We had to row six miles up the river against wind and tide, and we were all very weary, especially the student boatmen, who had rowed nearly all the way from Bau, and whose time grew slower and slower, till I counted twelve seconds between each stroke. The sun was setting when we started, and shed a golden glow over the low flat shores of the river, where we hailed the sight of many cattle, pastured in real grassy meadows,—the first we have seen in Fiji. The soil here is richly alluvial, and from fourteen to fifteen feet in depth. It is expected to yield large returns to sugar-planters. Happily we had a glorious full moon, which made night clear as day; but it was past ten ere we reached Navousi, the house of Andi Kuilla, Thakombau’s favourite daughter, who was absent, and her people did not expect us till two days later; so her house was shut up, and there was some delay before a fire was lighted, water brought, tea made, and supper eaten, and our mosquito-nets hung up, and then family prayers in Fijian. So it was 12.30 before we turned in. It was my first night in a native house, which consists only of one large room for everybody. In a very fine chief’s house, such as this, large curtains of native cloth are hung up at night to divide the upper end into several snug compartments. There is no furniture whatever; and a pile of soft mats is the only bedding required. A Fijian pillow consists of a bamboo, or a bar of wood, standing on two wooden legs, six inches high, which supports the neck only (very much like the pillows of the Kaffirs, and on the same principle as those of Japan). Here it was invented to avoid spoiling the elaborately dressed hair, which formerly was a most important consideration. We, being given to luxury, each carry a soft pillow for our weary heads, and very fine nets to shield us from the attacks, not only of mosquitoes, but of a vicious, virulent, though scarcely visible, sand-fly, which infests the mangrove swamp and many parts of the river. We also carry sheets and a blanket in case of cold nights, and pieces, three yards long, of strong American cloth, to keep our bedding dry; also plaids, which we can hang up to build ourselves tiny rooms within the great public room, where all the boatmen, and sometimes many other people, will sleep. I was sorry that Andi Arietta Kuilla was not at home; I have met her at Nasova, and also seen her fishing with her maidens of noble birth, all clad in the lightest raiment, consisting chiefly of daintily woven garlands—for fishing, you must know, means bathing, and fun and frolic, in the warm bright sea. But here at Navousi she is the dignified widow of a very high chief of this district, which she rules with masculine vigour and wisdom.