I still think it makes tea nastier than having none, but little Annie and Mr L. like it. Then we thought we would make a mess of it and corn-flour. So Mr L. and I each tried our hand at making a bowl. I made mine like arrowroot, without boiling, and rather liked it; but his brew failed: so at last he found an old black pot belonging to the ship, and boiled it up. It looked rather dingy and odd, but they all avowed it was better than mine; so we were each content. The two big pieces of waterproof were very acceptable for our bedding. I have no special Bau news to give you. Everything looked as usual—good bloom of roses and jessamine, and fresh sweet air. After morning church, I went to see Andi Kuilla, and gave her your message. She could not wait to talk then, as it seems they always hold a family prayer-meeting immediately after public service (having previously attended early service). I confess I thought that it showed wonderful powers of endurance. In the afternoon we went over to Viwa, where Mr L. held service, the Lindsays having gone to Namena. It is a very pretty place—a lovely walk of about a mile to the church; and beyond that the native graves, on a headland edged with big old trees, whose tangled roots twist right over the cliff down to the sea. Andi Kuilla came to evening tea, and to ask Mr L. for a copy-book, pen, &c., that she might improve her hand before writing you a Fijian letter herself. Ratu Timothy also sent up for lamp-wicks. There is scarcely an hour of the day that some member of the “royal family” does not send up for something or other. I found Mr L. had arranged that one of the native ministers, Ratu Isaiah, is to meet him on the coast of Viti Levu, about twenty miles from Nananu, and is to bring the mail. So I gave him a note to Mr Maudslay, asking him to send my letters also. If I have the luck to be dropped at Nananu, Mr L. will get them sent on. Now I will add no more; for you have no notion how hateful it is to write on your lap, holding a big umbrella with one hand, and sea-sawing all the time. The faintest little breeze is just springing up, and we are beginning to move—almost imperceptibly. * * * * * VUNA POINT (NAVACA MISSION-HOUSE), 3 P.M. Just arrived, by dint of literally _rowing_ the Jubilee the last few miles,—such heavy mist and quiet rain that we could see nothing of the isle as we approached—only a vision of very high land and coast-line of rich foliage and fields. Instead of beach, coral and black rocks run to the very edge of the land. It seems so strange to see the branches of the trees literally overhanging the coral; and just beyond, the water is quite deep. The Lands Commission are living very near: we see their tents. Probably we shall walk along the coast so far, after tea, to see Colonel Pratt and the others. We sleep here, I am glad to say. No time for more. Much love to the bairns.—Ever yours. CHAPTER XVIII.