Refreshed and invigorated, we continued our wanderings till we came to a small village perched on the very face of a cliff—a dizzy site. A woman who had carried a heavy burden from the shore up to this point, now turned along the path that led round the cliff to her house,—a track so precipitous, that albeit not troubled with nerves, I did not care to face it. We sat awhile at the village overlooking a sea-view of exceeding beauty. While we lingered there, a native climbed up in hot haste to tell Mr Jones that the large canoe on which he had shipped all his household goods to transfer them to his new quarters, had been swamped on a reef,—a pleasant piece of news, which we thought might safely have been delayed till our descent. Returning to the village, where the rocky stream widens as it enters the sea, we crossed it in a minute cockle-shell, the smallest boat I ever saw in use. It had recently been washed ashore, and a tiny brown urchin was in possession of it, and ferried us across, one by one. The last thing washed up by the sea was a good waterproof cloak, blown off some vessel. One of the constables made a stew of salt goat and _taro_ for our supper, to which the gentlemen added very good scones of flour and sweet-potato. So we fared sumptuously; and now I am going to creep into my tent, which is in a corner of the church, so I hope for a peaceful, undisturbed night. * * * * * KORO TIKO, IN VITI LEVU BAY, _October 27_. This time we really are gipsying. I must just write a few lines by combined lantern and moonlight. We left the quiet church of Na Sau very early this morning. A three hours’ sail of dreamlike loveliness brought us to Viti Levu Bay, which is a blue sea lake, embosomed in great hills; its shores are richly wooded in parts, but there is some flat ground where good crops of maize are raised, and here and there, are strangely conical hills and broken crags, on which villages nestle in most inaccessible places. First I climbed one hill, and secured a careful sketch of the bay and the principal crag, while Mr Leefe went to call on a neighbouring planter, an Ayrshire man, who made some money at the diggings, and then settled here. Afterwards he took me there, and we were cordially welcomed and urged to stay; but I need hardly tell you that in fine weather I prefer any sort of camping out to a semi-European house of this description, surrounded by swarms of foreign labour. So I contented myself with admiring the wealth of golden maize laid out to dry in the open courtyard before the house; and then, having obtained leave to camp in a corn-shed beside the bay, where we had left our boat, we returned here.