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 And bakes its unadulterated loaves Without a furnace in unpurchased groves, And flings off famine from its fertile breast, A priceless market for the gathering guest:— These, with the solitudes of seas and woods, The airy joys of social solitudes:— The Island—Lord Byron.

These were the dreams of many a young dreamer—and yet they were the realities of the Indian seas. But even there, regeneration was needed to make this ocean-paradise perfect. Superstition and evil passions marred the enjoyment of the natives. Mr. William Ellis, the able secretary of the London Missionary Society, and author of Polynesian Researches, says—"They were accustomed to practise infanticide, probably more extensively than any other nation; they offered human sacrifices in greater numbers than I have read of their having been offered by any other nation; they were accustomed to wars of the most savage and exterminating kind. They were lazy too, for they found all their wants supplied by nature. 'The fruit ripens,' said they, 'and the pigs get fat while we are asleep, and that is all we want; why, therefore, should we work?' The missionaries have presented them with that which alone they needed to insure their happiness,—Christianity; and the consequence has been, that within the last twenty years they have conveyed a cargo of idols to the depôt of the Missionary Society in London; they have become factors to furnish our vessels with provisions, and merchants to deal with us in the agricultural growth of their own country. Their language has been reduced to writing, and they have gained the knowledge of letters. They have, many of them,