ntaneous. Most of their days are
therefore spent in a round of various enjoyments, where Nature has
lavished many a pleasing landscape; where the temperature of the air is
warm, but continually refreshed by a wholesome breeze from the sea; and
where the sky is almost constantly serene. A kind of happy uniformity
runs through the whole life of the Taheitans. They rise with the sun,
and hasten to rivers and fountains to perform an ablution equally
reviving and cleanly. They pass the morning at work, or walk about till
the heat of the day increases, when they retreat to their dwellings, or
repose under some tufted tree. There they amuse themselves with
smoothing their hair, and anoint it with fragrant oils; or they blow the
flute, and sing to it, or listen to the songs of the birds. At the hour
of noon, or a little later, they go to dinner. After their meals they
resume their domestic amusements, during which the flame of mutual
affection spreads in every heart, and unites the rising generation with
new and tender ties. The lively jest, without any ill-nature, the
artless tale, the jocund dance and frugal supper, bring on the evening;
and another visit to the river concludes the actions of the day. Thus
contented with their simple way of life, and placed in a delightful
country, they are free from cares, and happy in their ignorance.'

Such is the picture drawn of the happy people of Otaheite by a cold,
philosophical, German doctor, and such, with very little change, Bligh
found them. As far, however, as the mutiny of his people was concerned,
we must wholly discard the idea thrown out by him, that the seductions
of Otaheite had any share in producing it. It could not have escaped a
person of Christian's sagacity, that certain interrogatories would
unquestionably be put by the natives of Otaheite, on finding the ship
return so soon without her commander, without the bread-fruit plants,
and with only about half her crew; questions he knew to which no
satisfactory answer could be made; and though, at subsequent periods, he
twice visited that island, it was some time afterwards, and not from
choice but necessity; his object was to find a place of concealment,
where he might pass the remainder of his days, unheard of and unknown,
and where it is to be hoped he had time for sincere repentance, the only
atonement he could make for the commission of a crime, which involved so
many human beings in misery, and brought others to an u