Hereupon, being marshalled in order, with the old man at our head, we
were put in motion, with loud shouts, along a fine pathway, running
far on through wide groves of the cocoa-nut and bread-fruit.

The rest of our escort trotted on beside us in high good-humour;
jabbering broken English, and in a hundred ways giving us to
understand that Wilson was no favourite of theirs, and that we were
prime, good fellows for holding out as we did. They seemed to know
our whole history.

The scenery around was delightful. The tropical day was fast drawing
to a close; and from where we were, the sun looked like a vast red
fire burning in the woodlands--its rays falling aslant through the
endless ranks of trees, and every leaf fringed with flame. Escaped
from the confined decks of the frigate, the air breathed spices to
us; streams were heard flowing; green boughs were rocking; and far
inland, all sunset flushed, rose the still, steep peaks of the
island.

As we proceeded, I was more and more struck by the picturesqueness of
the wide, shaded road. In several places, durable bridges of wood
were thrown over large water-courses; others were spanned by a single
arch of stone. In any part of the road, three horsemen might have
ridden abreast.

This beautiful avenue--by far the best thing which civilization has
done for the island--is called by foreigners "the Broom Road," though
for what reason I do not know. Originally planned for the convenience
of the missionaries journeying from one station to another, it almost
completely encompasses the larger peninsula; skirting for a distance