Having traversed the western part of the island, I sailed to Loloway, near the eastern point, one of the loveliest spots in the archipelago. Lofty cliffs flank two sides of a round bay; at the entrance a barrier-reef breaks the swell, which glides in a soft undulation over the quiet water, splashing up on the sandy beach. All around is the forest, hanging in shadowy bowers over the water, and hardly a breeze is astir. The white whale-boat of the Anglican missionary floats motionless on the green mirror; sometimes a fish leaps up, or a pigeon calls from the woods. In the curve of the bay the shore rises in two terraces; on the lower lies the Anglican missionary's house, just opposite the entrance. In the evening the sun sets between the cliffs, and pours a stream of the purest gold through the narrow gap. It is a pity this fairy spot is so rarely inhabited; Melanesian missionaries are not often at home, being constantly on the road, or at work in the native villages. Mr. G., too, was on the point of departure, and agreed to take me with him on his trip. In his alarmingly leaky boat we sailed westward, two boys baling all the time. We ran into a small anchorage, pulled the boat ashore, and marched off inland. The people I found here were similar to those in the west, except that they had developed certain arts to a greater degree of perfection, particularly mat-braiding and tattooing. The braiding is done by a method very similar to that in vogue on Pentecoste. The tattooing is mostly done by women and on women; but the men, especially the high castes, often have a beautifully designed sicca leaf running from the chest towards one shoulder, which probably has some religious significance. The women often have their whole body, arms and legs, covered with tattooing, as if with fine lace. The operation is done bit by bit, some one part being treated every few days. The colour used is the rosin of a nut-tree precipitated on a cool stone and mixed with the juice of a plant; the pattern is drawn on the skin with a stick, and then traced with the tattooing-needle. This consists of three orange thorns, tied at right angles to a stick. The needles are guided along the design with the left hand, while the right keeps striking the handle softly with a light stick, to drive the needles into the skin. This is kept up until a distinct outline is produced; the operation is not very painful. The skin is then washed and rubbed with a certain juice, which evidently acts as a disinfectant; at least I never saw any inflammation consequent on tattooing. During the next few days some of the dye works out and falls off with the dry crust that forms on the wound, leaving the tattooing a little paler. The patterns are rather complicated, and at the present day there are no recognizable representations of real objects; yet there seems no doubt that at one time all the designs represented some real thing. They are carefully