“Those who escape the club of the soul-destroyer walk on to Naindelinde, one of the highest peaks of the Kauvandra mountains. Here the path of the Mbulu ends abruptly at the brink of a precipice, the base of which is said to be washed by a deep lake. Beyond this precipice projects a large steer-oar, which one tradition puts in the charge of Ndengei himself, but another more consistently in the keeping of an old man and his son, who act under the direction of the god. These accost the coming spirit thus: ‘Under what circumstances do you come to us? How did you conduct yourself in the other world?’ If the ghost should be one of rank, he answers: ‘I am a great chief; I lived as a chief, and my conduct was that of a chief. I had great wealth, many wives, and ruled over a powerful people. I have destroyed many towns, and slain many in war.’ To this the reply is, ‘Good, good. Take a seat on the broad part of this oar, and refresh yourself in the cool breeze.’ No sooner is he seated than they lift the handle of the oar, which lies inland, and he is thus thrown down headlong into the deep waters below, through which he passes to Murimuria. Such as have gained the special favour of Ndengei are warned not to go out on the oar, but to sit near those who hold it, and after a short repose are sent back to the place whence they came to be deified.” The gods of the Figians would, however, seem to cling with considerable tenacity to the weaknesses that distinguish the most ordinary mortals. They quarrel, they fight, and worse still, descend to act the part of lady-stealers, and this even when the booty is the daughter of a neighbouring god. The last “pretty scandal” of this character is related by Mr. Seeman in his recently published work on Figi: