I had the old men for school to-night, and very interesting it was, old blind Sulu (Daniel) was among the number and paid the greatest attention, assenting in a marked fashion when anything especially pleased him. Poor fellow, he finds wonderful comfort in his religion, and is a most regular attendant at all services and at school. He gets about wonderfully in spite of his blindness, and does wonderful things for a man so totally blind. His patience and cheerfulness under his affliction are marvellous, and he seems to live in hopeful anticipation of the time when he shall see his Lord and Master face to face, Whom now he sees with the inward eyes of his spirit. He is the only blind man here, and I have never seen but one dumb man in these islands. _Wednesday, 28th July._--Our people had a great dance last night after school which they kept up with great spirit and vigour until an early hour this morning. The occasion was the thatching of the new gamal, and a great many took part, and never once intermitted their vigour from the start to the finish. The dance is called a “Sagoro,” but the chief part of it consists of singing with a clapping of hands and peculiar dancing in time. It is no easy work, and when I went to see them about the middle of the performance the perspiration was running down their bodies. Some of the songs are very pretty, but the movement of the dance is not particularly graceful or elegant. The women stand in a ring outside, and what is called “weluwelu.” This ‘weluing’ consists in keeping the feet close together and moving the knees from right to left besides joining in the chorus. Their shrill voices sound quite weird along with the deep tones of the males, but by no means discordant. Native songs have mostly an air sung by one voice, and a chorus joined in by all, and these Maewoese are noted for their songs. I did not attempt to go to sleep before the performance was over, and the consequence was a slight dilatoriness this morning, which as might be expected, was not only manifest in my case. However, after morning duties here I started with Arthur Huqe and Patrick for Mandurvat, passing through the pretty snug little village of Naruru on the way. Here we found a man by name ‘Tamaragai’ sitting with his pretty wife and child in the neat enclosure in front of his house. All the other denizens of the village according to the invariable custom which prevails here, had scattered to the four winds. After the dew is off the bushes here there is a general exodus from all the villages, and at noon it is useless to look for any one at home, for all are abroad. They are very industrious people and find perpetual occupation in their gardens or elsewhere from morning till evening. They say if they stay at home they do nothing but sleep, and a native has not many resources for occupying his time indoors. They have a great dread of the dew, for they say it engenders elephantiasis. Cases of this unpleasant disease are