neighbourhood of his dwelling. It is the one good road of Tahiti,
encircling the larger of the two peninsulas close to the sea-shore,
and surmounting the low mountain range in the centre of the isthmus.

Before long we found ourselves close to Taravao, the narrow strip of
land connecting the two peninsulas into which Tahiti is divided, and
commenced to ascend the hills that form the backbone of the island. We
climbed up and up, reaching the summit at last, to behold a
magnificent prospect on all sides. Then a short sharp descent, a long
drive over grass roads through a rich forest, and again a brief
ascent, brought us to our sleeping-quarters for the night, the Hotel
de l'Isthme, situated in a valley in the midst of a dense grove of
cocoa-nuts and bananas, kept by two retired French sailors, who came
out to meet us, and conducted us up a flight of steps on the side of a
mud bank to the four rooms forming the hotel. These were two sleeping
apartments, a _salon_, and a _salle à manger_, the walls of which
consisted of flat pieces of wood, their own width apart, something
like Venetian shutters, with unglazed windows and doors opening into
the garden.

We walked about four hundred yards along a grassy road to the sea,
where Mabelle and I paddled about in shallow water and amused
ourselves by picking up coral, shells, and _bêche-de-mer_, and
watching the blue and yellow fish darting in and out among the rocks,
until at last we found a place in the coral which made a capital
deep-water bath. Dressing again was not such a pleasant affair, owing
to the mosquitoes biting us in the most provoking manner. Afterwards
we strolled along the shore, which was covered with cocoa-nuts and
driftwood, washed thither, I suppose, from some of the adjacent
islands, and on our way back to the hotel we gathered a handful of