work, and the inhabitants have sore need of patience. It is pleasant to turn from the many cares and sorrows of the whites to the cheerier dark side of the picture; for the Fijians are always laughing, and seem always ready to sing and dance. Certainly they, too, are wretchedly poor; but they need very little, and are well off, where a white man would starve. _March 10._—I have just returned from a most delightful expedition, thanks, as usual, to the Wesleyan missionaries, to whose kind help I really am indebted for all I have yet seen of native life. Last week I had a letter from Andi Kuilla—_i.e._, Lady Flag—daughter of Thakombau, asking me to go and stay with her at Bau, the native capital, to be present at a grand gathering of the chiefs, when all their most striking Bau dances would be performed at the great annual missionary meeting. It is the custom here for every district to hold an annual social gathering, to which all the people bring their contributions for the funds of the mission. These they generally carry in their mouth for safety, and spit them on to a mat at the feet of the missionary. The advantage of this self-acting purse to men who have no pockets, and whose hands carry clubs or fans, is evident. Then they go off in grand procession and have a dance, which combines ballet with pantomime, all the dancers being dressed up in the most startling varieties of Fijian style. Paint of all colours; garlands of every sort of material, for every limb except the head, which is adorned with its own magnificent halo of spiral goldeny curls—tiny ones—the hair standing straight out from the head; it is dotted with one or two blossoms or sprigs of grass, coquettishly stuck in. Well, this invitation was most tempting, but there seemed at first no means of accepting it—no boat was to be had, and no escort. At last, in despair, I went off to ask a nice English girl, who talks perfect Fijian, if she would venture on coming alone with me (twenty-five miles in an open boat, supposing I could hire one). She agreed, and we went together to consult Mr Wylie, the missionary here. He at once solved all difficulties, and sent his own good boat for us at daybreak, in charge of a native teacher, who, he said, was only waiting for an opportunity to go to Bau. At the last moment, Captain Havelock, the Colonial Secretary, found he could manage to allow himself a holiday—the very first since his arrival. So we started most happily. We had a lovely day for our long row (no wind for sailing, however); halted for luncheon at a small sandy island covered with cocoa-palms, and rested under a splendid Mbaka tree (Fijian banyan); then on again, and reached Bau at sunset. It is a tiny island just off the mainland.