As I mentioned elsewhere, a man's rise in caste is marked on every occasion by the receipt of new fire, rubbed on a special stick ornamented with flowers. Fire is lighted here, as in all Melanesia, by "ploughing," a small stick being rubbed lengthwise in a larger one. If the wood is not damp, it will burn in less than two minutes: it is not necessary, as is often stated, to use two different kinds of wood. To-day matches are used nearly everywhere, and the natives hardly ever "plough" their fire, except for ceremonial purposes; but they are still very clever about keeping the fire burning, and often take along a smouldering log on their walks. Wood-carving and sculpture are wanting, except in the shape of drums, which are placed in a horizontal position, and often reach considerable dimensions. Not far from Albert's lived a man of the highest caste, my friend Agelan. He was planning to kill one hundred tusked pigs in the near future, which would raise him to the highest caste far and wide, but would also impoverish him for the rest of his life. He lived quietly and comfortably, like a country squire, surrounded by his relatives and descendants. He seemed fond of good living, and his wife was an excellent housekeeper. In the midst of a somewhat colourless Christian population, wearing trousers and slovenly dresses, using enamel pots and petrol-lamps, Agelan and his household were a genuine relic of the good old times, and no one could have pretended that his home was less pleasant than those around him. These things are largely a matter of taste; and those who prefer grotesque attire to beautiful nakedness will be happy to know that their wishes will soon be fulfilled. I liked the old heathen, and spent a good deal of time with him. A sketch of his home life may not come amiss, just because these primitive ways are dying out so fast. As I near the house, some dogs rush out at me, and a woman's voice calls them back; Agelan roars a welcome--he always shouts, and likes to put on masterful airs; for in years gone by he was a very unpleasant customer, until the man-of-war--but that is all ancient history, and now his bark is much worse than his bite. I have the honour of being in his good books, thanks to certain medical services I was able to render him; he has an ugly cough, for which we have tried in turn: iodine, Peruvian balsam, eucalyptus oil, quinine, and other medicines; nothing helps, but he seems to enjoy swallowing the drugs.