We saw no animals larger than a rat, but there were a great many of those eerie-looking land-crabs, that seemed as if almost humanly intelligent as they scampered about over the sand or through the undergrowth, busy about goodness knows what.  The beautiful cocoa-nut palm was plentiful, so much so that I wondered why there were no settlers to collect “copra,” or dried cocoa-nut, for oil.  My West Indian experience came in handy now, for I was able to climb a lofty tree in native fashion, and cut down a grand bunch of green nuts, which form one of the most refreshing and nutritious of foods, as well as a cool and delicious drink.  We had no line with us, so we took off our belts, which, securely joined together, answered my purpose very well.  With them I made a loop round the tree and myself; then as I climbed I pushed the loop up with me, so that whenever I wanted a rest, I had only to lean back in it, keeping my knees against the trunk, and I was almost as comfortable as if on the ground.

After getting the nuts, we made a fire and roasted some of our eggs, which, with a biscuit or two, made a delightful meal.  Then we fell asleep under a shady tree, upon some soft moss; nor did we wake again until nearly time to go on board.  A most enjoyable swim terminated our day’s outing, and we returned to the beach abreast of the ship very pleased with the excursion.

We had no adventures, found no hidden treasure or ferocious animals, but none the less we thoroughly enjoyed ourselves.  While we sat waiting for the boat to come and fetch us off, we saw a couple of good-sized turtle come ashore quite close to us.  We kept perfectly still until we were sure of being able to intercept them.  As soon as they had got far enough away from their native element, we rushed upon them, and captured them both, so that when the boat arrived we were not empty-handed.  We had also a “jumper,” or blouse, full of eggs, and a couple of immense bunches of cocoa-nuts.  When we got on board we felt quite happy, and, for the first time since leaving America, we had a little singing.  Shall I be laughed at when I confess that our musical efforts were confined to Sankey’s hymns?  Maybe, but I do not care.  Cheap and clap-trap as the music may be, it tasted “real good,” as Abner said, and I am quite sure that that Sunday night was the best that any of us had spent for a very long time.

A long, sound sleep was terminated at dawn, when we weighed and stood out through a narrow passage by East Island, which was quite covered with fine trees—­of what kind I do not know, but they presented a beautiful sight.  Myriads of birds hovered about, busy fishing from the countless schools that rippled the placid sea.  Beneath us, at twenty fathoms, the wonderful architecture of the coral was plainly visible through the brilliantly-clear sea, while, wherever the tiny builders had raised their fairy domain near the surface, an occasional roller would crown it with