oth hands on my shoulders, and roared out, with but an
indifferent appreciation of music:

"J'ai connu Moreau--Victor--Argerau--
Et Murat--Et Massen--a--a--
Vash a fling a flong--tra a long, a long--!"

The streets were filled with groups of gaily-attired native girls, who,
with low, musically laughing voices, were chattering their soft, vowelly
dialect, unceasingly, interrupted occasionally by some gallant
Frenchman, who would perhaps give a stray damsel a chuck under the chin,
or a hasty clasp around the waist, and pass on, regardless of their
lively sallies. Then overgrown gend'armes would be perceptible in the
distance, by their white cotton aguillettes and clashing sabres, when
the nymphs would disappear like frightened partridges amid the adjacent
groves, and all were hushed in an instant, until the dreadful police had
passed by, when they would again emerge and occupy their former ground.
Then, too, the light yellowish tinge of plastered houses, so often seen
in France--the thatched cane huts of the natives--sentinels pacing the
ramparts--near by, a brass field-piece gazing up the road--and beneath
the spreading bread fruit, or under the stately trunk of a cocoanut, a
soldier in red breeches, resting on the shining barrel of his musket.
All this, with the profusion of tropical foliage, the grand scenery of
the island, and a thousand other novel scenes, so strangely contrasted
with _demi-bar-bare_ life, that I became quite bewildered, and was glad
to make the acquaintance of an agreeable French officer, who, with a
bottle of Bourdeaux, soon brought me to my senses.

I passed the night on shore, in the warehouse of an American merchant,
and should probably have slept well, in defiance of musquitoes, had not
a choice coterie of _sous-officers_, in an adjoining cabaret,
within-arm's length of my window, made vociferous music, by screaming
Republican airs until daylight, very much incited, no doubt, by
continual cries of _Encore du vin, mon cher_, and the usual ringing
accompaniment of bottles and glasses.

Rising betimes, I donned walking dress, and after breakfast, in company
with my friend Larry and an officer of the French Marine, who spoke the
Tahitian dialect perfectly well, we left Papeetee for an excursion up
the Broom Road towards Point Venus.

The rain had quenched the dust, and there was a grateful freshness
clinging around the lime and orange groves. The sun had not yet dr