I greatly fear that our landlord is rather hurt at my preferring the corn-store beside the sea to his rough bachelor quarters inland, but I must hope he will forgive me. The building in question is the only one in this part of the bay, and is just a rough wooden shed, in which our friend stores his corn ready for shipping. The boatmen soon heaped up these sacks so as to leave us each a clear corner, and one for themselves. In one of these I hung up my tent as usual—_i.e._, my mosquito-net, with a curtain of black waterproof for a door. It is just like the little tents we used to make when we were children, and played at being gipsies. Having thus prepared our night quarters, we rowed across the bay to Koro Viti Levu (_koro_ means town), and here we found three tiny villages of small houses, quaintly perched in every available crevice of the rock, and on the summit of a great crag. There are always either a few plants of large-leaved banana, tobacco, or sugar-cane—or maybe a flowering shaddock, lemon, or hybiscus, with tufts of scarlet or yellow blossom to lend grace to these rock-nests, to say nothing of the interest of their brown inhabitants, who peep curiously at us as we approach. I stopped to sketch at the mouth of the Roko Roko river, then we walked to the summit of the crag, and across the promontory till we came to a cave where we found about a dozen very slightly clad women making great cooking-pots, more than two feet deep (some nearer three feet deep), and from twenty to thirty inches in diameter. It was a very striking scene, as we passed from the glare of the sunlight and of the glittering blue sea below us, and turned into this dark workshop. We remained for some time watching the women at work, while they chattered to the boatmen (the constables), doubtless glad of our visit to break the monotony of the day. It was wonderful to see with what skill they modelled such very large pots, simply by eye—attaining perfect symmetry, without a wheel or any other mechanical aid. In the cool of the evening we rowed back here, and the men prepared our supper, at which the grand centre dish was part of the leg of a young pig, which we found had been sent on board yesterday by a considerate young planter. While they were so occupied, I went along the shore till I found a good bathing-spot, where the roots of a great _mbaku_ tree had fashioned themselves into a screen, making an admirable dressing-room—so I had a delightful bathe by moonlight. Now the mosquitoes are becoming so troublesome that I shall be happier under my net in the corn-shed, though I quite grudge wasting this soft lovely moonlight. How the boatmen, who of course have no nets, can endure the mosquitoes, is to me a mystery. * * * * * NANANU, _Sunday 29_.