of the
resurrection and where Beritane spirits go after death.

In the afternoon we held service in the main street. The singing
attracted a very large and noisy crowd but when our old friend began to
pray it was as if a bomb-shell had exploded, men, women, and children
running as for dear life to their homes. Another hymn brought them back,
armed and unarmed. We had a long talk on peace, and they wished I would
go with them to Moveave, and make peace. One division of these villages
they have simply wiped out. I asked them to leave Moveave alone, and
when a fit season comes I will ascend the river with them, and make
peace.

I have visited the party who last week killed several of the Moveavans,
and they promised not to attack them again. The Kaback jewellery is
about in abundance.

Semese spoke nearly all the night through, exhorting all to peace, and
that now we had visited them they ought no more to go about exalting
themselves, fighting with their neighbours, and speaking evil of their
friends, the Motuans. Rahe has brought his son, whom he has named
Tamate. I have no doubt he will be an expensive honour.

We went up the William River to-day. At mouth, on the west side, are two
islands, viz., Iriho and Biaveveka. Between the latter and the mainland
is an entrance into Alice Meade Harbour. The river is broad and deep.
Both banks are lined with sago palms.

When a young man marries a young woman, the custom here is to pay nothing
for her; but for a widow something very great. The people live chiefly
on sago. Sago is cooked with shell-fish, boiled with bananas, roasted on
stones, baked in the ashes, tied up in leaves, and many other ways. We
have received large presents of sago, both boats bearing as much as is
safe to carry. We leave in the morning. At present a man is going
through the streets in great wrath, having been to his plantation and
missed a bunch of bananas. As he moves along he shouts out his loss, and
challenges the thief.

We had a gathering of old men until late into the night, and they closed
with a wail, chanted, with drums keeping time. Hours before daylight
Semese was up, waiting for me to turn out.

We had a fine run back to Yule, where, at sunset, we were met by a
terrific gale of wind and a thunderstorm. We had to put in close to the
land, and for four hours sit it out in a deluge of rain. It was soon
inky dark, the lightning very vivid, and the thunder deafening. Pi