his wife came with us in their large canoe.  We saw several dugongs on the way, which some esteem extra good food.  Tom, one of the Loyalty Island teachers, who was in the boat with us, expressed their edible qualities thus: “You know, sir, pig, he good.”  “Yes, Tom, it is very good.”  “Ah, he no good; dugong, he much good.”  It must be good when a native pronounces it to be better than pork.

We arrived at Port Moresby about six o’clock.  I cannot say I was much charmed with the place, it had such a burnt-up, barren appearance.  Close to the village is a mangrove swamp, and the whole bay is enclosed with high hills.  At the back of the mission premises, and close to them, is a large swampy place, which in wet weather is full of water.  There can be no doubt about Port Moresby being a very unhealthy place.  We went ashore for breakfast next day, and in the afternoon visited the school; about forty children were present—an unusually large number.  Many of the children know the alphabet, and a few can spell words of two or three letters.  In walking through the village in the afternoon we saw the women making their crockery pots, preparing for the men’s return

from the Gulf, the next north-west season, with large quantities of sago.  We visited the graves of the teachers, which are kept in good order.  They are all enclosed by a good fence.  Within the same enclosure is one little grave that will bind New Guinea close to the hearts of Mr. and Mrs. Lawes.  Over them all may be written—“For Christ’s sake.”

In returning from the graves, we met a man in mourning, whose wife had been killed in a canoe by natives about Round Head.  He and his friends had resolved to retaliate, but through the influence of the teachers they did not do so.  The teachers from the villages to the east of Port Moresby came in this afternoon, looking well and hearty.  Some of them have suffered a good deal from fever and ague, but are now becoming acclimatized.  The natives of the various villages are not now afraid of one another, but accompany their teachers from place to place.  Men, women, and children smoke, and will do anything for tobacco.  The best present you can give them is tobacco; it is the one thing for which they beg.

As it was decided that the vessel should not leave before Tuesday of the next week, Mr. McFarlane and I took a trip inland.  I was anxious to see for myself if anything could be done for the natives living in the mountains.  Mr. Goldie, a naturalist, with his party, was about ten miles inland.  He himself had been at Port Moresby for some days, and, on hearing of our plans, he joined us, and we proceeded first to his camp. 

We left Port Moresby about half-past five on Thursday morning, and crossed the low ground at the back of the mission house.  We ascended the hill which runs all along the coast in this district at a part about three hundred feet high, and then descended into a great plain.  At present the plain is dry and hard, from the long drought, and very little of anything green is to be seen.  There are a few small gum-trees, and great herds of wallabies were jumping about.  The greater part of this plain is under water in the wet seasons.  We walked about ten miles in an east-north-east direction, keeping the Astrolabe Range to our right, when we came to the camp, close by a large river—the Laroki.  Being afraid of alligators, we preferred having water poured over us to bathing in the river.

Our party was a tolerably large one—Ruatoka (the Port Moresby teacher), some Port Moresby natives, and four Loyalty Island teachers, on their way to East Cape.  We did not see a strange native all the way.  We had our hammocks made fast in the bush by the river side, and rested until three p.m., when we started for another part of the river about seven miles off, in a south-east direction.  Mr. Goldie also shifted his camp.  After sunset we reached the point where the river was to be crossed, and there we meant to remain for the night.

We had a bath, then supper, and evening prayers; after which we slung our hammocks to the trees, in which we rested well.  It was a strangely weird-looking

sight, and the noises were of a strange kind—wallabies leaping past, and strange birds overhead.  Mr. Goldie’s Maré men joined with their countrymen, the teachers, in singing some of Sankey’s hymns in English.  Soon sleep came, and all seemed quiet.

At three a.m. of the 26th we struck camp, and after morning prayers we began to cross the river, which was not over four feet in the deepest part.  It was here Mr. Lawes crossed when he first visited the inland tribes; so now, led by Ruatoka, we were on his track.  The moon was often hidden by dark clouds, so we had some difficulty in keeping to the path.  We pressed on, as we were anxious to get to a deserted village which Mr. Goldie knew to breakfast.  We reached the village about six, and after we had partaken of breakfast we set off for the mountains.  When we had gone about four miles the road became more uneven.  Wallabies were not to be seen, and soon we were in a valley close by the river, which we followed for a long way, and then began to ascend.  We climbed it under a burning sun, Ruatoka calling out, Tepiake, tepiake, tepiake (Friends, friends, friends).  Armed natives soon appeared on the ridge, shouting, Misi Lao, Misi Lao.  Ruatoka called back, Misi Lao (Mr. Lawes), and all was right—spears were put away and they came to meet us, escorting us to a sort of reception-room, where we all squatted, glad to get in the shade from the sun.  We were now about 1100 feet above the sea level. 

We were surprised to see their houses built on the highest tree-tops they could find on the top of the ridge.  One of the teachers remarked, “Queer fellows these; not only do they live on the mountain tops, but they must select the highest trees they can find for their houses.”  We were very soon friends; they seemed at ease, some smoking tobacco, others chewing betel-nuts.  I changed my shirt, and when those near me saw my white skin they raised a shout that soon brought the others round.  Bartering soon began—taro, sugar-cane, sweet yams, and water were got in exchange for tobacco, beads, and cloth.

After resting about two hours, we proceeded to the next village, five miles further along the ridge.  Some of our party were too tired to accompany us; they remained where we expected to camp for the night.  After walking some miles, we came unexpectedly on some natives.  As soon as they saw us they rushed for their spears, and seemed determined to dispute our way.  By a number of signs—touching our chins with our right hands, etc.—they understood we were not foes, so they soon became friendly.  They had their faces blackened with soot, plumbago, and gum, and then sprinkled over with white; their mouths and teeth were in a terrible mess from chewing the betel-nut.  On our leaving them, they shouted on to the next village.  An old man lay outside on the platform of the next house we came to; he looked terribly frightened as we approached him, but as, instead of

injuring him, we gave him a present, he soon rallied, and got us water to drink.  By-and-by a few gathered round.  We understood them to say the most of the people were away on the plains hunting for wallabies.  One young woman had a net over her shoulders and covering her breasts, as a token of mourning—an improvement on their ordinary attire, which is simply a short grass petticoat—the men