"We accepted it," says Bougainville, "and the man at once bent towards us, and in a gentle way, sung, to the sound of a flute which another Indian blew with his nose, a song which was no doubt anacreontic. It was a charming scene, worthy of the pencil of Boucher. Four natives came with great confidence to sup and sleep on board. We had the flute, bassoon, and violin played for them, and treated them to fireworks composed of rockets and serpents. This display excited both surprise and fear." Before giving further extracts from Bougainville's narrative, it appears _apropos_ to warn the reader not to accept these descriptions _au pied de la lettre_. The fertile imagination of the narrator embellished everything. Not content with the ravishing scenes under his eyes, the picturesque reality is not enough for him, and he adds new delights to the picture, which only overload it. He does this almost unconsciously. None the less, his descriptions should be received with great caution. We find a strange example of this tendency of the age, in the narrative of Cook's second voyage. Mr. Hodges, the painter who was attached to the expedition, wishing to reproduce the disembarkation of the English on the island of Middleburgh, paints personages who have not the smallest resemblance to the dwellers in the ocean regions, and whose togas give them the appearance of being contemporaries of Caesar or of Augustus. Yet he had the originals before his eyes, and nothing could have been easier to him than to depict the scene as it really was. We know better how to respect truth in these days. No additions, no embellishments are found in the narratives of _our_ navigators. And if sometimes they prove but dry accounts, which give little pleasure to the general public, they are sure to contain the elements of earnest study for the scientific man, and the basis of works for the advancement of science. With this preamble, let us follow the narrator. Bougainville established his sick and his water-casks upon the shore of a small river which ran at the bottom of the bay, under a guard for their security. These precautions were not taken without arousing the susceptibility and distrust of the natives. They had no objection to seeing the strangers walk about their island all day, but they expected them to return on board at night. Bougainville persisted, and at last he was obliged to fix the length of his stay.