after that. It is evident not that he has not heard that we were 57 to come out, for the mails of July and August are waiting for him at Gizo and the last mail is in Tulagi. Hannibal got the material for collecting insects today and we spent the afternoon in the field. The result of our first day's work was not at all discouraging. We got in the neighborhood of fifty specimens apiece and have resolved, should the absence of the France continue long enough, to send a shipment of them back to the Museum before we leave the island. The routine of the life here is particularly pleasant. There is always work to be done in the morning, collecting occupies the afternoon and in the late afternoon comes the exercise. It looks as though we will get in pretty good shape down here, for the collecting and the cross country running are both exercise. Evening is the most transcendental period of the day. Sitting on the wind-swept corner of the piazza with Tom Elkington, Tate, Johnstone, Hannibal and anybody else who happens along, the conversation waxes very mellow and philosophical. It is possible to look far down the harbour and observe, half hidden behind the coconut trees, the slow moving sailing craft entering the lonesome glow of the moonlight and leaving it again. Mr. Johnstone, who is the butcher, has promised to have ice from his ice plant in a couple of days. It hasn't been going since last Christmas and if his promise materializes it will make an unexpected and unparallellled paradise out of the place. May the France and all other familiar trials and troubles fade out of the world!