reply. His Excellency then said (as before), "Will you also say that, in what he (Thakombau) has done, I think he has acted as a great chief, consulting only the interests of the inhabitants of these islands; and further, that I wish Fiji all possible prosperityprosperity to the country, and peace and happiness to her

people." The King further signified his approval of what was now said to him by bowing, as before. The Treaty of Cession to the Crown of Great Britain, engrossed on parchment, was then read in extenso, in English and in Fijian, by Mr. Wilkinson. It was a very lengthy document. It ceded the whole Fijian group, absolutely and

unconditionally, to her Majesty Queen Victoria, the Marama Turanga Levu of Great Britain. The King signed first, his signature being written for him, in his presence and at his direction, by Mr. Henry Milne, his private secretary. The precise effect of this act was previously explained to the King by Mr. Milne, in Fijian, at the express desire of his Excellency Sir Hercules Robinson and of Mr. AttorneyGeneral Innis. When the signature was so affixed, the King, assenting thereto, placed his hand upon the seal, and said, "I deliver this as my act and deed." The Royal name was written as "Thakombau Tui Viti" and " Vunivalu." Ratu Abel, Tui Mbua, Ratu Savanatha and Isa Keli also affixed their signatures, but the minor chiefs present were not called upon to sign.

His

Sir Hercules Robinson did not sign the document then, as the chiefs on the eastern side of the island had yet to affix their names; but this was achieved next day, and then all met once more to hoist the British flag in place of that of Fiji. We learn that the Governor rose and went to the verandah of the palace, where he stood with the King at his left hand, and the commodore on his right. Excellency then said: "The legal forms for the transfer of the government of this country to the Queen have just been completed, and will be made public in the course of a few hours. It now, therefore, only remains for me to declare Fiji to be, from this time forth, a possession of the British Crown. I fervently trust that this important step will tend to develop the great natural capabilities of these beautiful and fertile islands, and at the same time conduce largely to the contentment and happiness of all classes of the population. I hope, too, that all past differences and disagreements will henceforth be forgotten, and that all local animosities will this day be buried at the foot of the staff on which we are now about to hoist the British flag." The Fijian flag was then lowered by Sub-Lieutenant Elwyn of the Pearl, and the Royal Standard of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland was hoisted in its place by that officer, assisted by the signalman of that ship. As the Fijian flag went down there was a respectful silence, but the appearance of the Royal Standard in the place of the Fijian flag was hailed with an outburst of hearty British cheering, unmistakably removed from any shade of party feeling. Her Majesty's ship Pearl fired a salute of twenty-one guns when the Royal Standard was hoisted, and all the men under arms presented arms, the band playing "God save the Queen." the end of the firing of the guns, the men left on board the Pearl gave three cheers, which were responded to by the general public in the square at Nasova. The marines then fired a feu-de-joie, and the officers present gave three cheers. This completing the programme appointed for this very impressive and most interesting ceremony, three cheers were given for her Most Gracious Majesty the Queen, at the call of the Governor. His Excellency spoke again: "I call upon you all to give three hearty cheers for the Vunivalu for the part which he has taken in the cession of Fiji to Great Britain-the part of a great prince

At

consulting only the good of his people and the welfare of his country." These were given, and this ended the ceremony; but in the town, for the rest of the day, there were great and miscellaneous rejoicings.

Not many years ago the Fijians were among the most superstitious and cruel of heathens. The dark stain of cannibalism rested upon them. By the labours of Wesleyan missionaries chiefly, a delightful change has been effected in their character and life. Many are now Christians, and it is to be hoped that their new relation to the British Empire will turn out to the greater furtherance and triumph of the Gospel among this once debased portion of the human

race.

LETTERS FROM AMERICA.

No. II.

OT having been in Boston since the great fire of 1872 carried desolation into the central portion of the city, I cannot present you with an idea of the noble buildings they are raising in the place of those so unfortunately destroyed, but I will endeavour to give you a faint conception of some of the beautiful features of that part of the city which escaped destruction.

First of all, we will visit the public library, founded in the year 1794, and which now contains 213,000 volumes, besides 49,000 in the branches. We pass through the wide entrance, and stepping softly on the cool tile floor, enter the lower hall, to the right of which is the common reading-room; usually it is full of the respectable workingclass; and quite as deeply absorbed as they are, and scattered freely among them, are many children.

It gave me great gratification to stand an unobserved spectator, for not an eye was raised to scan the new comer, so my gaze roamed freely over the scenes, dwelling with peculiar fondness upon "childhood's lip and cheek mantling beneath its earnest brow of thought."

This lower hall is well filled most hours of the day, yet there is no hurry or noise, only a subdued soft murmur as people pass gently to and fro, for the regulations do not allow talking above a whisper, or loud footsteps. It is pleasantly cool on the hottest day, and the attendants courteous, especially so to strangers. You must be able to give a respectable reference and your address before you can obtain the loan of any of the books, after which they send a policeman to ascertain the truthfulness of your statement. This is a very necessary regulation in such a large seaport town.

Passing out towards the entrance we ascend a wide stairway, which brings us into the Bates Hall, which is of noble proportions, light, cool, and quiet: glancing towards the desk at the upper end we see that the person in attendance is a dignified elderly lady, who has numerous young assistants gliding quietly to and fro.

All light literature being kept in the lower apartments, this hall has not such an incessant stream of busy life passing through it, but seated at the small tables, freely scattered about, are many earnest thinkers and workers in the fields of literature, and vacant spaces in the deep alcoves tell how some ponderous tomes are being used for reference, and the grand and beautiful learning of the dead re-set to enrich the living of to-day.

Hours may pass without the faintest whisper to break the profound quietude, while thoughtful faces bend over their labours of love, and swift pencils record the passing thought, or cull from the printed page that which shall aid and inspire the eager seeker after intellectual improvement in generations to come.

The mellow light falls gently upon this tranquil scene, upon many faces furrowed with the advance of years yet retaining the light of the inner shrine pure and bright as in youth-yea, I will say brighter, for I have seen faces aged and worn beam with a luminous glow when some chance observation has unlocked the secret storehouse of knowledge. As my eye wandered from the old pictures on the walls, and took in the noble proportions of the stately hall, my imagination made a leap backwards of many a long, long year, and saw as in a dream the generations pass away, to whom the treasures gathered within these walls had been sweet as the breath of life, and my heart went out in deep gratitude and reverence for the founders of this ancient institution.

In the very heart of the busy city lies the old common. It is refreshing as we walk on Tremont Street to see it stretch out invitingly on the other side of rattling carriages, horse cars, and all manner of moving things; it at any rate seemed secluded and still, though not far from the "maddening crowds' ignoble strife." We anxiously look for a break in the line of conveyances, and make a dash for the iron gates, thankful to pass from the whirl of the street en to the green sward made sacred by a long history of associations.

The common was bought by the town about 1634 of Mr. William Blackstone, the first settler of Boston, of whom I shall speak hereafter, and used as a training field and for the feeding of cattle.

It was called the common because it was for the common benefit of those to whom it belonged, and was much larger then than at the present, grants having been made of portions of it from time to time. During the Revolution, when the British troops occupied the town, the wooden fence surrounding it was burnt for fuel. I believe it was a common cow pasture within the present century. Now it is kindly cared for, the fine old trees protected from decay where the bark has fallen away under the touch of time, or another master touch as cruel and relentless-the bitter frost of winter. The soft turf and broad walks are as carefully kept as if they were private property, and seats are plentiful under the lazy shadows of the wide-spreading branches, where we can rest and draw breath in the panting heat of a summer noon-day. Many a weary wanderer from other lands finds

it a haven of refuge, for it is nothing unusual to see men stretching their tired limbs upon the yielding grass, enjoying in the luxury of sleep a short respite from corroding care. Alas! it is sometimes only very brief, as this seems to be a forbidden pleasure, and under such circumstances the tap of a policeman's cane is not a very kindly reminder that you must move on. How sad it is that the poor, the foot-sore, and weary, heavily burdened poor, must ever move on under the touch of authority. Yet it is even so all through "the wide earth, the fertile and the fair."

On one side runs Beacon Street, a long line of stately residences belonging to the aristocracy of the city, and the dome of the State House rises fair upon the sight. At the lower end there is a small fenced enclosure, in which deer are kept, and adjoining is an ancient burying ground, set apart soon after the Revolution-the gravestones almost hidden in the abundant growth of grass and shrubs. It also is fenced in, so that the public have not access to it.

Beacon Street takes its name from Beacon Hill, over the southern spur of which it passes, and Beacon Hill is so called from being the highest hill in Boston, and in the days of early settlement was selected for a beacon. The State House stands upon the southern part of Beacon Hill.

How little did those careworn settlers dream of the fair city that should rise around the hill where their watch-fires gleamed! how faintly could the most vivid imagination picture the wealth, and grandeur, and palaces of to-day; and the stately pride of the old Puritan blood, which makes Boston even now the queenliest city of New England!

ROSEMARY.

THE HOMES OF OUR CHILDREN.

"Lift up thy hands towards Him for the life of the young children, that faint for hunger at the top of every street."-Lamentations ii. 19.

B

CHARLEY'S HOME.

¡ON'T make such a noise, mother; shut the door." The door opened into a narrow passage leading from the street into a large, unpaved, irregular, and dirty yard. In this place some of our stick girls live, and the floors of the houses are covered with sticks in different degrees of size to the trim basket piled up with ten pen'orth. I know several of these stick girls, and may tell a tale some day about one. I stood in the doorway of Charley's house that day; he, poor fellow, lay ill, very ill. He was in a burning fever.

The comforts of his home were few: but one room for a family of five, father and mother, brother and sister, and but one bed for all. In that solitary bed lay little Charley, suffering from typhoid fever.