He wrapped the gilt-embroidered uniform and his sword in a quantity of tissue paper, and put them away with the same care one bestows upon a mummy when it is relaid in its metal case.

All of these things augmented the impression that I had of the distance and dangers of the long voyage about to be undertaken by my brother.
A sort of melancholy rested upon every one in the house, which became deeper and more and more noticeable as the day for the separation drew near.

At our meals we were more silent; advice from my father and assurances from my brother was the substance of most of the conversations, and I listened meditatively without saying a word.
The day before my brother left he confided to my care--and I was greatly honored to have him do so--the many fragile little things that he had upon his mantel-piece; these he bade me guard faithfully until his return.
He then made me a present of a handsome gilt edged, illustrated book entitled, "A Voyage in Polynesia." It was the only book that in my early childhood I had an affection for, and I constantly turned its pages with eager pleasure.

In the front of it there was an engraving of a very pretty dark woman who, crowned with reeds, was sitting gracefully under a palm tree.

Under this picture was printed: "Portrait of her Majesty, Pomare IV., Queen of Tahiti." Further over in the book there was a picture of two beautiful maidens, with naked shoulders and crowned heads, standing at the edge of the sea, and this was entitled: "Two Young Tahitian Girls upon the Beach." Upon the day of my brother's departure, at the last hour, the preparations being over, and the large trunks closed and locked, we gathered in the parlor as solemnly as if we had come together for a funeral.