Now the site of the ovens is marked only by greener grass; but an old tree close by is covered, branch and stem, with notches, each one of which is the record of some poor wretch whose skull was dashed against a stone at the temple, the foundations of which are still to be seen a few steps further on. The tree is the sole survivor of a sacred grove, which, like that at Rewa, was cut down on account of the superstitious reverence in which it was held, and the dark memories attaching to it. Beside it is the well, where the bodies were brought to be washed, just below the mission wicket. Here, too, are the great wooden drums, which in those evil days only sounded a doom of death, or summoned the people to some scene of horrible revelry, but which now beat only to call them to Christian worship, or to summon them to school; and near the drums and the ovens the walls of a stone church are slowly rising. Very different, too, is the scene on the hill-top, where roses and jessamines now perfume the air around a pleasant home—while on one side cluster the mission buildings, where the students are fed and taught; and beautiful is the panorama of sea and isles which lies outstretched on two sides of the horizon, while on the other lie the near shores and distant mountains of Viti Levu. Great was the excitement of the juvenile population of this tiny isle when we arrived late last night, and each little urchin was trusted to carry some of our quaint treasures up the hill, and deposit them in the verandah, which really looked very much like a timber-yard when we looked out next morning! Such an _omnium gatherum_ of wooden pillows and clubs, spears and bowls, wooden trays and sticks, to say nothing of sundry pieces of pottery, and a pile of savage finery! The first to welcome us on landing was the native minister, Joeli Mbulu, a fine old Tongan chief. His features are beautiful, his colour clear olive, and he has grey hair and a long silky grey beard. He is just my ideal of what Abraham must have been, and would be worth a fortune to an artist as a patriarchal study. All the people are preparing for their New Year feast to-morrow, and have been all day coming up in crowds to consult Mrs Langham about their clothes and other matters. 10 P.M.—I must write a few words just to prove that I am thinking of you all on this last night of the old year. _You_ are just about finishing breakfast. _We_ are just starting for the midnight service, which on this night (Watch-night the Wesleyans call it) is held in every church all over these isles. I shall wish you a glad New Year at the right moment. _First Sunday in 1876._—I left off to go to the midnight service. It was a very impressive scene, though the church having recently been blown down in a hurricane, and the large house for strangers which was next used having been burnt in a recent fire and the new one not being finished, the congregation have to meet in two smaller buildings.