What! has a year gone? Are we celebrating the day of our arrival at Yr Ynys Unyg? More, much more, days flee away, weeks speed on, months glide by us. Has hope gone? Are the cheerful strong hearts weary and low? The elastic young spirits, the energetic wills, the high courage and strong energies, could not always last on the full stretch. But why detail the fits of despondency, the listless hopeless state into which we sometimes fell? Suffice it that nature sometimes asserted her rights, while religion kept us from open despair. Many events occurred, wearisome to the reader, though interesting to ourselves. Sometimes we divided, and half lived in one house and half in the other. We then paid each other visits of ceremony, expending much labour, even if no cost, on the feasts we prepared for our company. Also we established a post, in which we wrote imaginary news from England. The girls became very expert in drawing. We spoke all kinds of languages. We invented stories and told them, many of the children's I have preserved, being very clever and amusing. Also we had another earthquake, which led to a great discovery. No less than that the cliffs behind our house, and reaching down to the beach, were one continuous range of caverns, all apparently formed of old coral. Serena was the fortunate discoverer, for, excited by curiosity one day, she insinuated her slender figure in a fissure which had been rent in the rock by the last earthquake. Her exclamations of delight and pleasure caused all those who could follow her to do so; but, alas for the stout Schillie, and the gigantic Gatty, they were compelled to hear the shouts of joy and yet could bear no part; a discovery was made and no Schillie to give her opinion thereon; a new adventure and no Gatty to lend a helping hand. They chafed like lions in a cage, until Madame happily came to their rescue, by suggesting an enlargement of the fissure. But this was not the work of a moment, more especially as every two minutes they were interrupted by the little ones rushing out with fresh wonders to detail, while the big ones shouted more and more.

Gatty squeezed herself through with the loss of half her garments, fully prepared to prove the new discovery nothing, while Schillie, Madame, and I worked for another half hour, and went through like ladies to see a sight which enchanted us. A most magnificent cavern, cool and dark, though some light penetrated in from above somewhere, the ground was covered with fine dry sand, the numerous grotesque shapes and oddities all around the cavern seemed almost made on purpose for little private habitations and snug corners. It was so large in size that it had nothing of the musty feeling of the little caverns below, but was airy, and even bright with sunshine during part of the day. Every body seemed to find a nook or place in it so suited to their minds, that we called it the "Cavern of Content." We nearly deserted our houses during the hot weather, and lived almost entirely in the cavern, everybody choosing their own private apartment, and fitting up according to their own fashion. Schillie grumbled a good deal at the perversity of the cavern in not having suffered itself to be discovered before, and saved her the trouble of building a house. "I declare," said she, "my hands have never been fit to look at since." These hands were her weak point, as I said before, but, as they were just as white and pretty as ever, I would not nibble at her fish for a compliment, and she held them up without a remark from any of us until Gatty pinched them.

The only thing I did not like about the cavern was that it had innumerable passages and windings about, and odd places, with dark holes, and ghostly-looking corners. I was not satisfied until I had explored them all, blocking up narrow little slits, and doing all I could to rout out anything that might be harbouring there. There was one passage very long and steep, the entrance to it out of the cavern was so narrow we did not notice it at first; but, when once through, we had every here and there light, and it led in one or two instances to other caverns, though none so large as ours, but it always led downwards. At last we came to a place utterly dark, and, as we stopped for a moment, we heard the rushing of water. Of course I thought we should all be drowned, and commanded every one to return, but, somehow, we could not rest without finding out what dangers we might be exposing ourselves to. So, after a couple of day's doubt, we took candles and torches, and the whole family set out, not being willing to leave one survivor to tell the tale of what might befall us. At the dark place we lighted our torches and proceeded towards a glimmering light. The rushing of water sounded nearer and nearer, our steps became slower and more slow, the light brighter and better, at last what should we see but the sea shining through a fall of waters that hung like a gauze curtain between us and the open air. We were able to creep out with but a slight sprinkling, and then found ourselves not far from the great chestnut tree, at the place before mentioned, where the rocks had a precipitate fall of twenty feet, over which the stream fell; in fact, the entrance into the cavern was immediately under the fall, and, with very little trouble, we could make egress and ingress without getting wet.

It is impossible to do justice to the beauty of the scene looking at it through the sparkling veil of waters, or to describe our pleasure at this singular discovery. Not only did the outside of the island belong to us, but now we had the secrets of the interior exposed to us, and the right of making what we liked of them.

Mother.—"Now, Schillie, this is one of the most charming discoveries in the world, for if pirates and marauders come here, we shall be able to hide for weeks without their discovering us."

Schillie.—"I had hoped your head was cleared of those piratical notions. For my part, I wish someone would come. The King of the Pirates would be welcome so that we could have a little variety."

Mother.—"I think you are ungrateful. We have been eighteen months here now, and can you say that we have had one privation or serious trouble?"

Schillie.—"June, you have your children near you, you see nothing else and care for nothing else. I own the sight of my Willie, and the long sunny curls of my Puss, would, were it but for one moment, ease my heart, and make me bear hunger, thirst, privations of every kind, without a murmur. We have everything here we can possibly want, and that without having to slave for it. We have food growing up to our mouths, the trees shed clothes for us, the sea, the sky, the air, the island, more lovely than angels' dreams; the young ones grow and thrive; Madame has become a new creature; you are regaining your youth and spirits. So what have I to do, but eat, drink, and sleep, and think of what I have left behind, and what I may never see again. I tell you, June, I am moped to death. I welcome the thunder storms as a variety, I look upon the earthquakes as a desirable change in something, I watch the hurricanes with a sort of insane desire that they would blow us all away!"

Mother.—"My darling! I am vexed for you. I trust that God will look upon your present state with compassion and mercy, restoring you once more to your children. But remember yours are with the best and kindest friends, in the midst of civilisation and religious advantages. Look at mine. Though I have them with me, and they are healthy and strong, yet is this the sort of education I intended for them? Is this the life I had hoped to see them lead? Should they not soon be restored to their homes and country will they not be rendered unfit for mixing with civilised society? or too old to change; or, even if we remain here, will not that be worse for them?"

Schillie.—"Well, I grant our troubles are equal, but I wish, I wish, oh how I wish to see my children once more. But here are the girls, and they must not see me thus. Upon my word Gatty is too stupid. She has grown almost as good as Sybil and Serena. I don't think she has been in a bit of mischief these three months."

Mother.—"Don't make yourself unhappy about that, lest you find reason to eat your words, and have to sit in repentance once for some act against you. Now girls, don't you think this one of your best discoveries?"

"Yes," said Sybil, "because during the rainy season we can come here every day and have a shower bath."

"And," said Serena, "we can get fresh water every day without being half-drowned."

"And," said Gatty, "we can sit here and look out for ships all day long."

Mother.—"What, Gatty, are you tired of being here?"

Gatty.—"Tired, tired does not express what I think about this place. There is nothing to do. Nothing frightens Sybil now, and Serena is so busy learning Spanish, she won't listen to a word I say in English. Oscar makes me talk of home and Wales until I am ready to cry my eyes out at my own descriptions. And the three little girls are all so wise and womanly that they seem to reprove me if I do anything the least like play or fun. I have not had a bit of fun since Felix tried to teach his monkey to fish, that he might lazily read himself. I am quite done up with dullness" (heaving a sort of groan).

Mother.—"Indeed, I think you are badly used, especially since Madame has found out you really can be a good girl if you like."

Gatty.—"I could be as mischievous as ever, only nobody cares for it or scolds me."

Schillie.—"Mischievous! I should think so, you sphinx of plagues, I declare I am dripping, and you know I have a horror of being over damp."

Gatty.—"It is quite clean water, little Mother, and it is but a little stream, and has not been running long to you."

Schillie.—"But you know if it had not been for your great clumsy fingers making a channel, that stream would never have come to where I am sitting; and you did it on purpose you know, so that it should just dribble to my seat and not June's."

Gatty.—"Yes, I know I did, little Mother, because you know I would never have done so to her."

Schillie.—"Did any one ever hear such impudence. Now, I insist on it that you go back, and bring me some dry things. But it's no use, I must go myself. I am wet through and through. Well, you shall never catch me complaining again of Miss Gatty being stupidly good; and she knows so well I hate anything like damp."

Gatty (with her demure face).—"Yes, little Mother, I know that so well, that I sent sufficient water to wet you thoroughly instead of damping you."

Schillie went off muttering horrible imprecations.