The religion, or rather the superstition, of the Fijians is much like that of other polytheists. The people acknowledge vast numbers of gods of greater or lesser power; most, if not all, of which are symbolized under some natural form, such as a hawk, a tree, or the like. Every Fijian considers himself under the protection of some especial god, and, as has been stated, will not eat the animal which is his symbol. An amusing instance of the reverence paid to the symbols of the gods occurred at Tilioa. A very powerful god, who is worshipped at that place, resides in a land crab, but, as that crustacean is scarcely ever seen in the locality, there are but few opportunities of paying the proper worship. Whenever any one saw a land crab, he immediately ran to the priest, and forthwith the whole place was in a commotion. The people assembled to pay their respects to their deity, and a number of cocoa-nuts were gathered, strung together, and humbly presented to the crab deity in order to propitiate him, and to induce him to give them fair weather and a healthy season. As to the particular doctrines of the Fijian religion, it is scarcely possible to learn much about them. In the first place, the people know nothing, and the priests, who know but little, dislike communicating their knowledge. Even the Christian converts can seldom be induced to speak on the subject with any degree of truth. The priests are known by their official insignia, which consists of an oval frontlet of scarlet feathers, and a long-toothed comb made of separate pieces of wood ingeniously fastened together. Several of these combs are in my collection, and are excellent examples of the artistic capabilities of the makers. No two of them are alike, the delicate thread which fastens them together being woven in a singular variety of patterns. The threads are nearly as fine as hairs, and an additional beauty is given to the pattern by using alternately a deep black and a glittering yellow thread. The priests communicate with their deities by throwing themselves into a sort of ecstatic state, technically called “shaking,” in which the whole body is convulsed, and the utterances which come from the foaming lips are held to be the responses of the god. A vivid idea of this mode of consulting a deity is given by Mr. Williams in the valuable work to which reference has often been made.