some time. On the second day, when the smoking shed was ready, the boys were anxious to cook the smallest porker in the Otaheitian fashion. For this purpose they dug a hole, in which they burnt a quantity of dry grass, sticks, and weeds, heating stones, which were placed round the sides of the pit.
While the younger boys made ready the oven, Fritz singed and washed his peccary, stuffing it with potatoes, onions, and herbs, and a good sprinkling of salt and pepper.
He then sewed up the opening, and enveloped the pig in large leaves to guard it from the ashes and dust of its cooking place.
The fire no longer blazed, but the embers and stones were glowing hot; the pig was carefully placed in the hole, covered over with hot ashes, and the whole with earth, so that it looked like a big mole heap.
Dinner was looked forward to with curiosity, as well as appetite; my wife, as usual, distrusting our experiments, was not sanguine of success, and made ready some plain food as a pis aller.
She was well pleased with the curing-hut, which was roomy enough to hang all our hams and bacon. On a wide hearth in the middle we kindled a large fire, which was kept constantly smouldering by heaping it with damp grass and green wood. The hut being closed in above, the smoke filled it, and penetrated the meat thoroughly: this process it had to undergo for several days.
In a few hours Fritz gave notice that he was going to open his oven.
Great excitement prevailed as he removed the earth, turf, and stones, and a delicious appetising odour arose from the opening. It was the smell of roast pork, certainly, but with a flavour of spices which surprised me, until I thought of the leaves in which the food had been wrapped up.
The peccary was carefully raised, and when a few cinders were
