It turned out that he had taken the raisins for bugs.
In our man-of-war, this semi-savage, wandering about the gun-deck in his barbaric robe, seemed a being from some other sphere.

His tastes were our abominations: ours his.

Our creed he rejected: his we.

We thought him a loon: he fancied us fools.

Had the case been reversed; had we been Polynesians and he an American, our mutual opinion of each other would still have remained the same.