ommodore did not fail to point out
through Mr. Lawes to the chief who had burnt the village of another,
that for the future he would not be allowed to commit such an act, and
must through the Queen's officers seek redress for any grievance he
might have; and the man was evidently impressed by what was said to him.

At half-past six next morning the landing of officers and men of the
squadron for the purpose of publicly proclaiming the establishment of
the Protectorate, and hoisting the British flag, commenced. The general
order issued by the Commodore directed that the dress for officers
should be cocked hat, undress coat, and epaulettes; the dress for seamen
white frocks and hats, and that for marines white tunics and helmets.
There was, consequently, a very attractive display of uniforms, and
altogether it was an exceedingly interesting spectacle. The early hour
appointed for the landing permitted of the ceremony being performed at
a time when the heat, which was intense while the _Nelson_ was on the
coast, was not likely to be very trying to the men. The water of the
harbour lay placid as a lake, with the ships of war far out from the
shore, and here and there native canoes moving slowly along or resting
idly on the surface; and the hills and valleys were green and shaded
from the sun, and wore that refreshing appearance which is notable when
the trees and the grass have been bathed in dew, and when the sun's rays
are strong enough only to make the dewdrops sparkle, and to deepen the
shadows in the recesses where the sunlight has not yet penetrated.

The boats conveying the officers and men to the shore, each flying the
white ensign, imparted life and colour to the scene upon the water, and
nothing could be more picturesque and beautiful than the view on shore,
where the houses of the native villages bordering the beach, with their
brown occupants gazing in amazement on what was taking place before
them, were shaded by a grove of cocoanut palms, the refreshing dark
green fronds being rivalled only by the lighter green of the plantations
of the banana trees on the sides of the hills, which, rising high above
the village, were, notwithstanding the evidence of cultivation by the
natives, and the existence of the little mission settlement, dressed in
almost all their native loveliness, and robed in delicately-tinted
morning mists.

Inside the enclosed ground stood the mission house, and on a spot
commanding a view of a