This season lasts until January when the wind switches over to the northwest. The northwest wind brings all the unpleasant weather, the humidity and the fever. On the other side of the harbor in the town of Tulagi proper the gaol, the hotel run by the Chinaman, the hotel run by the white men, the post office, the commissioner's residence, the shops, and the town wharf are located. It is rather a beautiful place in its way and although all these tropical settlements have about the same appearance, I suppose, with their red tin roofs, houses set on piles and over-reaching coconut palms, this one because of its section near the wireless station and the golf course bordering on the outward lagoon towards the northwest, possesses an unexpected beauty, something on the order of a fashionable resort artificially arranged. We visited the hospital, paid our respects to the postman, called in at the hotel, talked to the second engineer of the commissioner's yacht and did up the place generally. Most of the time we attempted to get some insight into the customs and modes of the natives, but this will be slow work and I will save my deductions for a later date when a few more months here have slipped by. Friday, September 9. The breeze which made our first day in Tulagi so agreeable lapsed into a flat vacuity and the walk through the town created a thousand little beads all over the bodies of everyone visible. We did some more shopping and discovered that the store of Carpenter's Solomon Islands Ltd. sell cream and shredded wheat. Upon uncovering this remarkable piece of information I purchased some very excellent crackers and a pair of boots. I will go back to that store one of these days I think. The postmaster at Tulagi is an English gentleman and