[3] Very few flowers are found in the atolls, wherefore the natives, who use wreaths for every festive occasion, are forced to devise all sorts of makeshifts for the garlands that are considered almost necessities. I have seen only two flowers that seem indigenous to the true atoll, one quite insignificant, that looked like the blossom of the male _papaia_, the other a sort of "spider lily"; both these were of a whitish colour, and, as far as I could see, were worn only by people of position, and not by the common herd, who contented themselves with imitations made from some part of the cocoanut-tree. I wish those artistic souls, who so scorned my purchases at the milliner's, could have seen with what frantic joy they were received. Many times staid matrons burst into sudden hysterical weeping when I offered them my wreaths, while kings, chiefs, and even white traders intrigued to gain one of these coveted possessions.
_22d._--The weather still lovely. Saw a small island called Curtis Island, and at half past ten sighted Sunday Island. The captain kindly took us very close in that we might get a good photograph. A puff of smoke appeared on the horizon, supposed to be a steamer; great excitement. I ran to write letters and found Mr. Henderson doing the same; but alas, the ship, which looked like a man-of-war, moved away from us nearer to the island, and it was too late to venture to chase her, so our letters must wait. Sunday is the island where an American family once took up their residence, remaining until it began to blow up. Some settlers have lately gone there. Lloyd reminds me that this was the place Louis and he once proposed to try and get possession of, and I refused to hear of the plan because of the volcano and the hordes of rats that infest the place. I repented when I saw it, and my heart is now set upon owning an island. It grows warmer daily, and I hope soon to be able to put away my shoes and stockings.[4] Mr. Henderson is looking for an island about the existence of which there is some doubt. Lloyd tells me that Mr. Low, the artist in New York, once said that he had a friend who had actually been upon this very island.
[4] As all mine and most of Louis's were burned, except what I had on my feet, I wished to preserve these for such times as it might seem necessary to make a civilised appearance.