Owing to the mutual hostilities of the different tribes I have mentioned, the mountainous tracts which separate their respective territories remain altogether uninhabited; the natives invariably dwelling in the depths of the valleys, with a view of securing themselves from the predatory incursions of their enemies, who often lurk along their borders, ready to cut off any imprudent straggler, or make a descent upon the inmates of some sequestered habitation.

I several times met with very aged men, who from this cause had never passed the confines of their native vale, some of them having never even ascended midway up the mountains in the whole course of their lives, and who, accordingly had little idea of the appearance of any other part of the island, the whole of which is not perhaps more than sixty miles in circuit.

The little space in which some of these clans pass away their days would seem almost incredible.
The glen of the Tior will furnish a curious illustration of this.
The inhabited part is not more than four miles in length, and varies in breadth from half a mile to less than a quarter.

The rocky vine-clad cliffs on one side tower almost perpendicularly from their base to the height of at least fifteen hundred feet; while across the vale--in striking contrast to the scenery opposite--grass-grown elevations rise one above another in blooming terraces.

Hemmed in by these stupendous barriers, the valley would be altogether shut out from the rest of the world, were it not that it is accessible from the sea at one end, and by a narrow defile at the other.
The impression produced upon the mind, when I first visited this beautiful glen, will never be obliterated.
I had come from Nukuheva by water in the ship's boat, and when we entered the bay of Tior it was high noon.