48 COLLECTOR'S RAMBLES 



island home. It was just growing light as we mounted 

 the hill ; and after putting our stolen fruit carefully 

 away in our straw beds, we turned in for a sleep. 



That Barelli's head was " screwed on the right way " 

 was no mistake, for he bribed the Chinaman to make 

 us a lot of peach-pies for dessert. 



My mouth waters as I think of those pies. 



Many extinct volcanoes could be seen from our 

 home, and one named Rangitoto, a dark-colored, conical 

 island, had evidently been in a state of eruption at no 

 very distant day. Two small rocky islets a hundred 

 yards from shore were a great resort for gulls and terns : 

 Barelli and I used to swim out to collect their eggs, 

 carrying them back in our hats. It was a little dan- 

 gerous, as sharks were plenty ; but the water was so 

 shallow, that the bottom could be seen for a long dis- 

 tance out, and when a shark was in sight, we would 

 postpone our swim. The birds were very bold, and 

 many times they struck me on the head as I rifled their 

 nests. I collected quite a number of their spotted eggs, 

 and made a good many skins of the old birds. Beauti- 

 ful blue kingfishers, Halcyon vagans, were plentiful 

 about the shore ; and many skins from Matuihe now in 

 my cabinet, testify to their numbers, and to my indus- 

 try while there. When the tide went out, we would 

 go down upon the sandy beaches and gather the shells 

 that pushed their way up to the surface, raising little 

 sandy lumps. Some of the shells have doors known 



