L. Sullivan!' We fell down from romantic heights with a thud! Then we reflected that as Louis was the greatest man intellectually that Ori had ever met, so John L. Sullivan, the famous fighter, was the greatest man in that line of his time. The islanders, in common with other primitive peoples, admire physical perfection tremendously, and feats of strength are celebrated in fable, song, and story. To Ori there was nothing incongruous in placing John L. Sullivan, the famous prizefighter, and Robert Louis Stevenson, the noted writer—two great men—side by side.