ing directly across from one
village to another, they follow the Broom Road round and round.

It is by no means, however, altogether travelled on foot; horses being
now quite plentiful. They were introduced from Chili; and possessing
all the gaiety, fleetness, and docility of the Spanish breed, are
admirably adapted to the tastes of the higher classes, who as
equestrians have become very expert. The missionaries and chiefs
never think of journeying except in the saddle; and at all hours of
the day you see the latter galloping along at full speed. Like the
Sandwich Islanders, they ride like Pawnee-Loups.

For miles and miles I have travelled the Broom Road, and never wearied
of the continual change of scenery. But wherever it leads
you--whether through level woods, across grassy glens, or over hills
waving with palms--the bright blue sea on one side, and the green
mountain pinnacles on the other, are always in sight.

CHAPTER XXXI.

THE CALABOOZA BERETANEE

ABOUT a mile from the village we came to a halt.

It was a beautiful spot. A mountain stream here flowed at the foot of
a verdant slope; on one hand, it murmured along until the waters,
spreading themselves upon a beach of small, sparkling shells,
trickled into the sea; on the other was a long defile, where the eye
pursued a gleaming, sinuous thread, lost in shade and verdure.

The ground next the road was walled in by a low, rude parapet of
stones; and, upon the summit of the slope beyond, was a large, native
house, the thatch dazzling white, and in shape an oval.

"Calabooza! Calabooza Beretanee!" (the English Jail), cried our
conductor, pointing to the building.

For a few months past, having been used by the consul as a house of
confinement for his refractory sailors, it was thus styled to
distinguish it from similar places in and about Papeetee.

Though extremely romantic in appearance, on a near approach it proved
hut ill adapted to domestic comfort. In short, it was a mere shell,
recently built, and still unfinished. It was open all round, and
tufts of grass were growing here and there under the very roof. The
only piece of furniture was the "stocks," a clumsy machine for
keeping people in one place, which, I believe, is pretty much out of
date in most countries. It is still in use, however, among the
Spaniards in South America; from whom, it seems, the Tahitians have
borrowed the contrivance, as well as the name by which all places of
confinem