The pupils of his eyes were as floating isles in the sea.

In a soft low tone he murmured "Media!" The bearers paused; and Media advancing; the Island Kings bowed their foreheads together.
Through tubes ignited at the end, Donjaloln's reclining attendants now blew an aromatic incense around him.

These were composed of the stimulating leaves of the "Aina," mixed with the long yellow blades of a sweet-scented upland grass; forming a hollow stem.

In general, the agreeable fumes of the "Aina" were created by one's own inhalations; but Donjalolo deeming the solace too dearly purchased by any exertion of the royal lungs, regaled himself through those of his attendants, whose lips were as moss-rose buds after a shower.
In silence the young prince now eyed us attentively; meanwhile gently waving his hand, to obtain a better view through the wreaths of vapor.

He was about to address us, when chancing to catch a glimpse of Samoa, he suddenly started; averted his glance; and wildly commanded the warrior out of sight.