Nor was the amount of raiment worn in heathen days oppressive. A thick fringe of coloured grass, or hybiscus fibre, from three to four inches in length, was the full dress of a young lady in the mountains,—indeed is so to this day among the tribes who have not yet adopted Christianity, or who, since the scourge of measles, have returned to heathenism. Most Christians, men and women alike, now wear a cloth reaching from the waist to the knee, and over this such decoration as fancy prompts—whether gay fringe of coloured grass, delicate creeping ferns, or bright golden croton-leaves, cunningly fastened so as to overlap one another, and form a close short petticoat,—and a very becoming dress it is, especially when worn by a group of pretty girls, perhaps standing beneath the shadow of a plantain-tree, or holding one of its broad leaves above their heads, to shield them from the burning rays of the sun, the rich tones of their brown figures standing out in strong relief against the vivid blue of the sky. How long the wedding ceremonials were protracted I cannot say, but when I awoke the following morning I learnt that nineteen more couples were waiting their turn; and again the slow process of inquiries had to be gone through, which occupied three hours. At eleven we started in the canoe, and floated down the river to Nivotheene, a very pretty moated village, tastefully laid out, with neat paths. It is a new village built on an old site, the young chief and his people of the Nathau tribe having returned to heathenism during the wars, when their old town was burnt by Thakombau’s people, since which time they have lived twelve miles farther up the river for security. Now they have again embraced the _lotu_, and come down from the mountains. But the tribe with whom we are now staying (at Nirukuruku) were formerly their bitter foes, and the under-current of distrust is still strong; and from various indications, both Mr and Mrs Langham feel so far suspicious of possible danger that they have yielded to the strongly urged advice of the native minister, and have decided to give up our visit to the inland town, as being unsafe. It would be foolish to get clubbed in a savage fray. It was at no great distance from this place that the Rev. Thomas Baker and seven Christian natives were treacherously murdered by the heathen tribe of Na-vosa in the year 1867 (only eight years ago). They were all eaten. It is worthy of note that at least half-a-dozen different villages have pretended to be in possession of Mr Baker’s head—a case of multiplication of relics worthy of medieval days. The moat and ditch which enclose Nivotheene and so many other villages tell of the state of terrible insecurity of life and property in which these tribes have hitherto lived, but which, we would fain hope, has now become a story of the past.