t the day to a conclusion, and I
retired, not unwillingly, to bed, to dream of the charms of Tahiti.

Sometimes I think that all I have seen must be only a long vision, and
that too soon I shall awaken to the cold reality; the flowers, the
fruit, the colours worn by every one, the whole scene and its
surroundings, seem almost too fairylike to have an actual existence. I
am in despair when I attempt to describe all these things. I feel that
I cannot do anything like justice to their merits, and yet I fear all
the time that what I say may be looked upon as an exaggeration.

Long dreamy lawns, and birds on happy wings,
Keeping their homes in never-rifled bowers;
Cool fountains filling with their murmurings
The sunny silence 'twixt the chiming hours.

At daybreak next morning, when I went on deck, it was a dead calm. The
sea-breeze had not yet come in, and there was not a ripple on the
surface of the harbour. Outside, two little white trading schooners
lay becalmed; inside, the harbour-tug was getting up steam. On shore,
a few gaily dressed natives were hurrying home with their early market
produce, and others were stretched lazily on the grass at the water's
edge or on the benches under the trees. Our stores for the day, a
picturesque-looking heap of fish, fruit, vegetables, and flowers, were
on the steps, waiting to be brought off, and guarded in the meantime
by natives in costumes of pink, blue, orange, and a delicate pale
green they specially affect. The light mists rolled gradually away
from the mountain tops, and there was every prospect of a fine day for
a projected excursion.

I went ashore to fetch some of the fresh gathered fruit, and soon we
had a feast of luscious pineapples, juicy mangoes, bananas, and
oranges, with the dew still upon them. The mango is certainly the king
of fruit. Its flavour is a combination of apricot and pineapple, with
the slightest possible suspicion of turpentine thrown in, to give a
piquancy to the whole. I dare say it sounds a strange mixture, but I
can only say that the result is delicious. To enjoy mangoes thoroughly
you ought not to eat them in company, but leaning over the side of the
ship, in the early morning, with your sleeves tucked up to your
elbows, using no knife and fork, but tearing off the skin with your
teeth, and sucking the abundant juice.

We breakfasted at half-past six, and, at a little before eight, went
ashore, where we were met by a sort