composed of sand, consolidated by cement; that half-sphere, surmounting a baseless pillar, erected on the arena; their position, and the distance that separates these different masses, without any lighter fragments occurring between them; induce me to think differently of the object of the building from the present inhabitants, who regard it as a royal residence. The space between the pillars is scarcely greater than the ground they occupy. What purpose could those massive tops answer? Who was the sovereign that inhabited that long colonnade, which certainly formed only a single edifice? . ... The more I perambulate these ruins, and compare them with the genius of the present race of islanders, the more I am convinced that they are the remains of some public temples dedicated to religion. Of the cause of their destruction we know nothing; for what credit can be given to a story like the following, that people are fond of relating?

'Toumoulou Taga was the principal chief of this island. He reigned peaceably, and no one thought of disputing his authority. On a sudden, one of his relations called Tjocnanaï raised the standard of revolt; and his first act of insubordination was to build a house similar to that of his chief. Two parties were formed: they fought; the house of the revolter was sacked; and from this quarrel, which became general, arose a war, that, while it depopulated the island, overturned its primitive buildings.'

While I was making drawings of every thing I found curious, with all the accuracy in my power, my companions were employed in various pursuits. Bérard determined the latitude of the island, and killed some new birds; and Gaudichaud enriched his herbarium.

We always met together at meals, at which the ladies were not present, though we had frequently requested it. In one of our gay moments we had complimented the alcalde on the

beauty of his daughters: he looked at them with an air of satisfaction, and answered with quite peculiar grace: 'Gentlemen, they are at your service.' We were not tempted to avail

ourselves of this generous permission.

The anchoring place is on the south. Two cables' lengths from the shore there is a little bar which is visible at low water. The bottom consists of corals and madrepores.

We went over the island. . . . . . It must formerly have been the residence of a great people; extinguished no doubt by one of those catastrophes that annihilate empires and generations of men. You cannot proceed a league without finding some gigantic remains of old monuments among the brambles; and the whole island seems to be but one ruin. The trees are weak and scanty; but they have to make their way with difficulty through heaps of dry leaves, and decayed trunks of trees. Here and there we find old, bare, breadfruit trees, the tops of which, exhibiting a few grayish branches, indicate to the traveller the catastrophe of which they have been the victims, without denoting its epoch. Buffaloes and wild hogs can now with difficulty escape the arrow of the hunter: the eye at one glance takes in an ample space; and, if I may venture to say so, almost every part of Tinian recalled to my gloomy imagination the wild and arid soil of the peninsula of Péron.

A few low and feeble cocoa-trees still raise their withered heads; you would say they moaned the sadness of nature, and wished to die with her. Uniform plains of small elevation; a monotonous coast; a few reefs of rocks; trunks of trees parched by the sun; no road, no shelter; is not this the abode of melancholy?. A scorching wind destroys vegetation, and deprives the ground of the power of reproduction. Every thing is in decay: vegetables grow with difficulty; the potatoes, yams, and watermelons, are all inferior to those of Rota; and I tremble while I think that Anson probably said no more than the truth, when he

....

painted this country as an Elysium, as an abode of enchantment..... Is there then no testimony remaining of this convulsion of nature which is yet so recent?

The ruins best preserved are those we see to the west of the anchorage. The building there was composed of twelve pillars, of which seven only remain standing, the others lie at their feet; and what appears singular is, that the half-sphere by which they are crowned has not been separated in their fall. Those found by the side of it (and the remains of which are more decayed, situate near a well, denominated the well of the ancients), formed an edifice more than four hundred paces in length. The roots that still bind these old fragments, and the shrubs that crown their summits, present an interesting view, to which I have endeavoured to do justice. In several parts of the island we visited we found others more or less considerable: and from these ancient ruins alone we may infer, that the present inhabitants of this archipelago have not inherited the genius of their ancestors.

On the hill that borders the east of the island is a forest, partly formed of young papaw trees, among which a great number of wild hogs wander, against which a cruel warfare is carried on. Two men, one of whom is armed with a large knife, the other with a pike, and followed by a score of dogs, pursue the animal, which at first defends itself boldly against the ravenous pack, but seldom escapes it. Pressed on all sides, he is struck by one of the two hunters: and if he be too lean, he becomes the prey of the dogs; if he be fat, he is dexterously castrated, and conveyed to the sheds that surround the palace of the alcalde; for this is here its proper name, and the proprietor would be piqued if it were called by any other*.

* He asked me if I thought the house of the king of Spain was as handsome as the palace of the governor of Guam; and if his soldiers have as fine uniforms as those here? Poor people!