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Updated: June 21, 2025
She flew on the hall table, and putting up her back till it almost lifted her feet from the ground, began to spit at me and bristle with rage. "Poor Lolo," said Mrs. Wood, going up to her. "Joe is a good dog, and not like Bruno. He won't hurt you." I wagged myself about a little, and looked kindly at her, but she did nothing but say bad words to me.
On June 14th, I had a long conference with the old Paitana chief, Boutu, and his followers. They looked very much excited and alarmed when I met them, but that wore away during our conversation. Boutu, his party, and other Lolo natives assured me that the attack on Dr. James and Mr. Thorngren was unknown to all but those in the canoe.
Far away beyond lies the country of the aborigines; but even the Lolo, wild and rugged as the country, fearless of man and beast, have never dared to ascend these heights. They are mournful, cheerless, devoid of a single smile from the common mother of us all, lacking every feature by which the earth draws man into a spirit of unity with his God.
The Nou-su believe in ancestor worship, and perhaps the most interesting feature of their religion is the peculiar form this worship takes. This 'lolo' contains small bamboo tubes an inch or two long, and as thick as an ordinary Chinese pen handle. In these tubes are fastened a piece of grass and a piece of sheep's wool.
They rub noses all round, and make for the shore, we for the harbour at the mouth of Coombes River, but a very heavy sea running in, we prefer anchoring outside at midnight. By five a.m. up anchor, and away to Lese. Two Naima canoes returning from Lolo, where they had been trying to get uros, passed close to us. They also are glad of the likelihood of peace and uros.
Below him the heavy door of the tower swung on its massive hinges, banging and creaking mournfully when a swirling gust set it swinging. The man who had slept out on the Lolo trail and bivouacked alone in the canyon of the Colorado, laughed the howling storm to scorn.
There was little difficulty in getting the caravan started in the gray light of early dawn and after descending abruptly four thousand feet on a precipitous trail to a Lolo village strung out along a beautiful little valley we were again in the pleasant warmth of late autumn.
She answered me the 19th of this month: HOW SHALL I SEND THIS TO YOU? I replied the same day; simply by mail. But I have received nothing. I do not insist, but I fear that the money may have been stolen or lost, and I am asking you to clear up the affair as quickly as possible. With this, I embrace you, and Lolo, AURORE EMBRACES YOU TOO and all the family which loves you. G. Sand
The principal man in the canoe, knowing that all, except our boatman, Bob Samoa, had friends at Motumotu, made friends with him, rubbing noses and handing his lime gourd, which is to be shown on arrival, and his father and friends will receive Bob as his friends. They go on to Lolo in quest of uros. We landed to cook food.
She came to me and took my hand, and said to me in Samoan 'Talofa, Pâkía, e ma|lolo| ea oe? and my heart was glad; for it was long since I heard any one speak in a tongue which is akin to mine own.... Was she beautiful? you ask. Ta|pa|! All women are beautiful when they are young, and their eyes are full and clear and their voices are soft and their bosoms are round and smooth!
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