act, the
commencement of a relapse into barbarism."

"One of the chief points of difference," he says, "between civilised and
savage man, is, that the former eats at stated and regular intervals, as
a matter of social duty, whereas the latter only eats when he is
hungry!"

_Two days later_. Wakatta has returned from his expedition, full of
hope and confidence, and actually looking ten years younger than when I
first saw him. He says that the position of affairs at Tewa is most
promising. The recently victorious rebels have fallen into fierce
contentions among themselves, and a large faction of them, with the
leaders of which he has entered into communication, is willing to unite
with him against the others, upon being assured of indemnity for past
offences. Eiulo's father still lives, and has already gathered the
nucleus of a force capable of retrieving his fortunes.

All is now finally determined upon, and we only wait for a favourable
breeze to bid adieu to these shores.

The morning of Wakatta's return, also witnessed another event of nearly
equal importance. I allude to a great farewell breakfast, given by Max
in celebration of our approaching departure, as well as for the purpose
of stemming the current of the demoralising influence above alluded to.
The "founder of the feast," together with Eiulo and Johnny, was up
preparing it with his own hospitable hands, a full hour before the rest
of us were awake.

It consisted of all the delicacies and luxuries that our island can
afford: there were roasted oysters fresh from the shore, and poached
eggs fresh from the nest, (Max had despatched one of the natives to
Sea-birds' Point after them before daylight); then there were fish
nicely broiled, and mealy taro, and baked bread-fruit hot from a
subterranean Polynesian oven.

In the enjoyment of this generous fare, our drooping spirits rose, and
Max, as was his wont, became discursive.

"What a humiliating reflection," exclaimed he, "that we should have
permitted ourselves to be so disturbed and fluttered, by the prospect of
a slight change in our affairs! Why should we distrust our destiny, or
shrink from our mission? Why these nervous apprehensions, and these
unreasonable doubts?"--(Hear! hear!)

"`There _is_ a providence that shapes our ends,
Rough-hew them how we will.'

"Let us accept, then, the belief which all things tend to confirm, that
a glorious future awaits us in our new sphere of action a