when you pass by,
What you are now, so once was I.
Straight down the Ripper No. 3 shaft I fell;
The Lord preserve my soul from hell."

On the Palmer River diggings (also in North Queensland) one William
Baker testified to his principles of temperance in the following,
written on the back of his "miner's right," which was nailed to a strip
of deal from a packing-case:--

"Bill Baker is my name,
A man of no faim,
But I was I of the First
In this great Land of thirst
To warn a good mate
Of the sad, dreadful fate,
That will come to him from drink.
--Wm. Baker of S. Shields, England."

But let me give some more quotations from the Longwood visitors' book.
Three midshipmen of the _Melville_ irreverent young dogs, write:--

"We three have endeavoured, by sundry potations of Mrs. T------'s
brandy, to arrive at a proper pitch of enthusiasm always felt, or
assumed to be, by pilgrims to this tomb. It has, however, been a
complete failure, which I fear our horses will rue when we arrive at the
end of our pilgrimage.--Three Mids. of the _Melville_."

That is another gross insult to France--an insult which, fortunately for
England, has escaped the notice of the French press. And now two more
extracts from the delicious article in the Sydney paper:--

"William Collins, master of the _Hawk_ of Glasgow, from Icaboe, bound
to Cork for orders. In hope never to have anything to do with the dung
trade! And God send us all a good passage home to old England. Amen! At
Longwood."

I sympathise with _you_, good William! You describe the guano-carrying
industry by a somewhat rude expression; but as a seafaring man who
has had the misfortune to be engaged in the transportation of the
distressful but highly useful product, I shake your hand even as I shake
the greasy hand of Mr. William Miller, the New Bedford blubber-hunter.
My benison on you both.

The last excerpt in the book is--

"One murder makes a villain, millions a hero;"

and underneath a brave Frenchman writes--

"You lie--you God-dam Englishman."

"'REO," THE FISHERMAN

'Reo was a short, squat Malayan, with a face like a skate, barring his
eyes, which were long, narrow slits, apparently expressing nothing but
supreme indifference to the world in general. But they would light up
sometimes with a merry twinkle when the old rogue would narrate some of
his past villainies.

He came to Samoa in t