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The Camera in the Coral Islands

The Camera in the Coral Islands — A Photographer's Diary — of the — “Wairarapa's” Second Trip to the South Seas

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The Camera in the Coral Islands
A Photographer's Diary

of the
“Wairarapa's” Second Trip to the South Seas

To return to Dunedin from the great South Seas Excursion without having landed on either the Samoan or Tongan groups was evidently out of the question. Photographs of these Islands, as well as of the Fijis, were looked for, and photographs must be supplied. “Measles” might be a sufficient explanation to all who went on the first trip, and to some others who were in a position to realise the situation, but it was felt that it would be deemed but a poor excuse “down south.” Accordingly, advantage was taken of the Company's liberal concession to all who had gone on the trial trip, a ticket was secured for the second, and on

Monday afternoon, July 7th, six days after her return to Auckland, the “Wairarapa” left the wharf for the Coral Islands once more. Whereas on the former trip she carried 108 passengers, this time there were just eighty, including seven of us “old hands.” The journey began under the best of auspices, and everyone seemed at once to throw away all forebodings, and to feel assured that this trip was going to be a great success. The sea was smooth—there was a minimum of sea sickness, and all seemed at once to become “weel acquent.” A most business-like committee, with an energetic and capable chairman, was formed, and the result quickly appeared in a very successful entertainment of music and recitations on the second evening out. Next day a chess tournament, which brought out eleven competitors, was inaugurated. Athletic sports beguiled the daylight hours, and a ball followed in the evening. Ladies being very powerfully in the minority, an additional levy of winsome damsels was improvised. On Thursday morning appeared on the notice-board an announcement of the early issue of a newspaper, the prospectus concluding thus:— “Nothing will be inserted in the paper which is calculated to cause any disturbance in this most Pacific Ocean.” Another entertainment—quite as good as the former one—brought another day to a close, and on

Friday, July 11th, at 2 p.m., we found ourselves at Suva, in the Fijis. The Suvans had prepared for our amusement a performance of page 10 “The Pirates of Penzance,” which exhibited, when the smallness of the white population is taken into account, a wonderful amount of musical and dramatic talent.

Saturday, July 12th.—Yesterday afternoon the weather had been anti-photographic, so the first start with the camera was made to-day in a native village about two miles from Suva. Studies of tropical foliage, with peeps of the harbour; groups of men, women, and “pickaninnies;” and other groups of passengers, with the prettiest and shapeliest native girls they could find and persuade to be “posed,”—made a good morning's work. When our boats reached the village, the tide was “in,” and all stepped ashore easily enough; but on the return journey it was “out,” and very much “out” too; so those who did not care to wade two or three hundred yards, had to be carried on the backs of stalwart Fijians. Verily it was a sight to see a most genial and almost more portly member of our party carried, supported, and propped up by five of the biggest men the village could produce. After luncheon another little trip was made by way of the Immigration Depot (by boat thus far) through the Cemetery and Botanical Gardens to some caves, which rank among the “shows” of the place. The beauty of the foliage seen in the morning filled all with delight, but the effect was almost effaced by the wondrous wealth of nature spread around us in the afternoon's walk. Fresh pictures revealed themselves on every hand, and the day was but too short for the camera to secure all it could see. Thoughtful residents had provided refreshments, which were discussed in the first and larger cave, and then, one by one, the party crept through a very, very narrow gallery to a second cavern, whence the outer air was reached by another route. While the photographer was laboriously dragging himself and instrument through this “needle's eye,” he was complimented by the wits of the party striking up the appropriate air, “The Camera's A-coming.” The afternoon's programme included a visit to a large Banyan tree, and suddenly emerging from the bush the photographer beheld before him the huge tree laden with most extraordinary fruit. The whole of the party had climbed into the branches, and the sad spectacle was witnessed of affluent “globe-trotters” and substantial Fijian merchants all “up a tree.” Two or three “shots,” permanently to record this event, concluded the first day as far as photography was concerned—twenty-eight exposures being the satisfactory result. Meanwhile a large party had gone up the Rewa River to the great mill of the Colonial Sugar Company, and returned at night full of delight. Having secured a number of negatives on the former trip, a second visit thither had not been needed.

Sunday, July 13th.—Sailing early from Suva, reached Levuka at 2 p.m. Felt greatly tempted to take the camera ashore, but resisted, and quietly “prospected” for the morrow. Turning to the left on landing, and passing by Nasova, the old Government House, between the native villages of Ndremba and Nai-Koro-Koro, is most romantically situated the Cemetery, and in the most beautiful part, on the very point of a tongue-like cliff, almost overhanging the sea, is a sweetly poetic tomb. A large mass of rock stands—seemingly only just balanced—on two or three small stones; and in the rock is inserted a tablet with the inscription—” Beneath the evening shadow of this rock lie the hallowed remains;” and here follows the page 11 name of a young lady, wife of a very prominent official. The grave itself is further marked by a beautiful cross of polished marble. Altogether it strikes the spectator as one of the most graceful and affecting tributes which devoted love could possibly rear to the memory of one who had “gone before.”

Monday, July 14.—After taking a panorama of Levuka, pushed on to the villages of Ndremba and Nai-Koro-Koro, to work the ground prospected yesterday. Pictures of native houses and their inhabitants—studies of tropical trees—then more groups— characteristic verdure again. Such was the order of the day, as fast as one ould go, until the sun dropped behind the Levuka hills, when back self and bearers trudged to the ship—thirty “exposures” being the day's “bag.” This evening had a conversation with Mr. Hemmings, the German Consul here, who, it will be remembered, entertained the first excursionists at a “Fijian at Home,” that gave such unalloyed pleasure to all. It is this gentleman's opinion –founded upon twenty-six years' knowledge of the South Seas—that the Union S.S. Company would do well—say next year—to vary considerably their programme; namely, to leave out altogether the Fijis, as being already well known or easily reached by the steamers “Penguin” and “Suva”—make directly for Vavau, in the Friendly Islands; then to Samoa, going to Savaii—not to Apia, or such settled places at all. From thence to Tahiti; afterwards to the Marquesas Islands, taking Rarotonga, in the Cook Islands, on the way back to Auckland. This trip could be done in six weeks or thereabouts, and would give, says Mr. Hemmings, something like a thorough idea of the South Seas.

Tuesday, July 15.—Reached Vuna Point, Taviuni, at 8 p.m. After a shot at the Sugar Mill, went with a large party in a “special train” along the tramway which runs some four miles through the sugar canes into the bush. The sky, already lowering at the start, became blacker as we proceeded, though we escaped anything worse than a sprinkle. This would not be worth mentioning were it not that this was almost the only day on which the weather was not everything that could be wished. Of course photography was “out of it”; but this was of less consequence, as very good results had been obtained here on the first trip.

Wednesday, July 16.—Early in the forenoon we were off the Island of Mango. From the glowing account of this lovely isle given by the “First-trippers,” a grand field day was anticipated, and, truly, a grand field day was enjoyed. The force was divided; one body, consisting chiefly of ladies, pulled round to attack the island by a flank movement through the well-known and most lovely lagoon, while the larger division pushed on boldly to the front, gallantly cleared the cocoanut groves, and then, deploying in the open ground, regardless of the heavy fire poured down from the tropical sun overhead, carried the Bungalow and the heights of Talasinga. The original holders of these coigns of vantage cheerfully accepted the new condition of things, and shared their luncheon with the victors. Meanwhile the Engineer Corps—represented by the Photographer-in-chief and a small but effective following of dingy mercenaries—had hovered on the skirts of the column, making a diversion ever and anon as some tempting scene would invite page 12 capture. After cocoannt palms, banana groves, and bread fruit and pandanus odoratissimus trees had thus fallen, the Camera was planted in the very front of the Bungalow; and the grand valley beneath, with the Butoni Mill as a centre, was covered by its fire, and irresistibly swept through one hundred and twenty degrees of angle in a panorama of three plates. From this point the Engineer Corps was ordered to advance upon the coffee estate. Like good fortune awaited them here; for just before reaching the summit (crowned by the manager's house), they were confronted by a large body of coolies (female), who drew up in front of a village. Their disposition was excellent, but after a very brief engagement they were all “taken.” The chieftess of the party (a Brahmin, it afterwards appeared) was decorated with silver anklets and wristlets, a ring of about three inches in diameter through one nostril, and change for three English sovereigns in small silver coins disposed over her person. Despite the temptation, no attempt was made to “loot.” This lady, on the approach of the victors, appeared to consider it the correct thing to veil herself, which she did, partially, with a corner of her robe; but on the Photographer-in-chief imitating her with a corner of his robe (coat-lap), she laughed at the joke, dropped the garment, and let all who would gaze their fill. After this the whole coffee estate, with the “nursery” and the newly-planted ceara rubber trees, were duly captured; and this portion of the force returned to the landing place, covered with honour and self-satisfaction. The report of the force that moved by way of the lagoon was also eminently satisfactory, the way having been cleared by the engineers on the previous trip, and all the best (i.e., most picturesque) positions duly secured on that occasion. The whole force—now massed in the saloon of the “Wairarapa”—duly dined, felicitated themselves on their achievements, and then generously abandoned the whole of their conquests to the original occupiers, reserving only the glory. The engineers, though, retained their spoils—namely, twenty-two exposed plates. The “Wairarapa” gaily steamed away for the Navigators' Group, or Samoa, on

Thursday July, 17.—The Fiji portion of the programme had now been duly done, and next came the momentous question—” Is it possible that anything can turn up this time to prevent our landing in the Samoan and Tongan Islands?”

Friday, July 18.—This day was published the first number of the “Wairapara Wilderness”—surely a strange title for a newspaper. Admitting the paramount necessity of invoking “apt alliteration's artful aid,” one would think that a better word than “Wilderness” might have been hit upon. How would the “Wairarapa Whistle” have sounded? However, the first issue certainly fulfilled the promise of the prospectus, for there was truly nothing in it at all calculated to “cause disturbance in this most Pacific Ocean.” It was as innocent of offence as Archibald Grosvenor's decalet, “Gentle Jane was as good as gold.” Indeed it reminded one of the old story of the Scottish wooer, who on the ove of their marriage, reminded his lassie that he had been very “civil,” not having snatched a single kiss during the whole of their five years' courtship. “Ou, ay,” said the maiden, “senselessly ceevil!” To-night our third entertainment was given, and another success scored.

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Saturday, July 19.—Hurrah! Tis all right! After the usual formalities by the authorities of Apia, we rush for the boats, and soon set our feet on Samoan ground. On the previous visit here, a good deal of surreptitious trading in curios was done while the police boat was temporarily absent from the duty of preventing communication between the polluted Wairarapa and the shore, and fancy prices were asked and readily paid. This time business was attempted to be done on the basis of last trip's prices, but buyers were shy, and the market eventually steadied and goods were quitted at not more than say twice their value. It is needless to say that the camera was soon “at it” in the native village, illustrating as thoroughly as the limited time would permit “The Samoan at home.” Some fine examples of tattooing were secured. As is perhaps pretty well known, the men tattoo the body from the hips to the knees in most elaborate and beautiful patterns, following the curves of the body. On the outer sides of the thighs, the work is laid in in a solid mass of blue, while inside the legs a sort of lattice-work is depicted, giving the idea of laced pantaloons. It is scarcely possible to think, without a shiver, of what the pain of the operation must be. It evidently marks the assumption of the toga virilis, and would seem to be universal, though we were told that the missionaries discountenanced the practice. Devoted the afternoon to the Roman Catholic mission grounds—snatching “bits” all the way up the hill, and finishing with the church and other buildings and groups of pupils. Father Gavet speaks no English, and it would have been “a caution” to a linguist to have heard the French of the photographer. However, they managed to understand each other, and eventually a bowl of kawa was made in his honour, and with the usual formalities hauded to the visitor. After dinner a mysterious whisper was passed round a select circle that a proper Samoan mèkè would be given at a private house in Apia. Accordingly all who were in the secret shewed up at the rendezvous, and were regaled with the usual sing-song and hand-clapping business by Samoan girls, somewhat diversified by the archness (not to say “impudence”) of their fair leader. Still some of the younger members of the party on leaving expressed the opinion that the affair was a “sell”—that it was not a proper mèkè—or rather that it was far too “proper.” To add to their chagrin they learned afterwards that a mèkè took place in another part of the town, at which no disappointment was expressed or felt.

Sunday, July 20.—Considered that no overt photography would be seemly, so did another day's “prospecting.” Passing through a native village, got a youthful guide to show the fall, and some most delicious bathing places. At one of these found a large party from the ship disporting themselves in primitive—even biblical fashion, for they were naked, and the native ladies on the bank were evidently not ashamed. In the evening, pursuant to invitation, Father Gavet, his two assistants, and about thirty native pupils came on board, and after a wondering examination of the ship, the latter gave us the best sample of Samoan sitting-dances and songs we have yet seen or heard. It was shrewdly suspected that some of these were “secular,” but as they were judiciously sandwiched with “hymns,” nobody was seriously shocked.

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Monday, July 21.—As per usual, spent to-day in “taking” views “prospected” yesterday. Among other items secured a fine view of a Samoan interior with the process of kawa-making going on. About half-a-mile out of Apia is a little stream, and over it some speculative individual has thrown a foot bridge at a probable outlay of at least five pounds. In return he exacts a toll of threepence, going or returning—double fare after dark. This seemed a piece of such thorough go-aheaditiveness, that a plate was expended on the scene in commemoration. At 4.80 p.m. weighed anohor and started for the second Samoan stopping-place, vis, Pango Pango, which we reached early on

Tuesday, July 22.—A goodly number of those on board had been at some time or other to the Fjords of the South Island of New Zealand; and almost with one voice these exclaimed—” Why, if it were not for the cocoanut trees, we could think ourselves in the Sounds.” Doubtless they were thinking of the Southerly Sounds, such as Preservation and Chalky Inlets. There was nothing, of course to suggest Wet Jacket and Hall's Arms, or Milford Sound. It was an agreeable change, after the roadsteads within the coral reefs that had been our anchorages hitherto, to find ourselves in a real land-looked harbour. Well might we admire, for this is the Queen Harbour of the Pacific, and is destined, says the soi disant far-seeing ones, to be a place of great commercial and political importance in the not very distant future. Here we found flourishing the “fiend” system, of which most of us have read in books of South Sea travel. The arrangement is very simple. The inhabitants flock down to the landing place to meet the visitors, and by a process of “elective affinity,” each one attaches him or herself to one of the strangers with the naive query—” You be my flend!” Should the answer be favourable, the bond is supposed to continue as long as the ship stays. Many little services are assiduously rendered, and then at parting the propriety of a present in return is delicately suggested. Sometimes it must be confessed there is no advance beyond the baldest mercenary idea, as, for instance, in one case—” You be my flond?” “Oh, yes, certainly!” “You give me two dollar!” Alarmed visitor backs out, and unsophisticated Samoan goes in suarch of another “affinity.” The photographer was fortunate in arranging with two “flends”—one of each sex—though he had grave doubts it this were not an infraction of the unwritten law; and he must admit, at the expense of his reputation for gallantry, that his female “flondship” partook somewhat of a practical, not to say selfish character—that in fact he meant just to use this “flend” as a model for his pictures. Indeed, the paot had lasted a good part of the day, and she had submitted to be “posed” time after time, when, suddenly realising the position, she turned abruptly on her heel, saying, “Me go now,” and this photographer saw her no more. The male “flend,” William, at once fell into his proper position as beast of burden for the necessary impedimenta, and all went well for some time. But as the party proceeded higher and higher up the harbor, working the country en route, it became evident that William was growing very uneasy. By alternate ooaxing and bullying a few hundred yards more were made, when William unmistakeably struck. It then transpired that we had passed the boundary of his enemy's country, and that if he page 15 ventured further there would probably just be a row. Taking pity upon the gallant chief, he was allowed to transfer the most indispensable boxes to the shoulders of his young son, when he at once beat a masterly retreat to the landing-place, which, it would seem, was regarded as neutral territory. The photographic party were now arrested by a request to turn aside and take a group who were ready posed in a beautiful little dell. Here were a number of the jeunesse dorée of the “Wairarapa” paired off with the prettiest maidens of the country. The centre of the picture was occupied by a popular globe-trotter and his “flend,” the fair Faaolatana, a young lady of the highest social standing in the neighborhood; while others were arranged around in positions of the most delicious abandon. It was evident that the sensnous influence of the climate and the other surroundings was beginning to tell upon the impressible visitors. There was a perceptible relaxation of the moral fibre. “Very suggestive of Solomon's song, ain't it?” whispered an irreverent follow passenger in the photographer's ear. Noticing that the remark was received with a disapproving irown, he hastened to add, “Of course I mean without the orthodox head-lines!” No one, indeed, could be starched and square-toed among the children of nature who frolicked around. Even Mr. X—, at home one of the most decorous and rigid of churchgoers, a tax-paying “citizen of credit and renown,” could be seen lying upon a mat in a native house, his head pillowed upon the lap of a dusky charmer, who fanned him with one hand, white the other toyed seductively with his hair. “What's your name, my dear?” The fair one told him, and in return demanded his. X— pulled out his handkerchief, on which his name appeared “in permanont ink.” Circe at once begged this, and X— could not refuse. The next question was “You got wife?” when the photographer left, and diligently minded his own business.

The scene on the decks of the “Walrarapa” this afternoon was one long to be remembered. Crowds of Samoans—of both sexes and of all ages—pervaded the ship, diffusing a decided, though by no means disagreeable, aroma of cocoanut oil. Most were impelled by curiosity and wonder; some on trading thoughts Intent, and others perhaps full of tenderer feelings. As to the trading community, it must be said that a new experience awaited us. Many of the vendors of curlos—clubs, kawa bowls, etc.—could not be induced! to quote a money price, being intent solely on “clothes.” A shirt or an old coat would “fetch” where the offer of silver and gold would be quite unheeded. As this was our first experience of the kind, so was it our last; for ever afterwards, as ever before, the “almighty dollar” reigned as supremely as in any civilized country.

If anyone doubted the perfect suitability of the native dress to the climate and conditions of life around, he would have been convinced had he seen what a transformation could be effected by a slight change in costume. Here, for instance, is a girl dressed but little according to civilized ideas, very much of her form, her bosom, her shapely limbs being freely revealed. She is just a poem, and no thought of impropriety suggests itself for a moment But see, someone has added to her garb boots, stockings, and garters! “Faugh! what a very objectionable young person! Beally, she ought to be sent on shore forthwith!”

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Wednesday, July 23.—We were to sail at 10 a.m., and no ship's boats were available for the shore. The morning was so glorious, though, with so perfect a calm, that it was not in photographic nature to resist the temptation of trying to add to the twenty-four plates of yesterday. Accordingly the pilot boat was secured, and from the opposite side of the harbour to the scene of yesterday's operations, some grand pictures were obtained. Two love-sick swains—rivals for the attention of the lovely Sauimatane—dubbed “the beauty with the languishing eyes,” had persuaded that charmer to come across in her oanoe to be photographed.

Standing with reluctant feet
Where the brook and river meet—
Womanhood and childhood fleet—

Her form just perfect—her face charming—with dreamy eyes fringed with the longest lashes (her admirers said) ever seen,—Sauimatane was elected by acclamation the “Belle of the Coral Islands.”

The steamer's whistle warned us that time was up. We hurried on board just in time to get half-a-dozen snap shots at the fleet of canoes of all sizes, full of natives, that crowded round the ship, and then up came the anchor and we were soon fast leaving Pango Pango behind, and bidding good-bye to Samoa and the Samoans. Almost the last thing noted was a little canoe a long way astern, carrying a single person waving farewells with a handkerchief to someone on board the steamer. A binocular told that this was “the beauty with the languishing eyes.”

Thursday, July 24.—We had hoped to reach Vavau, in the Tongan group, this afternoon; but through a head wind and heavy sea, we could only sight it and dodge about till daylight.

Friday, July 25.—The first hitch of the trip here occurred. The health officer of the port of Neiafu—to our great horror—boarded us at the outer anchorage, and forbade us to come any further, serving us with a notice signed by H.M. Vice-Consul, as to all vessels arriving from “Samoa or any infected ports.” However, after some correspondence, no end of formalitios, and the loss of several precious hours, all was declared to be right; we were admitted to pratique and allowed to move to the anchorago off the town. In the afternoon the launch, with two boats in tow, took a large party to the Coral Cave, which Miss Gordon Cumming thus describes:—

“We were guided to a truly exquisite cave, about five miles distant. Never before in all my wanderings had my eyes been gladdened by such an ideal fairy grot. We rowed along the face of beautiful crags; suddenly we steered right into a narrow opening and found ourselves in a great vaulted cavern like a grand cathedral—a coral cave, with huge stalactites hanging in clusters from the roof, and forming a perfect gallery on one side, from which we could almost fancy that white-veiled nuns were looking down on us. The great outer cave is paved with lapis lazuli, at least with water of the purest ultramarine, which was reflected in rippling shimmers of blue and green on the white marble roof. For the sun was lowering, and shone in glory through the western archway, lighting up the mysterious depths of a great inner cavern, which otherwise receives but one ray of light from a small opening far overhead, through page 17 which we saw blue sky and green leaves. No scene painter could have devised so romantic a picture for any fairy pantomime. Altogether it was a scene of dream-like loveliness.” This is a capital bit of word-painting, and the exaggeration of description—if any—is really very pardonable.

Saturday, July 26.—A day spent in the orange groves—for Neiafu is literally built amongst the oranges. Both houses and people presented a marked difference from Samoan houses and people. Whereas the houses in Samoa are just a roof on pillars, with a series of Venetian-like screens, which can be let down or raised so as to exclude or admit light or air at will,—the Tongan dwellings are similar to the Fijian, and have permanent walls, with two or perhaps three doors. The characteristic of the people which strikes the stranger at once as varying from that of the other two groups is the greater prudery or perhaps modesty of the women. While the Fijian and Samoan women—for the most part—seemed to look upon the upper garment as one to be either worn or thrown off —especially when the latter course was suggested for æsthetic reasons—the Tongan women seemed to regard a wish that they should do likewise as somewhat of a liberty. After taking a view of the Wesleyan Church, was persuaded to try one of the interior. Should this prove a success it will show to advantage the greatest charm of all nativo buildings—the roof. However large the edifice may be, the roof is put together without screw or nail; it is in fact just held together with fibre. [This view did prove a success, and figures as No. 2681 in the catalogue.] The next subject was a picture of the venerable King George, who is now 86 years old, taken in front of his palace. Then followed a group of Tongan notabilities, vix.:—Rev. Shirley W. Baker, Premier; Prince Wellington, grandson of the King and heir-apparent to the crown (native name and title—” W. G. Tubou Malohi, Governor of Vavau”); Junia, Minister of Finance; Fotofili, Governor of Niuafoou; Rev. J. B. Watkin, Superintendent of Vavau Circuit; and J. Afu, Chief Clerk in the Department of Finance. Several sweet pictures from the Cemetery—from the top of Olopeka, looking towards Talau (“The Pudding”)—a set of “stereos,” and some groups of Tongan girls, completes the tale of thirty-seven plates, the heaviest day's work in either trip.

Dinner this evening was noteworthy for a really capital display of post-prandial eloquence. We were honoured by the presence of several distinguished guests; among them Prince Wellington and the Premier. Mr. Crossman, in a very happily-worded speech, proposed the health of the Prince, who after a few prefatory words in well-choosen English, requested Mr. Baker to translate while he continued his speech in Tongan. The health of the Rev. S. W. Baker, proposed by Mr. Wheeler, gave the Premier the opportunity of setting before us in a few words the present condition of Tonga, in contrast with its state a very few years ago. “When the government was first formed the King had not an income of twelve pence; now he has twelve hundred pounds a year, while the Prince enjoys a handsome salary. The revenue of the country is one hundred thousand dollars, against just nothing at all at the period above referred to. All this,” he declared, with pardonable self-assertion, “is my work.” As to page 18 the calumnies that had been circulated about him, he would be quite prepared to meet them at the proper time: meanwhile he would tell us that he was known among the Tongans by a title of which the English word “Invincible” fairly conveys the meaning. As to the question of annexation, Mr. Baker gave forth no uncertain sound, declaring that his motto was—“Tonga for the Tongans”—averring that the Tongans were perfectly able to maintain their independence, and that he for one would never listen to proposals for annexation to any power; though he trusted that the closest friendly relations would ever be maintained with Great Britain and her Colonies— especially with Auckland. He concluded with a very neat compliment to the nion S.S. Co., and the Prince endorsed this compliment in giving the health of Captain Chatfield.

Sunday, July 27.—Sailed this morning at 7 o'clock for Nukualofa, Tongatabu, our last place of call.

Monday, July 28.—Beached Nukualofa at 9 o'clock, and at once enlisting an auxiliary force, carried the camera up the hill—Zion. Took views in all directions therefrom; then “shot at” the King's Palace and the new church adjoining. This is a very showy Gothio building in wood, with two towers, now nearly complete. It is to cost 22,500, which will be defrayed out of the King's privy purse. The idea seems to be to make it as European as possible, and even to imitate, in a humble degree, structures of world-wide fame. There is to be a considerable amount of carved work inside. An elaborate throne is to be built for the monarch, and a row of stalls for an order of knights not yet called into existence. It is in reference to this building that a waspish writer in the Fiji Times suggests that Mr. Baker's ambition is to become Archbishop of a new church of his own instituting—kindly prognosticating his ultimate death in the odour of sanctity, and his canonization as “St. Barabbas of Tonga!” Surely a genuine Tongan building, with such a roof as described a little above is worth half-a-dozen grimcrack weather-board “Gothio” imitations. Talk of Tonga for the Tongans, forsooth! “Tongan architecture for the Tongan people” would be more sensible, one would think. The afternoon was spent at Mua, a village about two hours' run along the coast, the chief object of interest being a very large banyan tree. The planting of the camera in front of it was just irresistible, it would seem, for up the tree rushed passengers by the score, where they hung on, reminding a friend at one's elbow of the tree-dweller in Central Africa. But the sight of Tonga is a few miles beyond Mua, just too far to render it possible in the time to get up the photographic traps, greatly to the chagrin of the operator, who herein suffered his only real disappointment in the trip. This is what is conjectured to be a monument or rude building for some religious rite, suggestive at once of Stonehenge. No light can be thrown upon its use now, as no traditions thereanent exist among the natives. Briefly, its description is as follows: Near the village of Kologo, about fifteen miles from Nukualofa, and some eighty yards from the sea-shore, stands a pile of stones, two being upright, and the third laid across the top, or rather let in, as a groove has been carefully cut in each upright in which the cross stone accurately fits. The perpendicular stones are about fifteen feet high, twelve feet deep, and four feet thick, and they stand ten feet apart. The page 19 horizontal one is four feet six inches by two feet deep; and of course long enough to connect the uprights. Were this writer to indulge in any speculation as to the use of these peculiar remains, he might be landed in as great an absurdity as Mr. Pickwick was in an affair of not very dissimilar character.

Tuesday, July 29.—This is to be our last day in the Islands. Acceding at once to the request of the photographer, a distinguished “group” was formed in front of the palace—the Indies condescendingly leaving the washtub for the purpose. The personages in question were Salote (Charlotte) Mafileo, daughter of the King; Anazieni (Anna Jane), sister of Prince Wellington; and Jiaogi (George) Fatafehi, Governor of Hapaü. After this, the Rev. J. E. Moulton's residence was coolly appropriated, followed by the Tubou College with many scores of pupils arranged in front. These same pupils had just astonished our passengers by their proficiency in mental arithmetic and their mastery of some of the problems in Euclid. Waylaying a bevy of the bonny Tongon girls on their way home from college, they were easily induced to form groups for the insatiable camera. Then, with shouldered instruments, a bee line was struck for the Roman Catholic Mission, to fill up the two hours which now remained. Were most politely received by the priests and a group of the native brass band was soon formed in front of the residence, followed by a view of the as yet uncompleted coral church, with the nuns and pupils arranged around, and the boss mason on the scaffolding chipping away at the coral carving. Very kindly received as he was by the priests of the mission, this photographer must still have his little fling. It is as to the dress of the pupils. “Confound the fellow!” says someone, perhaps, “can't he let the women's dress alone?” Well, he can't, when he sees the unfortunates dressed all alike in a species of bedgown of a flaring chintz, reaching from the neck to the heels. What is the object in disguising Nature's own children in such a vile and worse than charity school rig? It is not æsthetic, that is plain, and one appeals confidently to a consensus of opinion of English ladies (surely the ultimate court in such a matter) if it is really any more delicate than the true native costume. Two or three more views on the way to the launch, and then, in the midst of taking the very last, the steamer's whistle sounds, and the “Camera in the Coral Islands” has, for this time at least, done its work, whether successfully or no, “development” only can show. Punctually at three o'clock—the advertised time— the anchor is up, and we are heading for Auckland.

Thursday, July 81.—By noon this day we have covered just half the distance between Tongatabu and Auckland. Six hundred miles in forty-five hours is capital work, and we are hopeful of reaching Auckland wharf early on Saturday afternoon.

Friday, August 1.—Everyone busy, either finishing diaries or taking counsel with stewards as to packing the treasures secured in the islands. Hitherto the cabins have been as gorged with curios as purses have been depleted in their purchase. This evening we had a little more speech-making. The Hon. E. Carnegie proposed the toast of “The Captain, Mr. Wheeler, Mr. Stott, and the officers of the ship,” remarking that as there were perils of the sea through which the skill of the Captain had piloted them, so there were page 20 dangers and difficulties on land, which it was Mr. Wheeler's province to surmount. That gentleman, in the discharge of his duty, had shown a combination of energy and patience which unhappily fell to the lot of but few. The toast was received with enthusiasm, and was duly responded to by Captain Chatfield and Mr. Wheeler—the latter gentleman announcing that it was the intention of the Company to continue these trips yearly, and perhaps to extend them to groups of islands even more interesting than those we had just visisted.

Saturday, August 2.—At 10 o'clock a.m. Auckland wharf is reached, and the second “Excursion to the South Seas” is at an end. There is no need to multiply words. The trip has been a success—unequivocal—perfect. It would seem impossible for the veriest cynic to find occasion for a single snarl; and as to regularity, if punctuality be really the politeness of kings, the officers of the Wairarapa may be declared to be just regal in their virtues.

In the above scribble, “it goes without saying” that there is no special attempt at conveying useful information. It is just what it pretends to be,—a hastily-written account of what a busy man, rushing through three groups of islands with the camera on his shoulder, might be expected to see and hear.