A year later—October 1877—Sir Arthur Gordon revisited these districts. He found satisfactory progress everywhere—the people devoting their energies to agriculture instead of war—all, nominally at least, Christians; good new villages; good riding-paths (one forty miles in length from the coast to the permanent headquarters of native police at Fort Carnarvon); and these, though of purely native construction, were led by easy gradients along the hillsides, instead of following the steepest ridges, according to Fijian custom. Everywhere peace, order, and plenty prevailed. He was especially pleased to find one of the _tevoro_ chiefs, whom he had pardoned when under sentence of death (causing him to place his hands in his and swear fealty), now a useful and zealous officer of the Government. At Fort Carnarvon, about a thousand representatives of the wild tribes assembled to meet him and hear his words; and several hundred school-children, from the neighbouring villages, gathered together for one of their picturesque school-examinations. A large proportion of the children could read and write well—a most satisfactory result of one year’s tuition. According to invariable custom, the school-examination was enlivened by many of the wild, but often graceful and poetic, _mékés_—_i.e._, descriptive songs and dances. After several spear-dances, and one descriptive of a cow protecting her calf, and another of a hawk fluttering, came one which Sir Arthur thus describes in his private journal:— “Nasaucoko fan _méké_. Nai kalukalu, the Stars. This was a very curious _méké_. Two circular enclosures of bamboo, about five feet high, were erected, within which two parties of dancers began to whirl round, waving white _masi_ fans over their heads. Gradually, one by one, they came out of the door of their enclosure opposite each other. This was the rising of the stars. They met, danced the usual sort of dance, and, at one part of it, threw away their fans. This was to represent the shooting-stars.” On the following day he writes— “_Thursday._—To-day Buli Nadrau and all his people came to do their homage. Very pretty they looked, coming over the hill in an interminable line. The old gentleman was tremendously weighted in his state-robes, which were only put on him by his attendants a few yards before he reached me, and were, after he had passed me, at once taken off again, and presented. _Six hundred feet_ and more of black (or rather grey) _masi_ were heaped on him, and that not in the shape of an enormous train, like Tui Cakau’s, but all draped and festooned over his person and head.