our seamen, who were already displeased with the lenity shown to the natives, and mad for revenge.'

'Tuesday, 16th.' [The journal again.] About 2 in the afternoon a small canoe came from the town of Kavarooa and stopped near the Resolution. After looking at her some minutes, an Indian in the middle of the canoe stood up and put Capt. Cook's hat on, making many flourishes and antick gestures expressive of defiance and derision. He was fired at, and a boat manned to chace him, on which he made towards the shore, where he was received with great shoutings by a crowd of Indians. Three great guns were fired, which dispersed them.'

The other author adds:

This fresh insult much exasperated our ship's company, and they were so eager to take vengeance that they even asked Capt. Clerke to permit them to go and burn the North Town. Capt. Clerke had offered to make peace on the delivery of Capt. Cook's body, therefore told the people that such proceedings would violate the treaty.'

Continuing from the journal:

'Notwithstanding this the old chief priest came from the town of Kavarooa almost directly after and paddled several times about the ships, asking for somebody to go on shore. Two boys likewise swam off from the town of Karacacooa, each of them holding a spear and singing, or rather repeating a set prayer. Being permitted to come on board, they delivered their spears and asked to stay with us. Not understanding the meaning of their errand, they were sent on shore again.'

The next day, the 17th, was occupied in watering the ships. While this work was proceeding the natives made themselves more obnoxious than ever, by slinging stones and rolling boulders down the cliff upon the watering-party. Musketry-fire proving ineffectual against the stone wall defences of the natives, in the afternoon orders were at last given to burn the town. The sentence was no sooner passed,' says our unknown author, than the whole town was in blaze, so eager were the seamen to take vengeance for the loss of their friends and their Commander. This town, which consisted of upwards of a hundred houses' (Burney is more moderate and puts the figure at about sixty)' was totally erased in ten minutes, being built of light wood covered with a kind of stubble. Particular orders were given to the incendiaries

to let the house of our friend the priest remain unhurt, but unintentionally it was consumed with the rest, probably by some sparks flying from the others.

'Here our people showed great barbarity by paying the Indians in their own coin (as they called it). They cut off the heads of two men who were killed, and fixed them on staves, holding them to the view of their countrymen who stood on the top of the hill. At this horrid spectacle they set up a cry of distress and rage, and rolled down stones with greater rage than ever. Barbarous and horrid as this may appear, it had certainly a good effect; they were struck with horror and dreaded our approach. At the fire a man and a woman who could not escape, begged for mercy. The man was brought on board, but the woman was set at liberty. The man was also soon after suffered to go on shore.'

We continue from the journal:

At 5 in the afternoon, the Indians on the hill having been for some time quiet, about twelve of them walked down to the waterers, each holding a white flag and a sugar-cane. At the head of these people was Kerrikaer, with a very small pig. He said he was sent by Kerreoboo to desire peace. One of our boats took him off to the ships. . . . We learnt from him, our great cutter had been stole by Perrear's people, and that she was broke to pieces the day after Capt. Cook was killed.'

To which we cannot refrain from adding the following from the other account :

'On Kerrikaer seeing that the town was burnt down, and his house amongst the rest, he remarked, that there was no distinction made! But when matters were explained to him he seemed contented, and said he had two or three other houses. Several presents were made to him by Capt. Clerke and Capt. Gore, to compensate his loss.

'After dark the man who was let go on shore returned with his canoe full of vegetables, and he expressed the greatest gratitude for his deliverance.'

The next two days were again spent in watering, the natives showing themselves very desirous of peace, with the exception of the old priest Kooaha, who was still endeavouring to organise an attack on the waterers.

'Saturday, 20th. Employed watering. This forenoon the Resolution stepped her foremast and began to rig it.

VOL. XXXVII.—NO. 221, N.S.

44

'At noon a great many Indians with white flags, sugar-canes, hogs, &c., marched in procession down the hill to the watering beach, beating drums and uttering loud yells. At the head of these people was Eapoo, who came off with Capt. Clerke in the Resolution's pinnace, bringing a parcel wrapped up in Indian cloth, which contained part of the bones of Capt. Cook.'

For the gruesome details of the story we must turn, as usual, to the narrative version.

'The cutter and pinnace were manned and armed. Capt. Clerke went in the pinnace and Mr. King in the cutter. They proceeded to the shore, where they found Eapoo, who had performed his promise and brought the remainder of our unfortunate Commander, which was wrapped up in many folds of cloth. After the boats returned to the ships, on examining the contents of the bundle we found the scalp, skull, the limb-bones, the hands, and part of the skin of the arms; the fingers were slit and salted.'

Sunday, 21st. [Burney, loq.] At 10 this forenoon, Eapoo came down the hill in the same kind of order as yesterday, and bringing the remainder of the bones of Capt. Cook, and his doublebarrel gun. With Eapoo came on board Kaoowa, the youngest of Kerreoboo's sons.

'At Sunset the Resolution fired ten minute-guns with the colours half-staff up, when the remains of our late Commander were committed to the deep.'

final

The next day, in the more picturesque narrative, we get a glimpse of the mischief-making old priest, Kooaha, here called Brittance,' which was perhaps a nickname bestowed upon him by the sailors.

Canoes, as yesterday, from all parts. In one of them the villain Brittance again visited us, and he was as before desired to withdraw, which he very readily complied with, a musket being levelled at him.'

One more entry from the journal concludes the story.

Monday, 22nd. At noon a present of provisions came on board from Kerreoboo. In the afternoon, our water being complete and the Resolution ready for sea, unmoored. Received a four-oared cutter from the Resolution to supply the place of our large cutter. At 8, weighed and sailed out of Karacacooa Bay with a light land

wind.'

The stained and yellowing pages of the journal now before me were written in the dim light of a little cabin on His Majesty's Ship, the Discovery; for four years they were carried to and fro across the world, and for a century or more they have lain forgotten in Burney's house, No 26, James Street, Westminster. It seems to me that they are not unworthy of being rescued at last from long oblivion.

That the subject calls for a greater pen than Burney's, or, indeed, any other that has yet dealt with it, is obvious. Like all our great sea-stories, the Voyage of which a single episode is here recorded in such brief and business-like terms, is a theme fit for a splendid epic, singing the victory of these English Argonauts in many a dauntless, hand-to-hand struggle with untamed Nature; passing from the languorous loveliness of tropical islands to the silent frozen spaces where East and West are mingled in the Arctic Sea; and back again to that last tragic encounter with the resentful Islanders, a scene Homeric in its primitive simplicity and valour, with the Discovery's large cutter for its Apple of Discord. But we must not blame Burney if neither here nor elsewhere he attempted to do justice to his subject. It was his business, not to write an epic, but to act his part in one, and we cannot doubt that he did it well.

The journal is continued pretty regularly for six months after Cook's death, while the explorers once more assail the perilous mysteries of the Arctic Ocean, reaching a latitude of 72° N., only to be baffled once more by impenetrable ice and treacherous fog. But the most interesting chapter of the long story of this four years' voyage is concluded with the burial of the intrepid Commander beneath the waves of Karacacooa Bay, amongst the Islands which will be for ever associated with his fame. Like so many of England's noblest sons, he found his death amid the scenes of his greatest achievements. The map of the Pacific is his magnificent monument, but not the least memorial of his greatness is the honour in which his name was afterwards held by the repentant natives, who in a moment of misguided frenzy had slain the great Orono, their friend.

HAROLD H. PAYNE.

A JAPANESE WALK.

AT Shimonita I left the little train which had brought me from Takasaki, and, swinging my rücksack to its place between my shoulders, I made off through the pretty old streets for the North. I was bound for Karuizawa at the foot of the great volcano, Asams Yama. There is a train to Karuizawa. I was only walking because I have a great reverence for a volcano, and I think it is the only fit way to approach one. Besides, is it not a glorious thing to find a volcano for yourself out of the midst of a lot of commonplace hills? I reckoned that the walk would be about forty miles. But whether there was a track of any sort I did not know. For my map, I had torn out one from Murray's Guide with a scale of about ten miles to the inch.

Moto Juku was the first place that lay in my way, so towards Moto Juku I bent my steps. It was exceedingly hot and sultry, but the country was very beautiful, so what did anything else matter? Quite a definite highway led out of Shimonita up valley crowded with trees and flowers. And all the trees and flowers were as full of life as they could stick. Butterflies twinkled in the air, the noisy cicada clucked and trilled from goodness knows where, birds there were in plenty, and frogs blabbed persistently of their whereabouts. Such is the constant presence of vigorous life and beauty in Japan and so quaint and simple is man's art there, that to go on a walk is like passing through some old book of story, some poem printed in the old type and instinct with the old charm. For Man is not vile in this place of wonder, he is very ornamental and sorts as well with the scenery as a ship does with the sea. And wherever you go in Japan you shall see pretty children with pretty ways and pretty dresses. Little girls, with kimonos as bright as the rainbow, chase each other like butterflies through the long grasses and flowery thickets of the wayside. And the young boys in blue smocks but naked from the waist, sturdy and sun-browned, stop in their play and eye the stranger with the utmost solemnity as he passes by.

When I had been going for about five miles I stopped at a house which seemed to be a kind of place of entertainment, for three men were squatting within drinking o-cha. So I went in too, and