gestive of peace and tranquillity, it struck us
as profanation to disturb it.

As we gained the top and looked around us, our astonishment became even
greater. A long succession of low hills, covered with tall ferns or
heath, stretched away on every side; not a house, nor a hovel, nor a
living thing to be seen. Had the country been one uninhabited since the
creation, it could not have presented an aspect of more thorough
desolation! No road-track, nor even a foot-path, led through the dreary
waste before us, on which, to all seeming, the foot of man had never
fallen. And, as we stood for some moments, uncertain which way to turn,
a sense of the ridiculous suddenly burst upon the party, and we all
broke into a hearty roar of laughter.

"I little thought," cried Charost, "that I should ever emulate 'La
Perouse,' but it strikes me that I am destined to become a great
discoverer."

"How so, colonel?" asked his aid-de-camp.

"Why, it is quite clear, that this same island is uninhabited; and, if
it be all like this, I own I'm scarcely surprised at it."

"Still, there must be a town not far off, and the residence of that
bishop we heard of this morning."

A half incredulous shrug of the shoulders was all his reply, as he
sauntered along with his hands behind his back, apparently lost in
thought; while we, as if instinctively partaking of his gloom, followed
him in total silence.

"Do you know, gentlemen, what I'm thinking of?" said he, stopping
suddenly, and facing about. "My notion is, that the best thing to do
here, would be to plant our tri-color, proclaim the land a colony of
France, and take to our boats again."

This speech delivered with an air of great gravity, imposed upon us for
an instant; but the moment after, the speaker breaking into a hearty
laugh, we all joined him, as much amused by the strangeness of our
situation, as by any thing in his remark.

"We never could bring our guns through a soil like this, colonel," said
the aid-de-camp, as he struck his heel into the soft and clayey surface.

"If we could ever land them at all!" muttered he, half aloud; then
added, "But for what object should we? Believe me, gentlemen, if we are
to have a campaign here, bows and arrows are the true weapons."

"Ah! what do I see yonder?" cried the aid-de-camp; "are not those sheep
feeding in that little glen?"

"Yes," cried I, "and a man herding them, too. See, the fellow has caught
sight of us, and he's off as fas