The women are ugly, fat and strike me as being al- most incredibly unintelligent. They have short curly heads of hair like their youngest children. Save for a rare necklace or bracelet that their husbands have brought to them from elsewhere they possess no ornament and wear none on the ordinary routine days of their life. They have, however, several fashions, among which are the pasting of a white clay upon their faces when- ever they pass a stream where it can be found; the carry- ing of a sort of semi-circular parasol made out of strips of leaves and having, of course, no handle; fastening certain blossoms and colored leaves in their hair above the ears; and puncturing the nose and ears with stone and bits of shell. The arts of the village are limited to housebuilding, cooking, the making of stone adses, bows and arrows, spears, baskets, and rope. Thinking of the village and looking at this list it seems as though I must have put down more than is true. It is rare that one sees them occupied in any craft. But this is actually a list of everything they are, in this village, capable of doing. The maris do the basket making, which expresses it- sclf in mats from two to three feet square for sleeping, the parasols mentioned, and the coarse taro baskets, which are nothing more than one coconut palm wound into another. As much as possible the maris keep together. They move in and out of the village to the taro gardens in one herd, like cattle of an identical and self-conscious