time the barge is moored under the unloading shed of the refinery the cane is all handled by machinery. Fijians are employed by the company, which is British, to fill all the positions, both manual labor and skilled in the refinery, the actual executive offices only being run by whites. We drove back to Suva for lunch dozing off from time to time in the car. It is a licking in itself to stay awake in Suva- and in the times my struggles to do so were successful and my eyes were open I could see the natives themselves around the huts we passed stretched out on the adjoining lawns deep in the utter defeat of the noon day. A sort of Fijian jongleur or strolling player was tottering ing along the road about eight miles from Suva mumbling to himself with his eyes closed. The driver said something about the fact that he was really asleep and travelled over the countryside in that manner finding his way along safely enough. It was just another one of those tings that a chauffeur in Fiji had to be very careful about when he was driving along the road and why it was so wise to drive slowly. The lunch in the Grand Pacific Hotel didn't amount to very much. Pork and beans, warm burgundy, and second rate pineapple composed the menu. We walked along the main street back to the ship and after inspecting the British gunboat at the end of the quay got on board the Aorangi. The departure of the Aorangi from Suva, like all her departures from everywhere, was a gay pulling and heaving, and throwing and breaking of confetti. The