knives remarkable chiefly for their sheaths, which were curiously shaped and carved. There was a dado, too, round the wall, made of arrows arranged head downwards towards the floor. These were surmounted by bows fixed horizontally to the wall; they completed the dado, as it were.

On the other two sides ancient guns of various makes and ages took the place of the arrows. There were flint locks, Tower muskets, Portuguese, French and German smooth-bore rifles, gaily decorated by native owners with bands of highly polished copper round the barrel and brass-headed nails driven into the stock.

On a shelf, which ran round the hall a few feet from the ceiling, were specimens of native pottery. Some were highly coloured, others dull red. All had curious patterns scratched on them, done before baking, and most of them bore fire marks and other evidence that their makers were somewhat lacking in the potter's skill. The shapes, however, were pleasing.

The dining-room held a miscellaneous collection. The principal objects were musical instruments, chiefly of the harmonica variety, strips of hard wood suspended over gourds of different sizes. In the bad old days human skulls were used in place of gourds. But there were many others, both string and wind instruments, and some rattles.

In this room was also a collection of snuff boxes; nearly all of them were minute gourds, differing one from another in decoration. Some were completely covered with gaily coloured beads affixed cunningly and in pleasing patterns. Some were banded with beads, which gave them the appearance of small school globes. Others, again, were simply carved in relief, whilst a few were decorated with plaited brass, copper, or iron wire. All were very neatly made.

Occupying a space between a window and a door was a unique collection of snuff spoons. These were nearly all made of bright metal. Not only do the natives use them for taking snuff, but also for preparing to take snuff and for recovering after snuffing. To be quite plain, they use them as our snuff-taking ancestors used their bandannas. They have yet a third use, namely, scraping the skin on a hot day.

The only reason why Gregory had so many of these nasty little implements was that they were so neatly made and in such diversity of pattern.

In the spaces usually occupied by pictures were specimens of the native weavers' art, very highly coloured cloths of coarse texture. On shelves over the doors and windows of his dining-room were pots, mugs, bowls, and platters of carved wood. The patterns were curiously like those one finds on early pottery dug up in such quantities and in so many spots along the shores of the Mediterranean. A kaross or skin blanket was thrown over the back of almost every chair and covered the one settee.

There was hardly anything of European manufacture in the hall and dining-room. Even the tables and chairs were native made and of country timber. In place of carpets, the floors were covered with rush and reed mats ornamented with strange patterns done in brightly dyed bark and fibre.

The bedroom alone held nothing but European furniture.

The collection was certainly a remarkable one—I have not attempted a complete inventory—and Gregory had taken great pains to arrange it, as some would say, artistically.

One day five natives arrived carrying a letter addressed to Gregory. It was from a woman, Chief in her own right. It ran as follows: