Having purchased a couple of tons of yams we rowed home against a very strong tide, reaching Ralume at 5 o'clock in the evening. We dined with Mrs. F----h the same night (Friday), and, as we were going away on the Monday, we arranged to hold our picnic on Saturday. We decided to go to Pigeon Island, half-way between here and Mioko. The ladies promised to find the eatables, we the vessel and drinkables. We made the vessel as comfortable as possible, and spread clean mats on wooden boxes, which had to do service as seats for our fair visitors. Our two natives were stationed at the gangway as a guard of honour, the British colours were run up, and we awaited the arrival of our distinguished guests. At noon we received them on board. The party comprised Mrs. F----h, Miss G----e, the overseer's wife, and the three young native maids, already mentioned. They had brought with them fowls, hams, tongues, jellies, and a host of other good things, as an auctioneer would say, "too numerous to mention." Our vessel had never before carried so valuable a freight. Upon reaching Pigeon Island we were obliged to place the anchor on the reef, owing to the great depth of water beyond. The island is well-wooded, and just the spot for a picnic. It was uninhabited, so we had it all to ourselves. We had great difficulty in getting the dinghy over the reef, as, except at high tide, the water is shallow. With some trouble we landed all the goods and paraphernalia, including a case of lager beer. The ladies had sensibly provided themselves with a couple of hammocks, as we did not intend to return until the next day (Sunday). In a small clearing in the bush the dinner was set out. We had the ground for a table, and on it a tablecloth, an unknown luxury to us, and the canopy of Heaven for a roof. Here you are in the tropics. The night was warm, the mosquitoes numerous. They did not trouble us much, as we had served a long apprenticeship to their delicate attentions. It is only "new chums" who suffer from their attacks. The moon was well matured, and lit up the darkness of the forest, casting a weird glamour o'er the scene. The beauty of the night recalled to my mind those trenchant lines of Southey: "How beautiful is night! A dewy freshness fills the silent air; No mist obscures, nor cloud, nor speck, nor stain, Breaks the serene of Heaven. In full-orbed glory yonder moon divine Rolls through the dark blue depths; Beneath her steady ray The desert circle spreads, Like the round ocean, girdled with the sky; How beautiful is night!"