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EAVING our grass cutting party, Mr. Bubb (my assistant) and myself, accompanied by Mr. Smart, our third engineer, wended our way to Garihi, a village facing the straits, from which our vessel lying at anchor was visible in the distance. We took the precaution to carry arms, but had no occasion to handle them, as the villagers received us literally with open arms, less, perhaps, out of feelings of platonic affection, than from ulterior views relative to tobacco. Our guides took us to the centre of the village, where a space about ten feet in diameter was rudely flagged with stones from the beach. Round the outside of this pavement large flat stones were set on edge in the ground at an angle like the backs of chairs. We were invited to be seated, and the chiefs and headmen of the place were presented to us. I gave the old warriors a few sticks of tobacco each, and to the women and children a dozen or two tin plates ornamented with stamped letters, and a kangaroo in the centre. These gifts were much appreciated, and yams, sweet potatoes and cocoa-nuts were heaped up in front of us as return presents. We then had a smoke, and Mr. Smart, by some conjuring tricks, in which he was an adept, first terrified, and then diverted the simple-minded natives. The wind being too high for photographing, we inspected some of the