felt it important to occupy both islands as soon as possible. We felt a reluctance that ten of us should settle on Strong's Island, were there are but about 1500 inhabitants, and this was also rendered the less expedient, as the king desired but one white, and one Hawaiian missionary. It was true, if we found any lodgment at all on Ascension Island, there would probably be work for us all; but we were loth to pass without making some proportionate provision for Kusaia; especially as the king had now expressed his willingness, and we did not know how long he might continue so disposed, or how long he might live. Should we now neglect it, we know not how soon it may be occupied by others, or how soon another less well disposed individual might take the throne. Mr. Snow and his wife were willing to remain with one of the native missionaries, and we were willing to divide with them the various domestic conveniences we have; besides that, we hoped to secure from other ships, convenient utensils. For a more particular detail of the reasons for this new decision, I must refer to my journal sent

to the Committee.

On Wednesday, the following day, August 25th, the king definitely assented that Mr. Snow should settle with him on his return from Ascension. He promised him a house ere his return, and also gave his consent, that if the rest of our company found no lodgment on Ascension, we might return with Mr. Snow, and remain till the vessel could make her trip to Oahu and back. The king dined with us, and was much interested in our melodeon and various daguerreotypes; his mind is a very active, inquisitive one, and his manners are quite refined. He ate with us, as also did two of his sons, at different times during our stay; and all his motions were as appropriate and refined as those of a gentleman. There was not anything I remember in his manners at table which I could mention as characteristic of a savage. His conversation

was low and subdued, his motions gentle, his movements of lip and tongue more silent than those of very many who have all their days been seated at civilized tables, to their shame be it said.

Thursday noon, my brother John, my wife, Kehela, the Hawaiin pastor, and I, started for the opposite side of the island. The king furnished us with a canoe, and with four native guides, one of whom he employs for sending out his authoritative messages, and for catching run-away sailors. We passed round the north point of the island, partly by canoe, and in part on foot; this portion of our journey was hot, and somewhat tedious; but all was new, and much of it romantic. On all parts of the shore the forests pressed close down, leaving at best but a narrow belt of land. But along a considerable distance they pressed still further, and grew to immense sizes over flats quite covered with ocean's brine. It was passing singular, to wade along knee-deep in salt water and mud, stumbling over the thick network of roots, and completely shaded by the gigantic towering trees above. The last part of this trip was performed by a part of the company in a canoe, which took an inside passage, or arm of the sea, among the overhanging branches and the sporting fishes.

A distance of some twelve miles was travelled among these novel scenes, and we at last reached the Lee, or Coquille Harbour, so named by Dupperey. Here we stopped for a few moments on an island in the harbour, which is described by the navigator just mentioned. It was now four o'clock, and we were anxious to return to our vessel as soon as possible. To follow the coast back would be long and very wearisome; there was a short path in a straight line to the windward harbour, over the mountains. This we determined to take, though told of great difficulties. In a canoe, we ascended a river of some little size, until our canoe grounded; it was, perhaps, a distance of a mile. Here we

stopped to eat our dinners, on bread, fruit, and cocoanuts.

About five o'clock, commenced our return. We tramped rapidly on through mud and mire; for all this island seems to be scarce anything but rich mould, moistened with frequent showers, and on the mountains mingled with stones and rocks. Trees, grasses and shrubbery of unusual kinds and sizes, covered all the ground. We very frequently crossed and recrossed the river on which we had left our canoe; it was still shallower, and its banks less marshy and swampy than lower down. We reached the hills, and pursued our ascent in the beds of flowing streams, and among the tangled roots of giant trees, at times sinking deep in mud, and at others, pulling ourselves up by projecting roots. My wife was occasionally carried by a faithful native.

At last we began to descend, and our pathway was of the same character. We were well repaid for the exciting labour by the fresh air, and the vivid romance of the route. Flowers of brilliant hues hung over our paths, and a few birds were heard above. We reached the eastern plain, or slope, and pursued it toward the harbour where our vessel lay, till obliged to stop. We waited two hours for a canoe, and about nine o'clock started down the river, and reached our floating home about half-past nine o'clock. During those hours of delay for the canoe, we sat in a native house, keeping up the fire while our native attendants fell asleep. It will be seen from this description, how totally we were in the power of the natives this day, and how trustworthy they were. Let Strong's Island never more be feared. When God's Word shall have lit up the souls of its inhabitants, Strong's Island may well be termed an earthly paradise. Let us pray for it.

Friday, we had purposed leaving for Ascension Island, but the wind prevented, and our forenoon was spent in rowing over marine gardens of coral and sea

weed, and in securing their richest gems. A part of our number also visited a cave, said to be of some size, but which we were unable to explore, from excess of water within. It was interesting as a geological fact. Early Saturday we laid anchor; and, after sailing round the southern point of the island, for the purpose of surveying it, we stood on our course to Ascension Island.

SUCH IS LIFE.

THE waves, the calm blue waves! they flow
Above the rippled sand,

And, murmuring quiet songs, they go

To kiss the pebbled strand;
They lave the rocks, so worn and grey,

And chime along the shore,

Then fall away, and die away,

And seek their caves once more.

The waves, the mountain waves! they sweep

Tempestuous o'er the beach,
And a stormy menace, loud and deep,

Is thundering in their speech;
They toss their angry foam around,

But their fury raves in vain ;

And they chafe their bound, with a fainter sound,

As the ebb tide falls again.

Oh, wild and restless human heart,

E'en thus it is with thee!

And thus with all thy sorrow's smart,

And all thy fitful glee.

There's the same voice raised to check and chide

Thy passion's throb and thrill,

And to quell the pride of the ocean tide,

And bid the surge lie still.

The swelling waves may rear them high,
And fierce their rage may be,

But there's One above the darkened sky
That's mightier than the sea;
And when He bids, thy sorrow's fray
Like a tempest spent shall cease,

And fall away, and die away,

And leave thee only peace!

H. F.

THE WORLD'S INCONSISTENCY.

"IT is much to be lamented that there is so little genuine sentiment in the world, so little regard for anything beyond the mere common place of life; especially, as little more than an affectation of enthusiasm now remains of the lofty feeling which animated the heroes and sages of old; which made Rome mistress of the world, and Greece the rallying point of poetry and art."

Such was the murmured reverie of a young and ardent student, as, arm in arm with one his senior, not only in years, but in the world's cold, heartless lore, he quitted the crowded precincts of the park,and sauntered through the gaily thronged streets of the metropolis.

"England is too exclusively a mercantile country, and the present time is too truly the iron age to permit the growth of an exotic like enthusiasm," said his companion. "And perhaps it is scarcely to be regretted; that false excitement which you admire, has often led men to commit such extravagances as can never be sanctioned, and seldom tolerated by the reasonable part of mankind. Pardon me, I had forgotten that Arnold Grey is an enthusiast."

"And I, that Charlton Rivers is a Utilitarian," returned the student, laughing. "We are exceptions

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