On the 28th of September, the well-used chains and anchors were raised from their beds, and with a light wind we drifted slowly from the lonely bay of Anna Maria. The sun arose the next morning, and a dim blue haze alone pointed to the spot on the ocean where lie the Marquesas.

The fifth day after sailing from Nukeheva, we approached the north-western clusters of the Society group, and passed a number of low coralline islands, appearing like a raft of upright spars adrift upon the sea. One was Kruzenstein's—named by Kotzbue, in compliment to his old commander.

At sunrise of the following day, we were before Tahiti. The land rises, grand and imposing, to the elevation of seven thousand feet. One core-like ridge runs along the summit, branching off into numberless steep valleys and acclivities, down to the water's edge. The peaks pierce the sky bold and strikingly—thrown up into the most fantastic and grotesque shapes—while more singular than all, cradled between a great gap of the heights, is the Diadem of Faatoar, having a dozen pointed elevations circling around a crown, like the serrated teeth of a saw. Nearer towards the bases of these ridges are low points jutting into the ocean, crowded with cocoanut trees—then a narrow belt of lagoon, and the whole girdled by a snow-white wreath of foam, embroidered on the coral reefs.

The morning was cloudless. To the southward, rising clearly and bright, tinged by the glorious sun, undraped by a single atom of mist or vapor, was the Island of Aimeo, equally varied and novel in its strange formations; and when at a later day we sailed around it, while the different phases were brought in clear relief against the heavens—we discovered battlements, embrasures, pyramids—ruined towers with terraces and buttresses—a cathedral with domes and spire—all so fantastically blended in one beautifully verdant picture, as to leave the imagination in doubt as to its reality!

We hove to in sight of the harbor of Papeetee. The French ships of war, with chequered rows of ports, were lying with drooping flags and not a breath of air, whilst with us the loud trade-wind was tearing crests from the waves, and the frigate trembling under her top-sails.

A gun, and jack at the fore, and shortly there came dancing over the waves, in a whale-boat, an officer, Monsieur le Pilot! Two hours we remained outside, awaiting the breeze to fill the Port—and then wearing round, the ship leaped, replete with life and vigor—every seam of the stout canvas straining—towards an entrance through a coral gateway. The sea was light green on either side of the aperture, barely wide enough to admit us, when, at the turning point, the helm was put down, and the strong wind bore the huge hull through the blue channel into the smooth water within. Sails were brailed up, and at the proper moment down fell the ponderous anchor—splash—with its unfettered cable rumbling to the coral beds of Papeetee! What if there chanced to be a group of mermaids, parting their wet locks, in the emerald villas below? Nothing! Crashing through the snowy groves and shelly mansions, goes the ruthless anchor, alike indifferent to all!

We were locked in by the reef—no ungainly ledge of black, jagged rocks—no frightful barrier to make tempest-tost mariners shudder—but a smooth parapet of coral, just beneath the surface, with the outer face like a bulwark of adamant, where the swelling billows vainly expend their rage, and then bubble rippling over in a liquid fringe of creamy foam.

Skirting along the semi-circular shores of the harbor, is the town of Papeetee. Lines of houses and cottages half smothered in glossy green foliage—pretty, square-built, veranda'd, straw-colored dwellings and barracks of the French—and midway between reef and shore, a little bouquet of an islet, teeming with cocoanut, banian, bread-fruit and the iron-wood tree, with its filmy, feathery, delicate tissue of leaves and branches—all drooping over a few cane-thatched sheds and a demi-lune battery of open-mouthed cannon.

Night came, and the breeze was done. Not a sigh disturbed the tranquil water—the towering ships were mirrored and reflected by the moonlight—red fires were shedding twinkling glooms from fishing canoes, through the moon's silver flame, athwart the sparkling phosphorescent surf—the sharp peaks of Tahiti were hanging high above, with Aimeo dimly visible in the distance! Presently bugles from the ships of war rang out clear and shrill in the calm night—drums rattled—tap—tap—tap—flash—flash—the nine o'clock guns, and as the reverberating echoes from the reports went dying away from valley to valley, there came the clash of cymbals from the shore, and then the full crash of a brass band, pouring forth the most delightful melody from Norma; whilst the low "shaling" roar on the reef beat time in a deep musical base.

We thought Papeetee by far the loveliest spot that we had seen, not excepting charming little Hilo!

PomÀree's flag and the French tricolor floated side by side. The queen was handsomely pensioned, as were also the chiefs, the French having kindly taken possession of their heritage, under a forcible protectorate. People may prate an ocean of nonsense about the injustice of the thing, but the fact is, France wished colonies in the Pacific—Tahiti was one selected, and the English themselves afforded an excellent pretext to make the acquisition. Suppose, for example—Catholics had been first in the field, and, by their instigation, Protestant or Puseyite missionaries had been kicked into the sea, would John Bull in his lion's mantle have calmly beheld his subjects maltreated for heresy, in striving to preach the Gospel among the heathen? No! not without baring his claws, and making them felt in the tawny hides of every savage in Polynesia! Ay! and, if need be, in white skins, also, though they had been French!

Then what sickly sympathy it is to talk of the wrongs and aggressions, or the rights and laws of European nations as having a bearing upon a handful of barbarians, subjected to the savage sway of tyrannical native masters, when contrasted with the benefits conferred upon the world at large, by their being under the enlightened rule of a civilized government!

The French experienced hard fighting and much difficulty in subduing Tahiti; and, even after all the trouble, loss of blood and money, it seems highly probable that they are dissatisfied with their conquest, and may shortly resign it: at any rate, the expenditure attending the occupation must be very great, and it appears a mistaken policy in retaining so large a garrison. There were thirteen hundred troops, exclusive of ships of war always in port, posted in Tahiti—far more than needed to overawe the natives, and too few to withstand a land attack from a foreign foe. Trade is a mere bagatelle—the French have no commerce—and whale-ships have deserted Papeetee, since most of the produce is consumed by the garrison. The population, as in all Polynesia, are constitutionally opposed to labor—they cannot bend their energies to any steady employment, and, when compelled to work, they pine away like unhappy monkeys—thus the soil, though rich and tillable, is only made to produce a small quantity of arrow root, sugar, and cocoanut oil.

Fortifications were progressing rapidly, and the harbor is very susceptible of defence. Two heavy batteries, en cavalier, which, when completed, were to mount sixteen traversing guns, mostly eighty-pounder shells, will rake the entrance through the reef, at point-blank range; twelve more cannon on PomÀree's little islet of Motunata, cross the fire from the shore battery, and sweep in every direction over the reef-seaward. There are besides, four small block houses, perched on the salient spurs of the mountains in rear of the town, with each a long gun which can be brought to bear on the harbor. All the world bear witness with what skill the French use artillery on land, and it must be an intrepid commander who attempts a demonstration on the island by the harbor of Papeetee.

The Governorship was placed in the hands of M. Lavaud, to whom, with the officers of the garrison, and officers afloat of the fine frigate, SyrÉne, and steamer, Gassendi, we were indebted for many acts of courtesy. They were all extremely Republican, under their reversed tricolor.

Since the occupation of the Society and Marquesas groups, Tahiti has been made the See of a bishop. But although the Catholics have prosecuted their labors with laudable and philanthropic zeal, yet, strange as it may be, they have not met with the same success as their fellow missionaries in the Hawaiian Islands. Nor have the Tahitians, together with the inhabitants of many of these southern groups, forgotten the early truths taught them by their kind Protestant teachers, and they still lament the untimely fate of John Williams: a man of the noblest piety, possessed of the undaunted resolution and industry of the Apostles of old, who fell a martyr to his faith and labors, among the very savages he went to reform.

There were two excellent gentlemen, stationed at Papeetee from the London Board of Protestant Missions—Messrs. Howe and Thompson—who, if sound sense, unbiassed by narrow-minded sectarian prejudice, combined with great practical information, and knowledge of the native character, can be of service in their mission, they have indeed the true elements of success. From the opportunities we had of judging in Papeetee and the vicinity, there certainly was exhibited a more modest and correct deportment among the natives than we observed elsewhere; and although morality, strictly speaking, is unknown, there was still less outward licentiousness visible than was a matter of hourly occurrence in the other groups.

Note.—In all the lighter sketches upon Polynesia, I cannot resist paying the faint tribute of my own individual admiration to Mr. Melville. Apart from the innate beauty and charming tone of his narratives, the delineations of Island life and scenery, from, my own personal observation, are most correctly and faithfully drawn.

At Nukeheva and Tahiti I made inquiry about his former associates, and without in the least designing to sully the enchanting romance of his fair Typee love, I may mention having seen a "nut-brown" damsel, named Fayaway, from that valley, who apparently was maid of all work to a French Commissary of the garrison. She was attired in a gaudy yellow robe de chambre, ironing the Crapeau's trowsers! Credat Judeus! There was also a diminutive young oui oui tumbling about the mats, so it is presumable she had become childish of late; yet the proof is not strong, for it is quite as much in vogue among these southern groups to change names and give away infants, as the fashion in the Sandwich Islands of knocking out a couple of front teeth to evince grief at the decease of near friends or relatives, and the nymph alluded to may not be the original Fayaway after all.

Mr. Melville's friend, Dr. Johnstone, whom he has immortalized in Omoo, was excessive wroth, and refused to be pacified, resolving shortly to prosecute the English publishers for libel. He politely permitted me to transcribe some items from his dose book, declaring however, that the "embrocation" so relished by the Long Ghost, was a villanous preparation, having the least taste of gin in the world, and made up from laudanum, turpentine, and soap linament! Here is the memorandum:—

"Ship, Lucy Ann, Captain Vinton.
October 10th, 1842. Melvil Herman. Stocks.
Embrocation	75
19th.Do.	75
	—————
	$1 50"

I felt no inclination to task it, since I found the Doctor's other prescriptions unexceptionable. The Ghost must have been seriously indisposed; he had a large quantity: was supposed at the period of our visit to be in Sydney, or after gold in California, but, with his ubiquitous propensities, may have been in both places. Captain Bob, of the Calaboosa, was "muckee-moi," so was Father Murphy, all under the sod. Charming Mrs. Bell had taken to hard drink, before Mr. Melville's rencontre, and may have been slightly elevated on that occasion. H. M. ci-devant Consul, Mr. Wilson, was in the like vinous state, and occupied his leisure in the pursuit of shells at the Navigator Islands. Shorty was still devoting his talents to the culture of potatoes at Aimeo, and strongly suspected of shooting his neighbor's cattle.