Читать книгу Lolóma, or two years in cannibal-land. A story of old Fiji онлайн

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Imagine such an island extending far beyond the limits of the present group of remnants, say, some 600 miles from east to west, and 500 miles from north to south, and we have before us a picture of what was, not unlikely, ancient Fiji—a land of high mountains and far-stretching plains, of rivers, lakes, and springs of water, of shores thrown out here and there into bold and rocky prominence, or stretching away in long lines of shingle and sand.

Once again, let our imagination conjure up pictures of deeds of might,—deeds such as Fijian mythology is full of,—“shaking,” “breaking down,” “kicking out of the way,” “undermining,” and “sinking,” all the lower lands, and, it may be, not those alone, and it will no longer seem strange, how that of the once magnificent whole, there remain to-day only these 200 abrupt mountainous fragments, ranging in size from 300 miles in circumference, to a single rock, with room for nought upon it but a solitary cocoanut palm; or lower yet, to a mound of sand only big enough for a mother turtle to lay her eggs in without grumbling. From these islands and islets, reefs of every size and form may be seen spreading out their claws, as if to mark where the ancient lands stood before their subsidence, and, perhaps, further intended for the more useful work of reconstruction, by linking together in the course of long ages these scattered yet valuable and beautifully luxuriant fragments.