TheBoxer remained with us until the 17th of November.

Some days before she left, David and I set out to Garrison one afternoon, on pleasure bent, and found the croquet ground, the aforetime site of our Observatory, converted into a lawn-tennis ground. Generally speaking, at 4 p.m. Garrison is dead, to all outward appearance—the sail-cloth blinds are still drawn round the verandahs, and nothing of life stirs abroad. But to-day there was life, without doubt, in front of Commodore's Cottage, and it struck fresh and charming upon us, in contrast to the solitude we had left behind.

Captain Alington of the Boxer, who had for the present taken up his quarters at Commodore's Cottage, was the prime mover of this lawn-tennis; the hospitable dispenser of tea to the combatants, and the active promoter of whatever healthful amusement gave pleasure to his junior officers, and to the few young people on board the Ascension. The spirit of dissipation seized upon us, and as a covering of cloud kindly promised to hide our folly from the contemptuous stars, we threw off the “Sun's Parallax” for a night, and gave ourselves up to mirth and revelry. The officers of the Boxer being accomplished players on wind and stringed instruments, we actually succeeded in getting up a dance; a thing unheard of in the annals of the island, and the few ladies did excellent duty to their numerous partners.