Two Years Among the Savages of New Guinea.

In the year 1887, two months after the adventure spoken of in the previous pages, hearing that Captain Matheson was in port, and that he intended sailing for New Guinea in a few days, I went on board his schooner; and knowing him to be an able seaman and a jolly good fellow, I decided to go with him in his vessel, the Spitfire. The Spitfire is a strongly built "fore and aft" schooner of 35 tons net register. Besides this he had two small vessels, a cutter and a lugger, the former in charge of a South Sea Islander, and the latter in charge of a Queensland black.

These comprised the entire fleet. The crew of the schooner was made up of the captain, the mate (a white man), a South Sea Islander, who acted as quartermaster, a cook (also a white man), about 20 Queensland blacks, including three women, and myself, the solitary passenger.

I put my traps-which were not many, as, like the Romans, I prefer to travel free of "impedimenta"-on board, as I expected to make a start on the following day. There was some delay, owing to the Customs authorities, so we had to remain another day in port. I occupied my spare time in bidding good-bye to many of my friends and comrades, and they took leave of me as if they would never see me in the flesh again, as so many had lately lost the number of their mess in New Guinea. At last, to my great relief, the partings were over, for saying good-bye in Northern Queensland is a very serious affair, as everyone is bent on drinking your health, so with a slight headache, in company with the skipper, I stepped into the dinghy which was in waiting for us at No. 1 wharf. We were rapidly rowed by two of the crew to the schooner, which was moored to the buoy off the Pilot Jetty, anxiously waiting to slip her cable.

Everything was made ready for a start, the "fore and aft" sails hoisted, when Mr. W--, a friend of mine, and the chief officer of Customs, boarded us, had a parting glass, wished us a safe voyage, and then left for the shore. Soon after their departure, a breeze having sprung up, the order was given to hoist the head sails, we cast off our moorings, took a last look at the town where I had spent many a happy day, and commenced our voyage to the land of cannibals and savages.

The clouds were dark and lowering, Mount Cook looked angry, and everything presaged a blow. The wind was dead ahead, but the expected blow did not come off. We were not long rounding Cape Bedford, twelve miles to the N.E., but, as the day was well advanced, we knew that with the present wind we should be unable to get through the great Barrier before dark. We therefore determined to anchor at a sandbank, for to attempt to make the passage through the "Lark" opening in the dark would be the height of madness, as the passage is very narrow, and from the sandbank to the Barrier is one mass of coral reefs. We managed to reach our anchorage by sundown, and enjoyed what sailors call a "Farmer's" night. We had no work to do, as our two small craft were safe at anchor close to us. We spent the evening at a quiet game of cards (there being just four of us, the skipper, mate, cook and I) and in spinning yarns. Then, after a nightcap of rum, we turned into our bunks until daylight should appear. The captain, a Scotchman, was one of the most generous-hearted, upright men that I have ever come across, and every inch a sailor. The mate, too, was a first-rate fellow, and had been to New Guinea on a fishing cruise some years before; the cook, who hailed from the land of the shamrock, was full of fun, and an excellent comic singer, but a little too fond of the rum bottle; whilst I had the distinction of being the only passenger. Captain Matheson had already made a trip to New Guinea.

On this occasion he left his mate with some of the crew-blacks of Queensland-on an island, to superintend the curing of fish (Bêche-de-mer) and went to an island further away. On his return he found that his mate had been cruelly murdered that very day, only a few hours previous to his arrival. He immediately went ashore, surrounded the men, and with some difficulty captured four of the ringleaders and brought them in his schooner to Cooktown, where they were afterwards tried and, I regret to say, discharged, notwithstanding that one of them openly declared that he had killed the murdered man.

We were upon deck at daylight, weighed anchor, and steered our course for the Barrier. After a good deal of tacking, the wind being still ahead, we entered the "Lark" passage, and after beating about for several hours, just managed to clear it before dark, otherwise we should have been obliged to "'bout" ship and anchor inside for the night.

The Great Queensland Barrier Reef is a wonderful sight. It extends for several hundred miles, with narrow openings here and there, and at low tide the upper part of it is quite bare.

From the deck of a vessel, with the sun shining on it the white coral sparkles like crystal, and you cannot but marvel at the wonderful industry and workmanship of the countless millions of insects that have built up this gigantic sea-wall. Numerous vessels come here for the purpose of obtaining the valuable Bêche-de-mer, whose habitat is on this Barrier. We were now properly out at sea, as we had entered the Pacific Ocean, with its long sweeping roll. The sea was not very rough, but being the first night out I felt a little qualmish. It soon passed away, however, and I settled down to a life on the ocean wave.

We made good way, steering a direct course for the S.E. end of the Osprey Reef, which lies in mid-ocean, about 80 miles from the Barrier. It is 15 miles long, and woe betide the vessel that is stranded there, as she would speedily break up. It is a most dangerous reef, and not very well surveyed. In the year 1886, the steamer Papua, belonging to the German New Guinea Company, and laden with a heavy cargo, ran foul of it on the N.E. end, and soon became a total wreck, but all the crew managed to escape in the whale boats, nothing being saved except a few compasses.

The next day, owing to the wind being unfavourable, our run was a very poor one. We took the sun at 8 a.m., and at 12 noon, when I spent some of my time in trying to work out our position. I covered several sheets of foolscap with figures, but even then I did not come out right. What with cards, spinning yarns, and taking a turn at steering, the time passed rapidly away, and ere I was aware of it, supper was announced. The weather being very mild, for we were getting into warmer latitudes, we had all our meals on deck. Having finished supper, comprising the inevitable dry hash, we filled our pipes, and under the soothing influence of a tropical night, free from all care and trouble, lent ourselves to the enjoyment of the hour. There is nothing to my mind more intoxicating than being on a well-found vessel, with a spanking breeze, surrounded by the boundless ocean, and enjoying the companionship of jovial fellows. I turned into my bunk after the customary nightcap of rum, and soon fell asleep. "To sleep, perchance to dream." Dream I did, and the dream with its attendant circumstances was one of the most curious coincidences that has ever happened to me.

I dreamt that I was on the top of a high cliff. I had an album with me, which I threw over the cliff to the ground beneath. I tried to find a good way to descend, and at one part I noticed a rudely-constructed ladder attached to the top of the cliff, and reaching nearly to the ground. I stepped on to the ladder, intending to descend, but, not liking the look of it, stepped back, walked a short distance along the cliff, when my dream came to an abrupt end. I still slept on, not awaking until 7 a.m., in time for my cup of coffee. The dream was vivid, and in the morning the impression of it was as clear as on the night before.

Now for the coincidence.

I afterwards learned that at 2 a.m., still asleep, I had risen from my bunk, gone up on deck, strode over a seaman's chest, and walked along the deck until I reached the ratlins, then stepped on to them and was about to jump into the sea. Something or other stopped me, I then walked along the deck the same way I had come, stepped down to the cabin and lay down on my bunk. The captain, who slept on deck, noticed me coming up, but never thought for a moment that I was asleep, or he would have followed me. I have never practised somnambulism before or since. It is very strange, but not the less true, that anyone walking in his sleep seldom comes to harm. How is this I wonder? We had a good laugh over my adventure, which I put down to the rum and a disordered stomach.

The following night, about 10 p.m., the moon shining bright, we calculated that we ought to be somewhere near the Osprey Reef, when suddenly the mate, who was forward, sung out, "Breakers ahead!" It is anything but a welcome cry. The captain, fearing that we might be out of our course and dangerously near the dreaded Osprey, flew to the tiller, quickly put the helm hard down, and put the ship about. It turned out to be an hallucination. The moon shining on the sea gave it the appearance of broken water. The scare was soon over, and we went on our way rejoicing. We did not sight the Osprey Reef, but must have passed about 10 miles to windward of it. We had several days' calms, the sun burning like fire. It was almost impossible to find a shady spot. Down below it was very close, and upon deck very hot. We had a succession of head winds, which greatly retarded our progress. So the days went by until, on the morning of the ninth day out, we sighted the shores of New Guinea. We were 40 miles from Orangerie Bay, with its mountains of Alpine height towering away in the distance. What a relief to sight land after tossing for days on the ocean! By evening we were within a stone's throw of the mainland. The coast here is most interesting, very bold and broken, range after range of mountains covered with scrub, and here and there picturesque grassy islands, making a pleasant contrast to the dark foliage of the mainland bush. We had a long beat before us, as we were a good deal to leeward of our destination. We kept well within sight of land the whole way from this point, of which I was very glad, as it gave me an opportunity of observing the coastal formation. Every now and then we hove the schooner to, in order to enable our convoy, the lugger, to come up with us, when we filled up their water-casks and replenished their stock of provisions. The cutter had disappeared, and we did not see her again until we came to our anchorage in China Straits. We were not very anxious about her, as the South Sea Islander in charge was an experienced hand in a boat, and was sure to turn up some time or other.

The next day we passed close to the Brumer Islands (native name "Banaroa"). We did not stop, although Capt. Matheson wanted to get a number of the natives to go with him on a fishing cruise to the East End. The cutter, however, touched there and was successful in obtaining about 15 natives. The Banaroa people are good workers and of a friendly disposition.

This group of islands lies about 10 miles from the mainland, and they are very beautiful. There are most fertile plantations of yams, bananas, and coco-nuts, with here and there a bright patch of green. I should think that these islands would be very healthy, as they are free from swamps and not too much covered with scrub.

I was very much pleased with their appearance, and should not object to a prolonged residence on them.

As darkness set in the Brumers had been left many miles astern. When within a few miles of Heath Island (Loger), which is a boundary of China Straits, to our disgust the wind entirely died away, and we were left to loll and roll about all night. We seemed destined never to reach port. This was the eleventh day of a voyage (in a straight course) of 430 miles.

The day previous we passed close to the schooner Harrier, in full sail with a fair wind, bound for Queensland. We saluted and exchanged compliments. Having passed a restless night, we once more steered for China Straits. When off the north-western point of Heath Island (Loger) we were boarded by two or three canoes, filled with natives, their faces painted in various colours, and all having large mops of hair on their heads. They wore no clothing save a banana leaf round the loins. This was my first introduction to the Papuan race, and I must confess that they had a most diabolical appearance. Several of them came on board, where they kept up an incessant chatter.

The passage between Heath Island and the mainland, known as the Western Passage, is rather narrow. Coral reefs extend a good distance out, so that it is necessary to hug the shore of Heath Island. The tide too is very swift here, rushing at the rate of five to six miles an hour, making it impossible to stem it without the aid of a strong breeze. Everything has an end, so at last we rounded the point of Heath Island and entered the charming and romantic harbour of China Straits.

We dropped our mud-hook just about sundown in ten fathoms of water on the lee side of the Island of Samarai, having been 12 long days on the voyage.

Before setting foot on Samarai I may as well give you some idea of the extent of New Guinea, and of how a portion of it became a British possession.

Looking upon Australia as a vast continent, New Guinea, or as it is sometimes called "Papua," is the largest island in the world, having a total length of 1,500 miles by 450 at its widest part. It has an area of 310,000 square miles or more than twice the size of the United Kingdom. The coast runs as nearly as possible W.N.W., and E.S.E.

Although New Guinea is in close proximity to Queensland, being only 400 miles distant from the port of Cooktown, until recently little was known about it, and even at the present time our information is very scanty.

It might well be called, the "Dark Continent," as no white man has, as yet, crossed it. The coast for a considerable distance is fairly, but not completely, well-known.

In 1873, Captain Moresby, in H.M.S. Basilisk, sailed round the islands and along part of the coast, naming numerous islands after the ship and her officers. He discovered the splendid harbours of China Straits on the South East, and Port Moresby ("Hanuabada") on the South Coast, which latter is at the present time the headquarters of the London Missionary Society and of the Government. He also made a flying survey, which was of necessity far from correct, but which proved of great service to later surveyors.

In the year 1883 Sir Thomas McIlwraith, then Premier of Queensland, on behalf of his Government, annexed the whole of New Guinea, thus hoping to exclude the Germans. He had previously urged the Home Government to do this, but they remained inactive. Upon learning what had been done, the Home authorities emphatically refused to sanction it, but in the following year, 1884, on their own behalf established a Protectorate over that portion extending from latitude 5 to 10?° S. and longitude 141 to 151° E., comprising 89,000 square miles, the Germans having occupied the territory to the North, containing 71,000 square miles, whilst the Dutch territory, which lies to the N.W., and has been held by them for upwards of 25 years, contains 150,000 square miles; an area equal to the British and German portions combined. The Proclamation took place on the 6th of November 1884, at Port Moresby, where the British flag was hoisted and the British men-of-war, five in number, saluted.

The formal declaration was then read in the following terms:-

"To all to whom these presents shall come greeting:-Whereas, it has become essential for the lives and properties of the native inhabitants of New Guinea, and for the purpose of preventing the occupation of portions of that country by persons whose proceedings, unsanctioned by any lawful authority, might tend to injustice, strife and bloodshed, and who, under the pretence of legitimate trade and intercourse might endanger the liberties, and possess themselves of the lands, of such native inhabitants, that a British protectorate should be established over a certain portion of such country, and the islands adjacent thereto; and whereas Her Majesty, having taken into her gracious consideration the urgent necessity of her protection to such inhabitants, has directed me to proclaim such protection in a formal manner, at this place, now I, James Elphinstone Erskine, Captain in the Royal Navy, and Commodore of the Australian Station, one of Her Majesty's naval aides-de-camp, do hereby, in the name of Her Most Gracious Majesty, declare and proclaim the establishment of such protectorate over such portions of the coast and the adjacent islands as are more particularly described in the schedule hereunto annexed, and I hereby proclaim and declare that no acquisition of land, whensoever or howsoever acquired, within the limits of the protectorate hereby established, will be recognized by Her Majesty; and I do hereby, on behalf of Her Majesty, command and enjoin all persons whom it may concern to take notice of this proclamation:

"Schedule.

"All that portion of the southern shores of New Guinea, commencing from the boundary of that portion of the country claimed by the Government of the Netherlands on the 141st meridian of east longitude to East Cape, with all the islands adjacent thereto south of East Cape to Kosmann Island inclusive, together with the islands in the Goschen Straits.

"Given on board Her Majesty's ship Nelson at the harbour of Port Moresby on the 6th day of November, 1884."

Sir Peter Scratchley, a distinguished military officer, was appointed special commissioner. He chartered the steamer Governor Blackall, and with a large staff visited his new district, travelling along the coast for a considerable distance, touching here and there and interviewing several of the native chiefs. His term of office was, however, fated to be a short one, as in three months after his appointment, when off Mitre Rock, which is the extreme northern boundary, he contracted the dreaded malaria. He immediately ordered the steamer to return to Queensland, and the day after the vessel left Cooktown, died on board. The Hon. John Douglas, resident magistrate of Thursday Island, was appointed his successor, and ruled quietly and unobtrusively for over three years.

The country, meanwhile, was not developed in any way; the expenses of the Protectorate were considerable, when, as luck would have it, payable gold was discovered in July, 1888, on Sud-Est, an island in the Louisiade Archipelago (British New Guinea). Hereby hangs a tale, of which I shall speak in another chapter.

This discovery caused the Home Government to create New Guinea a British possession, which was declared at Port Moresby on September 6th, 1888, and an administrator, now Sir Wm. Macgregor, was appointed. A high tariff was at once imposed on all imports, which revenue came as a godsend to the impoverished state of the New Guinea funds. Such is a brief outline of our early administration of the country.

* * *

Early the next morning, having said good-bye to the genial skipper of the Spitfire, I took myself and belongings on shore, as I intended to make Samarai my headquarters.

Samarai is a small but picturesque island containing about 60 acres, situated in China Straits, which is the loveliest and most romantic-looking harbour I have ever seen. The island has a beautiful grove of coco-nut trees, with curious-looking hills on the S.E. or weather side. They look as if they had at some period subsided, leaving their tops only visible.

There is a fine coral beach running along the north-west or lee side of the island and facing the mainland, one and a half miles distant. There is a swamp of seven acres in the middle, the home of malarial fever, thus making this island one of the most unhealthy spots in New Guinea. A government agent is located there and has charge of the customs. In the time of the Protectorate, a large wooden bungalow was built on the top of the highest hill by Rooney & Co., of Townsville, costing the sum of ￡900. About 60 natives lived on the island, which had been their home for many years. In August, 1888, just previous to the acquisition of New Guinea as a British possession, they were all driven away, or euphemistically got notice to quit. In lieu thereof, they were offered the island of "Quato," situated in China Straits, which had been purchased from the natives by the Protectorate some time previous. The natives were naturally incensed at being thus rudely driven from their island home, where they had lived for so many years, and refused to emigrate to "Quato." Some went to their friends at Heath Island (Loger), some to "Sariba," in China Straits. I consider their case a hard one, and the act of the Government unwarrantable. What on earth did the Government require "Samarai" as a station for when they had the choice of islands in the immediate vicinity, in the same harbour, islands far healthier, with good anchorages, well sheltered, and with no natives, or may be only one or two, living on them?

Why, for instance, did they not select "Quato," which belonged to them and is far healthier, or Coast Island, which is free from swamps and has an excellent anchorage, perfectly sheltered and close to the mainland? Verily the ways of a Government are inscrutable! As it is, they engender bitterness and hatred in the breasts of the evicted natives, the very thing they should study to avoid.

From conversations I have had with several of the natives on the subject, I find that they feel very sore on the matter. They will never forget it, and would retaliate, but know that they are powerless to act.

How would a European feel if he were suddenly driven away from his homestead, where his parents had died and his children been born, for no other reason than that some foreigner required it, and by way of compensation offered to him an alien piece of land, where he would have to rebuild his houses and make fresh plantations? It must not be forgotten that savages have as much love for their bit of ground as the proudest aristocrat in England has for his lordly acres. I will give an instance of this mistaken policy. Two months after these evictions, two friends of mine and I had occasion to go on a vessel to the adjoining island of Sariba, in order to get our water casks filled. We landed in the dinghy, taking with us a couple of casks, and requested the natives to take them to the creek and fill them. Before doing so, they had a talk amongst themselves, when we overheard them say, "Why should we do anything for the white men when we have been treated in such a shameful manner?" However, some of them said, "Well, these we have known some time, and they have always been friendly to us, have never done us any harm, let us not be ungrateful, but fill their water casks," and so they did. We made no remark, paid them in tobacco and got our casks on board, but it showed us very plainly the effect of the foolish policy of the Government. Had we not been on good terms with these natives, we should have had to go elsewhere for our water.

To represent the beauties of China Straits in keeping with its surroundings, requires the brush of an artist or the language of a poet. Although I am unable to do justice to it, I will attempt to bring the scene before the mind of the reader. There are four passages to the harbour, one on the east, west, south-east, and north-west respectively. The main coast is bold and rugged in outline, with a series of high ranges covered with dense scrub, with here and there the face of a hill cleared by the natives for yam cultivation. The shore is lined with coco-nut palms, native houses peeping between the trees. Between the steep and lofty mountains small creeks work their way. A coral reef extends some distance from the shore, making it impossible to anchor close in, as you have the full force of the south-east trade winds, save abreast of a creek opposite Coast Island, the mouth of which is almost hidden by mangrove bushes. On the western side the harbour is protected by the island of "Loger," a large island, thickly populated, running south-east and north-west, and extending to within a mile of the mainland. Close to "Loger" is the island of Quato of 200 acres, for the most part flat, but with rising ground to the south-east. There is a good channel between these islands where vessels of any tonnage could anchor, but a little exposed to the south-east winds. On the eastern side is the Island of Sariba, strikingly picturesque. On it rises a very high hill with a conical summit and covered with patches of long grass. There are numerous villages, and the natives living here are first-rate workers in clearing scrub and building houses. The south-eastern side is bounded by the Island of Samarai, so that the harbour is enclosed, as it were, by four walls. There is plenty of deep water all over the harbour, and vessels of any draught are able to anchor within a hundred yards of the shore. There is a small island in the middle of the harbour, known as Middle Island, and close to the coast is Coast Island, both covered with the coco palm and very fertile. In the far distance, to the north-east, 50 miles away, the lofty mountains of Normanby Island ("Duau") are visible, and on a clear day they appear quite close; when this is so, you may expect the wind from the north-east. Opposite Coast Island a creek runs for about a mile inland, where there is a small village. The creek is navigable for small boats only. The land beyond the village is thickly timbered and of good quality, and in my opinion would be suitable for cultivation. The rainfall, however, is very great, owing to the numerous ranges of hills in the neighbourhood. The harbour extends for five miles as far as South Foreland, after rounding which you enter the splendid bay named Milne Bay. I have seen the Harbour of Sydney and also of Cork, but whether its own beauty is considered or its environment of mountain, hill, dale and sea, dotted with the most romantic-looking coral isles, China Straits must take the palm. No artist could paint it in nature's colours. The scene is ideal. The purple haze of the distant mountains, the delicate blendings of colour in the tropical bush, the bright coral sparkling in the sun, the sombre colour of the natives, all are in perfect harmony, and notwithstanding the rugged appearance of the coast the whole scene inspires a deep sense of rest. I have so often, in company with my pipe, sat on my verandah in the silvery moonlight and gazed on that picture of tropical peace and plenty, that the impressions of it are indelibly imprinted on my memory.

* * *

I took up my abode with a trader named K--, who had been settled in the district nearly two years. As the house in which we lived was very hot, and by no means healthy, the idea suggested itself to us to build a native house in the sea. In some parts of New Guinea, as at "Hula," for instance, on the south coast, the whole town is built in the sea as a safeguard against their enemies, the bush tribes, of whom the coastal natives are in mortal dread. Having decided to emulate their example, we interviewed two chiefs of Sariba, Peter and Silliweddo.

We told them that we required a native house built in the sea, instructed them to get plenty of natives and start the work at once. Before going further we had to settle the price that was to be paid. The house, I may say, cost about ￡4 10s., paid for in articles of "trade." The two chiefs received a little more than the labourers and did not work, merely superintending the erection, that is to say, smoked clay pipes and chewed betel-nuts. As a proof of the native intelligence, the following facts will speak for themselves:

I drew on the beach a rough ground-plan of the house, showing the length and breadth, the divisions of rooms and the two verandahs. Peter, the native chief of Sariba, who was present, measured the plan with a piece of cane, marking the length and breadth, rolled it up and put it in his "pocket"-I mean in his "dilly-bag"-for of course natives are not provided with pockets. He went home to his island, and in a few days came back with several large canoes with all the necessary logs, timber, &c., lashed to them, also the sago palm-leaves for the roofing, cane for splitting into laths, and when the house was finished there was very little material left. How he managed to calculate it so nicely I cannot say, but of course he had had considerable experience in building native houses. The roof of our house was loftier than the ordinary native one, but built of the same material. There was not a single nail used in the building. It was built in the sea in about four feet of water at low tide on the sea side, and on the shore side connected with the beach by a gangway. They have a curious way of driving the piles. We gave them a rope, which they fixed round the head of the pile, leaving two ends dangling. Several natives get hold of one end and several of the other, pulling alternately, until the pile is worked down to the required depth. The piles are made of white mangrove-a strong wood, and not too heavy. In order to prevent the ravages of the cobra insect, which in salt water will work its way into blood-wood even, it is best to tar the piles well, and better still-though very expensive-to copper them all over. The flooring is made of "matu," a kind of cane which is plentiful on the mainland, the walls of the bark or skin of the palm, and the roof of the leaves of the sago palm, which have to be put on separately, the leaves over-lapping a little, and on the outside some branches of the coco-nut palm are placed. A house of this kind is quite rain-proof, and if well-constructed will keep in good condition for at least two years. For health and coolness, a house built of native material cannot be beaten, and it has the additional advantage of cheapness.

There are three types of natives, Malay, Papuan, and Polynesian, each more or less mixed with the others. The word "Papuan" is derived from the Malay "Pua-Pua," or "Papuas," which, translated, means frizzle-haired. The distinguishing characteristic of the true "Papuan" is his frizzled hair, which, strange to say, grows naturally in small tufts. So far as I am aware no other race has this strange peculiarity. The "Papuan" is also much darker and fiercer than the others, and has thickish lips and rather a broad, flat nose. The "Polynesian" is by far the most intelligent of the three races.

He has, moreover, fine, clear-cut, aquiline features, and is more amenable to the influences of civilization.

Now it is a very difficult matter to determine whence the Papuans of New Guinea originally came. If I may hazard the opinion, I should say they originally hailed from the continent of Asia. My reasons for thinking so are, firstly, tribes of the Papuan or Oriental Negro are found in the interior or mountain fastnesses of the Philippine Islands, in the islands of Flores and Borneo (Malay Archipelago), in the Malay Peninsula (at the foot of Siam), in the Andaman Islands (Bay of Bengal), and also in Cochin China; secondly, during several months of the year the wind blows from the north-west, and under the influence of these winds the current would flow in a direction by which it would be quite feasible for numbers of Papuans to travel in canoes by way of the Malay Archipelago as far as New Guinea.

In the strict sense of the term the Papuans are without any form of religion, but at the same time have certain beliefs in the supernatural. When one of their tribe dies they believe that his spirit tenants his former home, and if he be a "Taubada," that is to say a person of importance, a neat fence is erected round his grave. Quantities of yams, taro, betel-nut, and sometimes his native tomahawks, shield, &c., are then placed within the enclosure, which is held sacred or "Tabu." Should he perchance die in Queensland, his spirit will not return to his birthplace, but will, according to their belief, be lost; the natives therefore will be wild, and will in all probability kill the first white man they come across, as an equivalent. If, however, payment be made to the relatives of the deceased the natives will be satisfied, and nothing more will be heard of it.

They do not possess any temples of worship, but have wooden idols or gods with which they decorate their houses; however, I have never seen them fall down and worship them, nor, as far as I know, is it their practice to do so. They believe in all sorts of "Devils" whom it is necessary to propitiate, but strange to say they have no idea of any beneficent spirits working for their good. I was present at several funerals or wakes, all of them being of women. When a woman dies beautiful wreaths of wild flowers are placed on the corpse, which is laid on the knees of two of her nearest relatives in the house. Her friends gather round, and weep and wail all night long, making the darkness hideous with their groans, but some of them feel real grief at their loss. At sunrise a canoe is in waiting, which conveys the body to her native place, which may be an island a few miles away. There it is decently interred, with more weeping, and all is over. Their method of going into mourning is very similar to our own. We wear black clothes, whilst they paint themselves black all over like Christy Minstrels, so that it is difficult to recognize them, their natural colour being a nutty brown. The period of mourning generally lasts about two months, and it looks very comical when the mourning is getting washed out. In some parts of New Guinea the women wear a net over their shoulders and breasts as a token of mourning, but the general custom is to dye themselves black. With all their savagery their different customs resemble many of our civilized ones.

Marriage.-They have no priests to perform this ceremony. When a man has reached a marriageable age, say twenty, he looks out for a wife. He selects a girl to his fancy, but has invariably to wait a long time before the marriage takes place, and it is very often a difficult matter for a young man to obtain a wife at all. When the day of the marriage has arrived the young couple retire to the house which has been prepared for them, and are thenceforth looked upon by their relatives as man and wife.

They keep the marriage state as inviolate as Europeans do. On the wedding day they give a banquet to their friends, consisting of yams, bananas, betel-nut and the fatted pig, also presents to the bride's family, and, let us hope, live happily ever afterwards.

As a rule the natives have only one wife, but in some instances two.

The men do not talk much to the women, as they look upon themselves as warriors and the women as labourers. It must not be understood from this that the women are ill-treated by them, on the contrary they have a large voice in domestic affairs, and occasionally lord it over their masters. It is not only in domestic affairs, but also in the affairs of state that their influence is felt. It is often the women who incite the men to war, or to deeds of murder, rapine and plunder, and should they hesitate, they rush wildly into their midst, fling their arms about, and harangue them in the following fashion: "What, you are afraid to do this and yet you call yourselves men and warriors! Out upon you, you have not the hearts of men, you are more like a pack of old women; you ought to put on the grass petticoat, stop at home and do the cooking." The men thus wrought upon must needs obey, or quietly submit to the taunt of cowardice flung in their faces.

The above shows the position held by Papuan women to be anything but that of degraded slaves, as is so often the case in other savage countries. No, the women of New Guinea are determined to have their little say, and take very good care they are listened to.

The children are bright, cheerful, happier and more contented-looking than any I have ever seen. They are always at play, using the spear in sham warfare, with a piece of wood for a shield, or they busy themselves in fishing and swimming. Both men and women are always joking and laughing. Life seems to them one long holiday. All their wants, which are not many, are supplied by Dame Nature, their food, clothing, houses and weapons. One stick makes a man a spear, two sticks rubbed together a fire, fifty sticks tied together a house.

The boys are particularly bright and quick at learning anything, some of them picking up English readily, although they prefer speaking their own language.

All the women wear a grass petticoat, sometimes two, made from the palm, having two shades, intermixed brown and a whitish-yellow. It looks most picturesque. They also wear a black band, about three inches deep, round the arm just below the shoulder, and it is so tightly put on that when they wish to remove it they are obliged to cut it, which leaves an ugly mark in the flesh. The men wear simply a leaf of the coco-nut palm round the loins, with leglets, armlets and streamers or "wings" from the shoulders, if they wish to look extra well. They cultivate a tremendous shock of hair on their heads, combing it out and dressing it with coco-nut oil several times a day. The combs are of their own manufacture, which, after using, they stick in their hair in much the same way as European ladies wear a comb. All the men have the lobe of the ear pierced, on the outer rim of which they string small shells like rings, also the cartilage of the nose is perforated, through which they thrust a long shell, well polished, and fined down to a sharp point, giving it at a distance the appearance of a moustache. Like the heathen Chinee, they are as beardless as boys. The women as a rule wear their hair straight and cut short, the part over the forehead a little frizzy. The married women tattoo themselves from head to foot in an ornamental and conventional design. The girls and men do not practise the art.

They live in villages, all the houses standing in a regular line, well built on blocks, 5 to 6 feet from the ground, the walls made of the sago palm, the leaves of which are put on separately and slightly overlapping one another. The floor is made of "matu" or cane, the face of the roof in the form of a triangle. They keep the ground in front of the houses very tidy, generally sweeping it once a day. The houses are surrounded by numbers of coco-nut trees, and by a curious and happy law of nature the nuts fall principally at night time; were it otherwise it would be very dangerous, as the coco-nut is anything but soft.

The women are employed in the yam and taro gardens, also in cooking and carrying firewood, besides looking after their babies.

The land is held by a family or tribe, and is divided and sub-divided, each household having a part portioned off, so that many natives are interested in one piece or parcel of land. Such land cannot be sold or parted with without the consent of all the principal owners. This system of land tenure works well until the family or tribe becomes so numerous that the different portions or lots are reduced to a very small area, causing some of the members to seek fresh districts.

Their national food consists of yams, taro, bananas, sago, coco-nuts, fish, birds, pigs, and occasionally human beings. Of course in some districts food is scarce, in others, there is a superabundance.

They commence digging up the yams about the end of April, and in May hold a great yam feast or festival, at which hundreds of natives are present, each of whom contributes pigs, yams, or something else. They think nothing of killing over 100 pigs on one day, and there are cart loads of yams and other food on the ground. They have a very curious method of dealing out the different parts of the pig. They cut up twine (which they make themselves) into various lengths, giving to each representative a length. Each length entitles the holder to a certain part of the pig, say, a holder of a short length receives the head, and so on.

All the girls are dressed in their best, which means a clean grass petticoat, with beautiful garlands of wild flowers round their heads and a necklace of beads encircling their throats. It looks lovely. The men paint their faces in the most gorgeous style, using different pigments, and vieing with each other as to who can look the ugliest. They are also decorated with bands and streamers, and in their own opinion are dressed in the height of fashion. After gorging themselves with food and coco-nut milk, the musicians strike up, using the "tom-tom" a kind of drum, and singing a New Guinea carol; the maidens dance round for hours in a ring, speeches are made by some of the leading men, and the amusement extends far into the night, only to begin again the next day. A feast of this description often lasts from a week to ten days, during which time business is at a stand-still, as they will not work at making "copra" or anything else until the feast is over. It is very similar in idea to our harvest feast in England. Should the yam season fail, which is not often, the natives suffer want, and have to live on sago and coco-nuts. As in most annual feasts the amount of food wasted is great. There is one very good quality about the yams, if stored in a house they will keep good for two years. They grow sometimes to a length of 4 to 5 feet and weigh very heavy.

The language is not unlike that of the Maories of New Zealand, and, like it, is made up of numerous dialects. When you reach the "Motu" district, say Port Moresby, the language decidedly changes and differs entirely from that of the south-east or east end.

It is not very difficult to acquire. If you mix with the natives, and take some interest in your task, you ought to be fairly proficient in twelve months, at least, this is true of the language spoken on the south-east coast, with which I am conversant. Like Italian, every word ends with a vowel. The vowels are pronounced, ah, eh, e, o, oo, ai as i, au as ow, and r at the beginning of a word, as L.

Their musical instruments are very primitive, but their singing is good, as they keep capital time, and have very fair voices. They are very fond of singing, their songs generally being an account of a canoe's journey, of how they got on, or about some fight that took place years ago, and occasionally about the only girl they ever loved.

They make incantations to the wind, as it is believed the winds are influenced thereby.

The natives living on the south coast manufacture different kinds of pottery, such as cooking-pots, dishes, bowls, water-jugs, and the like. They are also very clever at making fishing-nets, mats, baskets, lime-bottles, and last, but not least, canoes. As we have our shipwrights, so they have special men who understand canoe-building. It is astonishing how well they make them, considering the rude tools they have to work with. They manufacture large quantities of sago. They do not, however, make it in a granulated form, but bake it into cakes, covering them with a frame of woven leaves, this being the handiest form for carrying it about with them in their canoes. When it is required for the "table" it is made up into small dumplings, placed in the pot and boiled. The process of manufacture is as follows:

They cut down the sago palm, and remove the crown with its huge fronds. A tall tree with a smooth white bark is selected, the bark split in a straight line from top to bottom, and stripped off in one piece. They then spread out the piece of bark flat on the ground along-side the sago trunk, covering it with the large green leaves of the wild plantain. The bark of the sago-palm is split into three or four long strips, reaching from end to end of the trunk, and the white pith is exposed the whole length of the tree. A number of women sit in front of the tree, each with an adze-shaped weapon made of bamboo, with which they chip out the pith, which falls in white flakes on the clean plantain leaves.

The pith is carried away in baskets made of plaited coco-nut leaves to the river or sea, as the case may be, where it is to be washed. It is then shot into a bin about six feet square, built of logs and lined with plantain leaves. A staging of poles is erected in the water and troughs made of the leaf stalks of the sago palm are fixed upon it. They are placed in a sloping position upon the staging, the larger ends uppermost. The sago pith is now put into the trough, into which is fixed a strainer made of that delicate textile that envelopes the unexpanded fronds of the coco-nut palm. It is washed with water and kneaded with the hands, while the water runs away in a milky stream, and the woody fibre and other solid particles are arrested by the strainer. The water runs out of the bottom of the trough, and is caught in a deep receptacle where the heavy sago sinks to the bottom in a form resembling white clay. Sago, manufactured in this way, will keep good for a considerable time.

When yams are scarce, the natives have to depend almost entirely on sago and coco-nuts.