When Captain Cornelius A. Davis, of the five-masted schooner _Governor Ames_—the only schooner of her class in the world, as well as the largest fore-and-aft vessel in existence—dropped anchor off Pitcairn Island, four thousand miles south of San Francisco, a few months ago, he was surprised to find himself greeted by name by a delegation of islanders who came on board. The inhabitants of the historic little island are accustomed to keep a sharp lookout for all passing vessels, and as soon as one is sighted in the offing, a boat pushes out to her, carrying friendly greetings and the offer of any assistance that may be needed. From each captain news of the ship he has left behind in the last port is obtained, together with the probable date of their sailing; so that in a majority of instances when a vessel reaches Pitcairn she is recognized immediately, and the skipper discovers that he does not need any introduction to his new-found island friends—for such they very soon prove themselves to be. He is invited to land and partake of the best the island affords, and the impression he carries away with him is uniformally a pleasant one. Captain Davis says that he would have been glad to stay at the island two or three days if there had been any good excuse for doing so, but after he had secured some fresh fruit for the crew, he felt compelled to resume his voyage. Puget Sound had been left behind thirty-five days earlier, and Liverpool was still one hundred and twenty-nine days away. * * * * *