his throne all the time, quite solemnly, although I am convinced that he was fairly bursting with curiosity. We hurried through the village, so as to get a general idea of the houses and implements, and then to the beach, which was a beautiful sight. Whereas on Melanesian islands the dancing-grounds only are kept cleared, and surrounded by thick shrubbery for fear of invasion, here all the underbrush had been rooted out, and the shore was like a park, with a splendid view through dark tree-trunks across the blue sea, while the golden, godlike forms of the natives walked about with proud, regal gait, or stood in animated groups. It was a sight so different in its peaceful simplicity from what I was accustomed to see in Melanesia, it all looked so happy, gay and alluring that it hardly needed the invitations of the kind people, without weapons or suspicion, and with wreaths of sweet-scented flowers around their heads and bodies, to incline us to stay. Truly, the sailors of old were not to blame if they deserted in numbers on such islands, and preferred the careless native life to hard work on board a whaler. Again and again I seemed to see the living originals of some classical picture, and more and more my soul succumbed to the intoxicating charm of the lovely island. But we could not stay; the steamer whistled, and we had to leave. A young native was going to Norfolk Island, and he took leave of his family and the chief in a manly way which was touching to witness. He bowed and laid his face on the knees of some old white-haired men with finely chiselled, noble faces. They seemed to bless him, then they raised his head and tenderly pressed their faces against his, so that their noses touched. The boy brushed away a tear and then jumped bravely on board. When we came on board, the steamer was crowded with natives, and they refused to leave. We had to drive them away energetically, and as their canoes were soon overcrowded, many of them jumped into the water with shouts and laughter, and swam several miles to the shore, floating happily in the blue sea, with their long hair waving after them like liquid gold. Thus I saw the last of the dream-island, bathed in the rays of the setting sun. My regret was shared by the boy, who stood, still ornamented with flowers and wreaths, at the stern of the steamer, looking sadly back at his disappearing paradise. Our good times, too, were over. We had a dull, rainy night, a heavy, broadside swell, and as the steamer had not enough ballast, she rolled frightfully. In this nasty sea we were afraid she might turn turtle, as another steamer had done some months ago. The storm became such that we had to lie at anchor for five days, sheltered by the coast of Gaua. It was with real relief that I left the Southern Cross at Port Vila; sorry as I was to leave my friends on board, I did not envy them the long voyage to New Zealand.