there was refused on the ground that Norfolk Island belonged to the see of Tasmania, and not to that of New Zealand.  But the Bishop of Tasmania could hardly visit it without great inconvenience, and he had therefore placed it under the care of his brother of New Zealand, full in whose track it lay.  The matter was referred to the Colonial Secretary, and in the meantime Bishop Selwyn adhered to his purpose of visiting it on leaving Sydney, and though he could not place his chaplain there, leaving Mrs. Selwyn to assist in the work of training the new comers to the novelties of a more temperate climate and a more genial soil than they had known on the torrid rock of Pitcairn’s Island.

Accordingly, on the 4th of July, the ‘Southern Cross’ again approached the island, and finding that the Pitcairners had come, and that their magistrate and Mr. Nobbs, their clergyman, would gladly welcome assistance, the Bishop brought Mrs. Selwyn on shore, and left her there to assist Mr. Nobbs in preparing the entire population to be confirmed on his return.  But the Pitcairners have been amply written about, and as Coleridge Patteson’s connection with them was only incidental, I shall not dwell on them or their history.

The ‘Southern Cross’ reached Anaiteum on the 14th of July.  This island was occupied by Mr. Inglis and Mr. Greddie, of the Scottish Presbyterian Mission, who had done much towards improving the natives.  Small canoes soon began to come off to the vessel, little craft consisting of no more than the trunk of a tree hollowed out, seldom more than a foot broad, and perhaps eighteen inches deep, all with outriggers—­namely, a slight wooden frame or raft to balance them, and for the most part containing two men, or sometimes three or four.  Before long, not less than fifteen or twenty had come on board, with woolly hair and mahogany skins, generally wearing a small strip of calico, but some without even this.  They were small men, but lithe and supple, and walked about the deck quite at ease, chattering in a language no one understood except the words ’Missy Inglis,’ as they pointed to a house.  Presently another canoe arrived with a Samoan teacher with whom the Bishop could converse, and who said that Mr. Geddie was at Mare.  They were soon followed by a whale boat with a Tahitian native teacher, a Futuma man, and a crew of Anaiteans.

’The Futuma man had expended his energies upon his hair, which was elaborately dressed after a fashion that precluded the possibility of any attention being bestowed upon the rest of his person, which was accordingly wholly unencumbered with any clothing.  The perfection of this art apparently consisted in gathering up about a dozen hairs and binding them firmly with grass or fine twine of cocoa-nut fibre plastered with coral lime.  As the hair grows, the binding is lengthened also, and only about four or five inches are suffered to escape from this confinement, and are then frizzed