Two or three natives were lounging in one of the kettles, smoking; the other was occupied by three sailors from the Leviathan, playing cards.
While we were conversing with these worthies, a stranger approached.
He was a sun-burnt, romantic-looking European, dressed in a loose suit of nankeen; his fine throat and chest were exposed, and he sported a Guayaquil hat with a brim like a Chinese umbrella.

This was Mr.Bell.He was very civil; showed us the grounds, and, taking us into a sort of arbour, to our surprise, offered to treat us to some wine.

People often do the like; but Mr.Bell did more: he produced the bottle.

It was spicy sherry; and we drank out of the halves of fresh citron melons.

Delectable goblets! The wine was a purchase from, the French in Tahiti.
Now all this was extremely polite in Mr.Bell; still, we came to see Mrs.Bell.But she proved to be a phantom, indeed; having left the same morning for Papeetee, on a visit to one of the missionaries' wives there.
I went home, much chagrined.
To be frank, my curiosity had been wonderfully piqued concerning the lady.