h of relief, as
if he felt that he had not only disposed of a particular and knotty
case, but had laid down a great general principle by which he should
steer his course in all time to come.

It need scarcely be said that Thursday October was quite prepared to
undertake this probationary work; that the new garden was quickly got
into a sufficiently "for'ard state;" and that, ere long, the first
wedding on Pitcairn was celebrated under circumstances of jubilant
rejoicing.

CHAPTER TWENTY SIX.

TREATS OF A BIRTH AND OF DEVASTATION.

More than eighteen years had now elapsed without the dwellers on that
little isle of the Southern Sea having beheld a visitant from the great
world around them. That world, meanwhile, had been convulsed with
useless wars. The great Napoleon had run through a considerable portion
of his withering career, drenching the earth with blood, and heaping
heavy burdens of debt on the unfortunate nations of Europe. Nelson had
shattered his fleets, and Wellington was on the eve of commencing that
victorious career which was destined, ere long, to scatter his armies;
but no echo of the turmoil in which all this was being accomplished had
reached the peaceful dwellers on Pitcairn, who went on the even tenor of
their way, proving, in the most convincing and interesting manner, that
after all "love is the fulfilling of the law."

But the year 1808 had now arrived, a year fraught with novelty,
interest, and importance to the Pitcairners.

The first great event of that year was the birth of a son to Thursday
October Christian, and if ever there was a juvenile papa who opened his
eyes to the uttermost, stared in sceptical wonder, pinched himself to
see if he were awake, and went away into the bush to laugh and rejoice
in secret, that man was TOC.

"Boys and girls," said Thursday, about a month after the birth, "we'll
celebrate this event with a picnic to Martin's Cove, if you would like
it."

There was an assumption of fine paternal dignity about Toc when he said
this, which was quite beautiful to behold. His making the proposal,
too, without any reference to John Adams, was noted as being unusual.

"Don't you think we'd better ask father first?" suggested Otaheitan
Sally.

"Of course I do," said Toc, on whose ear the word "father" fell
pleasantly. "You don't suppose, do you, that I'd propose to do anything
of importance without his consent?"

It may strike the supercilious reader here t