Upon coming on deck this morning I was struck with the soft picturesque beauty of the hills, as shone upon by the morning sun lighting up the tops and sides, and throwing the valleys and ravines into shade.  At night I am lulled by the roar of the sea upon the beach.  It is delightful to sniff the fragrance of the land as it comes off to us upon the dew-laden wings of the softest of breezes.  My fellows on shore looked rueful and woe-begone—­nature had no charms for them—­there was no liquor to be had!  If I were to remain here long, I should send them on shore as a punishment.

Friday, February 12th.—­This is the Mahommedan Sabbath, but they do not keep it so grimly as the Puritans.  We had a number of visitors on board, and among others, several princes, cousins-german of the Sultan, one of them being the Commander-in-Chief of the army.  He gave me an account of the affair of the Dale.  Some years ago two Yankee whalers came in.  One of them obtained provisions to the amount of two hundred and fifty dollars, telling the people he was too poor to pay for them in money, but that he would give them a bill on the Consul at Zanzibar.  To this they assented; the skipper then ran off with his ship in the night, without giving the bill.  They seized the other Captain and took him on shore, to keep him as a hostage while his ship should go in pursuit of the runaway and get the promised bill.  But they thought better of it in a few hours, and released him.  The Dale came the next season and demanded twenty-five thousand dollars, threatening to burn the town if the money was not paid.  They could not pay them, there being probably not so much money in the island.  The Yankees then set fire to one end of the town, cannonaded the fort, doing some damage, and withdrew.  This is about the usual origin of Yankee shipmasters’ complaints to their government.  I made a present of a captured Yankee clock to each of the princes, and gave them a package of writing-paper.  They seemed anxious to get some finery for their wives, but I told them we were not in that line, like Yankee whalers.

Saturday, February 13th.—­Visited the town again to-day.  Called at the houses of a couple of the princes, in which I found everything dirty, with an attempt at tawdry finery.  A black houri was set to fan me.  We were served with rose syrup.  Walked to the prince’s garden—­a beautiful wilderness of cocoa and betel nuts, sweet orange and mango, with heterogeneous patches of rice, sweet potatoes and beans, and here and there a cotton plant.  Two or three slave huts were dotted about, and walls of loose stones ran along crooked lanes and bye-ways.  As we came off, some of the inhabitants were at evening prayer, and others preparing to take their evening meal.  People met us everywhere with kindly greetings, and the Cadi, a venerable-looking old man, wished me a safe return to my own country.