_Thursday, September 9th._--Another most glorious morning, and a bright warm day. My home duties kept me here till far on in the day, when I joined a large picnic party at Ruosi. Certainly these natives take life easily, and in their own way get a good deal of enjoyment out of it. They seem utterly devoid of that care and worry which kills so many of us, and certainly follow the Scripture injunction as to taking no anxious thought. Nature affords them all they want for their bodily comfort, and I trust religion supplies the rest. It is perfectly wonderful how far more merry and light hearted they are than their heathen neighbours, and I fondly hope the secret is within, such jolly, amiable, good-natured creatures they are, and so happy and friendly and harmonious among themselves. The sportsmen to the number of twelve or fifteen went off in search of wild fowl, or any other of the feathered tribe they might come across, the cooks setting to work to get the oven alight and start the cooking. Prawns were caught in abundance, and were eaten with roasted taro, as a sort of lunch, and green cocoanuts were secured as the refreshing beverage. It was an animated and picturesque scene, and in the evening the sportsmen returned with five fowls and one owl, an odd looking object, as the result of their day’s sport. These birds were soon consigned to the oven with the other food, and were partaken of in the evening. I came away beforehand and had my dinner here. It was a most gloriously still and beautiful evening and the native songs sung by the boys coming home, sounded very pretty in the distance. There seems to have been an exuberant joyous spirit about to-day, animating everyone, and never since I have been here, have I known so hearty and bright a service as we had this evening. After school most of the boys and younger men went to “Unduna,” a _suburb_ of Tanrig, to a great dance, which is to be kept up till morning light. The occasion of it is the ‘nasu’ing of two gamals to-morrow, and nothing can be done without a dance. Arthur, who has neither the strength nor the inclination to go, has been keeping me company, and we have had some nice and profitable conversation. He has left me now, and in the stillness of the most glorious night, the song of the dancers breaks upon one’s ear, and makes one conscious that one is in the Melanesian Islands. Besides that one sound, nothing else is audible, and I myself am going to prepare for the quiet and rest of my humble couch.