Since I last wrote to you there has been a good deal of sickness going about of an unusual description; its principal feature being, that while your pulse continues quite steady, your temperature runs up to any extent, and you feel good for nothing. I’ve had a sharp touch of it myself, enough to pull me up for boasting about never being ill. I was laid up for a fortnight, which you can imagine rather astonished me. Really it was worth a little touch of illness to see how dear and kind every member of the Fijian family could be. You yourself could not have taken more care of me than did Mrs Havelock; and Lady Gordon, to whom walking is such an exertion in this hot climate, came toiling up the hill every day to see me, and sent me the strongest brown soups and port-wine to take at short intervals. Knowing how unattainable such luxuries are to most people on these isles, I marvel how they contrive to shake off similar attacks. Dr Macgregor, too, has proved himself a most kind friend and skilful doctor. He is such a good fellow. He and his wife both hail from Aberdeen, then went to Mauritius, whence Sir Arthur persuaded them to come here. To them, as also to Colonel Pratt, the ‘Inverness Couriers’ afford unfailing interest. I find another centre of north-country sympathy in Mrs Havelock’s nurse, a cosy woman who has taken great care of me during my illness. She lived in Scotland for many years, till her husband’s regiment was ordered to Seychelles, where Captain Havelock was then acting Governor. She has a vivid recollection of Roualeyn; so has the carpenter who comes to work here. But so it is wherever I find Scotchmen. As to Dr Macgregor, he has known his book[16] by heart since he was ten years old! Now I really have nothing more to tell you. We are near midsummer, and have cold blustering winds and sharp showers. A fine day is quite exceptional. Good-bye. Love to each and all. * * * * * _Monday, November 22, 1875._ DEAREST BESSIE,—I suppose Nell told you about my having an attack of fever. I’m all right again now, though not very strong yet. While I remember, I want you to tell the boys about an extraordinary fact in natural history, which, is, I believe, peculiar to these islands. It is called “The Balolo Festival”—in other words, The Feast of Worms—and occurred yesterday. The balolo[17] is a small sea-worm, long and thin as ordinary vermicelli. Some are fully a yard long; others about an inch. It has a jointed body and many legs, and lives in the deep sea.