as the "siva-sivas" in Samoa. There the girls sang in soft, pleasing
voices, the words being full of liquid vowels. Here in Fiji the singing
was harsh and discordant, as k's and r's abound in the language.

When it came to the ceremony of drinking "angona" I worthily did
my part of the performance. Drinking "angona" is a taste not easily
acquired, but when one has once got used to it, there is not a more
refreshing drink, and I speak from long experience. In Fiji I was
often presented with a large "angona" root, but it would be considered
exceedingly bad form did you not return it to the giver and tell him
to have it at once prepared for himself and his people, you yourself,
of course, taking part in the drinking ceremony.

After a stay of several days at Vuna we rowed back by night. It was
a perfect, calm night, and with the full moon, was almost as bright
as day. We rowed all the way close to shore, passing under the gloomy
shade of dense forests or by countless coconuts, the only sound besides
the plash of our oars being the cry of water fowl or some night bird,
while the light beetles[7] flashed their green lights against the dark
background of the forest, looking much like falling stars. There are
certain moments in life that have made a lasting impression on me,
and that moonlight row was one of them.

We made several expeditions together that were every bit as interesting
and enjoyable as the one to Vuna. On one occasion we visited the north
part of the island, as well as Ngamia and other islands. We rowed
nearly all the way close into shore and saw plenty of turtles. Ratu
Lala started to troll with live bait, as we had come across several
women fishing with nets, and on our approach they chanted out a
greeting to Ratu Lala, and in return he helped himself to a lot of