The first meeting of this sort at which I was present was held at the junction of two heads of the great Rewa river, the Wai Nimbooco and the Wai Nimala. On the first day, the people of seventeen towns (or villages) assembled, and the crowd must have numbered fully 2000. On the following day about ten more towns arrived, and, with slight variations, the programme was repeated. We sat under trees on the river-bank, facing the village green, and each town came up in turn in procession, all quaintly dressed up as if for a fancy ball, and marched slowly past us, every one carrying his offering in his mouth for greater security—a purse at once novel and self-acting; for, as both hands were often busy with spear and fan, it was a saving of trouble, and by no means disrespectful, just to spit out the coin on the mat spread to receive offerings. Some had quite a mouthful to give—three or four shillings. The latter was a sum much aimed at, as the donors of such large contributions had the pride of knowing that their names would appear in a printed list! an honour not wholly without attraction even in Fiji. The town then divided into two companies. One acted as orchestra, sitting on the ground,—some clapping hands, sometimes with the palms flat, sometimes hollowed, to produce diversity of tone—some striking the ground with short, resonant bamboos, held vertically, which produce a strange booming sound—all singing old words, the meaning of which they have in many cases forgotten. The chant is invariably commenced by one voice, and the chorus takes it up after a few notes. The other company danced,—the quaintest, wildest dances you can conceive, with much pantomime and most graceful action. Every action and posture one sees in a good ballet are found here; and such pretty grouping with fans, spears, or clubs. Many of the figures are very intricate, and the rapidity of movement and flexibility of the whole body are something marvellous,— it seems as if every muscle was in action, and all the postures are graceful. The dance gets wilder and more excited as it goes on, generally ending with an unearthly yell, in which all the spectators join. They are all sitting round in every available corner, generally spreading a bit of plantain-leaf on the ground to keep their dress clean: for, of course, every one is attired in his very best—perhaps a kilt of English long-cloth (or, far more attractive in our eyes, native cloth of rich brown pattern). White native cloth is worn as a girdle, and hangs behind in large folds; wreaths of long hanging grass are worn round the arms and legs, as well as on the body. Some even powder their hair black, or else wear huge wigs of heathen days, and crowns of scarlet parrots’ feathers.