Another suggestive thought is awakened when, on shaking the hand so cordially offered by these comely ladies, we are conscious of the absence of at least one finger. By such sacrifice the women of Fiji (like those of Tahiti and Hawaii) have hitherto shown their mourning for the dead, or made their appeal to the gods to save the sick. So you rarely meet a woman above middle age who has not lost one or both her little fingers. The operation is performed with a sharp shell, with which the mourner saws the first joint till she cuts it off. On the next occasion of mourning, she sacrifices the second joint. The little finger of the other hand supplies a third and fourth proof of sorrow. After this, the Fijian equivalent of wearing crape is to rub the poor mutilated stumps on rough stones till they bleed. I have been in sole possession of the house all the morning, every other creature being at church, notwithstanding a thermometer at about 90°, which decided my remaining on the hill-top in a fresher atmosphere than that of the crowded church. But I am going this afternoon to accompany Mr Langham, who holds service at a pretty village on the big isle, some way up a lovely river, so I may as well close this letter, ready for to-morrow’s mail. CHAPTER XIII. A STRANGE VOLCANIC ISLE—JOELI MBULU, A TONGAN APOSTLE—THE CONVERSION OF THE PEOPLE OF ONO—THAKOMBAU’S CANOE—A ROYAL GARDENER—A SMALL HURRICANE—EARLY PRAYERS—BREAKFAST ON THANGALEI—BETWEEN THE BREAKERS—AT HOME AT NASOVA. NASOVA, _January 14, 1876_. DEAREST NELL,—You see I have got safely home from my travels in the wilds, and I am bound to confess that there is a good deal to be said in favour of the comforts of civilisation, however strongly my gipsy instincts do at times assert themselves! I must tell you, however, of several delightful expeditions we made from Mrs Langham’s charming home at Bau. The first was to the neighbouring isle of Viwa, which was one of the early mission stations, and is now the home of Mr Lindsay, who has charge of a large district, extending to the mountains of Viti Levu. It was a pretty picture to see his two very fair delicate little girls in charge of a little Fijian maiden scarcely bigger than themselves. After a very pleasant afternoon we returned home by clear moonlight—a lovely walk through the forest was followed by a calm row across the bay. But a very common difficulty awaited us on reaching the shore. The tide was low; the boat lay far out, I think nearly a quarter of a mile, and the accepted way to reach it was to submit to be carried like monstrous dolls by one, sometimes by two, strong natives. However, nothing seems strange when you are used to it. It is only one’s first experience of anything which is startling.