fish since I have been here and all of them were good eating. Extremely good eating. One was what is called here a kingfish and the other two had no local name although I believe one of them was some form of mackeral. Whether they are really better tasting than the fish in America would be hard to say, for the absence of fresh meat and fresh food of all description makes any break in the rule taste very good. The steamer was due in Gizo on Saturday after- oon, but she hadn't arrived when sunset had passed down over the horizon. No one expected that she would enter the harbor after dark because there are no lights here and the harbor is a mass of reefs. But she did. And it is here that I take off my hat to Capt. Voy, to whose corpulent figure I had here- tofore attached a very particular scorn. Without even using so much as a searchlight on that moonless might he put the Mataram through all the twists and turns that mark the channel of Gizo, and bent her safely to the Burns Philp wharf shortly before mid- night. I shall never forget watching the lights of that ship entering and enlarging the vision of the horizon. She seemed like the ship of Jove and although she is scarcely larger than a fair-sized tugboat, she towered over the small cutters whose lights were winking in the black night until, what with the significance of her, and the mail in her, and the time between her visits, she grew and grew