Owing to the peculiarity of orthodox Fijian spelling, you must pronounce an _m_ before the _b_—so that town is called MBau. Moreover, the sound of _th_ is represented by the letter _c_, so that I ought to spell Thakombau, Cacobau; and Tholo, which is mountain, should be Colo. Moreover, you must always sound the letter _n_ before _d_, _g_, and _q_. Now, isn’t this puzzling? I think you will admit the wisdom of my spelling Fijian words and names as you are expected to pronounce them. Certainly you could hardly be expected to understand the delicate compliment conveyed to Sir Arthur in the name of a new town which is called after him, Koro-i-aco, _aco_ being the equivalent of Arthur. Speaking of new towns, one of the principal topics of conversation here is the probability of the site of the capital being changed ere long, as Levuka is manifestly unsuited to develop into a town of such importance as it is hoped the capital of this new colony will ere long become. The first whites were thankful to settle here, because of being so near to Bau, and to friendly chiefs, and so it answered their purpose very well; but it is a place where there is no room for extension, and what land there is, is all in private hands; and the 180 houses, such as they are, look as if they had been accidentally dropped all over the small available space. They are all temporary buildings, either reed houses with thatched roofs, or wooden houses roofed with shingles or corrugated zinc,—most of them are just poor little cottages. The best wooden house will not stand this climate for more than eight or ten years, and then involves ceaseless repairs, so everything about the place looks poor and “disjaskit,” as the old wives in Scotland would say. Then the situation is in every respect bad. There is no stone suitable for building. The high hills of Ovalau attract the rain, and the temperature is higher than on other isles, never lower than 70°, and rising to 90°. The town faces the east, so that from early dawn the full heat of the sun beats on the hard cliffs of dark conglomerate rocks, which rise abruptly close round the little strip of land—in all not thirty acres—on which Levuka is built, and which is only from five to eight feet above the ordinary high-water mark. A considerable portion of this is devoted to swampy _taro_-fields; and drainage on any system is impossible, because a drain would simply find the water-level. Naturally, the place is not very healthy, and various other sites are proposed. Each of these is said to have a multitude of advantages, all of which will have to be officially reported upon.