We sat up watching them from the mission garden till past 1 A.M.; for though we were all tired, there was a solemn conference going on at the house, the neighbouring brethren having all assembled to sit in judgment on the alleged delinquencies of a native minister. So, as their wives did not know whether they were to go home that night or not, all they could do was to lay their small children down to sleep in every corner. Finally one family departed, with two little ones, to row to a neighbouring isle and then carry the children a mile through the forest—one fair little thing carried by a Fijian child not much bigger than itself,—such a bright intelligent little monkey. When we awoke next morning the dancers were still in full swing; but soon after sunrise all departed in their canoes, singing as they sailed away, and all declaring it had been a very pleasant time. We foolishly allowed ourselves to be detained till towards noon, trusting to our host’s practice in catching tides (for only at certain hours can you cross the coral-reefs, and that only at certain points, miles apart). But a head-wind set in and made a nasty wobbly sea. Our men were not very fresh, and when we neared the isle where we had lunched on our way, we found we had lost the tide and had to row a long way round outside the reef, and then come in by a passage so very narrow that it was difficult to discern it in the very fitful moonlight. It was an anxious moment passing between the two great lines of breakers which mark the edge of every reef. Once inside, the danger is only of running aground on coral-patches.