THE HUNTING-FEAST; AND A VISIT TO AFREHITOO TWO BULLOCKS and a boar! No bad trophies of our day's sport.

So by torchlight we marched into the plantation, the wild hog rocking from its pole, and the doctor singing an old hunting-song--Tally-ho! the chorus of which swelled high above the yells of the natives.
We resolved to make a night of it.

Kindling a great fire just outside the dwelling, and hanging one of the heifer's quarters from a limb of the banian-tree, everyone was at liberty to cut and broil for himself.

Baskets of roasted bread-fruit, and plenty of taro pudding; bunches of bananas, and young cocoa-nuts, had also been provided by the natives against our return.
The fire burned bravely, keeping off the mosquitoes, and making every man's face glow like a beaker of Port.

The meat had the true wild-game flavour, not at all impaired by our famous appetites, and a couple of flasks of white brandy, which Zeke, producing from his secret store, circulated freely.
There was no end to my long comrade's spirits.