_Saturday, December 9th_.--After leaving the harbour of Papeete we
passed close to the island of Eimeo, on which we have gazed so often
and with so much pleasure during the past week. It is considered the
most beautiful island of the Georgian group, and we all regretted that
we were unable to spare the time to visit it. From afar it is rather
like the dolomite mountains in the Tyrol, and it is said that the
resemblance is even more striking on a near approach. The harbour is a
long narrow gorge between high mountains, clothed with palms, oranges,
and plantains, and is one of the most remarkable features of the
place. Huahine is the island of which the Earl and the Doctor speak,
in 'South Sea Bubbles,' in terms of such enthusiasm, and Rarotonga is
the head and centre of all the missionary efforts of the present time
in these parts.

The weather to-day was fine, though we had occasional squalls of wind
and rain. We were close-hauled, and the motion of the vessel was
violent and disagreeable. I was very sea-sick, and was consoled to
find that several of the men were so too. A head sea--or nearly so--is
quite a novel experience for us of late, and we none of us like the
change.

_Sunday, December 10th_.--Another squally day. Still close-hauled,
and even then not on our course. We had a short service at eleven, but
it was as much as I could do to remain on deck.

_Monday, December 11th_.--Very like yesterday. We passed close to
Flint and Vostok Islands, at the former of which I should have much
liked to land. But it was a good deal to leeward of us; there is no