Nothing amuses me more than the way in which people from opposite ends of the world are for ever meeting in unexpected places. The last instance I have come across was when two days ago I was sketching near Levuka, and took refuge from a shower at a carpenter’s shop. There I found a very old woman from Perthshire, who discoursed at great length on all members of the Breadalbane family, and the Baillies of Jarviswode, as she remembered them thirty-five years ago. It reminds me of my meeting General Troup in India, and his telling me he knew all my family intimately. But when we failed to find our topics of common interest altogether fluent, he added, “Well, it is fifty years since I have seen any of them!” I have nothing else of special interest to tell you. History repeats itself in so small a community. A considerable number of white men and brown have been dining here. There have been yangona _mékés_ in the moonlight, with wild songs, which are always attractive to me. We had a pretty _méké_, with fanciful dances, in honour of the Queen’s birthday (the Maramma Levu, or Great Lady). Jack, the little sailor, has been in his glory with so many ships in harbour—the Sapphire, the Alacrity, and the Pearl. He has had luncheon and tea on board of them all, and is an immense favourite with the blue-jackets. His naval tailor comes, gravely to measure him for his tiny garments; and his proudest days are those when he is allowed to go on board alone with one of the gentlemen. Mrs Abbey has planted tree-ferns round Mrs de Ricci’s grave; and there are few days when either her children, or Jack and Nevil, do not carry fresh flowers to lay on it. And I have sown scarlet and blue convolvulus, and other vines, all over the little headland. Good-bye. * * * * * NASOVA, _July 22_. ... Our grievous separation is accomplished. The Havelocks and Hacketts started for England on the 6th, and, to know how sorely we miss them, you must needs come and live out here—in this country, to which most people come, only to leave it as soon as possible, and which has been accurately described as one in which every difficulty in the way of progress exists in fullest perfection. Why this should be, I really cannot tell, but it certainly appears to be the case.