At daybreak on the 1st of August, David was hard at work with the men, dismantling the snug little Observatory. Again the sound of tools was heard outside Commodore's Cottage, but not, it seemed to me, with the same pleasant ring, and I longed to run away somewhere beyond the noise. However, I had fortunately little time to indulge in fancies. Camp gear, stores, earthenware, glass, kitchen utensils, everything must be packed before 3 p.m., and stowed on board the steam-launch in readiness to sail at 6 o'clock the following morning.

I often wonder how we got it done. I think it must have been, not only by the zealous assistance of officers and men, but by the stimulus we ourselves received from the invigorating atmosphere of sympathy and good will which surrounded us. At all events, before sunset, Commodore's Cottage was ruthlessly plundered of such of its contents as would fit our camp, and the croquet ground again stood empty as we had found it. I felt “rooted up” and miserable; but without a doubt that we were on the right way. So, to cover my nervousness and restlessness, I went to bed.

Next morning, as the sun rose, a rare procession passed down the coast. A steam-launch, with Captain Phillimore and David on board, towed along two wellladen lighters and a sailing pinnace, and carried, moreover, quite a tail of little surf-boats, or “dingeys.”

The day after Christmas was also a holiday in Garrison, and we had a visit during the morning from our old friend Sam the first, in Sunday suit, along with another Krooman whom he introduced as his “chum.”

“We come wish you merry Christmas-time,” said Sam; and we thanked them, hoping in turn that they had had a happy Christmas.

“No, ma, me no happy Christmas, other man drink it all,” said Sam.

I didn't quite understand him at first, but it gradually dawned upon me that, to poor Sam's thinking, Christmas happiness was in proportion to the amount of bubbly-water he could consume.

How I wish we could show our good will to these poor fellows in some other way than by giving them “something to drink!” But there are so few things that they appreciate. Some of them, indeed, accept money eagerly, but for the most part they “no care.” And it is no wonder, for all the money they earn has to be given up to the Big Brother.

Although it is an undoubted fact that the Krooman cannot live as a slave, and has been known in slavery to starve himself to death, yet this Big Brother system almost amounts to bondage.

I remember a story once told me by a learned friend. He had been explaining to a lady, with much care and minuteness, the reasons why the axis of the earth is slowly though constantly changing its direction in the heavens, and why, therefore, the star, which is the Pole star now, was not the Pole star 4000 years ago.

The lady had encouraged our friend to proceed with his explanation by the most marked attention, and by such appreciative interjections as “Really!” “Indeed!” “How beautiful!” In this way he was led to more than usually minute description, and with much unction proceeded to crown his argument as follows.

“Now you see, by this change of the direction of the earth's axis, if we have any permanent record of an observation of the angular distance of a star from the Pole, we can calculate how long ago that record was made.” “Of course!” “And in the Great Pyramid we have such a record.” “Indeed! how wonderful!” “The entrance passage points to the north, and its angle of inclination corresponds with the lower culmination of the Pole star of 4000 years ago.”

Here a little hand was laid on our friend's arm, and his feelings may be better imagined than described, when, in an anxious voice, the question was put, “And pray, Professor, what is an angle?”

TheBoxer remained with us until the 17th of November.

Some days before she left, David and I set out to Garrison one afternoon, on pleasure bent, and found the croquet ground, the aforetime site of our Observatory, converted into a lawn-tennis ground. Generally speaking, at 4 p.m. Garrison is dead, to all outward appearance—the sail-cloth blinds are still drawn round the verandahs, and nothing of life stirs abroad. But to-day there was life, without doubt, in front of Commodore's Cottage, and it struck fresh and charming upon us, in contrast to the solitude we had left behind.

Captain Alington of the Boxer, who had for the present taken up his quarters at Commodore's Cottage, was the prime mover of this lawn-tennis; the hospitable dispenser of tea to the combatants, and the active promoter of whatever healthful amusement gave pleasure to his junior officers, and to the few young people on board the Ascension. The spirit of dissipation seized upon us, and as a covering of cloud kindly promised to hide our folly from the contemptuous stars, we threw off the “Sun's Parallax” for a night, and gave ourselves up to mirth and revelry. The officers of the Boxer being accomplished players on wind and stringed instruments, we actually succeeded in getting up a dance; a thing unheard of in the annals of the island, and the few ladies did excellent duty to their numerous partners.

But the Kroomen have betatyed me into a long digression, and it is now absolutely necessary that I return to Commodore's Cottage and its inmates.

We had hoped to spend our Christmas holidays at Green Mountain, but having no authentic information as to when the Mail would arrive, we dared not venture far from harbour. Counting from the departure of the previous Mail, she was due on the 10th of January; but the captain of a barque which arrived from the Cape on Christmas Eve, brought word from the agents there, that the steamer calling next at Ascension would leave Cape Town on Christmas Day. In this case we must expect her on the 3rd or 4th of January. It was very annoying to be “in boxes,” and in a state of uncertainty about our departure for ten days, but it would have been infinitely more annoying to be left behind. Accordingly, we gave up the idea of removing our household to the Mountain, and contented ourselves with making short excursions from Garrison instead.

It was now Ascension mid-summer, and there was light enough for a good walk after five o'clock. Our first spare afternoon was devoted to “Dead Man's Beach,” which I have already described as lying south of Pierhead, and which, notwithstanding its gloomy name, is bright and life-like, as the blue waves dance in the sunlight, and break in quick succession on the glistening sand.

After, having dwelt at Mars Bay for three weeks in perfect peace and harmony, we were beginning to fancy ourselves a model happy family, when one Sunday morning we had a rude awakening from our dream. While quietly reading after breakfast in the dining tent, Sam's black face suddenly appeared at the door without its accustomed grin, and wearing an expression altogether new.

“Graydon beat me—he say he kill me,” were the only coherent phrases in poor Sam's excited, broken English; and he really looked so savage and so unlike himself that I felt afraid of him. David was perplexed, and went at once to seek an explanation in the kitchen.

After a short time he came back, satisfied that he had read the Riot Act to good purpose. Sam had been teazing Graydon, who had lost his temper and threatened to strike him, but the little quarrel seemed to have passed over, and we thought we should hear no more of it. Judge then of my dismay when, an hour or two afterwards, I saw Graydon and Sam engaged in a hand to hand fight on the clinker! We both rushed out instinctively, to separate the combatants, who desisted immediately we appeared; but by this time they were bleeding profusely, and looked shamefully disreputable. Each, of course, blamed the other, but both were so excited, that it was impossible to arrive at any clear understanding of the matter.

The sun has set on our last Ascension Sunday; but a day or two yet remain for us to scramble among the clinker, and we have determined on a visit to the “Devil's Riding School.”

When, from Green Mountain, we had looked down upon all the little craters that are scattered over the plains, we had longed to get to them, and this was our first opportunity. At four o'clock on Monday morning we were astir, and, having well broken our fast, were ready within an hour to set out crater-climbing.

Dear old Jimmy Chivas was patiently waiting for me, tied to the verandah gate; Rover, and Brackley's little terrier, Captain, were wild with excitement, and, while we were getting ready, they kept running hither and thither, kicking up dust in all directions, and barking furiously; no doubt to the annoyance of the still slumbering Garrison. Fortunately Jimmy Chivas had seen too much of the world's vanities to care to join in these frolics, and started off sedately, after I had comfortably seated myself on his poor old back, and hung from the pommel of the saddle a leather bag, containing some bottles of ginger-beer and designed to carry a return freight of clinker souvenirs.

The night had been tolerably cool, and, as we turned southwards just before sunrise, we were met by a chilly breeze that was perfectly delightful.

For many years I have had almost daily to reply to inquiries respecting the best method of manipulating with various kinds of Spectroscopes.

It had been suggested to me long since, by our highest authority on the subject, that I should write a small work giving the required information. For reasons which will be understood by my friends, I had a great objection to issue such a work, and trusted it would be done by some of the leading scientific men who have worked in this direction. But recently the inquiries for information have been more and more numerous, and I am compelled, both to save my own time and to assist my numerous correspondents, to attempt to supply what appears to be an evident want.

Mr. Proctor's admirable little Manual on the Work of the Spectroscope will be found invaluable by those who do not wish to incur the expense of Roscoe's or Schellen's works on Spectrum Analysis. But Mr. Proctor states that it did not enter into his plans to give detailed instructions for the use of the various kinds of Spectroscopic Apparatus.

I have, therefore, endeavoured to supply such information in the following Pamphlet. The fact that a list of prices is appended of the various Instruments which are described, will not, I hope, be considered to detract from its value. My extensive correspondence leads me to conclude that such information is exceedingly welcome to all those who think of making any experiments for themselves.

And now followed a repetition of sea-discomfort—nausea and stuffiness; but on this occasion it was short lived, for after a couple of days the captain kindly arranged that our cabin, near the screw, should be changed for one on deck, far forward.

Here we caught the welcome current of air caused by the ship's motion, and for the first time in my sea experience I awoke in the morning refreshed. I awoke too, with the sweet sense of home upon me, and pleasant recollections of a certain dear old farmhouse; for my dreams had been mingled with the bleating of sheep, the cackling of geese and the crowing of cocks. Poor things, there was little chance of their being led out to green pastures, or participating ever again in the varied pleasures of a fascinating dung-hill. Prisoners they were, under sentence of death, but they crowed lustily, and “ba'a ba'aed” sweetly, nevertheless; and, grateful for the cheer their good spirits gave to me, I would hope that they dreamt not of to-morrow. I know not whether to ascribe it to the inspiriting influence of these, my feathered and four-footed neighbours, but certain it is, that on the third day of voyaging I could see things straight, and had sensations of pleasure in the prospect of dinner.