shores of Timor. First came tea and coffee; then, in the course of an
hour, followed fowls, cooked in all sorts of ways, with a proportion of
rice. The good things were brought in by a train of domestics some fifty
yards long, headed by a paunchy, elderly man, who greatly reminded us of
Caleb Balderston. If there was a word said by any of the lookers-on--for
many came to have a gaze at the lions--he was out in a moment, and
brought the offender to account. In short, by his officious attention he
afforded us much amusement, and greatly contributed to our proper
enjoyment of the dinner. Our candles were original ones--a few threads of
cotton drawn through a roll of bees' wax.

Dinner being over, we retired to pass as cold a night as we had felt for
some time, having only a few coarse mats to cover us; so that long before
daylight we were obliged to get up and walk about for the purpose of
warming ourselves. The first of the morning we spent again
pigeon-shooting; the birds were large and wild, yet we managed to get a
few.

THE HILLS IN A MIST.

This excursion gave us an opportunity of beholding the mountains of Timor
under a remarkable aspect. From various openings in the woody plain we
could perceive their sides, clothed in grey mist, above which sometimes
we caught a glimpse of a pinnacle rising through the clear air, and just
touched by the rays of the morning sun. Here and there the slopes of the
hills were dimly seen through the vapour, which in other places, however,
rolled along in thick masses, completely hiding the uplands from view.
Nearly every gorge and valley was filled with heavy volumes of fog,
whilst in some, a slight steam only rising, allowed the trees to be
faintly discovered. There is nothing more grand than the aspect of lofty