At Simbo there is a regular graveyard of these houses just above the beach, a mile from the trader’s house. It looks horrible, but is rather interesting. It consists of about a dozen small huts built on poles, some three or four feet from the ground; in each of these are the heads of important men. Those in front are elaborately decorated with rings, whilst those at the back are bare. Most of the houses contain about a dozen heads, but one, rather larger than the others, contains more, and is partly built of stone, the front being barred like a rabbit hutch. This contains the heads of the chiefs only, and is looked upon with great reverence by the natives. Luckily this weird cemetery is hidden by the dense bush which grows almost to the water’s edge, {128} or visitors, unaccustomed to such sights, might receive a ghastly shock, as a more uncanny spectacle to come across on a moonlight night than these hutches, with white skulls staring vacantly through the bars, cannot be realised. At the back of them is the heavy dark bush, and before them the rocks and the sea. The women play the part of the chief mourners, and show their grief by plastering their faces with lime and chanting melancholy dirges. The men in many parts shave their heads, some completely, some only partially, but all cover their faces with lime. The funeral dance which follows the feast in the Solomon Islands differs considerably from the dances in the other islands for the same occasion. A double circle of women is formed round four posts, between which other women sit holding in their arms the possessions of the departed one. Round these the dancers gather, and with slow, measured steps, timed to the tune of a beating drum, they keep up an unearthly row with their feet. Whilst these are marking time, the others and younger ones, bearing the possessions, dance round the inner circle and skip in and out of the posts, always keeping in time with the beating of {129} the drum. It is not an interesting dance, nor is it awe-inspiring like many others I have seen, whilst from an artistic point of view it falls very short. There are many others in which both men and women take part, but none particularly interesting. The war dance is done in crouching movements, and should look impressive when carried out by a well-trained crowd, but as few travellers have witnessed it it can only be surmised that it is grand. It is danced by the natives bearing their shield and spears in hand, and the performers sing a peculiar droning song during the ceremony. The words of it, and two other native songs, were given in a paper before the Anthropological Institute by Lieutenant Boyle T. Somerville, R.N. They run thus:— WAR SONG Peka peka turo, Peka peka turo, Po lo lu u asa na Enoria chacharveli Turu sangi. A FAVOURITE SONG Kele mai Kolo moruna Kawo Konji Kili mai Keli mai Kawo Tsa lu M—m—m—m—m— JEW’S-HARP SONG Koroso pe pa Koiro pipa {130}