TROPIC DAYS (1918) BY E. J. BANFIELD AUTHOR OF "THE CONFESSIONS OF A BEACHCOMBER" AND "MY TROPIC ISLE" "Peace and silence. . . Combined with the large liberties of nature. " De Quincey TO MY BROTHER BEACHCOMBERS;Professing, Practising AUTHOR'S NOTE In my previous books the endeavour was to give exact if prosaic detailsof life on an island off the coast of North Queensland on which a few ofthe original inhabitants preserved their uncontaminated ways. Here ispresented another instalment of sketches of a quiet scene. Again anattempt is made to describe--not as ethnological specimens, but as men andwomen--types of a crude race in ordinary habit as they live, though notwithout a tint of imagination to embolden the better truths. I thankfully acknowledge indebtedness to my friends Mr. Charles Hedley, of the Australian Museum (Sydney); Dr. R. Hamlyn-Harris, Director of theQueensland Museum; and Mr. Dodd S. Clarke, of Townsville, N. Q. , forvaluable aid in the preparation of my notes for publication. DUNK ISLAND. CONTENTS PART I--SUN DAYS. IN IDLE MOMENTETERNAL SUNSHINEFRAGRANCE AND FRUITTHE SCENE-SHIFTERBRACE PLANTSSHADOWS"SMILING MORN"ANCESTRAL SHADEQUIET WATERS"THE LOWING HERD"BABBLING BEACHESTHE LOST ISLE PART II--THE PASSING RACE. THE CORROBOREETHE CANOE-MAKERTWO LADIES--NELLY, THE SHREW; MARIA DANCESSOOSIEBLUE SHIRTTHE FORGOTTEN DEADEAGLE'S-NEST FLOATNATURE IN RETALIATION"STAR RUN ABOUT"BLACKS AS FISHERMEN HOOKS NARCOTICS AND POISONS FLY-FISHING PART III--MISCELLANEA. PEARLS WHAT IS A PEARL? A PEARL IN THE MAKING STRANGE PEARLS PEARLS AND HIGH TRAGEDYSNAKE AND FROG PRATTLETHE BUSH TRACKTHE LITTLE BROWN MANUP AND AWAY"PASSETH ALL UNDERSTANDING"TIME'S FINGERTHE SOUL WITHIN THE STONE LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS AT HOME ON THE TROPIC STRAND"DEBIL-DEBIL"NATURE'S PUZZLE: FIND THE BIRDORCHID (PHAIUS GRANDIFOLIUS)ORCHID (BULBOPHYLLUM BAILEYI)A SPIDER CRABA SPIDER CRAB DISGUISEDCASUARINASTOURNEFORTIA ARGENTAMACARANGA TANARIUSUMBRELLA TREE SHADOWSSUN-SALUTED TREE FERNS"THE LOWING HERD"PERFECT HAPPINESSGIGANTIC OYSTER (OSTREA CRISTA GALLI)SANDSPIT SWIRLGLOOM AND GLEAMCOWRIES"SOOSIE'S" TYPETAPESLEAF VARIATIONS (FICUS OPPOSITA) TYPICAL FORM RIGHT HAND TOP CORNERTELLINAA SHELL COLLECTIONTRITONDOMESTIC DUTIESPEARL-ENTOMBED FISH AND RACEMOSE PEARLCATTIERSPEARL-IMPRISONED CHITONTWO STRANGE PEARLSTWO BUBBLE SHELLSPEARL JOSSESWHITE APPLE (EUGENIA CORMIFLORA)CYCADSDESERTEDCYCAD AND PALMSWIND-TORMENTED FIG-TREETHE IDLE OCEAN PART I--SUN DAYS IN IDLE MOMENT "'Are you not frequently idle?''Never, brother. When we are not engaged in our traffic we areengaged in our relaxations. '"--BORROW. On the smooth beaches and in the silent bush, where time is not regulatedby formalities or shackled by conventions, there deliciouslapses--fag-ends of the day to be utilised in a dreamy mood whichobserves and accepts the happenings of Nature without disturbing theshyest of her manifestations or permitting 'the-mind to dwell on any butthe vaguest speculations. Such idle moments are mine. Let these pages tell of their occupation. As the years pass it is proved that the administration of the affairs ofan island, the settled population of which is limited to three, involvespleasant though exacting duties. It is a gainful government--not gainfulin the accepted sense, but in all that vitally matters--personal freedom, absence of irksome regulations remindful of the street, liberty to enjoythe mood of the moment and to commune with Nature in her most fascinatingaspects. Those who are out of touch with great and dusty events may, byway of compensation, be the more sensitive to the processes of theuniverse, which, though incessantly repeated, are blessed with recurrentfreshness. The sun rises, travels across a cloudless sky, gleams on a sailless sea, disappears behind purple mountains gilding their outline, and the day isdone. Not a single dust-speck has soiled sky or earth; not the faintestecho of noisy labours disturbed the silences; not an alien sight hasintruded. What can there be in such a scene to exhilarate? Must not theinhabitants vegetate dully after the style of their own bananas?Actually the day has been all too brief for the accomplishment ofinevitable duties and to the complete enjoyment of all too alluringrelaxations. Here is opportunity to patronise the sun, to revel in the companionshipof the sea, to confirm the usage of beaches, to admonish winds toseemliness and secrecy, to approve good-tempered trees, to exchangeconfidences with flowering plants, to claim the perfumed air, to rejoicein the silence-- "Not learning more than the fond eye doth teach, Which pries not to th' interior. " How oft is the confession that the fullest moments of life are achievedwhen I roam the beaches with little more in the way of raiment thansunburn and naught in hand save the leaves of some strange, sand-lovingplant? Then is it that the individual is magnified. The sun salutes. Thewind fans. The sea sighs a love melody. The caressing sand takes print ofmy foot alone. All the world might be mine, for none is present todispute possession. The sailless sea smiles in ripples, and strews itsverge with treasures for my acceptance. The sky's purity enriches mysoul. Shall I not joy therein? Though he may be unable to attain those moments of irresistible intuitionwhich came to Amiel, when a man feels himself great like the universe andcalm like a god, one may thrill with love and admiration for Naturewithout resigning sense of superiority over all other of her works orabating one jot of justifiable pride. Even in tropical Queensland there is a sense of revivification during thelast half of August and first of September, and the soul of man respondsthereto, as do plants and birds, in lawful manner. Perhaps it is that thealien dweller in lands of the sun, when he frisks mentally and physicallyat this sprightly season, is merely obeying an imperative characteristicbred into him during untold generations when the winter was cruelly realand spring a joyful release from cold and distress. The cause may beslight, but there is none to doubt the actual awakening, for it ispersuasive and irresistible. The lemon-trees are discarding the burden of superfluous fruit withalmost immoderate haste, for the gentle flowers must have their day. Pomeloes have put forth new growth a yard long in less than a fortnight, and are preparing a bridal array of blooms such as will make birds andbutterflies frantic with admiration and perfume the scene for the compassof a mile. The buff-and-yellow sprays of the mango attract millions ofhumming insects, great and small. Most of the orchids are in full flower, the coral-trees glow, the castanospermum is full of bud, loose bunches ofwhite fruit decorate the creeping palms, and the sunflower-tree isblotched with gold in masses. The birds make declaration of attachmentfor the season. Great trees, amorous birds, frail insects, perceive the subtle influenceof the season, and shall not coarse-fibred man rejoice, though there belittle or nothing to which he may point as special evidence ofinspiration? He may feel the indefinable without comprehending anymaterial reason why. He may confess, although there is but a trifle moresunshine than a month ago--and what influence a trifle where there is somuch--and scarcely any difference of temperature, that Nature is insistingon obedience to one of her mighty laws--the law of heredity. Why, therefore, refrain from justifying the allusion? Why persist indeclining the invitations of the hour? Far be it from me to do so. Issufferance the cognizance of this Free Isle? All my days are Days of the Sun. All my days are holy. Duty may suggestthe propriety of contentment within four walls. Inclination and thethrill of the season lure me to gloat over the more manifest of itsmagic. Be sure that, unabashed and impenitent, shall I riot over sordidindustry during the most gracious time of year to hearken to theeloquence and accept the teachings of unpeopled spaces. Such is the silence of the bush that the silken rustle of the butterfliesbecomes audible and the distinctive flight of birds is recognised--notalone such exaggerated differences as the whirr of quail, the bustle ofscrub fowl, and the whistle and clacking of nutmeg pigeons, but thedelicate and tender characteristics of the wing notes of the meeker kindsof doves and the honey-eaters, and also the calculated flutterings of thefly-catchers. In the whistling swoop of the grey goshawk there is a noteof ominous blood-thirstiness, silent though the destroyer has satawaiting the moment for swift and decisive action. Seldom, even on the stillest evening, may the presence of the night-jarbe detected, except by its coarse call, while the sprightly littlesun-bird flits hither and thither, prodigal of its vivid colours andjoying with machine-like whirring. The sun-bird exemplifies thebrightness of the day. All its activities are bold and conspicuous. Aptlynamed, it has nothing to hide, no deeds which will not withstand thescrutiny of the vividest rays. To work out its destiny the night-jar depends on secret doings and onflight soft as a falling leaf. It is a bird of the twilight and night. Startled from brooding over its eggs or yet dependent chicks, it isghost-like in its flittings and disappearances. In broad daylight itmoves from its resting-place as a leaf blown by an erratic and suddenpuff, and vanishes as it touches the sheltering bosom of Mother Earth. Mark the spot of its vanishment and approach never so cautiously, and yousee naught. Peer about and from your very feet that which had been deemedto be a shred of bark rises and is wafted away again by a phantom zephyr. The chick which the parent bird has hidden remains a puzzle. It movesnot, it may not blink. Its crafty parent has so nibbled and frayed theedges of the decaying brown leaves among which it nestles that it hasbecome absorbed in the scene. There is nothing to distinguish between theleaf-like feathers and the feather-like leaves. The instinct of the birdhas blotted itself out. It is there, but invisible, and to be discoveredonly by the critical inspection of every inch of its environment. Youhave found it; but not for minutes after its instinct has warned it topossess its soul calmly and not to be afraid. So firm is its purpose thatif inadvertently you put your foot on its tender body it would not moveor utter cry. All its faculties are concentrated on impassiveness, andthus does Nature guard its weakest and most helpless offspring. While you ponder on the wonderful faith of the tiny creature whichsuffers handling without resistance, the shred of bark, driven by theimperceptible zephyr, falls a few yards away, and in an agony of anxietyutters an imploring purr, or was it an imprecation? That half purr, halfhiss has been the only sound of the episode. It is a warning to be goneand leave Nature to her secrets and silences. A month's abstinence may not be a very severe penance for an islandon which the rainfall averages 124 inches per year; but when vegetationsuffers from the cruelty of four almost rainless months, promises andslights amount to something more than mere discourtesy. How genuine thethanksgiving to the soft skies after an incense-stimulating shower. Insects whirl in the sunshine. Among the pomelo-trees is a cyclone ofscarcely visible things. Motes and specks of light dance in disorderlyfigures, to be detected as animated objects only by gauzy wings catchingthe light and reflecting it. Each insect, wakened but an hour ago by thewarmth of the moist soil, in an abandonment of the moment, is ahelioscope transmitting signals of pure pleasure. Drops still linger onmyriads of leaves, and glitter on the glorious gold of the Chineselaburnum; the air is saturated with rich scents, and the frolickingcrowd, invisible but for the oblique light, does not dream of disaster. Their crowded hour has attracted other eyes, appreciative in anothersense. Masked wood-swallows, swiftlets, spangled drongos, leadenfly-eaters, barred-shouldered fly-eaters, hurry to the circus to desolateit with hungry swoops. The assemblage is noisy, for two or three drongoscannot meet without making a clatter on the subject of the moment. Theycannot sing, but clink and jangle with as much intensity and individualsatisfaction as if gifted with peerless note. It is the height of theseason, and a newly matched pair, satisfied with an ample meal, sit sideby side on a branch to tell of their love, and in language which, thoughit may lack tunefulness, has the outstanding quality of enthusiasm. Butwhy waste clamorous love-notes on a world busy with breakfast? Thesportful, tail-flicking dandy flits and alights so that he may addresshimself solely to his delighted and accepting spouse, peering into herreddish eyes the while, and in ecstasy proclaiming, in tones as loud andunmusical as her own, that life overflows with joy when mutual admirationsurcharges the breast. The noise stays a company of metallic starlings in headlong flight fromthe nest-laden tree in the forest to the many-fruited jungle. Though theymost conscientiously search the fronds of coco-nut palms forinsignificant grubs and caterpillars, starlings do not hawk for insects. Held up by the excitement--for by this time other birds have darted to thefeast--the starlings alight among the plumes of the laburnum, interrogating in acidulous tones, their black, burnished, iridescentfeathers and flame-hued eyes making a picture of rare vividness andbeauty. How thin becomes the throng! Last night's shower, the morning warmth ofthe soil, have brought forth a gush of life that wheels and sparkles inthe sun and becomes bait for birds. Are droughts designed by Nature totest endurance on the part of animal and vegetable life? Leaves fall fromevergreen trees almost as completely as from the deciduous, and even thejungle is thickly strewn, while every slight hollow is filled withbrittle debris where usually leaves are limp with dampness and mould. Thejungle has lost, too, its rich, moist odours. Whiffs of the pleasantearthy smell, telling of the decay of clean vegetable refuse, do issuein the early morning and after sundown; but while the sun is searchingout all the privacies of the once dim area, the wholesome fragrancedoes not exist. Drought proves that certain species of exotic plants are hardier thannatives. Wattles suffer more than mangoes, and citrus fruits have powersof endurance equal to eucalyptus. Whence does the banana obtain theliquid which flows from severed stem and drips from the cut bunch? Diginto the soil and no trace of even dampness is there; but rather parchedsoil and unnatural warmth, almost heat. Heat and moisture are theelements which enable one of the most succulent of plants to bear a bunchof fruit luscious and refreshing, and when heat alone prevails, thewonder is that the whole patch of luxuriant greenness does not collapseand wither. But the broad leaves woo the cool night airs, and while thethin, harsh, tough foliage of the wattles becomes languid and droops andfalls, the banana grove retains its verdancy, each plant a reservoir ofsap. A noteworthy feature of the botany of the coast of tropical Queensland isits alliance with the Malayan Archipelago and India. Most of the relatedplants do not occur in those parts closest to other equatorial regions inthe geographical sense, but in localities in which climate and physicalconditions are similar. Probably there are more affinities in the coastalstrip of which this isle is typical than in all the rest of the continentof Australia. One prominent example may be mentioned-viz. , "themarking-nut tree. " When the distinctiveness of the botany of the southernportions of Australia from that of the old country began to impressitself on the earliest settlers, the miscalled native cherry was the veryfirst on the list of reversals. The good folks at home were toldthat the seeds of the Australian cherry "grow on the outside. " Thefruit of the cashew or marking-nut tree betrays a similar featurein more pronounced fashion. The fruit is really the thickened, succulent stalk of the kidney-shaped nut. The tint of the fruitbeing attractive, unsophisticated children eat of it and earnscalded lips and swollen tongues, while their clothing is stainedindelibly by the juice. Botanists know the handsome tree as SEMECARPUSAUSTRALIENSIS, but by the indignant parent of the child with tearful anddistorted features and ruined raiment it is offensively called the"tar-tree, " and is subject to shrill denunciations. The fleshy stalkbeneath the fruit is, however, quite wholesome either raw or cooked, butthe oily pericarp contains a caustic principle actually poisonous, sothat unwary children would of a certainty eat the worst part. The tree, which belongs to the same order as the mango, has a limited range, andthere are those who would like to see it exterminated, forgetful that inother parts of the world the edible parts are enjoyed, and also that avaluable means to the identification of linen is manufactured from it. Atree that is ornamental, that provides dense shade, that bears prettyand strange fruit, an edible part, and provides an economic principle, isnot to be condemned off-hand because of one blot on its character. An Indian representative of the genera produces a nut which when roastedis highly relished, though dubiously known as the coffin-nail orpromotion nut, but there is no reason to believe that it is speciallyindigestible unless eaten in immoderate quantity. One of the many bewilderments of botany is that plants of one familyexhibit characteristics and habits so divergent that the casual observerfails to recognise the least signs of relationship. Similar confusionarises in the case of plants of the same species producing foliage ofvaried form. One of the figs (FICUS OPPOSITA) displays such remarkableinconsistency that until reassured by many examples it is difficult tocredit an undoubted fact. The typical leaf is oblong elliptical, whileindividual plants produce lanceolate leaves with two short lateral lobes, with many intermediate forms. As the plant develops, the abnormal formstend to disappear, though mature plants occasionally retain them. Thereseems to exist correlation between foliage and fruit, for branchesexhibiting leaves with never so slight a variation from the type are, according to local observation, invariably barren. The leaves, which, when young, are densely hairy on the underside, on maturity become sorough and coarse that they are used by the blacks as a substitute forsandpaper in the smoothing of weapons. The fruit is small, dark purplewhen ripe, sweet, but rough to the palate. During the fulness of the wet season, a diminutive orchid, the roots, tuber, leaf, and flower of which may be easily covered by the glass of alady's watch, springs upon exposed shoulders of the hills. So far it hasnot been recorded for any other part of Australia, or, indeed, the world. Science has bestowed upon it the title of CORYSANTHES FIMBRIATA, for itis all too retiring of disposition to demand of man a familiar name. Probably it may be quite common in similar localities, but its size, itsbrief periodicity, and inconspicuousness, contribute to make it, atpresent, one of the rarities of botany. Beneath a kidney-shaped leaf atiny, solitary, hooded, purple flower shelters with becoming modesty, theart of concealment being so delicately employed that it seems to preserveits virginal purity. There is proof, however, that the flower doespossess some "secret virtue, " for if the plant be immersed in glycerinethe preservative takes the hue of the flower. Nature having ordained thatthe plants should be elusive, they appear in remote spots and unlikelysituations with foothold among loose and gritty fragments of rock, andwith cessation of the sustaining rains disappear, each having borne but asingle leaf and produced but a solitary flower. The leaf does not seem tobe attractive to insects, nor is the flower despoiled or the tuberinterfered with. The first dry day sears the plants, and succeeding daysshrivel them to dust and they vanish. What part in the great scheme ofNature does the humble flower fulfil? Or is it merely a lowly decoration, not designed to court the ardent gaze of the sun, but to brighten anotherwise bare space of Mother Earth with a spot of fugitive purple? Widely different are the ant-house plants, of which North Queensland hastwo genera. One is purely an epiphyte, growing attached to a tree likemany of the orchids. In both genera the gouty stems are hollow, a featureof which ants take advantage; they are merely occupiers, not the makersof their homes. Few, if any, of the plants are uninhabited by a resentfulswarm, ready to attack whomsoever may presume to interfere with it. It isdiscomposing to the uninitiated to find the curious "orchid, " laboriouslywrenched from a tree, overflowing with stinging and pungent ants, nor ishe likely to reflect that the association between the plant and theinsect may be more than accidental. Some of the commonest wattles exhibit singularity of foliage well worthnotice. Upon the germination of the seeds the primary leaves are pinnate. After a brief period this pretty foliage is succeeded by aboomerang-shaped growth, which prevails during life. Botanists do notspeak of such trees as possessing leaves, but "leaf-stalks dilated intothe form of a blade and usually with vertical edges, as in Australianacacias. " If one of these wattles is burnt to the ground, but yet retainssufficient life to enable it to shoot from the charred stem, the newgrowth will be of pinnate leaves, shortly to be abandoned for thesubstitutes, which are of a form which checks transpiration and fits theplant to survive in specially dry localities. Several of the species thusequipped to withstand drought are extremely robust in districts where therainfall is prolific. There are no data available to support the theorythat such species in a wet district are more vigorous and attain largerdimensions than representatives in drier and hotter localities. In herdistribution of the Australian national flower, Nature seems to be"careless of the type, " or rather regardless in respect of conditions ofclimate. Human beings, and occasionally animals lower in the scale, deviatedistressingly in their conduct from the general. Plants, too, thoughlacking the organ of brain, are subject to aberrations of foliagealmost as fantastical as the mental bent which in man is displayed by thesticking of straws in the hair. "Phyllomania" is the recognised term forthis waywardness. One of the trees of this locality, the raroo (CAREYAAUSTRALIS), seems singularly prone to the infirmity, for without apparentcause it abandons habitual ways and clothes its trunk and branches withhuge rosettes of small, slight, and ineffective leaves, evidence, probably, of vital degeneration. Among the beautiful trees of this Island there is one, PITHECOLOBIUMPRUINOSUM, possessing features of attraction during successive phases ofgrowth. The young branches, foliage, and inflorescence, are coated withminute silky hair, as if dusted with bronze of golden tint. The dense, light, semi-drooping foliage produces a cloud-like effect, to which thegreat masses of buff flowers add a delightful fleeciness, while the ripepods, much twisted and involved (to carry similitude as far as it may), might be likened to dull lightning in thunderous vapour. The treeflourishes in almost pure sand within a few yards of salt water, and, being hardy and of clean habit, might well be used decoratively. Standing with its feet awash at high tide, the huge fig-tree began lifeas a parasite, the seed planted by a beak-cleaning bird in a crevice ofthe bark of its forerunner. In time the host disappeared, embraced andabsorbed. Now the tree is a sturdy host. Another fig envelops some of itsbranches, two umbrella-trees cling stubbornly to its sides, a pandanuspalm grows comfortably at the base of a limb, tons of staghorn, bird's-nest, polypodium, and other epiphytal ferns, have licence toflourish, orchids hang decoratively, and several shrubs spring aspiringlyamong its roots. But the big tree still asserts its individuality. It isthe host, the others merely dependents or tenants. Most of the functionsof the tree are associated with the sea. Twice a year it studs itsbranches with pink fruit, food for many weeks for a carnival of birds, the relics of the feast dully carpeting the sand. Before the firstfruiting the old leaves fall, and for a brief interval the shadows ofbranches and twigs, intricate, involved, erratic, might be likened tounschooled scribblings, with here a flourish and there a blot and many aboisterous smudge. Soon--it is merely a question of days--the swellingbuds displace millions of leaf-sheaves, pale green and fragile, whichfall and, curling in on themselves, redden, and again the yellow sand islittered, while overhead fresh foliage, changing rapidly from golden, glistening brown to rich dark green, makes one compact blotch. And whenthe wind torments sea and forest, and branches bend and sway, andcreepers drift before it, the white blooms of the orchids, so light anddelicate that a sigh agitates them, might be "foam flakes torn from thefringe of spray" and tossed aloft. The technical description of a fairly common tree--IXORA TIMORENSIS--issilent on a quality that appeals to the unversed admirer almost asstrongly as the handsome flowers, which occur in large, loose panicles atthe terminals of the branches. Boldly exposed, the white flowers as theylose primal freshness change to cream, but last for several weeks. Theomitted compliment from formal records is the singular fragrance of theflowers--strong, sweet, and enticing, though with a drug-like savour, asif rather an artificial addition than a provision of Nature. DuringDecember the perfume hangs heavily about the trees, being speciallyvirile in the cool of evening and morning. Being confined to the tropicalcoast, away from the centres of population, and flowering at a seasonwhen visitors avoid the north, the scented Ixora has so far remaineduncommended. Those who are familiar with it in its native scene dwell onits unique excellence, and are proud to reflect that when a comprehensivecatalogue of the flowering and perfumed plants of Australia comes to becompiled it will stand high in order of merit, being unique andcharacteristic of the richness of that part of the continent in which itexists naturally. Twice during lengthy intervals have I been perturbed by the conduct ofthe sea-swallows (terns) which breed in this neighbourhood. They selectfor their nurseries coral banks, depositing large numbers of eggs beyondthe limit of high tides. In obedience to some law, the joyful white birdsbegan to lay in September, five or six weeks earlier than usual. Itseemed to be a half-hearted effort to maintain the strength of thecolony, the unanimous and general purpose being postponed for threemonths, when numerous clutches and marvellously variegated eggsembellished the coral. But that which was a perfectly safe and wiseundertaking in September was a foolish and dangerous experiment inDecember. The tides then approach their maximum, flooding areas deniedthree months previously. Wholesale tragedy was inevitable. The full moonbrought bereavement to many parents, for the sea overwhelmed thenurseries, or the best part of them. Many wise birds had laid their eggsabove the limit of the highest tide. Others screamed in protest againstthe cruelty of the sea, for eggs and fluffy chicks do not surely representlegitimate tribute to Neptune. Several fledglings were found half buriedin sand and coral chips, some with merely the head with bright andapprehensive eyes obtruding. Why were not the whole of the parents of thecolony prudent when in default the penalty was inevitable? Five score werewise, five hundred were foolish, and the natural increase from the secondbrood must have been seriously diminished. Several of the parent birds hadbrooded over their eggs until overwhelmed by the surges and drowned. Someon the tide limit squatted buried to the eyes in sand and seaweed. Of onethe tip of a wing only protruded. It was alive, fostering unbroken eggs. The metallic starlings have again built on a favourite tree--not massiveand tough, but a slim though tall Moreton Bay ash, the branchlets ofwhich are not notoriously brittle. They withstand a certain weight, beyond which they snap. Why do these otherwise highly intelligent birdsso overstrain branches with groups of nests that "regrettable incidents"cannot be averted? First there came to the ground a group of four, andthen twenty nests, all containing eggs or helpless young. By these andsimilar mishaps during the season the colony suffered loss to the extentof at least a hundred. "But, like the martlet, Builds in the weather on the outward wall Even in the force and road of casualty. " How often, too, do we find nests in places absurdly wrong? Wonderfullyand skilfully constructed nests are attached to supports obviously weak, and eggs are laid on the ground right in the track of man and lessconsiderate animals. Some birds seem to lay eggs and rear young solelythat snakes may not lack and suffer hunger, while how large a proportionof beautiful and innocent creatures are destined to become prey to hawks? Years ago scientific visitors to a coral islet found almost innumerablesea birds and eggs. The multitude of birds and their prodigious fecundityinspired the thought that the "rookery" for the whole breadth of theIndian Ocean had been discovered. Investigations showed that the isletwas also the abiding-place of a certain species of lizard which subsistedentirely on eggs. It was calculated that not one egg in several hundredwas hatched out; yet in spite of such an extraordinary natural check theislet was enormously overpopulated. Thousands of birds every year laideggs for the maintenance of fat and pompous reptiles, without reflectingthat there were other and lizardless isles on which the vital function ofincubation might be performed without loss. Years after other men ofscience sought the isle. Birds seemed to be as numerous as ever, but thelizards had disappeared. Had the birds been wise enough to perceive thatthe plague of lizards had been sent as reproof for overcrowding, or didthe lizards become victims to physical deterioration incident upongluttony and sloth? "Into every instinctive act there is an intrusion of reasoned act. " Nodoubt; but in the case of the terns--sea-frequenting and sea-loving--whichhad not the wit to lay their eggs beyond the reach of spring tides, thereasoning is the merest intrusion. Yet an instance of what seems to bethe reasoned act of a wasp may be cited. The insect had selected a deadlog of soft wood as a site for its egg-shaft. It was at a spot to whichthe occupations of the season took me daily, so that the boringoperations were watched from beginning to end. The work was done rapidlyand neatly, and when all was ready for the deposit of the eggs the insectconstructed from papier-mache-like material a disc-shaped lid exactlyfitting the mouth of the excavation, to which it was attached on itsupper edge by a hinge. Then round and about the disc similar stuff wasplastered, so as to form an irregular splash, imitative of a bird'sdroppings to the-degree of perfect deception. In the centre was the lidwith the hinge, and whensoever the insect visited its nursery the lidswung up, closing behind it. On departure it fell into position. Unlessthe insect by its presence betrayed its secret, the shrewdest observer atclose quarters would have been misled. There are reasons for the belief that green tree-ants understand andrespect the laws of neutrality. There are several communities in themango-trees, and since some of the trees overhang the fence, the top wireis used as a highway. When a gate is opened traffic is suspended. Ina minute or two of a busy day there will be considerable gatherings onthe latch-style, and if the intervening space is narrowed by the swing ofthe gate the impatient insects begin to make a living bridge across theperilous gap. At one particular gate, which is opened and shut many timesa day, it has been noticed that the ants never seem to resentinterruptions or to be vexed by them. If they happen to get on the handsor fingers, they submit to be restored to the gate; but go to theformicary on the mango-tree half a dozen yards away and offer a friendlyfinger, and you will find dozens of pugnacious individuals ready todefend their home. Do they recognise that they are but pilgrims of thefence, enjoying certain rights on sufferance, that it is a path of peaceon which belligerents must not intrude, a neutral tract under the custodyof the law of nations, which ants, as well as men, must respect?Whatsoever the reason, the deportment of the truculent ant on the highwayis that of an upholder of peace at any price. It is to be doubted if theanimal world holds more illustrious examples of heroism than a greentree-ants' nest. Two or three individuals may be despised as long astheir assaults are confined to the less sensitive parts of the body; butlet a huge colony up among the branches of an orange-tree be disturbed, and the first army corps instantly mobilised, and it will not be cowardlyhastily to retreat. So eager for the fray are the warriors, so wellorganised, so completely devoted to the self-sacrificing duty ofprotecting the community, that two distinct methods of advance and attackare exercised forthwith in the midst of what appears to be calamitousconfusion. Swarming on the extremity of the branches among which theformicary is constructed, the defenders, projecting their terminalsegments as far into space as possible, eject formic acid in thedirection of the enemy. Like shrapnel from machine guns, the liquidmissile sweeps a considerable area. Against the sunlight it appears as acontinuous spray, and should one infinitesimal drop descend into the eyethe stoutest mortal will blink. Attacks are made singly and indetachments. Heroes actually hurl themselves from the branches, and, failing to reach the enemy, run along the ground and, scaling his legs, inflict punishment on the first convenient patch of unprotected skin. Detachments muster in blobs, fall in a mass to the ground, and charge. Ifone of these forlorn hopes happens to be successful, the observant manwill retire with little of his dignity remaining. It is interesting to note how readily birds acquire tastes for the sweetfruits which man cultivates. One of the honey-eaters, the diet of whichranges from nectar to the juice of one of the native cucumbers, as bitteras colocynth, has become an ardent advocate for the thorough ripening ofbananas. While on the plant the fruit is not appreciated, but after thebunch has been hung for a week or so and the first fruits are changingcolour the bird is enthusiastic. Formerly bunches were ripened in athatched building for the the most part open, and the bird got the verybest of the bunch. Now the process takes place where the bird has toventure through wire-netting. It has no fear, entering without ceremony, loudly complaining when inadvertently disturbed, and flying to otherparts of the house to express remonstrance when the supply is exhausted. Scarcity of surface-water sharpens the powers of observation of somebirds and increases the trustfulness of certain species towards humanbeings in a region wherein they are held to have rights on equality withthose of their superiors in the animal world. For years, during the fewweeks which generally intervene between the disappearance of accustomedwater reserves and the beginning of the wet season, with itssuper-abundance, the metallic starlings have been wont to obtainrefreshment from a hollow far up a huge tea-tree, the supply in whichseemed to be inexhaustible. The tyrant's plea, necessity, ordained thedestruction of the never-failing tree, and now the starlings descend bythe hundred into the deep and shady ravine whence water is pumped, anddrink also from the cattle-trough and bathe therein with noise andexcitement of happy children on the beach. It is quite within the mark tocompute the starlings by the hundred. The trough is edged nearly all daylong by thirsty or dirty birds, while scores sit round among the shrubswaiting turn and commenting on the frolics and splashings of others inexcitable tones. When, perhaps, there are but a poor dozen or so roundthe trough, you may chance to see the birds in attitudes more varied thanthose of Pliny's doves, and catch the shadows of burnished necksdarkening the water, as in that famous mosaic, and even the glisteningreflection of the red, jewel-like eyes. Other birds, with far lessassurance and shrill clamour than the lovely starlings, visit the troughregularly and by the score. Two species of honey-eaters are seldomunrepresented. The barred-shouldered dove, the spangled drongo, the noisypitta, the red-crowned fruit pigeon, the pheasant-tailed pigeon, are lessfrequent visitors; and though the purple-breasted fruit pigeon--the mostmagnificent of all--talks to his mate in coarse gutturals from the treesabove, he has not been seen actually drinking. So shy and furtive a birdwould choose his time for refreshment when there is little likelihood ofinterruption. In the ravine there are often metallic starlings by thedozen, and little green pigeons--for those domiciled come and go at allhours of the day. Occasionally a sulphur-crested cockatoo comes sailingdown to the diminishing pool through interwoven leafage noiselessly as abutterfly; but scrub fowls, scared by the apparition in white, scamperoff with a clatter, scattering the dead leaves. In such narrow quarters, birds are under restraint, and show anxiety and apprehension. There is nosport or play. They drink quickly and with faculties strained, and flutteroff excitedly on the least alarm. Well may they be suspicious, for is notthe cool spot attractive to the sly enemy, the green snake, which concealsits presence by faithful resemblance to the creepers among which itglides? Here, too, come millions of industrious bees, and in the dusk thebig pencil-tailed water-rat, which the masterful dog kills with aslittle ceremony as he does the bird-scaring snakes. It was late for cockatoos to start on their daily flight to the mainlandfrom the big tree close to the twin palms half-way up the hill, and asthey flew hastily and in close company they scolded each other inunmannerly terms. The language must have been vexing, for as they spedalong far above the passionless sea one jostled the other. It was justthe sort of action to provoke hungry, peevish birds to vindictiveness. That which had been jostled turned on the offender with angry shrieking, and instantly a clamorous fight was in progress. Claws becameinterlocked, and they fell each with distended crest, like a gilt-edgedcloudlet following the setting sun. Shadow and substance met with asplash. The sea momentarily swallowed the combatants. Then a yellow noteof exclamation appeared, and with laboured flutterings, using his enemyas a base, one rose and struggled to the beach oaks. Frantic wing-beatingshowed that the other bird was in serious difficulties. It was a hundredyards out, but the enjoyment of a sunbath after a sea frolic enabled oneto proceed to the rescue without preliminaries. Half drowned andcompletely cowed, the bird was now confronted by a more awful peril thanthat of the sea. A bedraggled crest indicated horror at the steadyapproach of the enemy man, whose presence stimulated the sodden bird tosuch extraordinary efforts that it succeeded in rising and in making slow, low flight to the beach. At dawn a bat flew into a spider's web spun during the night, theextremities of the wings being so entangled that struggling was almostimpossible. A big spider pounced on it. Not a minute elapsed from theentanglement until the bat was released, but the venom of the spider haddone its work. There was not a sign of life. The spider is dark grey incolour, bloated of body, slothful, and of most retiring disposition. Huddled up into almost spherical form, it lurks in dark places, which itsoon makes insanitary. In the open it crouches among dead leaves whichhave gathered in the fork of a tree, and will construct a web which spansthe coconut avenue with its stays. From one aspect its rotund bodyinvites a good-humoured smile, for the marking exactly simulates thefeatures of a tabby cat, well fed, sleepy, and in placid mood. Venom ofvirulence to kill a bat almost instantly would be severe enough to ahuman being. This dirty, obese spider deserves little consideration atthe hand of man. A moonless, cloudless night. The little praam takes the ground in the baya few yards from the beach, and in the midst of a constellation of"jelly-fishes" spherical in form and varying in size. The larger are somany pale blue orbs floating lazily in a luminous mist, the only visiblemanifestation of life being a delicate but rhythmical deepening of thecentral hue. The wash of my wading seems not to affect them. I becomeconscious of the sudden appearance and swift disappearance of lesserspheres of startling brilliance. They emerge from nothingness, pause fora moment, and shoot towards me with extraordinary impulse. Each is amere globule, resplendently blue. The tint intensifies as withaccelerated velocity the atom flies until of its own excessive energy itexplodes with a shell-like flash, leaving a sinuous trail of golden light. To burst into sight, gather force, to flash and slowly vanish--such isthe sum of life of a speck of sea-jelly. To be the centre towards whichscores of the watery meteors gravitate, to witness their apparentlyspontaneous beginning, their swift, brief, but ineffectual career andlingering end, delights this night of darkness. How many of the race ofman are there whose post-mortem glory outshines life tenfold? Beneath a slab of dead coral on the reef there was revealed one of thoseprimitive and curious marine animals which has no common name, but whichscience recognises as SYNAPTA BESELLI. It is a relation of thebéche-de-mer, of snake-like form, with a group of gills differentiatingthe head. Playing about it were three or four little fish whichimmediately took advantage of the only remaining cover, the body of theSynapta, snoodling beside it so artfully that they were quite concealed. The protector did not appear to resent the close company of the fish, which remained perfectly motionless. In a few seconds the Synapta beganto extrude its feathery gills, which had been partly retracted ondisturbance. I counted the gills, and while my forefinger indicated thesixth, a little fish, not previously noticed, appeared at the focus andedged off to the margin of the pool, now and again making decided effortsto regain its sanctuary. It was about an inch long and a third deep, rubyred, with pink undersides and pink, transparent fins. Three narrow bandsof silver edged with lavender extended across the shoulder. Life gave itjewel-like lustre. The companionship between the slow and feeble Synapta, one of the most primitive of sea things, and the brilliant, agile fishmay be another instance of commensalism. No one who parades a coral reef can fail to be impressed by the variousmeans adopted by its weaker denizens to evade the consequences ofconspicuousness. Among the vast multitude of creatures, mostly hostile toeach other, few are more remarkable than the crabs, not only on accountof form and habit, but for care of themselves during the periodic castingof their shells. They therefore represent an entertaining study and anever-ending source of pleasure to the observer, who, as he happens onsome fantastic member of the family, wonders, remembering hisShakespeare, what impossible matter will Nature make easy next. Dreamylittle ripples were laying on the strands sprays of seaweed, torn fromthe reef which was not quite out of the influence of the easterly swell. The conditions were ordinary, but one fragment made itself noticeable byslight, almost undiscernible, but still distinctive efforts to regain thewater, whence it was separated by a few inches. Seaweed alone was visibleas it rested on the palm of the hand. Presently it moved hesitatingly andwith infinite slowness, and, being reversed, revealed itself as a"watery" crab under living disguise. The specimen was sent to theAustralian Museum, Sydney, where it came under the hands of my friendMr. Allan R. McCulloch, who devotes himself to the phenomena of the sea;and since his references to it are explicit and authoritative, they willbe more acceptable than generalities from an uninformed pen: "The crab yousent is the second specimen known of ZEWA BANFIELDI, which I describedfrom a dried specimen received from you some years ago. Not only thespecies, but the genus also, was unknown until you gave me theopportunity of describing this interesting beast. It is one of the spidercrabs, or Oxyrhynchus, most of which have long horns projecting from therostrum, and are more or less thickly covered with stiff curled setae, towhich seaweeds, sponges, and other marine growths--selected according tothe taste of the bearer--are attached. When these crabs shed their shells, which they must do periodically to allow of growth, they retire to a darkcorner and draw themselves out of a slit between the back and theabdomen, legs and all, which must, I imagine, be a delicate and somewhatpainful proceeding. After emerging, they are, of course, quite soft, andthe setae on the carapace and legs are flexible. The crab then selectschoice bits of weed from its old shell and fastens them to itself by thesetae, which soon curl at the tips like the tendrils of a vine, and sohold them firmly. The weeds and sponges, requiring no roots, but merely asecure base, readily grow in their new position, and so cover their hostwith a sheltering disguise, enabling it to sally forth in quest of freshloves and other adventures. I am sending the reprint with the originaldescription and figure, also a sketch of the crab with its weedygarments. Much of the weed had become detached on its arrival here, whichis, perhaps, fortunate, since the sketch would otherwise have shownmerely a cluster of weeds. " It could be well wished that the specimen hadretained the whole of its floral cloak, for then the sketch would haveshown its deceptive qualities in perfection. Masquerading as a spray ofseaweed, the crab eludes its enemies, the mask being of such high orderthat even man, with his perceptions, does not penetrate it unless heexercises his reasoning faculties. Because he knows that a spray ofseaweed is not endowed with independent movement, when it does walk abouthe, at first, is as incredulous as was Macbeth when told of that "movinggrove" of Birman. ETERNAL SUNSHINE "North Queensland is my country. I love it. I live in it. I would diefor it. "--DODD S. CLARKE. To those who earnestly believe that a country exercises dominance overits inhabitants, mental as well as physical, the present state of NorthQueensland offers interesting problems. Save for a fast-disappearingremnant, gone are the original occupiers of the land. The most listless, the least thrifty of the old peoples, have given place to representativesof the most adventurous, the most successful--men and women of Britishblood, of progressive ideas, vaunting and independent spirit, but withslight respect for the traditions of their race. Apt to regard their ownland as all-sufficient, to resent the incoming of strangers (especiallythose of dark complexion), determined to exclude coloured labour fromtropical fields, while demanding higher and yet higher recompense forwork which in other equatorial regions is deemed to be servile, on whatgrounds do they base the hope of adapting themselves to theirenvironment, of becoming children of the soil? The genius of the race forbids degeneracy. Marked and sudden improvementmay be expected if examples drawn from the lower animals and certainplants are applicable. Huxley laid it down that "the animals and plantsof the Northern Hemisphere are not only as well adapted to live in theSouthern Hemisphere as its own autochones, but are in many casesabsolutely better adapted, and so overrun and extirpate the aborigines. Clearly, therefore, the species which naturally inhabits a country is notnecessarily the best adapted to its climate and other conditions. "Australian aboriginals having given way before a race better fitted toflourish, what will the future of the new race be? What ideal is atpresent pursued? To one who firmly upholds the theory of the evolution of Australiantypes, and who thinks he perceives convincing evidence in support of hisbelief, it seems likely that on the tropical coast, where the influenceof the sun is all-powerful, rainfall abundant, and vegetation prolific, the type will not only be more rapidly developed, but that it will bepronounced in bodily form, in tongue, and in temperament. One of thereasons compelling towards such conclusion is the decided desire--nay, theambition--on the part of native-born Australians to do glad and seemlyhomage to the sun. If a traveller from distant and friendly lands were to accept as germs ofa type those who sport in the surf at fashionable watering-places, hemight infer from the display of brown backs and shoulders that Australiahad not escaped a smudge of aboriginal blood. But this ardentlycultivated tint is notoriously impermanent. Contradictory as it may be, the most earnest advocates of the "White Australia" principle use morethan the average quantity of oil, which makes the skin to shine andembrown under the influence of the much-loved sun. Do not their shouldersbear testimony to the sun's wholesome salutations, and does not the toofair and thin-skinned individual smart under his peeling and display envyagainst the favoured ones who burn to the tint of old copper? Naturally, those who have the most intense longing for a coloured skin, whopersistently seek to acquire it by exposure to the sun seconded byanointings, will prevail. In the course of a few generations--it would beidle to say how many--the type will be fixed and the unguent superfluous;in the meantime the use of coco-nut oil has become one of the confirmedcustoms of the country, as in Fiji and elsewhere in the Pacific. If "beauty born of murmuring sound" may enhance the charms of maidenhood, is it too much to expect that sunburn, fervently desired, may not onlypermanently darken the complexion, but affect the mien of the race? Andthus in years to come the white Australian may be of the past--transformedphysically by the supremacy of soil and sun, and improved in dispositionand character by economic observances as irrefutable as the laws ofNature. The horses of out dry, stony uplands have already developed hoofsin shape and texture well adapted to the country over which they roam, and have become surer-footed and more active and durable. Conditions andcircumstances which in a few generations effect desirable changes inhorses will assuredly be influential in respect of the physique andstamina and moralities of man. North Queensland will establish a type, just as Tierra del Fuego did many centuries since, and the type will bethat which is best fitted to maintain itself. It will be brown ofcomplexion, hardy and alert. North Queensland is expansive and varied. It comprises a marvellous range of geological phenomena, from which maybe expected remarkable variants. The sheep-grower of the treeless downswill differ from the denizen of the steamy coast who supplies him withsugar and bananas. The man from among the limestone bluffs may be intemperament strange to the dweller on the black soil plains and to theindividual who lives among barren hills seamed with copper. Readers ofEnglish books and magazines are familiar with the little prominence givento matters which stand for good and worthiness and the stress laid on theseeming disadvantages of life in tropical Australia. A favourite magazinemay contain a series of articles, sumptuously illustrated, conveyinginformation concerning country life in Canada. It is impossible not tovisualise the miles of wheat-fields, the imposing elevators, the railwayscutting across endless prairies or winding among wonderful mountains, snowcapped as a stage effect merely. The pictures of chubby children andbuxom girls and sturdy boys tell of the healthfulness and invigoratingqualities of the climate. Is it not always spring or summer in Canada?Would not the man who whispered of snow and ice be a renegade, a dastard, a rebel? North Queenslanders do not attempt to belittle the reputationof Canada as a field for the activities of the surplus population of theold country. We are of the same blood and breed, and merely ask for aproper understanding of our own good land. The comfort given to Canada isall in the family, and an Empire which extends from pole to pole mustneeds embrace differences of climate and productions. Do not we all take upon our shoulders the burden of Empire? Here we bearour share stripped to the buff, while Canada bustles under an equallyhonourable but heavier load. Occasionally, no doubt, the most patrioticson of our Lady of Snows would joy in the heat of North Queensland noon;while the sweatful North Queenslander may often pant for the superfluousice of his far-away cousin. The denizens of the different parts of the Empire quite understand oneanother, and realise that to be great the Empire must disregardtemperatures as it does prickly heat and chilblains. Only the casualvisitor fails in this. Sun Days are essential to the production of sugar and bananas andmangoes, to say nothing of pineapples and other fruits of the tropics. When we are called upon to endure extraordinary heat, we tell one anotherof the penance and find excuse for extra drinks. But neither the heat northe comparison of personal experiences is of the injurious nature of someof the refreshments. The weather is not compounded of excesses, but ofmeans. Is it not true that few countries in the wide world would beconsidered fit for habitation by human beings if the character of theclimate was estimated by its extremes? No North Queenslander will resent records of high temperatures. He willbe quite content to be shown enjoying and flourishing in the heat inwhich sugar-cane thrives, for thereby is to be proved a fact theoristsseem unable to grasp--viz. , that such is the soundness and virtue of theBritish race that it adapts itself with equal success to the long, dark, cold winter of Canada and the perpetual summer of North Queensland. Whois to say that the Canadian in his thick woollens and furs is a healthiersubject, a worthier type, than the North Queenslander, stripped to thewaist in the full blaze of the sun, glorying in his own vigour, proud ofhis magnificent heritage, and scornful of the opinions of those who havenever experienced that supreme zest of life unpurchasable outside thetropic zone? With intent to picturesquely demonstrate that soil will tell, some areready to assert that we owe Christianity to the horizontal limestoneformation of Palestine. Accepting the theory with whole-heartedenthusiasm, and admitting that North Queensland comprehends tracts ofcountry not dissimilar from the Holy Land, mark what the future may havein store for the race. Do you want old age?--Methuselah, Noah, Isaac. Strong men?--Gosselin, Samson, Saul. Beautiful women?--Ruth, Rebecca, Esther. Does not David, the man after God's own heart, appeal? Was notSolomon, the wise, the glorious, the prolific, a superior type? And, with all reverence be it said, was not the Founder of the Christianreligion a solar product? Hotter lands beyond the bounds of Palestine gave to the world men andwomen whose deeds and influence still astound and stimulate millions ofmankind--the Queen of Sheba, Cleopatra, Pharaoh the Great, Moses theleader, whom the Lord knew face to face, Joseph the organiser, Mahomet, the benign Buddha, and all the sages, the poets, the historians, thearchitects of the gorgeous East. May not those who elect to live in landsof high temperature and who are strong in their faith cite apt andillustrious precedents, and make bold to say that none has exercised moreinfluence on the minds and destinies of mankind than those born in thelands of the Sun? FRAGRANCE AND FRUIT "The woman saw that the tree was good for food, and that itwas pleasant to the eyes, and a tree to be desired to makeone wise. "--Holy Writ. While the remnant of the crop of citrus fruits still hangs on the trees, after providing refreshing food for six months and more, the blooms whichpromise next year's supplies decorate the branches. Is it not pleasing tohave such graceful promises before the burden of the passing season hasdisposed of all its sweetness? Possibly these early flowers are destinedto produce fruit for the admiration of living things upon which thegardener bestows anything but a welcome. It may come to maturity justafter the wet season, when flies and moths feast and corrupt in riotwhich provokes to wrath. Inconsequent feeders, they probe the fruit andflit away after a sip which does not absorb a thousandth part of its keenjuices, or they use a comely specimen in which to deposit eggs, which inthe course of Nature become grubs. All such infected fruit the treesabandon until the ground is strewn with waste. Such disaster happens whenthe air is favourable to the breeding of quivering gauze wings; but therecomes a time when the fruit suffers little or no ill, and then the heartof the orchardist rejoices as does that of the fisher when the wind comesup from the sea. Then does he accept fine promises in good faith, for ithas come to be the fashion for certain varieties of citrus fruits toprovide two crops, and the second, which ripens about the beginning ofAugust, the superior in size, appearances generally, and distinctly inflavour. The fruit is just as juicy as that which ripens when the air issaturated with the moisture of the wet season, while its fragrance almostequals that of the snowy flowers whence it sprang. These facts hasten tothis conclusion--that the orange-grower has something beyond mere money incompensation for his toil. Can it be called toil? Does he not for themost part, after the first and essential preliminaries are of the past, permit Nature to have her own wayward will with his dutiful trees? Doeshe always and invariably cut out the dead wood which tells of much toostrenuous efforts on their part to justify their existence and his care?Does he attempt to exterminate the pretty flies which send to the grounda certain percentage, while yet the fruit is immature and bitter? Doeshe let the light of the caressing sun into the hearts of his pet trees byremoving superfluous twigs? Well does he know that if he tended them ashe should their bounty to him would be much magnified. Yet does he dreamon, accepting that which comes, admiring leafage, bloom, and fragrantfruit, and always postponing the day when substantial aid and creditshould be given. There is something to be said in favour of this happyattitude towards good-natured trees. Should it not suffice to have giventhem monopoly and choice? Many others, and some of far noblerproportions, have been exterminated for their special benefit andadvantage. They have been grown from seed of most highly complimentedfruit; their infancy and youth have been nurtured and protected; each hasbeen assigned its proper place with due regard to the welfare ofneighbours; less promising vegetation has been summarily checked; thefirst flowers have been sniffed with high delight, the first fruitssampled with extravagant praise. Having bestowed upon trees care andattention, while they were yet mere sprouts of tender green, and admiredtheir sturdy development, and approved their best efforts, is it notyours to accept whatsoever they offer as reward and recompense for pastlabour and present appreciation? From the artistic standpoint the most admirable of all the citrus-treesis the pomelo, which, however, lacks merit from the commercial side. Thetree grows more sedately than the orange or the mandarin, but on agrander scale. The leaves are bigger, tougher, and the appendages oneither side of the stalk (which botanists call the stipules) moredeveloped. The blooms are greater, and endowed with a much richer perfumethan the orange; the fruit is huge and fragrant, though somewhatdisappointing to the individual who expects the sweetness of themandarin; while, if the views of the learned in such attributes aretrustworthy it possesses medicinal qualities which are foreign to itsdainty, diminutive relative. It would be mere affectation to refrain fromthese compliments to the pomelo when the atmosphere is saturated with theperfume from lusty trees. Certainly one has to wait patiently for many along year ere his trees greet him with white flowers which pour outperfume of rare density and enrich him with golden fruit almost as big asfootballs. From nine to twelve years must elapse, but expectancy is notwholly measurable by the arbitrariness of time. The true standard is thedesire, tempered by the patience of the custodian of the trees. In August the pomeloes put on their most attractive appearances. Theyoung leaves of lively tint contrast with the almost sombre green of theolder foliage, and flowers in clusters give a most becoming adornment. Big and beautiful as they are, scent is their most conspicuous feature. Even in the open air it is rich almost to cloyness. It hangs about thetree while the wind is still, and the slightest movement of the air waftsit hither and thither. It stings sensitive folk with its intensity atclose quarters, but when diffused is fragrance of ethereal delight. Allday long birds frolic in the trees, some to cull the nectar, some tosearch for insects attracted for like purpose, some to nibble and discardwhite petals. All the moist soil beneath is strewn with snowy flakes, forat night flying foxes blunder among the branches, destroying more bloomsthan they eat. But why grumble? Birds which nip off petals and mustyfoxes which brush down whole posies in their clumsiness are but positivechecks to overproduction. Do they not avert the unthankful task ofcarting away dozens of barrow loads of superfluous fruit? Last night atdusk there was a sensation of the coming of rain, though the air wasstill and the sky clear. I paused under the trees to expand my lungs withtheir scented breathings. A semi-intoxicated bird twittered drowsilyamong the branches, "His happy good-night air, Some blessed hope, whereof he knew, And I was unaware. " Dozens of sphinx moths--big torpedo-shaped bodies carried by wings ofsoft brown and dull red--floated about, sipping where and when and as longas they liked. Sometimes the sphinx has almost an aggressive tone In hisflight--hasty, important, brooking no interference. Last night's note wasof supreme content. A rich and overflowing feast was spread and theinsects hovered over the posies and sipped and fluted like merryroysterers, without a care or thought of the morrow. It was a love-feast, for the still night seemed to invite the trees to give of their richestand best; the psalm of the insects was audible, not to the distancewhence the perfume was dissipated, but for many a scented yard. The treesseemed sanctified, and I stood bare-headed among them and gave my silentpraise for a delightsome experience. Expectancy and patience had beenoverpaid. THE SCENE-SHIFTER "We are all going to the play or coming from it. "--DICKENS. In a few hours came "the season's difference. " The scene-shifter workedwith almost magical haste, with silence, and with supreme effect. Thegloomy days and nights of misty hill-tops and damp hollows, where thegrass was sodden and the air dull and irresponsive to sound, gave way tobright sunshine, cloudless skies, calm seas, echoing hills, and the tingeof that which for lack of the ideal word we call "spring. " Spring doesnot visit the tropical coast, where vegetation does not tolerate anyperiod of rest. When plants are not actually romping with excess of vitalforce, as during the height of the wet season, they grow with the hasteof summer. And yet immediately on the dispersal of the mists of July theleast observance could not fail to recognise that a certain and elaboratechange had taken place. The mango-trees had been flowering for severalweeks in a trivial, half-hearted way, but when the sun sent its thrillsdown into the moist soil the lemons and pomeloes began to sweeten theair; the sunflower-tree displayed its golden crowns among huge softleaves, and the last blooms of belated wattles fell, showing that it ispossible for tributes representative of May and September to be paid onone and the same date. The scene-shifter came softly "as the small rain upon the tender herb, "but with an orchestra of his own. Years of observation have shown that theweather does control the habits of some birds--birds of distinct andregular methods of life. Two such are common--the nutmeg pigeon andthe metallic starling. Both species leave this part of the Northduring the third week of March, flying in flocks to regions nearerthe equator. For several weeks the starlings train themselves forthe long Northern flight and its perils, dashing with impetuousspeed through the forest and wheeling up into the sky until theydisappear, to become visible again as black dots hurtling throughspace when the sunlight plays on their glossy feathers as the course ofthe flock is changed. With the rush of a wind of small measure butimmense velocity, the flock descends earthwards, among and over thetrees, perfecting itself by trials of endurance and intricate alertness. The birds return during the first week in August, in small and silentcompanies, to reoccupy favourite resorts in common. The nutmeg pigeonsare also of exact habit, the time for their return generally coincidingwith that of the starlings. This year (1916) both birds were noticed justafter the scene-shifter had swept the hills of mists, and now other birdsseem to have awakened to the conditions which the starlings and thenutmegs brought with them from hotter lands. The swamp pheasants arewhooping and gurgling, and that semi-migratory fellow, the spangleddrongo--a flattering name, for he jangles but does not spangle--sits onthe slim branch of the Moreton Bay ash which held last year's nest andchatters discordances in the very ears of his responsive mate. They willstart building a loose nest on the brittlest branch forthwith, and whilethe lady sits on her three eggs he will screech defiances to the highheavens and perform aerial gymnastics with delirious delight. The sun-birds are searching the lemon blooms. The breast of the gay, assertive little bird is far richer in tint than the brightest of thelemons. A minute ago one perched on a ripe fruit as if to shame it bycontrast, and the fruit has since seemed a trifle dull of tint, and withlight-hearted inconsequence the pair are now probing narrow throats ofpapaw flowers. The ground has been too much overgrown with grass andweeds for the comfort of the little green pigeons which come struttingdown the paths for seeds and crumbs. Dry soil, which may be easilyscanned and scratched, is more to their liking, so they keep to theforest, where in some places the undergrowth of wattles is so dense thatthe sun may not visit the ground, and the bare places glitter with seed. When rain was seriously deficient, proof was given that some proportionof the wattle seeds eaten by pigeons are not digested. In the crevices oflogs supporting the water-trough, which proved to be a popularrefreshment spot of many species of birds, clamorous with thirst, seedswere deposited, and when the rains came the trough was fringed anddecorated with pinnate leaves of sprouting wattles, some of which grew sostrongly, notwithstanding the absence of soil, save that which occursfrom the slow decay of seasoned bloodwood, that if summary measures hadnot been taken the trough might have been embowered. The season seems tohave been too damp for the night-jars, though quite to the taste of allspecies of pigeons. In the course of a few minutes the voice of thetimid, tremulous, barred-shouldered dove came from among theyellow-flowered hibiscus of the beach, while the pheasant-tailed pigeonsounded its rich, dual note, the red-crowned fruit pigeon tolled itsmournful chime, and the guttural of the magnificent fruit pigeon--oftenheard, but seldom seen--came from the jungle close at hand. Not one ofthese birds was visible, nor was the fluty-voiced shrike thrush, whichanswers every strange call and mimics crude attempts to reproduce itsvaried notes. The blue kingfisher is investigating the tumour made bywhite ants in the bloodwood wherein the nest is annually excavated, andsoon the chattering notes of the pair will be heard. A week ago few signsof the approach of the scene-shifter were discernible. He has come, andplants and birds respond to his genial and becoming presence--plants withricher growth and more abundant flowers, birds with the unreflectinggaiety of nuptial days. BEACH PLANTS "Remove the vegetable kingdom, or interrupt the flow of itsunconscious benefactions, and the whole higher life of theworld ends. "--HENRY DRUMMOND. Strolling on the curving footway of broken shells and coral chips markingthe limit of the morning's tide, a vague attempt was made to cataloguethe plants which crowd each other on the verge of salt water, and so tomake comparison with that part of Australia the features of whichprovoked Adam Lindsay Gordon to frame an adhesive phrase concerningbright scentless blossoms and songless, bright birds. Excluding theacacias and eucalypts, said to have given sameness to the scenes amongwhich the exotic poet ranged, a long list might be compiled; nor will thepleasant sounds of the afternoon be set down in formal order to thevexing of his memory, for possibly he never heard the whoop and gurgle ofthe swamp pheasant or the blended voices of hundreds of nutmeg pigeonsmellowed by half a mile of still, warm air. Nor may such unassuming vegetation as the grasses--at least a dozenvarieties--find place in an enumeration which appeals primarily on thegrounds of prominence, though it would not do to despise the soft andpleasant carpet beneath the orderly row of Casuarinas which the tideplanted during the last big cyclone with gardener's art. The common namefor the trees--"she" (or "shea" oaks, as the late F. Manson Baileypreferred)--mimics the sound of the wind among the branches, which theslightest zephyr stirs and, the storm lashes into sea-like roar. Thebright green of the grasses sets off the dull green and bronze of thesteadfast harps of the beach. At certain seasons and in some lights, whenthe sun is in the west, the minute scales at the joints of the slender, pendulous branchlets shine like old gold, producing a theatrical effectwhich, if not experienced before, startles and almost persuades to thebelief that the complaining trees have been decorated by one who "hassought out many inventions. " But the slant of the sun alters, the lightfades, leaving them sombre in hue and whispering more and more discreetlyas the night calm settles over the scene. Such communicable trees shouldstand together, commenting on passing events, booming in unison with thecyclone, and mimicking the tenderest tones of the idlest wind. During astorm, when the big waves crash on the beach and the Casuarinas aretormented, the tumult is bewildering; but however loud their plaint, veryfew suffer, though growing in loose sand; for the roots are widespreadand, like the trunk and main branches, tough, while the branchlets streambefore the wind. Close behind the screen of Casuarinas is a magnificent specimen of awide-spreading shrub, in form a squat dome, which commemorates the nameof a French naturalist--TOURNEFORTIA ARGENTA. The leaves, crowded at theends of thick branchlets, are covered with soft, silky hairs of a silverycast, which reflect the sun's rays. It would be gross exaggeration to saythat the finely shaped shrub shines like silver, for the general hue ofthe foliage is sage green, but that it has a silvery cast, which incertain lights contrasts with the dull gold of its neighbours, is analluring fact which must not be strained. Moreover, the shrub covers analmost perfect circle, about thirty feet in diameter, and since it is notmore than ten feet high, its form is as if Nature had designed thecreation of a circus of shadow, dense and cool, for the comfort ofmankind. At high-water mark stands one of the Terminalias with big terminal lightgreen leaves, musty flowers, and purple fruit--gold, silver, and purple inclose array--while over the sand the goat-footed convolvulus sends long, succulent shoots bearing huge pink flowers complementary to the purple ofthe beach-pea (CANVALIA OBTUSIFOLIA). Under the she-oaks young coral trees have sprung up, but the red flowersare of the past, and so also have the gold and white of the Calophyllumsdisappeared. But in the evening the breeze brings whiffs of a singularsavour, pleasant yet not sweet, which comes from the acre or two ofnative hops a few yards back. The bruised leaves thereof give offanything but an attractive odour, yet the faint natural exhalations fromthe plant are sniffed eagerly and to the revivification of pleasantrecollections. Among a crowd of massive shrubs sprawls a plant of loose habit known asCAESALPINA BONDUCELLA, the long clinging branches and the pods of whichare armed with hooked prickles. It is a plant of wide range, for thebluish-grey seeds are said to be used in Arabia for necklets. In the idledays of the past the blacks were wont to enclose a single seed in aminiature basket woven of strips of cane for the amusement ofinfants--probably the first of rattles. It has seized for support some ofthe branches of a rare tree (CERBERA ODOLLAM) which bears long, glossy, lanceolate leaves, large, pink-centred, white flowers, delicatelyfragrant, and compressed oval fruit, brilliantly scarlet. The temptingappearance of the fruit is all that may be said in its favour, for it ishard and bitter, and said to be vicious in its effects on the humansystem; hence the generic title, after the three-headed dog, guardian ofthe portals of the infernal regions. Grouped here and there are pale green, big-leaved shrubs (PREMNAOBTUSIFOLIA, ) bearing flowers and fruit calling to mind the elder of theold country. The wood is deep yellow in colour, but apparently of nopractical use. Another small tree, suggesting in its regular and well-balanced shape theuse of the pruning-knife, is GUETTARDIA SPECIOSA, the flowers of whichare white with a tinge of pink in the centre and highly fragrant. Thefruit is a hard, woody drupe, containing small seeds. TIMONIUS RUMPHII, belonging to the same Family, but of more frequent occurrence, bearssmall white flowers and globular fruit. The white, finely grained wood issaid to resemble English sycamore. Though harsh and flaky, the surface ofthe bark seems to retain moisture, making it attractive to severalspecies of fungi and epiphytal ferns, the most conspicuous of the latterbeing the stag's-horn. Few of the trees near the beach are free from suchencumbrances. To unaccustomed eyes the Pandanus palm is chief among the noticeablefeatures of the flora of the coast of tropical Queensland. Two speciesare represented on these accommodating sands, each suffering no ill, fromimbibing salt water, each exhibiting the peculiarity whence the genusderives its common name--the screw palm, the arrangement of the long, narrow, prickle-edged leaves displaying in the most regular anddemonstrative style the perfect spiral. The single stem of youthfrequently deteriorates and occasionally disappears altogether, adventitious roots, descending from various heights, forming an elaborateand sure and ever-developing support. The huge, bright orange-tinted fruitof the species known as Odoratissimus is highly attractive in appearance, and to the uninitiated offers pleasing hopes and delicious expectations. It is, however, delusive, being constituted of woody drupes in closeclusters collected into a globular head, with meagre yellow pulp at thebase of each group, the pulp having an aromatic and unsatisfactoryflavour. Each drupe contains an oblong oval kernel, pleasant to thetaste, but so trivial in size as to be hardly worth the trouble ofextraction unless there is little else to occupy attention save the pangsof hunger. These defects do not detract from the parade of thetree--picturesque, singular, and replete with interest to the observer ofthe infinite variety of the vegetation of the tropics. The cockatoo apple (CAREYA AUSTRALIS), which has several usefulqualities, flourishes exceedingly. The ripe fruit, green and insipid, waswont to be eaten by the blacks, bark from the branches was twisted intofishing-lines, that of the roots used for poisoning fish, while theleaves, heated over the fire until the oil exuded, were applied tobruised and aching parts of the body. Extraordinary tenacity of lifedistinguished the tree, the axe, fire, and poison failing under somecircumstances to vanquish it. Another and closely related member of the same Family (Myrtaceae) isBARRINGTONIA SPECIOSA, which, so far as local experience is to betrusted, is restricted to the beaches, growing lustily in pure sand atthe very verge of high-water mark. The glossy leaves of thismany-branched tree often exceed a foot in length; the flowers, too, arelarge and singular in style, the petals being comparatively insignificant, while the numerous stamens attain a length of four inches and are of alovely shade of red. Like its relative, the cockatoo apple, the flowersof the Barringtonia have a meaty smell, which seems to attract manyspecies of insects. In keeping with other characteristics, the fruit islarge, consisting of a thick, woody covering, as if Nature designed thatthe single seeds should be adequately protected during a protractedoceanic drift. It is often cast up on the sand, but the seed does notgerminate as consistently as that of the cannon-ball-tree; but when itdoes it rarely fails to become established. Two species of Ficus deserve to be mentioned, though this catalogue doesnot claim to be exhaustive. FICUS FASCICULATA, as the title implies, bears its inedible fruit in bundles, branches, trunk, and exposed roots, being alike fertile, and is almost as retentive of life as the cockatooapple. Opposita is remarkable for varied form of foliage, referred toparticularly elsewhere, and for the sweetness of its fruit. One of the loveliest and most remarkable plants of the beach is theseacoast laburnum (SOPHORA TOMENTOSA), with its pinnate leaves of sagegreen, hoary with silvery fur as soft as seal-skin, and bearing terminalspikes of golden flowers with scent invoking slight comparison withmignonette. The thick, silky leaves, the yellow flowers, and the strangepods, are distinctive qualities, which atone for the absence of thespecial sweetness of the garden favourite. The pods begin as slender, silvery, dangling threads, which speedily lengthen and become constricted. When the breeze flusters the shrubs, revealing the undersides of theleaves at a reflective angle and shaking the tasselled pods, and thesplashes of gold sway hither and thither, the character of the shrub asone of the most attractive ornaments of the beach is so truly displayedthat it might be likened to the tree of the sun described by MarcoPolo--green on one side, but white when perceived on the other. This quality, however, is not special or peculiar. The brown kurrajong(COMMERSONIA ECHINATA) exhibits it even more conspicuously, and, when thedusty white flowers--displayed in almost horizontal planes--are buffetedby the winds and the white undersides of the leaves are revealed, thewhole style of the tree is transformed as a demure damsel is bytempestuous petticoats. With the grey-green of the Sophora is often intertwined the leaflesscreeper CASSYTHA FILIFORMIS, which in the days of the past the blackswere wont to use with other beach plants in the composition of a crudeseine net. The long-reaching, white-flowered CLERODENDRON INERME and thetough, sprawling BLAINVILLEA LATIFOLIA, with its small, harsh flowers, yellow as buttercups but resembling a daisy in form, were also embodiedin the net. The Poonga oil-tree, the new and old leaves the colour of new copper, andthe mature the darkest of green, bears spikes of pale lavender flowers, and makes a decided blotch among the light green succulent leaves of thenative cabbage (SCAEVOLA KOENIGII), with its strange white flowers andmilk-white fruit. All parts of the plant are said to be emetic. Two varieties of VITEX TRIFOLIA, each bearing pretty lavender flowers, but in other respects sharply contrasted, are among the commonest ofdenizens of the beach. The one is a prostrate plant with sage-colouredand sage-scented leaves; the other a shrub or small tree with light greenfoliage, the underside of which is mealy-white, and flowers paler thanthose of its lowly kin. Each is pretty, and the creeping variety (knownin Egypt as the "Hand of Mary") decidedly one of the most eager loversof the sand, to which it keeps strictly. Almost within reach from high water are representatives of a tall, shining-leaved shrub known as MORINDA CITRIFOLIA, the flower-heads ofwhich merge into a berry which has a most disagreeable odour and a stillmore objectionable flavour. It is related that when La Perouse was castaway on one of the islands of the South Pacific, a native undertook toward off the pangs of hunger by converting the fruit into an edible dish. But his manipulation seemed but to intensify original nauseousness, andthe brave Frenchman and his companions found semi-starvation moreendurable than the repugnant mess. Magnificent representatives of the umbrella-tree (BRASSAIA ACTINOPHYLLA), unique among the many novelties of the tropical coast, are massed ingroups or stand in solitary grace close to the sea. Queensland has amonopoly over this handsome and remarkable tree, the genus to which itbelongs being limited to a single species occurring nowhere else in anative state. Discovered by Banks and Solander at Cooktown in 1770, thesecond record of its existence, it is believed, was made from specimensobtained on this island by Macgillivray and Huxley in 1848. Possibly thevery trees which attracted their attention still crown their rayed andglossy leaflets with long, radiating rods thickly set with red, stud-likeflowers. Such foliage and such flowers would appeal gloriously to anenthusiastic botanist, and to so devoted, indefatigable, and successful asearcher after the wonders and the higher truths of the world as Huxley. Few of the ornaments of the beach are more noticeable than that knowncommonly as the sunflower-tree and by the natives as Gingee (DIPLANTHERATETRAPHYLLA), with its big leaves, soft of surface when young, but harshand coarse at maturity. The golden flowers, grouped in huge heads, arerich in nectar, attracting birds and butterflies by day and flying foxesat night. The fruit, enclosed in a crisp capsule, is tough and leathery, in shape a flattened oval, and is entirely covered with silken seedslying close and dense as the feathers of the grebe. When numbers of thecapsules open simultaneously, the seeds float earthwards like a silverymantle or stream before the wind like a veil. Rarely the capsule falls tothe ground complete, and then the parting of the valves reveals thefruit, in form not unlike a small fish covered with glistening scales. The soft white wood is generally condemned, but duly seasoned it becomestough, and is durable when not exposed to the weather. Like otherquick-growing trees, the Gin-gee takes no long time in arriving atmaturity, and its life is comparatively brief. Often big trees die fromno apparent cause, and the wood becoming dry and tindery, the limbs crashto the ground suddenly, and in a few months the whole substancedisappears in dust and mould. Though the flowering season of the Calophyllum is of the past, the treewhich bestows on the beaches the deepest shade and is handsome in all itsparts must not be disregarded, for does it not, ever and anon, striveafter a higher purpose than the production of goodly leaves, whiteflowers, and nuts "harsh and crude"? On rare occasions the externalcovering of the nut turns yellow on the tree, and is then found toenclose a thin envelope of pulp of aromatic and rather gratifyingflavour. Such a phenomenon seems to manifest inherent excellencies, alaudable effort towards self-improvement, a plea for assistance on thepart of some approving and patient man, an indication of the lines onwhich he might co-operate. The tree does not need gloss for its perfectleaves or fragrance for its flowers, nor need the qualities of its pinkwood of wavering figure be extolled. With the exception of the stamens, all parts of the inflorescence, inclusive of the long pedicles, aremilk-white, and the perfume is as sweet and refreshing as an Englishspring posy. Chemists tell us that the oil from the kernels contains agreen pigment which changes to yellow on saponification, and that theresin is emetic and purgative, and healing when applied as plaster. Ifbotanical science can develop the meritorious tendencies the fruitoccasionally exhibits, the Calophyllum would certainly rank as one of themost wonderful of all tropical fruits. And may it not be wise to indulgethe highest hopes when it is borne in mind that at the head of the Familyto which the Calophyllum belongs stands that queen of fruits--themangosteen? Faith in the probable idealisation of the Calophyllum isjustified by reference to the "Prefatory and Other Notes" to the lateF. M. Bailey's great work, the "Comprehensive Catalogue of QueenslandPlants, " where is to be found these encouraging words: "When anyparticular plant is said to furnish a useful fruit, it must not beimagined that the fruit equals the apple, pear, or peach of the presentday, but all so marked are superior to the fruits known to our far-backforefathers. " Two eucalypts--bloodwood and Moreton Bay ash (CORYMBOSA and TESSELLARISrespectively)--and two acacias are represented, the former developinginto great trees of economic value, the latter being comparativelyshort-lived and ornamental. The young shoots of Acacia flavescens arecovered as with golden fleece, and its globular flowers are pale yellow. The wood resembles in tint and texture its ally, the raspberry-jam woodof Western Australia, though lacking its significant and remarkablearoma. ACACIA AULACOCARPA displays in pendant masses golden tassels richin fragrance. The yellow-flowered hibiscus (cotton-tree) overhangs the tide, and thesmall-leaved shrub the blacks name Tee-bee (WIKSTRAEMIA INDICA), thepink, semi-transparent fruit of which is eaten in times of stress, springs from pure sand. A tall, almost branchless shrub (MACARANGA TANARIUS), the Toogantoogan ofthe natives, grows in close clumps conducive to the production of light, straight, slim stems used as fish-spears. The bark peels readily in longstrands, easily convertible into lines, and the sap from incised stems, which crystallises with a reddish tint, is a fast cement. Hugeplatter-shaped leaves are supported on long stalks from nearly thecentre, whence radiate prominent nerves of pale green. Some plantsexhibit leaf-stalks of ruby red, with central leaf-spot and nerves likein hue, producing the most beautiful effect. If the growth of the plantcould be kept within bounds it would be gladly admitted as a gardenshrub. The stems and the base of the leaf-stalk are coated with, glaucousbloom, like that of a ripe plum. The bloom, easily to be rubbed off, issaid to derive its title from that Glaucus who took part in the TrojanWar and had the simplicity, or the wisdom, to exchange his suit of goldenarmour for one of iron. The length of the beach thus casually examined is not more than a quarterof a mile long, and no plant mentioned is more than a few yards fromhigh-water mark, the soil being almost pure sand. Imagine some threesquare miles of country varied by hills and flats of rich soil, withcreeks and ravines, precipices and bluffs, dense jungle and thick forest, hollows wherein water lodges in the wet season, and granite ridges, andthen endeavour to comprehend the botany of one small island of thetropical coast! To obtain demonstration of the vitalising and nourishing principles inmaritime sands under the effects of heat, light, and moisture, it isnecessary to retrace our steps and walk round the sandspit to thetransfigured and degenerate mouth of that once mangrove-creek known tothe blacks by a name signifying that a boy once tethered in it a suckingfish (Remora). Obstructed by a bank, the creek is dead and dry save whenthe floods of the wet season co-operate with high tides and effect abreach, to be repaired on the cessation of the rains. No more than fouryears have passed since the formation of the bank began. It is now ashrubbery made by the incessant and tireless sea from materials hostile, insipid, and loose-sand, shells, and coral debris, with pumice from somefar-away volcano. On this newly made, restricted strip one may peep andbotanise without restraint, discovering that though it does not offerconditions at all favourable to the retention of moisture, plants ofvaried character crowd each other for space and flourish as if drawingnutriment from rich loam. Several botanical Families are represented, the genera and species being: Casuarina equisetifolia (she-oak)Avicennia officinalis (white mangrove). Clerodendron inerme. Premna obtusifolia. Vitex trifolia. Vitex trifolia, var. Obovata. Carapa moluccensis (cannon-ball-tree). Erylhrina indica (coral-tree). Sophora tomentosa (sea-coast laburnum). Pongamia glabra (poonga oil-tree). Vigna luteola (yellow-flowered pea). Calophyllum inophyllum (Alexandrian laurel). Terminalia melanocarpa. Ximenia americana (yellow plum). Scoevola koenigii (native cabbage). Hibiscus tiliaceus (cotton-tree). Wikstroemia indica. Macaranga tanarius. Euphorbia eremophilla (caustic bush). Dodonaea viscosa (hop-bush). Passiflora foetida (stinking passion fruit). Ipomea pes caprae (goat-footed convolvulus). Ionidium suffruticosum, Form A. Ionidium suffruticosum, Form B (spade-flower). Blainvillea latifolia. Gnaphalium luteo-album (flannel-leaf or cud-weed). Vernonia cinerea (erect, fluffy-seeded weed). Remirea maritima (spiky sand-binder). Cyperus decompositus (giant sedge). Erigeron linifolius (cobbler's pegs or rag-weed). Tribulus terrestris (caltrops). Triumfetta procumbens (burr). Salsola kali (prickly salt-wort). Mesembryanthemum aequilaterale (pig's face). Anthistria ciliata (kangaroo-grass). Paspalum distichum (water couch-grass). Zoysia pungens (coast couch-grass). Lepturus repens (creeping wire-grass). Panicum leucophaeum (pasture-grass). Andropogon refractus (barbed wire-grass). Tragus racemosus (burr-grass). Eragrostis brownii, var. Pubescens (love-grass). With the exception of some of the grasses and two noxious weeds, thisassemblage is representative of plants which grow just beyond the sweepof the waves, and are prosperously at home nowhere else. One, thecannonball-tree, is so highly specialised that its presence is buttemporary, for it endures but a single set of conditions--saline mud andthe shade of mangroves. The thick, leathery capsule contains severalirregularly shaped seeds, somewhat similar to Brazil nuts, but larger insize and not to be reassembled readily after separation. When stranded, germination is prompt, but the young plants, lacking essentialconditions, invariably perish. One of the trailers--the caltrops--hastrilobed, saw-edged leaves (harsh on both sides), yellow flowers ofunpleasant odour, and fruit which, perhaps, formed the model of the warweapon of the time of the Crusaders. In whatever position it rests on theground it presents an array of spikes to the bare foot. Though all itssuperficial qualities are graceless, it performs the admirable office ofbinding sand, and thus prepares the way for benign and faultlessvegetation. That his garden might not only be instructive but profitable to mankind, Neptune heaved on to its verge three coco-nuts, the goose-barnacles ontwo of which bore testimony to a long drift. That which retained the germof life fell into the hands of a visiting black boy, who split it open tofeast on the pithy and insipid "apple" within its shell at the base ofthe sprout. This mischance ruined for the time being the prospect of afine effect; but the perseverance and prodigality of Neptune none mayestimate. He will certainly bring from distant domain another nut whichmay escape the observation of the never-to-be-satisfied black boys untilthe young plant itself has assimilated its concentrated food, and beginsto spread its glossy fronds in the face of the sun. In the meantime thegarden displays four weeds, two of the nature of pests, two of discomfortmerely; ornamental, scented, and flowering shrubs, and trees promising tobe conspicuous and picturesque, so that credit is to be divided--the seamade the site, the adjacent land provided all the becoming plants. What are the elements in this primitive spot which afford nutriment tovegetation of such varied character? Probably there are few of thebeaches of islands within the Great Barrier Reef on which the majority ofthe plants do not exist. It is typical, therefore, not of isolatedexperiments on the part of Nature, but of conditions and processesrepeated in similitude wheresoever in the region raw sand heals thewounds inflicted by the sea or the grumbling sea retreats before thesibilant, incessant sand. SHADOWS "The wish--that ages have not yet subdued--In man to have no master save his mood. " BYRON. Before the coming of the obscuring grey of these wet-season days, whenthe tranquil sea absorbed the lustrous blue of the sky, I discoveredmyself day-dreaming for a blissful moment or two ere the crude anchor ofthe flattie slipped slowly to the mud twelve feet below. The rough ironand rusty chain cast curious crinkled shadows, and presently, as the ironsank into the slate-coloured mud and the chain tightened, the shadow wassingle but infirm. Light and the magic of the sea, which, though ittakes its ease, is forbidden absolute rest, transformed it untilimagination created similitude to a serpent in its natural element. Itshalf-concealed, formless head was verified by a flake of rust just where awatchful eye might have been, and the sun played upon it. So here at last was the sea-serpent with alert eye and without end. Itwas all so realistic and endowed with such benignity and such gentlenessof motion that I gazed at it with the gladness of a discoverer. Inresponse to a slight motion of the hand, the sea-serpent wriggled asthough in haste; but wriggle as it might the end never came. The boat drifted back. The serpent became seriously elongated, but thoughthe beginning was now a grey blotch in the mud, the end was not. I mightbeat up a little foam with the chain, and see below a giddy dance or atleast lively flourishes and swaying. Yet there was something lacking--theend. But for that very commonplace default did there not here exist avery good beginning for another romance of the sea? The phantom, born of light and limpid salt water and iron into which rusthad deeply gnawed, gave zest to the pursuit of shadows. What is commonerunder the tropic sun? The boat was now over the sand of the steeplyshelving beach, where the water takes the tint of the chrysolite andcreatures of fairy lightness come into view. Often on still days smallsea-spiders sport under the lea of the boat, each of the eight legssupported by a bubble. With astonishing nimbleness, the spider slips andglides over the surface as a man in laborious snow-shoes over the snow. Having basked in the sun and frolicked with its kind, the spider abandonsits pads, takes to its hairy bosom a bubble of air, and dives below. Theshadows, not the spiders alone, gave pleasing entertainment. Each vagueshadow and the eight bubble-shod feet formed a brooch-like ornament on theyellow sand--a grey jewel surrounded by diamonds, for every bubble actedas a lens concentrating the light. When the frail creatures darted hitherand thither--the majestic sun does not disdain to lend his brilliance tothe most prosaic of happenings--the shadows of the bubbles became jewelsor daylight lightnings. The hour was so restful, the light so searching, that many of the spiders, long of leg and pearly-grey of body, gatheredabout the boat, the shade of which seemed to be grateful. A wave of thehand dispersed the gay assemblage, but in a few seconds the playfulcreatures--not too easily to be deprived of their place in thesun--reappeared from nowhere, and the beads and flashes on the floor ofold Ocean once more began to glitter. Small, slim fish took shelter from the intense light. Some hungmotionless in the water; others nibbled daintily the green and lazy slimeon the batten at the bilge, their gently waving shadows being barelyperceptible, for their delicate, semi-transparent bodies absorbed but themerest particle of the brightness of noonday. The unnoticeable swing of the tide took the responsive boat out from thebeach, and again the serpent swayed sleepily. Down in the mud anorganised conflict was taking place between a tiny soft-bodied crab andfour molluscs which used whip-like tentacles with unceasing energy, whilethe crab defended itself with ever-ready claws. Borne down by numbers, itsank into the mud, the energy of the victors creating a tiny spiral ofslush. A huge stingray passed on its way, the edges of extended wingsrippling never so gently, its shadow half the size of the boat; andpresently, with ghostly glide, a dull-skinned shark came into view withmotion so steady and apparently effortless that it might have been aspectre. The pectoral fins swayed listlessly. The swirl of the tail wasas tender as a caress. Passing the boat a few yards, it turned with agracious sweep and nestled in its shade, and, though motionless, it waswide awake. The eyes on each end of the projecting extremities of thehead blinked up at the boat. It was comfortable, but suspicious. Was itsconscience quite clear? The hammer-head has not the reputation of beingan active enemy of man. Why should it be distrustful? This hammer-headwould not sleep in the shadow, so let it be made aware of the serpent. Itook hold of the chain cautiously, the shark watching, and with a quickturn of the wrist the docile serpent lashed offensively. Then did theshark, frightened of a shadow, flee with mud-stirring haste, like thewicked when no man pursueth. The hour of day-dreaming was past. I slip over the side of the boat toroll and splash in tepid water limpid almost to invisibility, and to testthe wondrous buoyancy of the substantial part of man. Sit down, the lipsjust awash, so that the accurately ballasted portion cushions on thecleanly sand. Stretch out the legs so that the heels barely rest. Headthrown back and arms extended, fill the lungs to their utmost capacitywith the placid, revivifying air, and you will find yourself so upliftedthat the heels alone gently touch the sand. At each inspiration almostsufficient air is imbibed to float the whole bulk and machinery of thebody. And when the radiant air is all one's own, why be niggardly? Letit be gulped greedily, strongly, wilfully, and let the smiling sea, responding to the embraces of your widespread arms, salute your lips withripples. "SMILING MORN" "The light of the morning, When the sun riseth, even a morning without clouds;As the tender grass springing out of the earthBy clear shining after rain. " Holy Writ. A cloudless sky, the long grass wet with the night's gentle shower, athin veil of mist on the hills, a glassy, steel-blue sea, the airsaturated with the essences from myriads of leaves and scented with thelast whiffs from the tea-trees and the primal blossoms of thewattles--such are the features of this smiling morn. A spangled drongo--ardent lover of light and free air--talkativelyannounced the dawn long before its coming; the noisy pitta--bird of themoist soil and leafy gloom--triumphs in three notes. For an hour the scrubfowl have been violently noisy, but have retired to the recesses of thejungle, whence comes an occasional chuckle of satisfaction or a coarse, triumphant crow. The fasciated honey-eater has loudly called "with avoice that seemed the very sound of happiness"; the leaden flycatcher, often silent but seldom still, has twittered and whispered plaintively;the sun-birds are playing gymnastics among the lemon blossoms, and thecentre of activity for butterflies is the red-flowered shrub bordering thewavering path. Since--sometimes wantonly, often thoughtlessly--man interferes withplants, time out of mind the banqueting-table of the butterflies, is itnot a duty to provide substitutes for devastated natural vegetation? Whenit is discovered that a plant, introduced to give satisfaction to the lustof the eye, provides from year's end to year's end nectar as unfailing asthe widow's cruse of oil, is it not becoming to reproduce it plentifullyso that excited and virtuous insects may be encouraged to return toformer scenes? If not a duty, at least it is a source of happiness, forthe particular insects which revel in the nectar of the perpetuallyflowering shrub are the two most gorgeous butterflies of theland--pleasantly known as Ulysses and Cassandra. Science changes its titles so frequently that unless the intellect is tobe increasingly burdened it is well to refuse to be divorced from the oldand often explicit and fulfilling names. Cassandra is the lovely green andgold fly which dances in the air so delightfully when he woos his sober, fluttering mate. That of gorgeous royal blue with black edging to thewings and dandyish swallow-tails, which wanders far and wide and flieshigh and swiftly, is Ulysses. This glorious morn the ruddy shrub is as lively as a merry-go-round withthe feasting and antics of flitting gems, and there are others by thedozen attentive to less seductive fare. For half an hour the courtship ofa perfect Ulysses has interfered with the staid ways of those not inholiday humour. Unlike Cassandra, there is little in appearance todistinguish the sexes, nor in the wooing does the dame exhibit staiddemeanour. The object of Ulysses' love is almost, if not quite, asbrilliantly decorated as himself. She is not, therefore, to be fascinatedby the display of blue no more lustrous than that of her own proud wings. He may flit and toss about her, but she seems to take scanty notice ofhis affected aerial limpings. Her raiment is just as brave, and she hasswallow-tails too. The wider black margin on her wings is no badge ofsubserviency, but rather an additional charm inciting tremulousfascination. She may soar over the mango-trees with ease as careless ashis, and slide down straight to the red flowers with like certainty. Sheis not to be bewildered by his gyrations, nor thrilled by mock hostileswoops. However sprightly his activities, she has a mood to correspondand power to mimic. Indeed, is she not indifferent?--so much on anequality with him that she might say: "If thou thinkest I am too easily won, I'll frown and be perverse, and say thee nay. " Might she not say more at the moment, since her airs are those ofindependence? Possibly she imagines hers to be the superior sex. Is sheto be distinguished from her wooer as she flits from him disdainfully?Can she not imitate his most audacious feats? Ah! but for how long mayshe restrain primal emotions? The blue-mantled dandy understands hisart. His wings beat with the passion of the dominant lover. He tosseshimself before her, impeding her flight until she imitates his antics. Tossing is not the privilege of his sex. She exercises her right to toss, and the pair toss in delightful but bewildering confusion, like jewelssent skyward by a conjurer. And thus having established her rights if nother equality, she consents to play the part Nature decrees, and the pairtumble and toss over the mango-trees, while half a dozen others sipcontentedly the red flowers. Many other winged creatures flit and glisten in the garden and down alongthe grass-invaded path between the coco-nuts. Dragon-flies hover over themoist spots, transparent wings carrying coral-red bodies, and twosand-wasps pilot my steps, following the narrow ribbon of bare ground asa fish the course of a shallow stream, buzzing ominously as if in warningof some possible mischance. They are friends, and will in a momentswerve, and boom back to the shafts they have excavated in sand asdepositaries for their eggs, and into which they will pack livingcaterpillars as fresh food for their young. They dig with such deftnessand vigour that the sand is expelled in a continuous jet. When the mouthof the shaft, round to exactness, is lumbered with soil, the insectemerges backward and shovels away dog-like with its forelegs. Then itdisappears again, until the sand-jet has made another encumbering heap. These alert and furiously resentful insects are endowed withresourcefulness and "intelligence" in keeping with their physicalactivities. One had foraged a caterpillar in bulk and weight beyond itsflight strength, and was, therefore, compelled to haul it along thetoilful earth. On the wing the wasp finds its home unhesitatingly. On theunfamiliar ground it lost its bearings, and, moreover, the lumberingcaterpillar had to be tugged through a bewildering forest of grass stems, among which it went astray. During a pause the wasp surveyed the scene, and, locating the shaft, after stupendous exertions deposited its preyconveniently thereto, to find itself confronted with a problem, since thediameter of the caterpillar exceeded that of the shaft. It seemed toreflect for a few moments, and then with feverish haste enlarged theshaft. Another difficulty had then to be overcome. Was it possible toforce such a bulky and unwieldy body head first down--the habitual way?The insect came to a rapid decision in the negative. Backing into theshaft, it seized the caterpillar by the head and drew it down, presentlyemerging, and how it managed to squeeze past so tight a plug is anotherof the magics of the morn. Having butted with its highly competent headthe caterpillar well home, the wasp selected a neatly fitting stone as awad, and, filling the shaft with earth, strewed the surface with grassfragments, to the artistic concealment of the site. On the beach is another industrious winged miner which has not learnedthe art of the rapid evacuation of the spoil, but follows the slower waysof the crab, carrying the sand in a pellet between the forelegs, and asit backs out jerking it rearward until a tidy heap is made. But it is afussy worker, so charged with nervous energy that its glittering wingsquiver even while down in the depths of its shaft, as you may assureyourself if you hearken attentively when neither the sea nor air makescompetitive noises. ANCESTRAL SHADE "Time was when, settling on thy leaf, a flyCould shake thee to the root--and time has beenWhen tempests could not. " COWPER. If it were possible to recall the spirits of the departed of this Isle tosolemn session and to exact from them expression of opinion as to thecentral point of it, the popular, most comfortable and convenientcamping-place, there can be no question that the voice of the majoritywould favour the curve of the bay rendered conspicuous by a bin-gum orcoral tree. Within a few yards of permanent fresh water, on sandblackened by the mould of centuries of vegetation, close to an almostinextricable forest merging into jungle, whence a great portion of thenecessaries of life were obtained, and but ten paces from the sea, thetree stood as a landmark, not of soaring height, but of bulk andcomeliness withal. Generation after generation of careless coloured folk must have been bornand bred under its branches. When the soil became rank because ofcontinuous residence and insects of diabolical activity pestered itsoccupants, the camp would shift to another site; but there existed proofsthat the bin-gum-tree localised the thoughts of those aimless, unstablewanderers to whom a few bushes stuck in the sand as a screen fromprevailing winds represent the home of the hour and all that the wordsignifies and embodies. Many a one was laid to rest beneath its spreadingbranches, for it was the custom of the pre-white folk's days to swathethe dead in frail strips of bark, knees to chin, and place the stiffenedcorpse in a shallow pit in the humpy which had been in most recentoccupation. If the dead during life had possessed exceptional qualities, burial rites would be ceremonious and prolonged. With tear and bloodstained faces (for the mourners enforced grief by laceration of theflesh) incidents in the admirable career of the departed would berehearsed in pantomime. The enactment of scenes from the life of thehunter and fighter might occupy hours. The art of the canoe or swordmaker would be graphically mimicked. The life of the woman foundrehearsal from infancy until she passed from the protection of her fatherinto the arms of her lover. If she had died childless, a protestinginfant or an effigy in bark would be placed on her shrunken bosom, sothat she might not suffer the reproach of matrons who had preceded her tothe mysterious better country. The ancestral shade was a birth-place, an abiding-place, a cemetery, andthe soil grew ever richer, and the thick-trunked tree displayed its ruddyflowers and gave of its best in nectar for birds and butterflies andgauze-winged, ever-flitting creatures. It was not a comfortable tree to climb, for its grey-green branches werestudded with wens each armed with a keen prickle, long and tough. Itoffered the hospitality of its shade to man, but little else, saveflowers to gladden his eyes, though it stood as a perpetual calendar, orrather floral harbinger, of some of the most excellent things in life. Ata certain season its big, trilobed, hollow-stalked leaves changed frombright green to pale yellow and lingeringly fell, and often before thelast disappeared, flower-buds registered the date with almost almanacexactitude. Then, as the rich red began to glow here and there, andimpatient small birds to assemble in anticipation of the annual feast, the old inhabitants of the Isle would comfort one another withreminiscences of the "Oo-goo-ju, " the nutmeg pigeon, which was wont tocongregate in such numbers that adjacent and easily accessible isles werewhitened. There would be plenty of eggs then, and in a few weeks squabsquiveringly, helplessly fat. It was a good tree, for it gave good tidings, and it centralised theshelter of the Isle. Its blooms were delightfully, dashingly red, andthey lasted long--that is, if the camp--the soil rectified by sun andrain--happened to be in residence, for then the sulphur-crested cockatooswould be scared. Otherwise the profligate birds would sever the heavyracemes of flower in their eagerness for honey until the ground beneathglowed with a furnace-hued shadow. But there would be still plenty forthe gay sun-birds and the honey eaters, while the grey goshawk would makethe site of regular call, for the bibulous lesser birds could not alwaysbe on the alert, ready to dart into adjacent tea-trees. The hawk wouldabide its time, and have occasion, after its kind, to be gratefulbecause of the tree and its seductive nectar which translated artlesslittle songsters into shrill-tongued roysterers, careless of the ills oflife, or at least less watchful for the presence of crafty enemies. Flying foxes would swoop into the tree at sundown to squeak and gibberamong its repellent branches till dawn, when some, too full for flight, would hang among the lower limbs all day, sleeping with eyes veiled byleathery wings. For many a long day the bin-gum tolerated no undergrowth. Despoticover its territory, the shade was clean but for a carpet of ferns, and its branches free from the embraces of orchids, save that whichbears the ghostly white flowers which set off its own of bold red. But as it passed its maturity shrubs and saplings began to encroach, until it was the centre of a circus of upstart vegetation, thoughstill stretching big, knotty limbs over the slim youths of yesterday. Anterior to this era a neglected fire had scorched a portion of itstrunk. Decay set in. A huge cavity gradually appeared, betokeningvital injuries. The soft though tough wood does not patiently endurethe annihilating fret of time. Far up in a recess of this cavity atoy boomerang was found, placed there by some provident but forgetfulpiccaninny. At the date of the discovery of the missile the age ofthe resident blacks had passed away; but still the tree stood, stoutof limb, while the encompassing saplings shot up until sun-seeking shootscaressed the branches and familiarised with the blooms, as if takingcredit for the seasonal gaiety of the patriarch. In the prime of life the wood of the bin-gum is of pale straw colour witha faint pinkish tinge, and tough though light. Sapless age makes ittindery, and the decaying fibre descends in dust--glissades of dust whichform moraines within the hollow of the base. Then the end is not far off. The old tree might have been credited with premonition of its fate. However fanciful to ascribe to it power of utterance, some phenomena, perhaps associated with the dusty flux draining its vitals, gave itdistinct voice. On silent days it was often heard--a whispering, whimpering sing-song, pitifully weak for so great a tree, but not withoutappeal. Did it not suggest the sanctuary of some wood-nymph chanting neverso faint a death psalm--a monotone which the idlest zephyr might still? Disdaining to die while consenting to disappear, the great tree, proudlygreen of head, did not fall headlong, like a giant, in its pride, butsubsided silently behind its leafy screen while all the winds were still, and as one who passes away full of years and with untarnished conscience. Though the saplings and shrubs which fought for its place decentlyconceal its shattered relics, addressing glossy leaves to the face of thesun, is it quite vain to expect that its graceful proportions--a true andstately dome--will be transmitted to the most worthy of its descendants?Or that they will escape for so long a term the many mischances thatbefall soft-wooded trees? No; the bin-gum of the bay was unique. Afar offits flowers assumed a bricky shade, which contrasted with the sage-greenbackground of huge and overtopping melaleucas, while but a strip ofcreamy sand intervened between its low and spreading branches and theshallow sea, with its varying tints of pale green and blue. So lovely andconspicuous a feature is not to be reconstituted under a century. If it be permitted to assume that trees are sentient, that each--since itdiffers from all others in some material quality and condition--has itsindividuality, and that one may stand out from the rest as a figure andrepresentative of its age, then was this old monarch which maintained itsred robes to the last an examplar of the race whose births, nuptials, pastimes, deaths and burials it witnessed from the date when the goodship ENDEAVOUR slowly plodded along the alien coast. The dust of thewitness is blending in common decay. A few months and not a trace will bediscoverable, and what is left of those who rested in its shade? In thepages of history they will be unchronicled, for were not their livesless beautiful than the life of a tree, and their renown no more durable? QUIET WATERS "Like playhouse scenes the shore slid past. " KIPLING. Lovable as is the open sea when the spray drenches the scanty clothing ofthe steersman and rains upon his lips salty salutation, yet is thererare delightsomeness in reverse of the wet frolic. A few minutes past the deck glistened in the sun as each rollickingbillow sent its herald over the bows, and here the surface of the riveris almost rippleless. Shallows and uncertainties perplex its union withthe ocean. Sombre green mangroves screen its muddy banks at full tide andtrail leathery leaves and the tips of spindly fruit on its placidsurface. Pendant roots and immersed branches create on each hand acontinuous scroll of wavering ridges and eddies bordered with the livingtints of the steadfast wall of leafage. The sun so burnishes themidstream ribbon that the boat seems to float on an invisible element. Though the topmost leaves of the mangroves fail to disclose any movementin the air, an unceasing and inharmonious hum tells of the sea idlyshouldering the orange-hued sands outside. The original inhabitants of the country knew the stream as Marang. Nonecall it so; but half stranded on the bank at the mouth lies a rafttypical of the past, and of the ease and resource with which those of theday are wont to avail themselves of Nature's suggestions in the art ofcrossing flooded waters. The name of the river has gone, but not that ofthe three buoyant logs lashed together with strips of cane which withsullen lurch, take the wash of the boat. The boys jerk their heads in thedirection and murmur "wur-gun, " and speculate on the last user. The dayis young. For the time being the best the ancient river has to show--thequintessence of the season, superb October--shall be ours. The cloudlesssky is richly blue, lighter in shade than the shapely mountain whichseems to block the way miles ahead. The sun gives a taste of its quality, not to fret or discomfort, but merely to add a slightly richer tint toskin glowing with previous marks of his fervour and favour. All the sounds of the little engine are maliciously exaggerated as theboat forges ahead. The silent green river has become vociferous withechoes, which snap and grunt, groan and hiss, in mockery of inevitableand earnest doings. Out at sea the merry moods of the boat and hasty anddetermined throbs of the engine are manifestations of somethingaccomplished in the overcoming of distance. Here it is all mere idlefancy, while the echoes jeer. Surely the uncouth imps of the dimly-litjungles need not proclaim their spite with such exaggerated fuss. With but little effort of imagination the boat becomes stationary on ashining ribbon with strips of dark green on each side, and the banksglide past with never so gentle undulations. The tide screens most of themud on which the many-rooted trees stand. Some are in full bloom, thehawthorn-like flowers breathing perfume as from an orangery solicitingthe raids of millions of bees. Scents cling to the placid surface. It isas a stream of scent, bounded and confined by changeful tints as the suntoys with the shadows, and curve after curve, reach after reach, slip by. Sometimes the chattering boat heads due east. South she knows too, andthen she bows her duty to the west, along reaches which run straight andclean as a canal; and round hairpin bends she sweeps with disdainful air, as if conscious of besoiling banks. Gradually the monopolistic mangroves become more tolerant of the rightsof other vegetation. Tea-trees with white papery bark and pale yellowflowers dripping with spirity nectar, the sunflower-tree with its massesof gold, an occasional wattle, and slim palms mirror themselves, and hereand there compact jungle, with its entanglement of ponderous vines andsmothering creepers, shoulders away the salt-loving plants. Scents mayvary as the river's fringe; but only a delicate blend is recognised--thebreathings of honey-secreting flowers and of sapful plants free from alluncleanliness. Many trees endure sadly the decoration of orchids in fullflower, some lovely to look on and deliciously scented. The snowy plumesof one species sway gently, as if offering friendly greeting. A worthysimilitude to the lily of the valley clings to a decaying limb, and apassing smudge of lustrous brown is but the reflection from a mass of thecommonest of the Dendrobiums which encumbers a long-suffering host. Whereforest trees and wattles guard the bank the water is of a different hue, as if the face of the river had absorbed less of the actualities of thesun. The screen of vegetation is not only higher, but it is varied andimpresses its individuality. Only during the pelting rains of the wetseason may this delightful stream be monotonous, for at intervals briefand narrow vistas open out on patches of yellowing grass, and beyond lieforest-clad hills. All save the boat is wonderfully still. The birds are silent, for this isthe first hot day of the season, and they have retired to the patches ofjungle where shade and dimness afford relief from the sunlight spaces. For many a mile a cormorant, lacking valour to double on its tracks, hasfled before the boat, settling out of sight ever and anon, only to bescared further from its nest. A mangrove bittern sitting humpbacked on aroot and roused from its night thoughts has flown ahead, following thebends of the stream until it crossed a familiar loop and so evadedincessant harrying. No murmur of the sea is audible, though the water is as briny as at themouth. Mangroves still reinforce the muddy banks at intervals, and bigbarramundi swirl aside to give the boat precedence in the narrow way. Ifin no impetuous haste, one might drift with the tide up and down with butlittle exertion except during periods of flood, which quickly rise andquickly subside. Drifters become familiar with characteristics of thestream unknown to those who hurry up and down in an echo-rousingmotor-boat. They see crocodiles basking on their sides, as many as sevenon a sunny morning in the cool season, and many curse them in DeQuincey's phrase as "miscreated gigantic vermin" because the riflehappens to be unavailable. Crocodiles have their moods. Sometimes theyare lazy and indifferent and will not be disturbed though the boat mayclink and chatter as it passes, and the then easygoing man disposes ofthem. More often the faculties of the crocodile are disappointinglyacute. He is visible for such a fragment of time that the authoritativeman who has promised sport looks foolish and tries to relieve the strainby the relation of anecdotes in which circumstances have not been all infavour of the illusive creature. He tells of the slumbering one which layon a mud-bank with its jaws distended, weary of the monotony of themangroves, and took but sleepy notice when upbraided for being asluggard. And of that other monstrous beast which, with eyelids likesaucers and a bulk which filled a narrow tributary of the river, floundered, splashed, and flurried into deep water, while the awestruckindividual with the rifle was too astounded to fire a shot. He may tell, too, of another instance of good luck on the part of the crocodile. How, drifting down silently with the ebb, the black boy indicated the presenceof game on a slide overhung by a deep verandah of mud; how a shot wasfired and a big log splashed into the water and the little one remainedbearing the bullet-wound, the real having been too big and impressive forsight. The day is well spent among strange plants. Here is a tall hibiscus withcoarse leaves, diversely lobed, and great pink, fragile flowers, eachwith a blotch of maroon at the base and each containing a fat andlumbering bee spangled with maroon-tinted pollen. A trailing eugenia bearsdark red flowers shaped like a mop, and a tiny white lily with petals andstrangely protuberant anthers scents the air as with honey and almonds. The tide ebbs fast. All the country teems with entertainment, and theriver, cool in the dusk, and black, reflects the dead mangroves, whiteand spectral, on its brink. This breathless night the sea is as tetchy as petrol. Trailing fingersare terminals which ignite living flames, and the propeller of the littleboat creates an avengeful commotion of light which trails far astern. Blobs of light are cast off from her bows as she rounds the familiarsandspit and glides to her moorings. "THE LOWING HERD" "Your cattle, too--Allah made them; serviceable, dumb creatures;they change the grass into milk; they come ranking home atevening time. "--CARLYLE. Remote from the manners and the sights of the street, here are we secureagainst most of the pains which come of the contemplation, casual orintimate, of other folk's sufferings. No hooded ambulance movesjoltlessly, tended by enwrapt bearers, on pathless way; no formalprocession paces from the house of death to the long last home. Immunefrom the associations which oft subdue the crowd, as well as from its tooexciting pleasures, and participating only indirectly in its inevitablesorrows, yet we are occasionally forced to remember that troubles do cometo all that is flesh, and that keen is the grief attendant upon enforcedseparations even among animals which cannot call reason to their solace. Man cannot claim to be the sole proprietor of the luxury of woe, and mayhe not draw edifying lessons from contemplating the transient sorrows ofhis pets and domestic animals? Is he to confine his schooling on thewholesome theme of the frailty of flesh solely to his own species?It is not to be denied that animals lower in the scale than mankind haveacute sense of bereavement, though it is equally certain that in theircase the healing influences of time are more prompt and potent. An illustration may be cited. Two favourite Irish terriers, in violationof an all-precautionary training, molested a death adder, the emulationof each inciting the other to recklessness. When the fray was over andthe wicked little serpent lay squirming in death, both dogs took joyfulcredit on account of the feat. An hour after one began to froth at thelips, and in another hour he lay dead. His son and companion, as well asrival in all rat and lizard hunts, softly approached the body, liftingeach foot with almost solemn deliberation. He sniffed, and catching awhiff of the scent of death, sat on his haunches, threw back his head, and in loud and piercing tones lamented the tragedy until from veryhoarseness he could howl no longer. He stood the solitary spectator ofthe burial, and as the soil was patted down tenderly, sniffed the spot, whimpered plaintively, and followed with downcast mien. Unable to fathomthe mystery of death, yet fearful, if not resentful, he wandered aboutfor days rebuking the moon, or its dire influence, and hailing passingsteamers with weak whines. Time soon soothed the mental hurt. Since I became a milker and tender of pet cows many instances have beenrevealed of the patience and amiability of these inestimable beasts. Theman who owns the cattle on a thousand hills, who employs stockmen by thedozen, who sends off hundreds of fat, contented, happy, liberty-lovingoxen in droves to end their days in an unknown locality amid the clatterand swish of machinery and with the fearful scents of blood and decayingoffal defiling the air, has few opportunities of studying the nicerqualities of his possessions. He may be full of bullock lore and able torecite sensational and entertaining stories illustrative of the ways ofthe big mobs which tramp from native hills and downs to the city of thethousand deaths. He knows, perhaps, something of the individualities ofhis herds, and will tell how fat beasts form friendships, and how theypine when separated. Then will he register his personal regrets, countingin the measure for fat, for, refusing food, the animals fall away incondition, so that the sorrows of two fat bullocks due to parting, enforced by determined men on horseback, cracking whips and using violentand threatening language, come home to the owner in terms of pounds, shillings, and pence. Here are few sordid considerations, for does not the full-fed andcontented herd supply generously milk and cream with no apprehensions ofthe butcher? Perhaps on that account the sentiments of the sleek cowsare more tender. At least it has been noticed that when the time comesfor the flash young bulls to be banished, and they are transported, themother's grief is loud-voiced and prolonged. Under stress of departureand all the novel excitement of a first experience of the motion of thesea, the fat calf, which has rollicked in all that makes for good temperand ease and comfort, becomes mute. Tears trickle from big, affrightedeyes, and the head is turned wistfully when terms of comfort are uttered. He is of the make of man and will not whimper. But the mother, on thediscovery of her bereavement, arouses the echoes of the hills with hercalls. Accustomed to the voices of the individuals of your herd, your ears arealso attuned to the significant tones of each--the low warning hum of themother to her safely hidden new-born, the imperative command toobedience, the note of inquiry when the wandering offspring is out ofsight, the anxious call when it is absent from her side unaccountably, the angry bellow when she thinks injury is being done. The other day a lusty young bull which had been wont to treat me as achum, and perhaps as a slightly inferior animal, was reluctantly partedfrom. His face displayed his emotions-astonishment, grief, resignation--and once, and only once, did he permit himself to protestvocally. But for a week his mother's sorrow has been insistent. Early onthe morning following, the banishment, she led off the rest of the herdin Indian file, to search accustomed scenes. At times shehastened--perhaps she heard in fancy the loved one's voice--but moreoften and with rare persistency she shrewdly scrutinised every possiblehiding-place, lowing plaintively and with a coaxing, wistful tone. Frequently, attended by silent, sympathising companions, she made franticappeals to me, and then there seemed to be a note as of upbraiding, ifnot accusation, in her voice. Knowing her feelings, it was easy tointerpret them, and her doleful mood and loud yet melodious protestsagainst the arbitrary usage of man affected the wonted serenity of theIsle. How many lusty, fat, sleek, good-humoured, straight-backed, frolicsomecalves had she reared, and when they had come to the age when a mother'spride must be in the full, each in its turn had mysteriously disappeared. Was this not a subject of moan? Why should she not tell her grief to theresponsive hills, and send it as far as her voice might carry over theirresponsive sea? Time soothes all such pangs. She calls now when she spies me in theforest, still suspecting where responsibility rests, and mumbles as shecrops the succulent herbage. A few more days and her sturdy offspringwill be forgotten; but the recollection of her material woes excites thethought that human beings, in guiding the destinies of domestic animals, may not always be conscious of certain moral aspects of such incidents. Are we justified in lacerating the feelings of those creatures, whichhave become accustomed to our ways, which submit to our arbitraryauthority with wondrous patience, which depend on us in many ways, andwhich trust us with unquestioning fidelity? Against all precedent, the dairy herd was started with a bull. Thoughsuch a beginning is not to be recommended as a general precept, it mustbe confessed that in this particular instance developments proved itswisdom. Unjust fears were overcome while yet he was undistracted bysociety of his kind. Having no other company, he sought ours in frank andfriendly manner. Occasionally he would accompany me on indefiniteexcursions in the bush, and would oft tempt me to play. With the fable ofthe frogs and the boys in mind, I had to decline participation in hissportful moods, for what would have proved pure frolic to him might havebeen fraught with disaster to me. At this period of the dairy herd, hespent most of his leisure moments in the paddock where poultrycongregates, and where many of the domestic rites are performed. He wasat home, and he was a gentleman, and did no one premeditated ill. Longingfor something to play with, he would make hostile demonstration againstthe wheelbarrow, but that dull-hearted vehicle never responded except byignominious collapse at tenderest touch of horn. One evening, when allthe good little chicks had been put to bed for the night, the bull, impatient for play, overturned two coops so suddenly that two of theinmates were crushed flat. There was no sheltering mother to protestagainst such violation, and so the adjoining coop was visited. But foronce he went wrong in strategy. The coop contained an exceptionallynumerous family, the mother of which richly deserved the name of"Scotty. " The coop was overturned none too politely; the squeaking chicksvanished in the grass and remained discreetly silent; the irate hen, withthe valour of ignorance and all feathers on end, flew in the face of thestartled bull. Though a white leghorn, she has fighting blood in herveins, and as she hurled herself--stuttering with frantic exclamations--atthe violator of her home, he backed with a mirth-provoking look ofsurprise and dismay. He seemed to wish to say that he regretted theintrusion, and would apologise and ask permission to retire. The hen wasnot in the mood to accept apologies, however seemly the cringing attitudeof the bull. Making herself ever so much bigger than Nature intended, shefollowed up her advantages, slapping her enemy's face with widespreadwings until he winced again, and clawing with truly feminine extravaganceand uncertainty of aim. The first round was all to the credit of the hen, and the startled poultry cackled derisively as the bull retreated. Sureof victory, the hen followed him up, skipping, flapping, clawing, andscolding as only an irate hen in transports of rage can. Still the bullbacked. He was a gentleman, and genuinely afraid of female tantrums. Withhalf-shut eyes, he submitted to the buffets of the wings, whileencouraging remarks from friends and companions further excited thedelirious pugnacity of "Scotty. " Then it seemed to dawn on him thathonour was at stake. Gallantry forbade him to do violence to a lady;honour forbade him to run away. What other recourse was open? He musttreat the whole episode as a joke. So, rubbing his muzzle on the ground, he invited the hen to come on. She did so. There was a splash ofoutspread feathers against his front and more clatter than ever. He pawedthe ground, jerking little clods over his shoulders, and, lowering hishead, menaced the hen with horns that could have tossed her over thehighest of the mango-trees. But there was a smile on his face the while, and the spectators knew, though "Scotty" did not, that it was all a joke. Again and again she flew in his face. Just as often he refused to takeher seriously, though all the pantomime of battle was displayed. Shecackled in impotent anger. He bellowed with gratification. Not a fowl inthe yard saw the joke, and all the little chicks in adjacent coopsstrained their necks to watch the battle and their voices in shrillcomments. Having made not the slightest impression on the jovial littlebull, "Scotty" retired, feinting and scolding, while he, still bluemouldy for a game, coaxed her by unmistakable gesticulation to one roundmore. Twice during the night "Scotty" dispelled the silences with loudexclamations of wrath and defiance. She was fighting her battle again inher dreams, and though I was not there to see, I am very sure that thegentle bull beguiled his wakeful moments with smiles. There are severalwhite hens in the yard, and whensoever one crosses his path the bull, whodoes not pretend to discriminate, tosses his head with an interrogativegesture. "Do you want to fight?" he says, and the hens flee--all except"Scotty. " The herd comprises a dainty little cow of most placid disposition. Nothing disturbs her placidity, incites her to hurry, or bewilders her. Cure the dove of its timidity and shrinking and you will have a goodprototype of Parilla, who, taking life easily and affably, is fat andamiable. When she brought home her firstborn, mooing plaintively, he, bigand fat for his age, walked into the byre as a matter of course. Here wasthe first evidence of heredity. It was patent that Fillo Billaroo wasborn with a mind like that of his sweet-tempered mother. He earned hisname because of acute dissimilarity to the swiftlet which swoops aboutthe cleared spaces, never resting save in a dark and dirty cave. Though, apparently, entirely unselfconscious, Fillo Billaroo at onceestablished himself as a superior sort of creature. He did not exact anyrights. They were conceded with all possible grace. He enjoys privilegesnone other dares to imagine. When he has exhausted for the time being thematernal source of refreshment, he visits other mothers, and with such apompous, patronising, good-humoured, thoroughly appreciative and yetgentle way, that the absurd creatures are flattered. They realise he issomething quite out of the common, and give agreeably of their best. Thushe has become a favourite, and he drinks so much and has become so fatthat he could not for a couple of weeks accompany his lazy-pacing motheron her daily rounds, but would be planted in shade and coolness withcautions against straying until called for late in the afternoon. Oftenwould Parilla forget the hiding-place, or rather pretend to, and beseechin wistful tones for help in the search, and when it was successful thegreetings she bestowed displayed the bigness of her heart. Once the little mother left Fillo Billaroo in charge of Lady Clare, amuch more experienced matron, who cannot bear to permit her frisky heiferout of her sight for a moment unless safely planted, and then thetreasure must not be wandered from more than a hundred yards. Parillawent off for the day. Late in the afternoon, Lady Clare with her heiferand Fillo Billaroo were found far away from the mob and driven home. Ithad been hot, and the big calf has an enormous appetite and apparentlyLady Clare had been coy. When he saw his mother and his mother saw him, he stooped with uplifting nose, sniffing; she stopped feeding and beginto sniff. He seemed to say to himself, "I do believe I know that littlecreature. Yes; I am certain I must have met her before. She ratherresembles my own mother; but I have so many fond, kind, and obligingaunts that it is not so very easy to make sure. She has a special look. Can I be mistaken? I really hope not, for I am painfully hungry. " In the meantime Parilla was saying to herself--you could see it allplainly written in her big, round, bulging eyes, so full of inquiry, hope and longing--!" The sight of that really fine fellow reminds methat I, too, am a mother. He is a pretty fellow; I fancy that FilloBillaroo is not unlike him. I now recollect with dismay that I have notseen him since morning, when Lady Clare condescended to look after him. And there's Lady Clare! Oh! if she's mislaid Fillo Billaroo! But can thatfine, beautiful fellow be mine? I must inquire. Come!" And she moo'd, and Fillo Billaroo murmured "Mum, " and they rushed to one another, andthe look in Parilla's face was that of perfect happiness. BABBLING BEACHES "By the wisdom of Nature it has been appointed that more pleasuremay be taken in small things than in great. "--Ruskin. On a breezy day, when the sun scorches the sand and the wind continuouslysweeps off the dry surface, and your ears detect the musical soundaccompanying the process--vague as the visible part of it is blurred andmisty--then it is that you are made aware of the agencies by which timecreates geographical differences. Precipitated at the apex of the spit, the sand as it sinks tints the verge of the sea, while the lighter spoil, leaves and wisps of seaweed, trip off on independent voyage. The currentfrom the south pares the spit, preserving its shapeliness. The ebb fromthe bay maintains the fluent inner curve. The dry wind, the current withits northerly set, and the ebb in conjunction, push the spit to thenorth, and as the sand advances, vegetation consolidates the work. Thencomes the season of northerly winds, when the apex of the spit is forcedbackwards and outwards into a brief but graceful flourish, in the bightof which small boats may nestle, though the seas roar and show whiteteeth a few yards away. Since the winds of the north are less in durationand persistency than those from the south and east, the tendency of thespit--in defiance of the yearly setback--is to the north. Driftwood, logs, and huge trees with bare, branchless limbs become stranded, to dryand whiten in the sun and reinforce the sand, and in their decay, withever contributed seaweed, to make mould for vegetation. The work ofencroachment and consolidation is incessant and strangely rapid, forvegetation never lacks pioneers of special character to prepare the wayfor the less venturesome and less hardy. Often before vegetation appears, coral chips, shells, small stones, and sharp gravel, are concreted intoplatter-shaped masses which seem to become the base of blocks of roughconglomerate, capable of resisting the attacks of the sea; and a fewyards back, where a mangrove-bordered creek once existed, the mud anddecayed fragments of wood have been transformed into a black, cheesysubstance which might be mistaken for soft coal. So do these beaches laybare their secrets. When the mainland streams pour out their floods and the commingled volumehurries north in a mud-tinted, sharply delimited current, and whole treesare cast up on the beaches of far-away isles, vivid examples of thedispersion of animate and inanimate things by purely natural means areafforded. Weighty stones are found locked among roots which, as the wooddecays, are deposited on alien sands, thereafter to invite speculationas to origin and means of transport. On one such raft voyaged a livingspecimen of the white and black banded snake, one of the most singular ofthe family, for Nature has bestowed on it a placid disposition, andprovided it with an unmischievous mouth and fangs so minute that, although classed as venomous, it is not considered injurious to man. Though strange and interesting, on the plea that the family is quitesufficiently represented, the derelict was unwelcome, save as a livingproof of the practicability of natural transports. By what grace, indeed, could the creature which earned the Almighty's bitter curse be acceptedas "wilsam"--goods of God's mercy driven ashore, no wreck or ship beingvisible? This small bay never ceases the laying of tribute at one's feet. Thereare seasons when the amount is less than at others; but how seldom areits sands trodden without a display of the infinite variety ofproductions of the ocean? When the mood of the sea is savage and thespoil from the reef is flung in ridges among the vegetation of theshore--coral in blocks and shattered masses, shells, seaweed, sponges, andother dead marine animals and driftwood, heap on heap--days ofenthusiastic toil might be spent in sorting out the oversurplus of thesecrets of the sea. But for months together the beach maintains itscleanly orderliness, and during these dreamy days the sea will tell ofmany a pretty treasure which the sands will reveal in the face of thesun. The most famous of botanists compiled a floral almanac; the months, andin some cases the weeks, being associated with the development andflowering of significant plants. So might it be possible to ascribe toparticular months the tokens with which the obliging sea bestrews thebeaches. It is not proposed herein to attempt any such design, whichwould involve special knowledge of the science of conchology and thecompilation of the records of years of patient observation. A fewexamples of the material on which the delightful work might be undertakenare given, so that the wealth of one brief strip of beach may be taken astypical of a vast stretch of calm waters within the Great Barrier Reef. The ridges and furrows of the cyclone season, when the clean sand iscovered and stained with weed, dead and living molluscs, coral, leavescarried from the hills by flooded streams, all fermenting in the heat, tell that Christmas is past and March not yet over. Many a year passeswithout such a storm as compels the groaning ocean to ravage its reefs. Then the beaches, during the first three months are not particularlyfertile, nor are the shells to be found special or peculiar. In Aprilmany specimens of the mollusc known as Tapes, of which there are severalspecies, are cast ashore, empty but fresh. In life the animal buriesitself in the mud at the edge of the sand, and some disturbance ofnatural conditions, possibly due to the fresh water from flooded rivers, causes seasonal mortality. The most conspicuous of the species is thatknown as "literati, " because of the erratic scribblings decorating itsvalves. With others of the genera, it is to be found cast away at othertimes of the year, but the end of the wet season seems exceptionallydireful. April is confirmed, too, but transiently, by the presence of a frailmollusc (HAMINAEA CYMBALUM) which is washed ashore attached to seaweed, soon to disappear desiccated by the sun and ground to powder. The shellis semi-transparent with a sandy tint, and in form not unlike that of acommon snail. As the weather becomes cooler, a thin, delicate bivalvedecorates high-water mark. It is one of the tellinas--semi-transparent, lustrous, and fragile--which occurs in muddy sand, but why the speciesshould be more susceptible to the ills of life during a particularseason is not apparent. When the fates do conspire against its welfaredozen of bright specimens may be picked up during a casual stroll, theanimal having disappeared. The epidemic the beach thus announced withpink and glittering shells coincides with low night tides, which possiblyleave the inefficiently protected animals exposed to the attacks ofuncustomary enemies which thrive only when the muddy banks are exposed. The cause of the exhibition of the relics is not of so much concern tothe unlearned observer as the relics themselves and the part they play insignifying the progress of the season. If strong winds occur during thecool months, among the wreaths of broken seaweed thrown on the beach maybe found unbroken and fresh specimens of a singularly beautiful andfragile univalve known commonly and most appropriately as the "bubbleshell" (HYDATINA PHYSIS), which when alive is a most lovely object, itsfine spiral lines being black and faint yellow with faint purple edges, while the mantle is fringed with light blue intermingled with paleyellow. In some specimens the base colouring is fawn, the lines, ofvarying width, being brown and "comely crinkled, " like the face of thepleasant old woman of whom a poet wrote. Such a frail shell is subject tomany mischances before it reaches the beach, and a few hours of exposureto the sun tarnishes its lustre. To obtain it in perfection the beachmust be patrolled every day during due season, and very rarely is thecollector rewarded by the discovery of unsullied specimens. When the chill is out of the surface the spring-time of the sea begins. Vegetable life is strenuous, so that one may chance to see a lazy turtlebearing on its back a weedy garden. The water is alive. Miles of spaceare belted with that plant to which Captain Cook applied a significantname, likening it in its myriads to "sea sawdust. " Some dare call it"whale spawn, " forgetful that the whale is not a fish. Others assert itto be none other than the "coral insect, " which does not exist save inthe minds of those who write odes to such creatures: "Ye build, ye build, but ye enter not in, Like the tribes whom the desert devoured in their sin. " It consists of minute vegetation in bundles, to be individualised under astrong microscope, though when countless billions drift on to the beachesand die and become green and grey with corruption, the fumes are by nomeans in proportion to the marvellous littleness of the individualplants. Then we know by the organs of scent and sight that August hascome. The beaches are foul. The breakers roll in unbroken or with amuddy, froth, for the scum acts as oil, calming even troubled water. The Red Sea is said by some authorities to derive its title from the scumformed by this plant (TRICHODESMIUM ERYTHRAEUM), which is stronglyimpregnated with iodine. It emits a most disagreeable odour and exhales agas which affects the mucous membrane, causing in some individualssneezing and inflammation of the eyes. One amateur fisherman ofconsiderable experience and by no means susceptible to intangibleirritations, and not to be diverted from his sport by trifles, hasfrequently been compelled to move from a favourite ground by a stream ofthe scum drifting to his anchored boat. The fumes gave intense smartnessto the eyes, which were relieved by a gush of tears, but keen discomfortrecurred when the tears were wiped away. Following the least desirable of marine phenomena is that which is knownas the "blanket weed, " which floats ashore in loathsome blobs, a hand'sbreadth and more, the centre a grey, solidified slime, with a peripheryof long, dull green, slimy, shapeless fringes Individual plants coalesceon the sand and, mingling with other weeds, cover respectable beacheswith a woolly, compact mass not unlike a rough, thick blanket, butteeming with unpleasantnesses. Isolated plants cling to ropes, whichbecome garlanded with thickened slime, from which evil-smelling mudoozes. Offensive to man afloat and ashore, the "blanket weed" is a luxuryto mullet and garfish, for during its period both may be seen in shoalsskimming the surface of the sea in abandonment of habitual shyness, andthe stomachs of both are found to be full of the greenish-grey slime. With the compliance of the sun the impurity disappears, giving place tothe graceful weed of vivid green that attaches itself to dead andwhitened shells and fingers of coral covered at low water. Everyflood-tide deposits a zone of shells splashed with green, while theshallows glow as a field of rich pasturage. In favourable situations, such as the upper part of a long immersed log, coated to the water-linewith goose barnacles, the plant grows long and luxuriantly, falling oneach side like a silken mantle. One other season, ephemeral but universal, do the babbling buttruth-telling beaches record. No rocky cove, no smooth strand, norubbish-accumulating creek, no mangrove-fringed islet, no coral esplanadewhite under the tropic sun, no sand-bank with crest of windshaken bush, isfree. It is Christmas. Christian and pagan alike tell it to the sea, andthe sea tells it to the beaches in--corks. Though there are grounds for the belief that some molluscs are seasonalin their appearances and disappearances, the majority are always with us, though subject to many casualties. A few months since an epidemic brokeout among a certain species of sea urchins (Echinus), spherical animalswith shells thickly set with spines, keen and exceedingly brittle. Thebeaches were strewn with thousands of the dead, no apparent exteriorinjury having been suffered. The particular species afflicted gathers toitself, seemingly as a disguise, but perhaps as ballast, the dead shellsof cockles, which are retained by the spines. It was noticed that thedead were not encumbered. A curious and one of the rarest of local shells is that known as theelephant's tusk (DENTALIUM APTINUM). Pure white and slightly flutedlongitudinally, it typifies the marvellous extent of Nature'srequirements and her fertility in design. It is especially interesting tonote that the existence of the species in Australian waters has nothitherto been recorded, the nearest known locality being the Moluccas. The DRUPA RICINUS (so specifically called because of resemblance to theprickly seeds of the castor-oil plant) has another feature almostunique--two ivory-white projections in the mouth, singularly like a baby'steeth. In the waters of Florida is a distinct curiosity in the form ofan altogether different mollusc which is commonly known as the"bleeding-tooth shell, " the gory stains about the base of the tooth beinghighly significant. The local example of the whimsicality of Nature owesits excellence to absolute purity. No fond mother crooning to herfirst-born ever looked on budding teeth more delightful in modelling andpearliness. CHAMA LAXARUS belongs to the same family as the clams, the largest ofliving molluscs, its specific title being an allusion to the tatteredraiment of the beggar of the most edifying of parables. Occasionally thechina-white upper valve is decorated with a broad streak of buff. Some ofthe genera are attached to coral or rock indifferently by either valve, and it is exceptional to find on the beach a perfect specimen--that is, the valves united. Since on the reef the shells are frequentlyprotectively disguised with seaweed and other growth, it is only afterthe violence of a cyclone that the amateur collector expects to berewarded. Unlike some others of the family, the cockscomb oyster, though notobjecting to the near-by presence of its kind, seems to hate a crowd. Half a dozen may occupy separate areas on a rock, and solitary specimenslie embedded and strongly anchored in the sand. A typical example mayweigh over seven pounds. So big and weighty a shell can scarcely besensible of its invariable burden of parasites and other encumbrances--butthe variety of such tenants never fails to excite curiosity. Thatwhich is illustrated accommodated another oyster of delicate texture, athorny clam (which has the reputation of being poisonous), a mass ofseaweed, a serpentine mollusc, two species of coral--the red organ-pipeand a mushroom--three burrowing crabs, besides a number of smalleranimals, fixed and mobile, in addition to the congregation of lessobvious life critical examination would undoubtedly have revealed. Most species of univalves are wanderers, many bivalves are free, andmultivalves become fixed at an early stage of existence. The goose-neckedbarnacle, with its five valves, comes in its myriads attached to derelictcoco-nuts, floating logs, and pumice-stone. The species owes its name tothe fabulous belief that it was the preliminary state of the barnaclegoose of the Arctic regions, the filaments representing the plumage andthe valves the wings. It has been found on shells, whales, turtles, andmarine snakes. In the mud close to the edge of the beach sand one of the most singularof marine animals exists, and often its empty, horny, flexible, semi-transparent shell, always tinted green, may be found. It is known insome works as LINGULA ANATINA, and by the natives of this Isle, by whom acertain part of it is eaten, as "Mill-ar-ing. " A pinhole in the mudindicates the presence of the animal, and the hungry black boy, thrustinghis hand with outspread fingers below it, closes the fingers andwithdraws anything but an inviting morsel. To the tongue-shaped shell isattached a pedicle or stalk, attaining a length of ten inches, opaque andtough, which is broken off, seared over the fire, and eaten with apparentrelish. It is remarkable that in localities in which this mollusc isfound a seaweed occurs similar in shape and size, the chief difference inappearance being in the length of the stalk, which in the plant is thinand membranous. The Phorous, or carrier, otherwise the mineralogist, is remarkable forits extraordinary habit of cementing to its exterior stones of irregularsize, and in some cases dead shells of other species, an office performedby the use of an exceptionally long tongue. Its movements are said to bevery clumsy and erratic, as if its self-imposed burden was too cumbersomefor its strength. Personal observation fails to verify its staggeringgait, for dead specimens only have been found. The stones are, no doubt, designedly acquired as a disguise and so represent another form of lifeinsurance. When stationary the mineralogist successfully bafflesobservation; but some day, peradventure, in a moment of preoccupation, it will reveal itself lurching along over the rough country it favours. How few living things escape the "penalties of Adam. " Some bear sorrows, some stones. Among the fixed molluscs are what is known as the winged shells, to whichthe "pearl oysters" belong. The name is apt, for the expanded valves arenot unlike the form of a bird in flight. The illustration shows a rarespecies, several specimens of which were found attached to themooring-chain of a buoy by what is known as the "byssus, " a bunch oftough fibres which passes through an hiatus in the margins of the valves. Like the king's daughter of the Psalmist, PTERIA PEASEI is "all gloriouswithin, " the nacreous surface, margined with lustrous black, shining likesilver with a tinge of blue. Only a very small proportion of the species of shells to be found on theshore of this bay have been enumerated. In a work of general character acomplete commentary on any particular branch of natural science would beout of place, nor is it competent for one who has but a triflingknowledge of a special subject to deal with it in an enlightening manner. It would be highly interesting to ascertain by study and observation whythe denizens of so many parts of the ocean meet in community in such anarrow space, though it may not be very difficult to present a fairlysatisfactory theory for the continuous presence of many species byreference to existing features and prevalent conditions. Within the areaof the bay the water varies in depth from a few feet to four fathoms, therise and fall of the tide being about two fathoms. The fringing coralreef represents all stages of development and decay--live growth on theouter edge, ever encroaching on the deeper water, and comprising manyvarieties; dying masses on the shore-side, and a considerable extent ofdead and denuded relics lying in mud. There are also weedy patches, baresand-banks of limited extent, uncovered at low water, and muddydepressions both in the deep and shallow portions and clean sand. Strongcurrents race past the sand-spit and across the bay, carrying, no doubt, continual supplies of spat from elsewhere to settle in quiet places. Noone who has lived on the margin of the tropic sea can be astounded at itsprolific life, though it may be a matter of unceasing wonder that along abeach not more than four hundred yards in extent should be found shellsrepresentative of species existing in nearly all the warm waters of theworld. And there are other isles with other beaches. One may present a narrowstrip of soft sand, cringing and squeaking under foot, almost entirelycomposed of finely ground coral and shells, among which polishedfragments of red coral are to the beach-comber as the "colours" the goldfossicker may find in his dish--prospective of reward. They reinspire thelike fervour which leads to the discovery of mountains as well asmicrobes, for may they not signify the existence within the bounds of theGreat Barrier Reef of the precious coral of the Mediterranean and the RedSea? Above such hopeful sands lies a band formed of stag's-horn coral, bleached snow-white, each time lying at right angles to the sea, andhigher up on the strand are blocks and lumps of weather-stained coralamong which vegetation is springing. A few yards further back stands agroup of Pandanus palms, the van of the dense and intricate junglecovering rock and ridge. The shore of the sister islet may at the moment be but series of steeplyshelving banks of coral debris, to the base of the granite ramparts overwhich the luxuriant foliage falls. Each islet has its distinguishing features, each beach its budget of newsfor ears attuned to "small measures, " each its display of seemlythings--the sweepings of the floor of the sea. THE LOST ISLE "Some unsuspected Isle in far-off seas. " BROWNING. In a region of rare serenity it lay--a blue stud on a silver shield--alooffrom other lands--unmapped, untarnished, pure, gleaming in the dawn ofexultant day. Emblem of perfection, its charms were imperative, partly because ofremoteness from the taint of man-trodden land, mainly because, by right ofdiscovery, it was joyfully mine. Could anything be more desirable thansuch a blending of jungle-clad mountains, verdurous hills, shelteredvalleys, orange-tinted beaches, with the shadows of white headlandsstaining the sea purple? An all-comprehending glance revealed the Isle in the shape of afive-rayed star, each ray irregularly serrated. Here was promise of manya landlocked cove to which the breathings of the sea would be foreign. Unsalted streams wound among the foothills of the central mountain, whence a spire of rose-red porphyry shot into the luminous sky fromunbroken jungle, the superficies of which were soft and brilliant assodden moss. Some of the valleys showed in succession ever-green, flower-bedeckedglades, with great trees and blossoming shrubs in scattered clumps andpatches, among which sinuous ribbons of jungle denoted the courses ofdeep hidden streams. Others were merely precipitous depressions in theunbroken mass of foliage, variegated with aspiring palms so slender ofshaft that their unceasing swaying in the still air seemed an act ofunconscious affectation for the display of huge bunches of gaudy fruit, seductive and dulcet to the taste. Spider-webbed tree-ferns with furry, water-bespangled trunks stood in crowded groves on the brink ofspray-creating cascades and along the margins of cool rivulets whichmurmured as they hurried to the sea. Water-dripping moss padded the lintels of grottos, before which dangledtranslucent ferns of delicate form, yet so rich and intense with lifethat crozier-tipped fronds took the hue of flowers--coral-red, golden-bronze, and yellow; while golden dust clung to hairy undersideslike pollen to the thighs of hive-returning bees. Deep in perpetualshadow lived a shy plant with heart-shaped leaves, so succulent anddistended as to resemble green capsules, and in association with eachleaf was a single semi-transparent fruit, pink with a central glow likethe fire of opal, but so frail that upon touch it resolved into a dewdropwhich glistened, trembled, and was gone in a moment. In the full blaze, feather-foliaged trees crowned with gigantic redblossoms offered as a sacrifice fruit which blushed before the insistentgaze of the sun; while beneath this gay canopy vine and creeper andpliant shrub wove an undergarment which screened the moist earth andcreated a realm of subdued light in which all the flowers were pale oftint and tremulously fragile, though of almost forbidding magnitude ofform. Birds of painted plumage and loud and sonorous note sang and flutteredamong the flowers and fruit with no ill thing to disturb them, nodissonance to compel them to silence and fear. Whithersoever I gazed, the lone and lovely Isle denoted a paradise ofunkempt vegetation, unfeared birds. No stump was there to betray thepassing of the devastating axe. No footprint except that ofbirds--erratic, rectangular, scribbling--dented the sand. No human beinghad ever visited those groves perfumed by orchids, gauzy as the wings ofthe butterflies which poised over them and sipped the nectar stored intheir slender throats. Each bay and inlet and cove differed in delightsomeness. Unsoiled, weedless sand littered with shells floored this deep and sheltered nook, where shadow and substance blended to the complete deceit of the closestscrutiny. The next was as a garden of shrubs with living blossoms andfruit in strange shapes and gaudy colours. Many of the subaqueous plantsexpanded and retracted their blossoms harmoniously, as if to the strainsof music audible only to the mute denizens of the sea--a measured, wavingdance, fantastic and wondrously beautiful. Crystalline clearnessmagnified the detail of the next, the portals of which were coral, dyedextravagantly and variously according to the secret of the sea, with itsinexhaustible chemicals. Fish in unimaginable shapes, fantastic hues, andsea-things harmless and educative to the sight, roamed the coral gardens, retiring at will into sapphire-blue caverns or flashing in the clearnesswith lightning speed and scarce visible effort. Cream and yellow, oldgold, blue, pink and lavender, the corals flourished in myriad shapes. Anemones, large as plates, royal blue and greyish-green, and eachbristling with thousands of independent activities, embossed snow-whiteblocks. Opening out into an oval basin, the inlet was again constricted, thebottle-neck entrance to a perfect haven being guarded by huge masses oflimestone, weathered grotesquely, from the crevices of which sprays ofpeach-coloured orchids quivered, while the flora of land and seacommingled on the lustrous surface. Beyond again, the inlet wound roundthe base of it cliff vocal with the fugue of birds which flew fromflowery parapet to flowery parapet. Gradually the cliffs retreated, leaving fair banks with shrubs and greattrees with branches pendulous over unbroken placidity, and there, on aknoll, stood a palm, rigid and straight as a column, crowned withshimmering fronds which shielded masses of nuts, brown and green, andgreat sprays of straw-coloured infloresence. More palms beyond, thick-set;and beyond again an avenue in perfect alignment, each tree perfect instately form, with one blotch of glorious purple--as high and compact as achurch--to block the diminished distance. The boat drifted to the landing never touched by foot of man. Lost inadmiration of the imposing and manifold perfections of the Isle, eager towander at will among those enticing glades, and to make festival withtheir genial gods, I stepped out--and into nothingness! Can it be that never again shall be discovered in the Land of Dreams theLost Isle? PART II. --THE PASSING FACE THE CORROBOREE "No ceremony that to great ones 'longs. " SHAKESPEARE. Summoned, invited, children, men, women, and piccaninnies assembled toparticipate in the duties and recreations of the moment. Message-sticks had been carried into unfamiliar country by nervous boys. One of the organisers at ease with his pen sent to his kin formal andofficial invitations mingled with social and affectionate greetings. Allresponded. The beach sent its silent-footed contingents trailing along the yellowsands, carrying in well-worn dilly-bags oysters and scraps of half-bakedfish smeared with smoke, and gritty. All their lives had they trudgedalong the convenient margin of the sea, where the receding tide leaves afirm, level, springy track. They were familiar with all its moods, andtook little heed of any. The fame of a previous Parliament had spread far and wide, even to thataspect of the Dividing Range which sends its waters to the great shallowgulf to the west. Natives who, though living among the mountains but twodays' journey from the coast, had never seen the sea, hastened thither inbee-line, passing through unknown but not unfriendly country. Though theage of tribal feuds was past, special weapons of defence were carried, fordid not strange jungles teem with spectral denizens whom imaginationendowed with appalling shape, with cunning, and with rending ferocity?Unmolested, the party arrived one evening, to gaze with mute astonishmenton the sea. It was almost as incomprehensible, and therefore almost asfearsome, as the phantoms of the bush. Mysterious, vast beyond the rangeof vision, here grumbling on the sand, there mingling with the sky, thestrangers peered at it through the screen of whimpering casuarinas andtrembled. The rustle of the subsiding north-easter made for fear. Theytold one another that the big salt water was alive. It talked in austeretones, while their own sleepy lagoons were silent and tame. Wonderingly, they retreated to the jungle for the night, there to take counsel of thelong-shoremen. "That b-i-g fella salt water, him talk all asame?" "Yowi! Him sing out plenty. Mak'm b-i-g fella row!" "That fella him walk about lika that?" "Yowi! Him walk about. Quiet little bit. Sometime run about splash'mwater; mak'm boat capsize. Plenty men drown finis!" The strangers shivered and longed to return to their cool hills; but thelong-shoremen beguiled them with descriptions of the fish and the crabsand oysters the generous sea gave, and told that in the morning it wouldbe "quiet fella" and that they need not be afraid. With taut-strung nerves, the highlanders approached the sea, which shonein matutinal placidity. When the ripples wavered on the smooth sand andran in caressing ripples towards their feet, they started and shrunk. Theincomprehensible ocean was alive and much to be feared, for was it not sobig that no one could see where it ended? They sat and watched itsenticing gestures, and, gathering courage, stood tremulously while thetide splashed their feet and retreated. The boldest walked in ankle-deepand danced in daredevilry, and soon young and old were gambollinguncouthly, tasting the sea's quality, shouting and splashing. Noneventured more than knee-deep; some crawled and wallowed in the wet sand, too fearful to trust their lives to so big a thing which showed itself tobe alive by breathing and moving. The morning was spent in moist frolics, and when the north-easter began to work up a little sea, which spoke inmenacing tones, the terrified strangers withdrew. Late in the afternoon the corroboree began, many of the participatorshaving spent hours in the assumption of the festive costume of the downof sulphur-crested cockatoos plastered to the skin with grease and theblood. It is not to be supposed that white down in the hands ofexperienced dressers is incapable of variation in style. Several originaldesigns excited the approbation of spectators. The down was arranged intufts following the perpendiculars of the body from shoulder to shin, orin a series of circles accurately spaced, or in intersecting spirals, while the heads of all performers and combatants were converted intowhite mops. And with the clapping of hollowed hands and the clicking of boomerangsthe function began. And having danced to their own satisfaction and thedelight of the crowd, the warriors with ostentation and bluster recitedprivate grievances and challenged those against whom they had real orfancied wrongs to combat. Most of the noisy declamation was ill-founded. The many had no grievances and no intentions of fighting, but out of theshouting crowd stepped two big men who sought compensation for "anotherHelen. " Though not lovely or winsome or an heiress, she sufficed as themotive for an honourable and public strife, quite as sincere as many ofthe scuffles without the walls of Troy. Spears and boomerangs were thrownviciously and dodged and evaded skilfully until one of the men found aboomerang sticking fast in his leg. The wound was decisive, and with muchhullabaloo the defeated warrior limped away, while the lady, whomniggardly Nature had denied the grace of blushing, passively went to thevictor. Among the strangers to the coast was an old man but a yard and a quarterhigh, with unkempt, grisly beard, a head which needed not theglorification of cockatoo's down, long, thin arms, huge hands, thick, stump legs, and sprawling feet. No far-reaching crab of the reef justshowing its worn brown tusks off-shore was more grotesque of mien andgait. To emphasise his malignant mood, he carried a huge boomerang, whichseemed to obey and embody his whims. It sprang from his powerful hands inresolute and impetuous flight, whirred threateningly overhead, andreturned to foot, fluttering and purring, as if endowed with affectionfor its unlovable master. None so mastered the missile; but for all hisweird influence over it, he was subject to the restraints of anotherweapon which seldom left his hands. Is there not a spiritual law whichimposes checks on the bombastic tricks of crude and cultured alike, or was it by force of gravity that the point of the dwarf's long andslender spear dipped into the ground, punctuating mock martial strutswith perverse irregularity? Prodigious in his own estimation, his jibesand taunts were almost as terrifying as the erratic flights of hisboomerang; for the dwarf was a privileged individual, the Thersites ofthe campaign, and with one advantage over his prototype--he really wantedto fight. So he swaggered, heeding not the reproving spear; he fumed;he mocked; for no warrior affected to notice his vainglorious absurdities. He was as much in earnest as those who fought on account of elementallove, and far more so than any of the blusterers who talked big andlooked small. He longed to fight, and for money. Each warrior was challenged individually, and when none responded herailed against all for cowards and sent the boomerang hissing defianceagainst the blue sky, to fall with mutter and thud at his feet. In hisrage the little man became hysterical, and the more he scolded the lessimportant, while the swaying spear emphasised increasing agitation, butbrought him neither humility nor jibe, for the race does not intentionallyrelieve its drama with comedy. No more influential personage was present than "Mooty, " the crafty, determined, plausible philosopher--the sagest of the counsellors, themost flowery of orators, the most weird of the wizards. Long before hehad established his reputation as a medicine-man. A settler had purchasedsome cast-off goats in a distant town, and had employed a black boy ofthe district as assistant drover, and the name of the boy was Tom. Sincethere are many "Toms, " a distinguishing surname had to be bestowed, so"Goat" was affixed, and as "Tom Goat" the stranger was known. Having nosweetheart, he made love to several dusky dames, all of whom rejectedhim because his absurd name made him a figure for fun. Rosey, wife ofJack, was persistently courted, and scornfully she despised her wooer. That individual, however, was not without malignant resource. Roseycomplained of a sore throat, and as she got worse her boy becamesimilarly afflicted. The faces and throats of both swelled alarmingly, sothat Mooty, who had the cases in hand, gave up hope. Both were resigned, when Mooty, to his own horror and the dismay of everyone, caught thedread disease. No such illness had ever been known in the district, and since it had notonly baffled Mooty's skill, but had irreverently seized him--the onlyphysician of credit and renown--its cause must be supernatural. Thus didhe reason, as he began occult investigations. Jack and Rosey lay in theircamp passively dying. Mooty prowled about, the sleeves of a discardedshirt tied under his distended jaws. No physical origin for themysterious disease was found during the two days he devoted to methodicsearch and secret rite. Then an anticipated discovery rewarded him andmade his name thrill among his race. To a condescending white man he toldof his skill in these terms: "Two fella him close up finis. Me bin look out camp belonga two fella. B'mbi me bin find'm little fella fork stick close up alonga groun'. Mefrait. My word, me bin pick'm up easy fella. Me look out longa littlefella hole. Me bin see hair, too much, belonga Tom Goat. That hair binmak'm two fella no good. Him mak'm me fella no good. Me catch'm thatfella hair along two fella stick. Tchuck'm along ribber. My word! Thatfella hair no good! Him go phuff! Kill'm fish, too many. B'mbi me fellago alonga camp. Me tell'm two fella, 'You no more mak'm die. Me binfind'm that fella hair belonga Tom Goat. ' B'mbi two fella him get up; himno more die; he walk about. " Exasperated by such impropriety, aghast at the consequences, Mooty--doctor alike of laws, of science, and of medicine, and a man ofimperative mood--sharpened his tomahawk at the Chinaman's grindstone, theatrically testing its edge with distorted thumb. Tom Goat disappearedas silently as last night's dew, for Mooty does not hesitate to summarilyadminister his own judgment when his professions are scorned, his familybewitched, his countenance distorted with mumps. With feasting and fighting, with dancing and storytelling, quarrellingand reconciliations, the assemblage spent a happy week. Then the junglereabsorbed the nervous hillmen, and beach-combers straggled along theyellow sands. THE CANOE-MAKER "Last scene of all, . . . Is second childishness and mere oblivion. " SHAKESPEARE. A tottering old man, frail alike in frame and mind, squats dying in analien camp. His teeth have almost disappeared, worn to the gums by themastication of food in which sand has been mingled in immoderateproportion. All his life has been spent on the verge of the sea. He hasnever known smooth food. Before he left his mother's breast grit was onhis lips, for in her sleep she snoodled naked in the sand. Hers was theage of bark rugs or none, and was ever lord of the beach who shared withhis lady so rare a comfort? Counterparts of Cassowary's babyhood are extant to thisday--milk-bellied, nose-neglected, fumbling-fingered toddlers, who smashwith stones almost beyond their strength infant oysters and gulp amixture of squash and sand. As he grew up his food, seared on a fire on the beach, was always more orless gritty. Possibly it would hardly have been relished if theaccustomed condiment had been absent. For many a long year Cassowary was a sort of king in the locality of hisbirth, though this rank brought him no isolation. Now he is without rankand grim in his lonesomeness. True to the sentiments of his race, the menand women who knew him when he was strong and lusty strive to make himcomfortable in his dotage; but he is repellent. His surliness does notvex them. They pity and excuse and endeavour to soothe. To strangers whomCassowary has never loved and would now assault with spear andnulla-nulla, they apologise. "Poor fella, Cassowary. Him no good. Close up that fella finis. " Then they tell of his strange fantasies. Similar delusions have afflictednotable men of the world, and even to this day are there not apprehensivemonarchs whose precautions are similar to those of the age-worn savage?He imagines that he is regarded as a useless encumbrance, and that hisfellows would gladly hasten his departure to that country on the bourneof which he painfully lingers. Suspicious of plots to rob him of the poorvestiges of life, he is ever on his guard against poison, his specialdread. Rather than run risk he submits to semi-starvation, for thedecayed monarch of a narrow strip of shore has no servitor on whom toimpose the office of taster of his dishes. A stranger may of his goodwilloffer a tribute of tobacco. It is cast away with every manifestation ofindignation and haste. He is sure that the one solace of existence hasbeen drugged, and that if he indulges he must die. How marvellous theself-denial! How many of us would purchase half an hour's existencesuch as his at the cost of declining the one luxury of life! Flour from his master's hands is served like the stranger's tobacco, though he may not have tasted food for days; nor does he accept a portionof the damper cooked in his presence until he has seen others eat. Thenhe feeds reluctantly and with extreme caution, not to gratify thepalate, but to maintain life. Was ever monarch or Roman pontiff beset by more vindictive and enviousfoes than this helpless old savage who possesses nothing save a grimyshirt and the fragments of a blanket? Cassowary, an old man when I first met him, was of the sort which doesnot make friends with white men. Silent, resolute, reserved, a man apart, he disdained the race-shattering language his fellows hastened toacquire. His pidgin English, limited to a few words, was almost asunintelligible as his own rude tongue. Once I landed on the beach whichwas his favourite resort, and as the anchor slipped into the sea, smokepuffed and drifted from the camp and the lonesome man's dogs barked; butby the time the camp was reached the smell of the fire had gone, and alltracks had been obliterated as if by the efficient touch of the wind. Theheat of the sand at the entrance of the dome-shaped humpy revealed thesite of the covered embers, and the rest was silence. At the back of the humpy, concealed by carelessly disposed bark andgrass, was a bark canoe which Cassowary, fisherman and oyster-eater, wasnever without. In those days he deserved the reputation of being anunrivalled maker of canoes which, during the first few weeks of theirprime, were sound, neat of appearance, quite seaworthy, though of smalldimensions and exceedingly light. Others might be expert fishermen andskilful in more exacting sport of turtle and dugong catching, but allacknowledged his special superiority. Though custom had made him a king, Nature had designed him for a canoe-maker, while with that invincibleirony with which she rebukes the self-esteem and baffles the ambitions ofmortals, she discounted her gift by the bestowal of frank distrust of thesea. He was so impelled to the exercise of the one talent that duringyouth and manhood his chief occupation and never-ending delight laytherein. That which his right hand had found to do he did with all hismight, his frail craft being the admiration of all, while the confidencewith which others managed them proved their quality. They toyed with thesea in its placid moods, and were deferential in its ill-humour. ButCassowary never ventured beyond easy hail from the shore, however urgentthe occasion or propitious the day. Fear also restricted his wanderings in the bush, which kept him withinsound of the dreaded waves. He was an unaffected beach-comber. Neitherthe food-bestowing sea nor the safe dry land was for him. By instinct he seemed to be guided to the best trees for bark, generallyselecting "gulgong, " though others were equally pliant in his hands. Rawfrom the tree, he would soak the single sheet in water, and while soddensteam it over a smoky fire, and, as it softened, mould it with hand andknee. Bringing the edges of the end designed for the stem intoapposition, using a device on the principle of the harness-maker's clamp, he sewed them together with strips of freshly cut cane. Two stretchersgave to the craft beam, and the necessary sheer and thwart-ship stays oftwisted cane stiffness. Gunwales of cane were sewn on, the stitches beingcemented with gum made plastic by frequent renderings over the fire on aflat stone, and then the canoe was complete save for the hand-paddles, spoon-bowl-shaped pieces of bark. Each canoe sat well down by the stern when the fisherman knelt in it, crouching forward like a jockey on the withers of his mount, and sendingit along by the alternate strokes. Cassowary was wont to scan each new work with the tilted head of anartist. All the stitches were regularly spaced, and since they wereburnished with smoke, the canoe became a study in brown, braided withgold, representative of something more than a means towards earning a dietof fish, and inevitable grit. It was neat and of harmonious colouring;innocent of the least touch of finery; not a scratch expended on ornament. All its lines, save those of the stretchers and stays which stood forrigidity, were fluent. It was not made to model or measurement, butdeveloped under the maker's hard hands and tough fingers--a tribute tohis artistry and skill. On the water it was as blithe as a bubble. Often had the wish to possess one of Cassowary's masterpieces arisen. Hescorned barter by abandoning his property whenever the interfererappeared. When the camp was deserted while the boat was being brought toanchor there was a strong temptation to take the canoe, leaving someadequate reward. The self-denial is almost regretted, for the old manwith the thin white tuft on his chin, his shyness, his hatred ofstrangers, and delusions of his decrepitude, are characteristic of anage soon to be of the irrecoverable past. A canoe from such accomplishedhands would have represented a complimentary record of a race deficientin the elements of history. Several years have elapsed since Cassowary made his last canoe. Heacknowledged that his fingers had lost their cunning, but the fatesordained that his ideas should blossom as his manipulatory skill witheredGradually he became feeble in mind and body, and was wont to spend histime crouched in a rough shelter dreaming prodigious dreams. He wouldwake not only his fellows, but a pitying neighbour of other complexion, with enthusiastic shouts announcing that a "big fella steamer" waswhistling out at sea; that it was his steamer; that it carried two bagsof flour, and tea and sugar and tobacco, and one "good fella trousis";and he would demand help in the landing of his merchandise. Worn withage, sleep would soon again claim him, but never and anon his great cry, hailing the phantom steamer with her beneficent cargo, would wake thepoor and squalid camp. The time came when Cassowary could no longer obtain for himself thecoarse and trivial food essential to life, and he and another outcast, blind and maimed, quartered themselves on the camp on the beach; arid inspite of fretfulnesses and suspicions, their fellows administered totheir wants. Being brought face to face with facts, the State gave orderswhich meant an old-age pension for the outcasts. The dole was liberalenough. The mistake was that it came too late. There was no reaction, as is oft the case with those who retire after thebustling phase to live on the bounty of the State, for Cassowary and hisblind companion had never been strenuous workers or brain-compelling men. The pension represented unexampled abundance. It was real, and yet itcame from a source almost as intangible as Cassowary's ship. Food andtobacco! What more could the heart of a casual relic of such a race want?Actually he wanted nothing more, save, peradventure, a blanket; but hedreamt he did, and no earthly agent could diminish the festalextravagance of the scenes among which he revelled, conducted by theenchanted sleep. Cassowary had at last come to his kingdom. His time had always been hisown. The ready-to-hand food gave him leisure. His days were all dreams. Weary of crouching over the fire before the opening of his humpy, hebegan to wander in the flesh as he was wont to wander in mind. He wasseen a mile away from the cheerless camp, where his companions, withsmoke-dried eyes, lamented his absence. Was he searching for a tree which might provide bark for yet anothercanoe--his last work, a paragon? A few days passed and it became knownthat Cassowary was missing. His shrunken body disordered a patch of buffsand just above high water. Had the desolate old man, in his fancy, made the best of all canoes, andfor once ventured out to sea? TWO LADIES "To one, resolution; to another, a disposition to dance. " NELLY, THE SHREW. As the steamer from the South enters the bay, the traveller sees aheadthe fringe of houses on the low lands fronting the inlet where shippingfinds safe and convenient harbourage. To the left he may be introduced toa strip of open beach between two low points of grey granite, back fromwhich are scattered groups of modest buildings and huts which form theaboriginal settlement. The choice of the site for the settlement wasinfluenced by the character of the country. Although but a short distanceby sea from the port, it is isolated by its background of hard andinhospitable hills patched with almost impenetrable jungle. Few consignedthere ever leave of their own motive, however earnest the longing may be. The home-sick realise that escape is difficult and, if successful, futile, for are not the police everywhere, and strong and compelling? Whyundertake the unknown perils of unknown hills--spiritual perils more to bedreaded than physical--when capture and again banishment are certain? Nellie Oongle-bi, among whose matrimonial experiences was Tom, of thisIsle, and who since his death has gone from bad to worse, had been foundunder the protection of a coloured alien, sadly degenerated and saturatedwith opium. For her own salvation she was transported to the settlementafar off, with its frontier of sea and background of repulsive hills. Shewent, being in the clutches of a superior force, tractably enough, butwith none of her unconquerable love of country subdued. Nelly has nothingof an attractive nature. She has a vixenish temper at times; is always onthe alert for fancied slights; is by no means cleanly, unless underduress; and does not hesitate to foment subjects of quarrel. Few amongher relations and friends would mourn her exile. Even her own son, Jim, was scoffingly indifferent. She was far from being so, but played herpart well, being obedient, quite tame, and ever observant. She "sat down" at the settlement, and made friends with two or three ofthe women there with whom she had previously been acquainted; but whileshe talked with apparent resignation, she scanned the hills, especiallyfixing in her mind a particular gully which leads up to a ridge promisingan outlook to the south, upon which her hopes were fixed. Soon after darkon the second night she took to the bush, carrying a dilly-bag and ablanket. She is now one of the population of a far-distant settlement, the site of which happens to be within her own country. How she overcamethe distance without food, friends, or resources, has to be told, thoughnot altogether in her own language, for such would be unintelligible tothe ordinary reader. She was determined to run away as soon as the steamer landed her, forthat part of the North was not her country, and she could not liveanywhere else. Besides, she was "sorry belonga that boy Jim. " During thefirst night of her homeward pilgrimage she never ceased walking amongrocks and through the scrub, for she was fearful of being recaptured. Without pause she clambered on until well into the next day, when sheslept for a little while. Then on again until dark. One big "mung-um"(mountain) stood in the hopeful direction. Thitherwards she hastened, losing count of the days and nights. Nelly has no conception of figuresbeyond one, two, and a great many. The climbing of the mountain occupiedmany days. She was bewildered, for she could not "catch'm that sal'water"which would lead her home. At last from a spur of the mountain she sawthe sea--"L-o-n-g way. Too far. Me close up sing out. " Though she mightcry, the sight of big salt water beside which all her life had been spentwas a joy and a stimulant. Pushing and worming her way through thejungle, she encountered nothing but birds, wallabies, and snakes. Once she was startled by what seemed to be a worn narrow track. Advancingcautiously along it, she came across a huge carpet snake coiled "all asame rope alonga boat. " It was asleep where an opening in the roof ofvegetation made a patch of sunlight on the jungle floor, and she passedby, treading noiselessly. For food she had the fruits of the jungle, crude, harsh, and bitter. Food, indeed, was almost repugnant, for herthoughts were concentrated on her country, so she hastened down towardsthe now hidden sea. Far inland she heard its welcome noise--a greetingand a call from home which made her forgetful of all weariness and fret. In course of time--a weak woman carrying a blanket and living oninnutritious foods does not struggle through jungle at any remarkablespeed--the foothills and then the low-lying country at the junction of tworivers were reached. Here she took off her few and bedraggled garments, and, making them into a bundle with her blanket and bag, waded throughswamps, eventually emerging on a sandy beach, which she intended tofollow until she regained her country, many a weary mile to the south. Providence provided an easy means of crossing the estuary of the rivers--akindly white man, owner of a "little fella boat, little fella ingin. " Tohim she told the story of her escape and her longing for her own countryand her own people, and was ferried across. Then she picked up a camp ofher race, the members of which, sympathising with her, accompanied her onher way for a couple of days. One day she woke from her sleep on the edgeof the mangroves with her blanket sopping with blood which had flowedfrom her mouth and nose during sleep. "Me bin sorry belonga that boyJim. Me bin sorry belonga country. That 'nother country no good belongame. Me think me die. Me walk alonga sandy beach. Some time alonga b-i-gfella rock. Me close up tumble down altogether. Me tired. B'mbi catch'mLiberfool Crik (Liverpool Creek). Plenty fella sit down. He bin sing out, 'Hello! You come back from that place?' Me bin say 'Yes; that countryno good belonga me. '" A month or so after Nelly was again found in the service of a colouredalien, tugging away with another weak gin at what she calls a "two-fellasaw. " For her task of sleeper-cutting her reward would probably be ahandful of rice and a dose of opium per day. Nelly is now at her leisure within a mile or so from the place of herbirth, hardly conscious of the feat represented by her solitarypilgrimage. Occasionally she has the company of her tall and indifferentboy. She enjoys the society of her relations, and indulges as oft as maybe in exhilarating misunderstandings with them. Without a vehementsquabble now and again life would be intolerably insipid. Anger, accompanied by fluent abuse, is to her a kind of spiritual blood-lettingfor the casement of her suddenly plethoric temperament. But such is ofher frailty. Proof of her strength of purpose, has it not been given? MARIA DANCES. In her youth Maria gave promise of a rare condition among coastalblacks--tendency to width and breadth. As she grew in bulk she seemed, ifnot to decrease in stature, at least to remain stationary. Thus it wasthat her figure became perfect. If there be one feature of animal physiology more adorable than aughtelse in the eyes of the lords of the soil, it is fat--fat under any andevery circumstance. They admire it in animals of the chase, and thepaltry, greasy relics of a feast may be smeared over the body withsomething of the pride and gratification derivable in other and cleanerwalks of life from perfumed powder, pink and white. Being fat and shiny as a girl, Maria had keen and ardent lovers. She wasan adorable novelty. Blacks do not gaze into the faces of their sweethearts. They have neverfound chaste delight in the writing of woeful ballads to their mistress'seyebrows, or to the glorification of their snubby and expansive noses. Ifany of Maria's admirers had been lyrical, her buxom condition would havebeen the theme of their idealisations. In time she became the mother ofchildren, still retaining that charming superiority of bulk which excitedthe rage of sisters whose skins did not shine, whose flesh did not quiverwhensoever they walked, talked, or even smiled. No marvel that her matrimonial experiences were the comment of the campand gave rise to many differences, but, since placidity and fat have beenknown among so-called civilised peoples to blend in the individual, Maria's demeanour called for no comment. It was not her fault, but theflightiness and whimsicality of Nature which had contrived to make herthe belle of the camp. And why not enjoy the obvious admiration of thestalwart youths as well as the discomfort of the sisters who had not anounce of irresistible fascination of which to boast. For some years the form of Maria had not waddled across accustomedscenes. Quite unexpectedly it loomed up as large and buoyant as ever. Thelight-hearted denizens of the camp had arranged an evening'sentertainment. The fires burned low, the sea babbled, makingwhite-skirted frolic on the hard level sand, and the piping voices of thehoney-seeking flying foxes among the tea-trees seemed to chide theparrots of the day for having left so little refreshment in the blossoms. Behind a screen of faded blankets the warriors of the camp were adorningthemselves with white clay and feathers and long, shaggy beards of bark, while the leader of the orchestra began to tune his boomerang andfire-hardened sticks, and his attendants to squat ready to drum on thighsand lap with hollowed hand in time with his refrain and clicking music. The fires flared up, and the band emerged with thumping step and emphaticgrunts to illustrate the ceremonious visit of strangers to a camp atwhich the nature of the reception was in doubt. One individual, in chalkfor the most part, advanced, half nervously, half anxiously, to themusician, and modestly retired, and advanced again and retired, untilreassured, and then the crowd came forward whirling and grunting, and, with high-waving arms in unison and swaying bodies, gave token ofhappiness. ACT II. --The master of ceremonies carried to the front a big and roughsapling. The fires glowed again, the orchestra clicked and thumped, and asingle boy in an ancient red handkerchief and chalks danced into thelight, and, keeping time with the music, began in pantomime to fashionthe sapling into a sword, using a fictitious shell, with which he scrapedoff imaginary bark. While absorbed in his work, his companions came fromthe screen in haste, skipping round him and mimicking all his actions andgrunting in unison with him, while making the sand-ridge to quiver withintensity of tread. Presently all flopped down on haunches in closeformation round the sword-maker, still maintaining rhythmical sway ofbody and limb, and while some held the sapling, others toiled strenuouslytowards the completion of a good and true weapon, the master ofceremonies encouraging and exhorting the workers until nature could holdout no longer, and they bounded to their feet and, with grunts and signsand with bodies reeking with perspiration, whirled away into darkness. ACT III. --Each of the noisy players came suddenly into the glare carryinga rotund, compact bundle, and, squatting down, began with grunts andsighs the great "coco-nut" act, obviously one of the masterpieces of thecorroboree. In perfect time the sham coco-nuts were beaten with hands inlieu of sticks or tomahawks, while the accompaniment became faster andfaster. Ever and anon each, still rocking, would peer closely at hisprize to satisfy himself as to its quality, and forthwith continue theresonant belabouring of the shell, until the meat therein was availablewith joyous shout. ACT IV. --Most of the accumulated bark and leaves having by this timepassed into flame and smoke, the attendants raided the nearest gunyah forfresh supplies of material for illumination. The big fires lit up thearena anew, and, marshalled by the conductor, the band rushed out of thedarkness uttering grunts which rang a change on the monotony of previousvocal efforts. A masterpiece of composition, it conjured up the dimnessof the jungle and the smell of damp vegetation. All squatted in a doublering, back to back. This formation was not strictly maintained, for eachindividual made half turns to right and left alternately, simultaneouslyscratching the sand with distended fingers and kicking vigorously untilthe sand ascended in the smoke-tinged glow, heads bowing and duckingwith mechanical regularity, as the entertainers sought--and withconspicuous success--to portray a community of scrub turkeys building anincubating mound. Then it was that the favourite and belle of the camp, the fascinatingcreature whose magnificent condition bestowed privileges undreamt of byother ladies, became conspicuous. Her costume had evidently been designedfor a lady not divinely tall, but considerably less of flesh than thewearer. Maria did not actually overflow, though perilously near thatpoint. Surely buttons were never designed to resist such strain. Colouredladies generally sit meekly among the audience and chatter and maintainthe drum-beats, lacking which no corroboree could be successful. Duringthe intervals they may emboss pictures in the impressionable sand withcunning forefinger and giggle, for the subjects are often quaint. Maria, sure of her privileges, waddled out from the flame-obscuring dusk, turned an ample back upon the double ring of boys, and played her partas one of the giddy and industrious wild-fowls. Her fingers scratchedthe air and her feet the dust with a realism not to be excelled by themost gifted of the boys, while her half grunt, half chuckle, exactlyimitative of the social garrulity of the turkey, gave artistic finish toa scene which would have been absolutely delusive if feathers had been infashion. Maria, a fleer at mere ponderosity, skipped and whisked fromleft to right with fay-like airiness of foot until a thrill of delightwent through the camp. The frolicsome turkeys scratched and scatteredleaves that were not, and gobbled and clucked, until, panting andperspiring, all rose, and with a simultaneous shout scampered for thescreen, while the master of ceremonies shouted "Finis!" The music ceased, the flames faded, and substantial Maria dissolved in the gloom. SOOSIE "No legend! Well, let us invent one. "--SCOTT. A crinkled fist, fumbling and twisting, protruded from a rent in adilapidated dilly-bag. It had done so with infinite feebleness for manyan hour in unavailing protest against the woes and weight of life, forfaint scratch smeared with blood denoted the friction of tender skinagainst the broken edges of the cane-made bag. A scarcely audible, inhuman wail--pathetically staccato--told of unceasingpain. Whomsoever the bag contained was enduring martyrdom. "That fella, him no good. Close up finis. B'mbi me plant'm along scrub. " Thus spoke the pleasant-faced gin who passed with the dilly-bag along anarrow aisle of the jungle, intent upon ridding herself of a vexatiousencumbrance, and at the same time performing the rite of unrighteousburial. Squirming in dirt was a naked infant-black, foul, and but a few days old. "Mother belonga that fella him dead--finis. That fella, him no good. Himsing out all a time. More better tchuck'm away. " Frail outcast--the very scum of a blacks' camp, its repulsiveness wastragic. Dirt and odour sickened, yet its appeal was irresistible. Thatuniversal language, a human cry, which everywhere and always quickenedthe pulse, stirred pity to its depths. I seized the stained bag (it was adesperate deed) and, breaking down its worn sides, displayed itscontents--a girl in all the infamy of neglect, starvation, and dirt--apanting mummy reeking with offence. Spreading out a handkerchief, I put the awful atom on it gingerly, whilethe foster-mother reiterated her counsel to "tchuck'm alonga scrub. " In the guise of a frail bundle at arm's-length was Soosie conducted to acivilised home. Dismay tempered with pity greeted her. "How horrible! How dirty!" "Is it really a little girl? It looks like a wild animal. " "Do let me nurse it. " Thus was crinkled-faced Soosie welcomed. Many successive baths did she endure, faintly wailing, until dirt soakedoff and the wails ceased for the time being as Soosie sucked ravenouslyat a tiny sugar-bag. What a frail little life it was--feeble beyond expression, and ugly withthe ugliness of savagery. She wriggled and screwed up her skinny featureswith inane ferocity. A motherless wallaby would have submitted to humansolace and ministrations with daintier mien; but the whole householdthrilled with excitement. Could the spluttering spark of life be made toglow? That was the all-absorbing topic for days. Gradually some sort of ahuman rotundity became manifest, and on the occasion of the bath it wasmore and more apparent that instead of being impenetrably black theskin-tint was a mingling of pale brown and pink; and as regularnourishment began to be effective the features changed, losing theirgross animalism. Just because of the waif's helplessness was repugnance to her conquered. She had no other redeeming quality. In a certain sense she was fearsome;she required unremitting attention and care; her whimpering fits, inbeast-like monotone, shook the nerve of the most patient of herattendants. She was a charge to keep and foster, and the duty wasperformed with devotion, which took little concern for self-sacrifice. Before many months had passed Soosie had been transformed into a fatroly-poly with a perpetual smile and gurgles of satisfaction, which evenvocalised sleep. All this happened years ago. In infancy Soosie had been informallyadopted. She was now a bright, sensible, slender girl, whose full, melting eyes pleaded for inevitable facial defects, and whose complexionwas very greatly at fault. She grew up more averse from the manners andmoods of her mother than those of us who better understand thedifferences of race. To her a black was more abhorrent than a snake. Sheloathed the sight of those who came about the place, and would not defileherself by touching the cleanest--kind-hearted "Wethera, " who had sonearly interred her, and to whom she was as a princess; "Wethera, " whowas wont to say, "That fella Tchoosie, too flash. Close up me bintchuck'm away. Boss he bin catch'm. " Soosie evaded all possible reference to her kin, and when others spoke insympathetic terms would say: "How can you bear to think of those horriblepeople who live in dirt and only half dressed in the bush? I love thescrub, and but for them would like to wander in it all day. I dare notwhile they are about, for some day one of them might touch me, and Iwould never feel clean again. " We often wondered at the irreconcilable attitude which Soosie (she wasalways "Miss Soosie" to all but members of the household) adopted to herown race, for she well understood where she had been born and the mannerof her salvation from imminent death. Though no special training had been hers, none of the domestic arts wereunknown to her. She acquired them with ease and practised them with theair of a dignified princess and neat-handed facility. While the otherchildren of the house stewed over lessons and rebelled against essentialtasks, to Soosie everything seemed to make for holiday. She readvoraciously, so that her application of English became so keen that shewas the first to detect verbal dissonances. She, the youngest of twogirls and a boy, would often correct their speech, not as a buddingpedant, but because her ears were delicately attuned to the music of thetongue and could not, without offence, hearken to discords. She was anaffected prude. Her self-chosen style of dress, her pose, her disdainfulairs, her repugnance to coarse work, her inclination towards occupationsand pastimes which involved isolation, showed that self-consciousnessruled her life. She lived within herself, and her life was gentle, contrasting with the boisterous playfulness of her foster sisters andbrother, upon whose romps she smiled indulgently, but in which she nevertook part. In her own estimation she was a girl quite out of theordinary, and one to whom the most honoured of guests must be polite, ifnot deferential. She exacted little niceties of demeanour from all, herequals and inferiors, for was she not treated as a daughter of the house?Often, however, in her preoccupied moods would she assume an air ofdetachment and jealousy towards the other children, for she could not butcontrast herself with them. They were white; she was pronouncedly of thedespised race. How wistfully would she scan the face of strangers! Howteeming with resentment against fate her inevitable conclusions! In allsave features she was white. Over her inheritance, the cruellest whichfortune could bestow, she was shudderingly horrified. Not all the longingsof an untainted mind could make her skin less tawny. Its stain was toodeep to be blanched by the most fervent of prayers. Her outlook on life, her intensest wishes, were those of a white girl of more than decentperceptions--of actual refinement, for they tended to the avoidance ofeverything unpleasant and unsightly. In other respects, too, she was anabsolute variant from the type, for her sensitiveness to the pain ofothers and of the lower animals amounted almost to a mania; for thoughshe had a girlish horror of blood, her eagerness to solace sufferingsmade her so courageous that she became most apt and prompt in theadministration of first aid. Her big, startled eyes showed the sincerityof her feelings, while her firm, slender fingers deftly applied bandagesas she spoke in soothing tones. The soul of a white damsel was in habitation of the body of one whoseparents had been black and utterly degraded. In the days of old evilspirits were believed to be capable of taking spiteful possession of thebodies of the weak to work, in unseemlinesses and indecencies, for themischief of the soul. Here was a good and gentle spirit which stroveundemonstratively for the salvation of a being the circumstances ofwhose birth bordered on the infernal. It was as if the baths of infancyhad purified the soul, while the permanence and perversity of bloodtriumphed in feature and complexion. While the other children of the house deserved and obtained love andaffection in full measure, towards Soosie were exhibited similarsentiments, with, perhaps, more consideration, for was it not plain thather life was a continual conflict--a conflict between body and soul--abody self-abhorred, a soul which needed no purification? A creek which had its source in a ravine of the huge mountain whichintercepted the rising sun and caused accustomed shadow an hour after theillumination of the western hills, ran past the lonely little house, which stood in a clearing the upright walls of which were on the sky-linescalloped with fan-palms. For many years Soosie never ventured into thejungle unaccompanied, yet she seemed to possess a sense of happeningsbeyond the almost solid screen of vegetation. Primal instinct contendedagainst her affections and her love for a sheltered, clean life. Thoughshe had always avoided association with the children of the camp, and herknowledge by imitation or precept was negative, yet was the bush an openbook to her. She knew when and where to look for birds'-nests. She knewat a glance a venomous from a non-venomous snake, an edible from aninedible nut. As a child her favourite head-dress was a squat, fat mantis, the bright orange and yellow of which contrasted boldly with her fuzzy, coarse hair; and when the insect palled as an ornament it would befrizzled and slyly eaten. Once as we strolled on the bank of the creek gazing at the lazy, red-finned fish among the swaying weeds, her wandering eyes detected aneat circular bore in the trunk of a huge silky oak. Having shrewdlyscrutinised the bark, she judged the tenant to be at home. With a portionof one of the "feelers" of creeping palm stripped of all the pricklessave two, she probed the tunnel and, screwing the instrumenttriumphantly, withdrew a huge white grub, which she ate forthwith; andthen, with a grimace, assumed an air of shame and contrition, for she hadastonished herself as well as others by an exhibition of untaughtbush-craft and ancestral appetite. She more than once confessed in shamefaced terms to an almostuncontrollable impulse to rush away to the mountain, that she mightsolace herself with the solitude and food in plenty there; but that whenshe conjured up the chance of meeting some "dreadful native" she thankedGod for home and loving companions. How frequent and how intense was thisunconfessed lust for the bush we knew not. When Soosie was fourteen there came to the neighbourhood a hardy youngfellow who began to clear a small area of jungle land; for civilisation, which had been marking time for nigh upon two decades, now marchedslowly, and to no throb of drum, in our direction. Times were changing, and in some details less desirable conditions arose. The infinite privacyof the bush suffered. The little clearing was no longer our own. Soosie'sdemeanour became more reposeful. She had seemed to think that it might beher fate, in common with others, to become a ward of the State at somemission-station; but as settlement advanced, though still miles away, forwe were the furthest out, and no interfering guardian of the peace cameto enforce officialdom and insist upon obedience to the letter of thelaw, it was comforting to reflect that this unofficial daughter might bepermitted to live out her life unhampered even by the goodwill expressed, in the first stages, by the visit of a policeman. Her presence was necessary, not only on account of her amiabledisposition and self-sacrificing ways, but for the actual load she boreof the duties of a quiet home. We had failed, however, to take intocalculation the chances of another means of separation. There was now nodisguising the fact that our new neighbour, Dan, was casting sheep's eyesin Soosie's direction, and to her evident dismay. It was of little availto upbraid him as to the unseemliness of attachment to a girl who, however civilised, was of inferior race and despised colour. He franklyconfessed that he wanted a wife as a companion and helpmeet; that hecould not hope, in consideration of his own lowly birth and slender meansand uphill task, to induce a white girl to halve his loneliness. He hadstudied Soosie, and was sure that she was his superior except in matterof colour. She was far better schooled and had been used to softer life. "What, " he asked, "don't you and the Missis and Miss Clare and Fan, andBob, here, love her? You couldn't help it; and you are not ashamed. Youtreat her as your own child. It would be no sin for me to take her as myown wife. If she'll have me I'll marry her before the best parson in theNorth. What of her complexion? It's only a little more sunburnt thanmine. " But Soosie was shy--more than shy. Her sensitiveness amounted to physicalrepulsion. She declared that, though she liked Dan, she would nevermarry. "I do feel in my heart that I am nothing more than a black girl, andalmost a savage. What if some day the horrible part of me got stronger, and I did go to the mountain by myself? I have heard you say that bloodwill tell. Often I am frightened of myself, especially when the nightsare very still and I listen to the scrub hens chuckling and the flyingfoxes squealing, and smell the scents of the scrub. It must be very niceto live away from everybody in the very loneliest part of the bigmountain, and to feel at home with actually wild things. " There was no affectation between us, so I said in comfort: "But my deargirl, you are whiter at heart than many a girl born white. It is onlyyour skin that is dark. Perhaps if in a year or so you did marry Dan itwould be the best, for a good woman, no matter what her complexion, willalways earn respect. Society may not want you, but you would not wantsociety; and it will be very many years before society hampers life inthis part of the bush. " Soosie thought for a few minutes, and then replied with delicatediscretion. "I can never marry Dan. Sooner or later he would despise me. It might be all right while I was young, but--we--we--blacks get old verysoon. Fancy Dan having an old gin in his house; for he won't be living ina one-roomed hut all his life!" "You are spiteful against yourself, and that's not like you, Soosie. " "I have my feelings. How else may I restrain them?" she petulantlyexclaimed. "He must never think of me. It might drive me to themountain--just to save him from me. " Dan, good fellow, was discreet. He decided to play the laggard in love, realising that any show of impetuosity might frighten Soosie. It came tobe understood that in time she might see the wisdom of accepting him, and I, knowing both, and to whom mixed marriages are abhorrent, wasconvinced that no girl could have been better qualified to fill theposition of a bushman's wife. Modest, clever, sympathetic, healthful, none of the stains of the town had ever tarnished her mind. Her voice wasthat of a well-schooled white girl, and all her perceptions coincided. Ifthe wander lust was to be suppressed for ever, it seemed to me thatSoosie must marry, and marry young. While Soosie's demeanour was still the cause of earnest solicitude, aperplexing complication arose. An old man of the camp whence she had beendiscarded began to do his best to attract her attention. Gifts of birds'-nests, eggs, ferns, orchids in flower, a cassowary chick, neat dilly-bags, gay with crude Pigments, were brought to the house withmessages such as this: "That fella 'Pad-oo-byer' he bin gib'em alonga 'Ky-ee-rah. '" "Ky-ee-rah" (the evening star) had been proclaimed to be Soosie'stotemic name, and "Pad-oo-byer" we knew as "Duckbill, " because of afancied resemblance to a platypus. The gifts were tearfully repudiated. They seemed to announce that Soosie, was regarded by her mother's kin as one of themselves, notwithstandingher civilised environment. Though for the girl's sake, not on account of any personal repugnance ordespiteful attitude, the blacks had been kept at arm's length, I was ongood terms with all in the district, and took interest in their doingsand folk-lore. One of their primary beliefs was that children, black andwhite, were actually the produce of the locality, belonging, not tochance parents, but to the very land on which they were born. The germsof life, they assumed, came from the soil; the soil assimilated all fleshafter death. Infants were but phases of the life with which the soilteemed. All the neighbourhood belonged to the camp--the land andeverything which sprang from it, for they were the original possessors. It was their country. They argued that such things as sweet potatoes, pumpkins and mangoes, the very roses which adorned a sprawling bush, therichly tinted crotons, the flaunting alamanda over the gateway, were, strictly speaking, common property. So, too, over those children born onthe place certain proprietary rights were claimed. They were akin tothem, alien to their parents. Whites and blacks born in the same districtmust, according to their ideas, be more closely related than folks whosebirthplaces were separated by distances beyond comprehension. Such being the general opinion, fortified by undeviating oral tradition, in Soosie's case the theory was ever so much the more arguable. She wasclaimed, not alone on the grounds that she was a native of their ownland, but because, having been born in their own camp, she must besubject to it. Duckbill intercepted me on the edge of the clearing one morning especiallyto propound the law of the land. Soosie, he told in his pidgin English, had been given to him by heruncle. She was to be his gin now that she was grown up. "More better youhunt that fella. Him want sit down alonga camp. " The bald proposition shook me, for I could not but see the logic of itfrom Duckbill's standpoint. He was the "big man, " a wizard--ugly, old, andvillainously dirty. Here was the camp's husband for the coloured girlwith the white heart. The idea was revolting, and then and there Iresolved at whatever cost to save the girl from such degradation. "Clear out!" I shouted, assuming frantic anger. "You fella chuck'mSoosie away when she little fella piccaninny. That one belonga me now. Suppose you fella kick'm up row big fella government come clear you fellaout. No more let you sit down longa this country. " "Country belonga me. You no humbug. You bin catch'm that fella Tchoosiel-o-n-g time. You bin make'm good fella. Belonga me now. " The disgusting old fellow went on to explain that he intended to come upto the house that evening. "You hunt'm that fella Tchoosie, me catch'm. No good belonga you. " I was to drive the gently nurtured girl out of the house so that thisfoul creature might seize her as he would a struggling wallaby, and takeher to live a degraded life in the camp! Explanations and threats wereof no avail. Duckbill, who was unable to comprehend that he and others ofthe camp had by abandonment forfeited all rights to Soosie and that shewas now a "white Mary, " made it plain that he would forcibly abduct herif I would but give him the slight assistance of expulsion. Otherwise hewould catch her himself. Threatening the camp with the presence of the "big fella government" ifhe or any of them dared to interfere, I went off, while he shouted hisorders to "hunt that fella close up karrie badgin!" (sunset). Forthwith the house was put in a state of semi-siege. Soosie, withtearful eyes and tremulous hands, hysterically implored us to protect herfrom a fate worse than death. A message brought Dan, who first disdainedto take Duckbill seriously. Told how Soosie had been wooed with gifts, and that her maternal uncle had officiously bestowed her upon the gaunt, ill-favoured king of the camp in accordance with tribal law, whichregarded her as a mere chattel at the disposal of the whim and fancy ofthe nearest relative or at the demand of the most authoritative man, hebecame concerned and installed himself as Soosie's special guardian. A few minutes after sundown Duckbill appeared, quite unconscious ofoffence against civilised customs, carrying a waddy with which toadminister an anodyne should his capture prove the least refractory. Threats and scoldings were lost. He was incapable of comprehending whythere should be a moment's hesitation about the fulfilment of hislegitimate rights and demands. Though protests were vain, the fact that Soosie did not show herselfimparted some glimmering of sense of the situation to him, and hewandered off in the gloom grumbling "That fella too flash, " and franklyannouncing "B'mbi me catch'm. " For weeks Soosie kept within doors, or if she ventured out wasaccompanied by one or other well able and determined to protect her. Hernerves were at acute tension; her life that of a hunted creature; forthough she thought her fate inevitable, she concentrated her mind on whatseemed to others pitiably weak and inconsequent schemes for thebafflement of Duckbill. Was it that some ineffaceable trait told her that the tribal law asexpounded by Duckbill was so wise that resistance to it was vain, andthat the trivial plans over which she worried were merely invented as asort of temporary palliative? She scorned the possibility of existencein the camp, yet strove to contest it by the use of fantastical devices. She urged that Dan and I should get some fearsome masks and rush the campin the gloom, at the same time setting off fireworks, and so create suchterrifying effects that none would venture near the spot again. Withbated breath, she even suggested that I should make a "death-bone" to beemployed for the secret ill of Duckbill; she thus exposed the dross ofhereditary superstition which rose to the surface during mentalebullition. It was quite in the nature of things that under stress such a natureshould break down. She nestled close to Dan, promising to be hissweetheart on the condition that, rather than that Duckbill should takeher away, he would shoot her. If it came about that the dreadful blackman was himself driven off or disposed of by some other means and thecountry made safe for her, then she would marry the man who had savedher, and she hoped that she might never disgrace him. Dan accepted the guardianship. His hut was two miles away and on the farside of the river. He saw little of it for the next few weeks. Duckbill and his friends, as we were well aware, knew of our plans forthe defeat of his proposed outrage. If Soosie could be ceremoniouslymarried to the faithful Dan, no black in the neighbourhood wouldendeavour to molest her. Indeed, all, even to Duckbill, would beflattered and demonstrative of pride in the alliance. A fortnight later Duckbill again intercepted me. Since the previousverbal encounter I had gone armed. He carried, somewhat ostentatiously, atomahawk and a couple of nulla-nullas. "No good you keep'm that fella Tchoosie. Me bin look out plenty. Thatfella belonga me. Suppose you no lat'm come, more worse b'mbi. Me wantmak'm that fella all asame black fella. You gib it Clare belonga Dan. " My fingers twitched on the butt of the revolver. It was an ultimatum. That which from other lips would have been resented as complacentinsolence had to be endured with apparent calmness. Threatening him withall the consequences of a visit from the "big fella government, " Ihurriedly left, for I was not too sure of self-control. A stricter watch than ever was maintained, for the least relaxation ofprecautions might have involved results for which a lifetime of regretswould not have atoned. Though of such a low type of the human race, theNorth Queensland aboriginal possesses certain admirable characteristics. His mind seldom swerves from a set purpose within view of attainment. Hemay be rebuffed and disappointed, and may assume indifference to orforgetfulness of his purpose; but in his heart he does not accept defeatuntil an absolutely decisive blow is received. Invisible to us, the oldman persistently waited, and watched. The dogs frequently detected hispresence, if their eloquent alarms and their excursions were to becredited. Though she continued to pit her wits against the secretcunningness of the dreaded old man, Soosie was often preoccupied, seemingto regard herself as one not primarily concerned. Her calmness waspreternatural, contrasting strangely with her previous petulant agitationand tragic despair. She avoided Dan, while clinging with profusedemonstrations of affection to her foster-sisters. The reason for her change of policy and manner was revealed withdistressing suddenness. At daylight one morning the door of the room inwhich she slept under lock and key was wide open, and on her quaintlyembellished table a primly written note: "DEAR MUM, "That horrible man who wants to take me away is right, and the Bible isright. I belong to this country, and must go. I would rather die than goto the camp; but I must know the big mountain. The dreadful people don'tgo there. They are frightened of it; I love it. I shall live there bymyself till I die, and Dan will never be disgraced. You and Dada andClare and Fan and Bob have been all the world to me. You did your best tomake me white at heart; but since this trouble began I have thought andthought, and found that the black in me smudges all the good out. Don'ttry to come after me. I shall hide. I would be too much ashamed ever tolook at you again. Forget me, for I am nothing but an ungrateful littlesavage. "SOOSIE. " In all haste Dan and I set out for the camp, a mile or so further in thejungle. It was situated in a natural, symmetrical clearing, a circushemmed in by sullen vegetation, and upon which no plant save blady grassever invaded. The camp was deserted. Save for a few still warm spots indicative ofartfully smothered fires, there were few signs to indicate recentoccupation. An hour's search revealed definite tracks leading east--to themountain. No pains had been taken to baffle pursuers. Apparently the blacks hadjust wandered off aimlessly in obedience to a whim of the moment. Therewas nothing but conjecture to support the opinion that the decampment hadanything to do with the disappearance of Soosie. Probably the blacks wereaware, in advance of ourselves, that she had stolen away. If so, theywould inevitably get her, having, possibly, the advantage of hours ofstart and being efficient in the art of tracking. Our plan was to hastenso that we might, if fortune favoured, be in time to save the distractedgirl from the repulsive and obscene ceremonies to which she would besubject if she fell into the hands of Duckbill. An hour's walk brought us to the foothills of the mountain. The tracksturned abruptly north, winding indeterminately as if no special objecthad been in view. It might be that while the men of the camp had beenintent on following Soosie's tracks, the women and children had straggledafter as if the quest was of no special concern to them. In the broken country well in to the base of the mountain all traces ofthe exodus was lost, though bush instinct, supplemented by the actions ofthe dogs, gave sense of its direction. Blundering down into a ravinewhere blanched vegetation betokened complete seclusion from the sun, weclambered up the opposing steep emerging from an entanglement of jungleon a high and open ridge which commanded an unimpeded view to the west--ascene of theatrical clarity with a single theatrical smear. From a hollowfar below slothful smoke filtered through the matted, sombre, dew-bespangled foliage, rose a few feet, and drifted abruptly, dissolvingfrom diaphanous blue to nothingness. The resonant whooping of a swamppheasant, antiphonal to a bell-voiced, crimson-crowned fruit pigeon in agiant fig-tree, the screeches of a sulphur-crested cockatoo as it tumbledin the air, evading the swoops of a grey goshawk, materialised the peaceand the conflicts of a scene upon which no man had made mark. The phantom trail of smoke betrayed the resting-place of the fugitives, though all tracks on the uneasy earth had failed. Odours of the junglesoothed my mind, contradicted the transaction of any unholy orgy, andgave assurance that the men had unravelled Soosie's wanderings until shehad begun to ascend the mountain, and that, being then on strange andterrifying ground, they had abandoned the search, returning to familiarlevel country free from the excursions of dreaded spirits. With light hearts we descended the ridge, and, plunging again into thedimness of the jungle, struck as direct a route as possible for thesmoke-revealed camp. Crossing a narrow creek, we peered silently throughthe screen of ferns and banana plants, where in a secluded glade were thewanderers in happy festival. Could any scene approach nearer the ideal? Men, women and children, mostly unclad, talking and laughing in modulated tones, while amusingthemselves with trivial occupations and eating convenient food in thedepths of the jungle, sanctified by distance and scene and sound! Peacesmiled, propriety approved. They ate of the fruits of the earth. Thefern-embowered stream gave them to drink. No sign of the white man, withhis interfering and desolating ways, assailed the sight. It was as if themist of centuries had lifted, and for once time-soiled mortals werepermitted to gaze on a Garden of Eden free from danger and innocent ofsin. There was none here to make the quiet folk afraid or discontented. As I stepped out, the scene changed with pantomimic celerity. We were inthe midst of a community of excitable and resentful people, who, viewingus, if not with active hostility, at least with surprise and anger, seemed embarrassed by guilty knowledge. None of the customary greetingswelcomed us. None offered other than scowls. "Where Soosie?" I demanded in authoritative tones of a boy accustomed totreat my slightest word with respect. With averted face he sullenly said: "That fella Tchoosie he run away. Hego l-o-n-g way, alonga mountain!" "Look here! You no humbug. Where Soosie sit down? Plenty row alongwhite man suppose Soosie no come back. That fella Soosie belonga Missis. Missis very sorry. She bin make'm Soosie all asame white Mary. " Still the face-averting boy reiterated: "That fella Soosie he bin go longway--more far. You fella make'm Soosie no good. " Others gathered round. Several carried weapons--nulla-nullas and woodenswords--and assumed hostile attitudes. Dan became uncontrollably excited, storming for the production ofSoosie, and being met with inconclusive statements and evasions. Beingone who knew no fear, who deemed his questions justifiable, who felthimself more than a match for the whole camp, and was convinced that theblacks were in possession of essential information, he urged the policyof chastising the sullenness out of a couple of incommunicative boys. Hisattitude, and mine, hitherto, towards the blacks had been of cheerygood-nature tempered with considerate authority. Present moroseness wasnovel, and he was eager to sweep it away with a sturdy stick, and thusto demonstrate that when a friendly white man visited a camp blacksshould be deferential and alert to assist his mission. In the mood of the men tragedy was inevitable unless both of us keptcool. What would be the ending of a fray between two white men and manyarmed blacks, some of whom were aching under a prolonged, howeverinconsequent, grievance against a white family? "Look here, Dan. Leave those fellows alone, " I said firmly but quietly. "There'll be sorrow for some if you begin a row. " "I don't care for a hundred blacks! I'd kick myself if I could not floorhalf a dozen single-handed! Where that Soosie?" To distract attention from Dan, I moved off a few yards. "What you ki-ki?" I asked of Wethera, who gnawed with concentratedsatisfaction at a charred bone. "You ki-ki wallaby?" "No wallaby! This one 'mandee' (hand) belonga Tchoosie!" Scorched flesh and blackened bone had left their smear on the face of thekindest cannibal of them all. On the fire was a foot with charredankle-bones; in a dilly-bag other fragments, but in Wethera's countenanceno consciousness of evil-doing. "Come here!" I shouted. The excited man strode to the spot. "Soosie, " I said, in the calmest tones I could command, "has beenmurdered. This is a cannibal feast!" With a bound he upset the gin, who shrieked as she grovelled in theembers. "You wretches! You kill Soosie! I kill you!" As he drew his revolver from his belt I seized his hand, and, restraininghim as best I could for a moment, spoke authoritative and soothing words, and led him away weak and tremulous. Not for many months--long after Dan had left the district--did exactinformation as to the fate of the hapless girl reach our ears. Wetheratold of the tragedy. Duckbill had followed her tracks from the housetowards the mountain, had overtaken her, and, since she had foughtfrenziedly, had "killed her alonga head little bit, " not intending tokill her "dead, finis. " Carried to the camp, it had been found out thatshe was actually dead. Then all had become stricken and run away. By her obstinacy Soosie had offended tribal law. She had suffered. In thenecessitous jungle animal food is never wasted, be it beast, bird, orreptile. It had been an edifying sacrament, too, founded on immemorial truth, forhad it not been devoutly believed that Soosie's most excellent and potentpersonality would remain with and glorify every participant? BLUE SHIRT "A strong, untutored intellect, eyesight, heart;a strong, wild Man. "--CARLYLE. Half a century ago, when hardy and adventurous men made laws untothemselves, and their somewhat hasty and inconsiderate hands began tosting the aboriginal population, there lived on this Isle a stalwartnative whose force of character constituted him a captain among hisfellows. Possibly he was Tom's father. Before he passed away, Tom had often toldthat his father was king of this realm and a man of parts. He it was whoharpooned a huge green turtle to the east. The game was so extraordinarilystrong that others hastened to his aid, for the capture was beyond thecapabilities of one man kneeling in a tucked-up sheet of bark. The wholefleet of canoes barely succeeded in towing the massive and reluctantcreature to the nearest beach, and Tom was wont to tell that it tookeight strong men to turn it on its back. It was "kummaoried" on the sand, and Tom oft pointed out the very spot as proof of the most famous feastwithin the range of tradition. Let it be accepted, then, that Blue Shirt was Tom's father, since historyis silent on the point, and none is left to question or authenticate it. He was a big man, and his son was like him. He was fond of colours; so, too, was his son. He was a fighter; his son's meritorious scars provedhim worthy of his blood. He was a man in authority and full ofterritorial pride; his son's dominance was undoubted, for did he notchide the "big fella gubbermen" on its audacity in disposing of hisIsland--his country--even to a friendly white man? Blue Shirt was the ruler and lawgiver of this Island when a barque strovewith a cyclone which eventually shattered her to pieces and scatteredher cargo of cedar-logs to the four winds. After the wreck a boat put outfrom a not distant port on a beach-combing cruise. The boat was known asthe CAPTAIN COOK. About a hundred years before her namesake had reportedthat he had seen about thirty natives, all unclad, on an adjacent islet. With the captain was his mate, two other white men, a black boy, and ayoung gin. Many derelict logs were seen and certain wreckage, which madethe boat's company inclined to the belief that some of the castawaysmight have landed on Dunk Island. They steered hither, anchoring in theevening. Early the next morning three stalwart black boys put off in canoes to theCAPTAIN COOK, and, making friendly demonstrations, were invited on board. Food was given them, and to the leader the captain presented a blueshirt. No dweller of the Island had ever before possessed such asumptuous and glorious garment. Indeed, if the absolute truth must betold, no dweller had dreamt of anything more desirable than an inadequatecloak laboriously wrought from the inner bark of a fig-tree, raimentsanctioned by the first of fashions. Having made it known that they belonged to a neighbouring islet at themoment unfriendly to the overbearing Dunk Island tribe, Blue Shirt andhis attendants mentioned that cedar-logs and other attractive flotsambestrewed the beaches, and volunteered to conduct the strangers to thebest places on the understanding that they, being alien and hostile, should remain under the protection of the rifle-carrying white men. The captain, two men, and the black boy, followed Blue Shirt ashore; but, although he was conspicuously clad, could not find him or any other man. A few old and casual women represented the hospitable inhabitants, whileSabbath quietude brooded over the scene as they strolled along the yellowbeach. By chance one of the party glanced towards the spot where they hadlanded, and saw half a dozen vigorous gins endeavouring to haul the boatabove tideway. How excellent the strategy! The designing but faint-hearted women fled when the white men charged forthe boat, which now was seen to be endowed with an incredible, uncannyrocking movement of its own. Looking beneath, they saw a huge cripplestraining himself, Atlas-like, to heave it over. In spite of inferiorlegs, his brawny shoulders had almost accomplished the feat when he wasunceremoniously interrupted. While he sprawled away, a mob of blacksrushed suddenly from the cover of some rocks, the leader of theassailants being Blue Shirt, who had painted his unclad parts martial redand white. The strength of the party was guessed at thirty. An exactcensus was not taken, for with spears and nulla-nullas and big swords, each warrior having the protection of a shield, the treacherous bandswept on the deluded guests of their leader, whose hostile yellsscandalised the meek phrases and friendly signs of a short hour before. The captain, poor, outwitted man, had laid his rifle beside the boat. Itwas too late now to bring it into decisive action. Keeping closetogether, the defenders warded off the first rush with whatever came tohand. The rifle was recovered; but Blue Shirt, recognising that itrepresented victory, struggled for it determinedly. A spear was thrown atclose quarters straight for the captain's neck, but one of the men deftlytwitched it off, a feat that so enraged the warriors that they made himtheir special target, until at last one of their spears pierced his hand. Being rough and thready, the black palm-point made an ugly wound; but theresolute man drew it out, and, breaking the spear in twain, threw it intothe boat, and as he did so, another grazed his abdomen. While he was thusdefending himself against the spears and nulla-nullas of outrageousfortune, the captain made wide, sweeping movements with the butt of hisrifle, and the other man and the boy, the boat being by this time afloat, tugged at the oars. The attacking party followed, the captain making goodmisuse of the rifle, the odd man and the boy occasionally perverting anoar to wrongful but, at the crisis, effective purpose, while the woundedsuffered the hate of him who earns personal as well as racial animosity. He sustained a cut on the head from a wooden sword, yet he fought on, retaining his wits, while a kind Providence, and his own artfulness andagility protected him from hurtling spears. The cost of the little excursion was paid in wounds and bruises and, eventually, putrefying sores, while the souls of all instantly mortifiedunder the sight of triumphant Blue Shirt jeering and gesticulating asonly an uncouth black dare, as he waved over his head a tomahawk he hadabstracted from the boat during the morning's pleasant entertainment. No one of the poor, depraved representatives of the race has anyknowledge of the event in which Blue Shirt showed himself to be asuccessful plotter, a bold strategist, an original tactician, and a bravefighter. His son is dust. His grandson, though true in complexion, knowsmore about engines than he does of wooden swords and how to use them. Thezest of life was with his ancestor, who during a long life had but oneshirt. THE FORGOTTEN DEAD "Of lonely folk cut off unseen. " HOOD. A few months ago chance bestowed the opportunity of listening to theconversation of one who for very many yearn has hung upon the skirts ofcivilisation. A bushman of rare resourcefulness, wide knowledge of thedry as well as the moist parts of North Queensland, a reader, and anacute and accurate observer of natural phenomena, he has oftenentertained me with the relation of episodes in his career which, thoughquite unsensational, is of the material of which the history of the bushmust be compiled. He is now settled on a tidal creek, his nearestneighbours miles away. Independent of the regular assistance of blacks inthe cultivation of his land, he is one of those who, while acknowledgingno such thing as comradeship, and who, true to his sentiments, keeps themat arm's-length, has, albeit, acquired confidences rather unusual. When his reading matter has become exhausted, he has sat night afternight for months together absorbing the lore of the camp. To him has beendisclosed many a well-guarded secret. Not unto every man who asks do theblacks tell their thoughts or impart their legends. You may study them;but they, too, are discreet students, who often keep their counsel whileseeming to comply with your anxiety to learn of their ways and be wise asthey are wise. My friend is one of those undemonstrative, self-contained men in whomsome of the coloured, cautious metaphysicians find a congenial soul. Therefore is he a compendium of much out-of-the-way and covertknowledge. As we talked on the subject of the unexplained disappearances of men inthe bush of Australia, he told the incidents of the forgotten dead towhich these writings have special reference. I use my own words, so donot bind myself to historic exactness. He had been away earning his own living, for his estate, fruitful as itis, did not then quite provide for his sustenance, markets being distantand far from consistent. Returning, he found the blacks who hadassociated themselves with his humble establishment had in the intervalsought change of scene. The land that he called his had belonged to theirancestors centuries before Cook tied the ENDEAVOUR to that disputed andhistoric tree, and was theirs when he had first intruded. His hut, hishorses, his implements, were much as he had left them. The camping-placeof the blacks appeared to have been unoccupied for some time. Such was inaccordance with usual happenings. Going about his lonesome work, hereflected that his dusky acquaintances would return in their own goodtime, and being a man of mental resource, the solitude was by no meansirksome. Within a fortnight they appeared unceremoniously, and, taking casual partin the ordinary work, the affairs of the isolated estate went on assmoothly as before. There was a stranger in the camp, a middle-aged man, timorous, and knowing little of the ways of white men. Of him scarcelyany notice was taken. Yet in a few weeks it was evident that the strangerwas determined to make himself pleasant. Accordingly, the white manrefrained from advances, while for the love of mental exhilaration hepondered: "That boy wants to tell me something. He shall tell me all hewants to in his own way, while I will play the part of an indifferentauditor. " That the stranger had some secret on his soul was apparent. My friendresolved to receive that secret in the spirit of gracious condescension. So played he his part, and line upon line, here a little and there alittle, the story was told. Few of the tribe of the stranger had ever seen a white man. None had evervisited the coast. All were myalls, living naked among the mountains ingorges gloomy with jungle, and but rarely hunting on the foothills. Oneday consternation and curiosity spread through the camp. Three strangemen with yellow faces and short black hair had been seen. They carriednothing in their hands, and seemed frightened. Thus the nervous couriersof the camp spoke. Next morning the men took up the tracks, and, sneaking close up, followed, alert and unseen, the unsuspecting visitors to their country. Bewildered in the jungle, the queer-looking men wandered aimlessly, moaning and wailing. They were lost. Suddenly the blacks appeared. Two ofthe strangers, glad of the company of any sort of human beings, smiledand gesticulated pleasantly, making it plain that they were hungry, tired, and frightened, and, longing to get back to the coast, wouldbestow upon their guides unheard-of blessings for safe-conduct thither. Strangely, the black men accepted the trust. Four each took a hand of theconfiding strangers, and, pointing ahead and chattering, induced them towalk quickly in a direction in which by signs they indicated the dwellingof a white man. The third wanderer had run away, blundering through the jungle, and theblacks had refrained from following him. Nodding gaily and jabberingvolubly, but with mutual intelligibility, hosts and guests paced along anarrow track, each of the latter personally and firmly conducted by twoof his newly found and most attentive friends. Others of the tribe, "likefrightful fiends, did close beside them tread"; and while the escortslured the yellow men with comforting pantomime, the frightful fiends fellon them suddenly with great wooden swords, killing them off-hand and onthe very verge of the camp. Willingly hurrying to the place of execution, the murdered men had savedthe calculating blacks the trouble of carrying their carcasses. Then four went back for the nervous escapee. He was safe, for the trackswere as obvious to them as a plough furrow to a European. Crouchingbeside a fallen, decaying tree, where bird's-nest ferns grew outrageouslygross, they found him; and they jeered. He screamed and shoutedin unknown tongue, while the brisk, stubby hair of his head stood on end. (My friend's hair-brush was alluded to in graphic illustration. ) Theystruck him down, and, smashing in his head and seizing arms and legs, jogged back to the camp. And the festival lasted many days, though plenty made gluttons ofthem all. The forgotten dead were Javanese--deserters from a sugar-plantation; forthe tragedy happened long ago, when labour was being drawn from Java andother oversupplied countries. Desertions were not uncommon, for thesanguine men of the equator endure with less philosophy than others thatsickness of the heart which comes from love of one's native land whenabsent from it. From Java's seething millions were the nostalgic three ever missed? EAGLES-NEST FLOAT "My raft was now strong enough to bear any reasonable weight. " ROBINSON CRUSOE. Those who study primitive races, applying their wisdom and learning tothe investigation of the origin of domestic and other implements andcontrivances, inform us that the first boat was probably a log, on whichthe man sat astride, using a stick as a means of propulsion. In time theidea of hollowing the log occurred, Nature undoubtedly presenting themodel and inviting the novice to squat inside. But what was theinhabitant of a certain island in the Gulf of Carpentaria to do sinceNature failed to provide a tree big enough to possess the degree ofbuoyancy necessary for his frail frame, when he wished to cross thenarrow channel separating him from a lesser island where turtle areplentiful and unsuspicious? Being in status something above a wallaby--the largest animal other thanhimself of his native land which, when hunted, occasionally swam towardsthe opposite shore, he constructed one or other of two rafts or floats, both derivable from Nature's models. One was in the form of an eagle'snest, and not nearly so large as that in which some eaglets are reared, made by interlacing branchlets of white mangrove until the mass wassufficient to support his weight. With a double ended paddle rudelyshaped from the thin buttress roots of the red mangrove, and comic in thecrudeness and disproportion of its parts, he felt himself safe miles outto sea. When he approached a passing vessel he presented the illusion, not of walking, but of sitting on the water, for the float was almostcompletely submerged. If it became necessary for his wife to attend himon his marine excursions, she was towed behind, and used her own pedalpower. Possibly this primitive raft is the pathetic expression of man'sfirst struggle against the restrictions of the sea. The other resource of the boatless islander was another description offloat, also retrogressive from the log; the idea not transmitted to himby any high-minded bird, but forced upon his attention by elementalstrife. He would have seen that the wind and the waves occasionally torefrom his beaches Pandanus palms, and that the matted, fibrous rootsthereof floated. Pondering in his dim way, and being sadly an hungeredand aware that fat and lazy turtle were basking in the sighed-forshallows, he took a bundle of buoyant roots and light sticks and lashedit securely at one end with strips of bark. He then spread out the otherend until it took the shape of a fan, and weaved the strands looselytogether with beach trailers. His raft was complete. At least thisdescription applies to that in use to-day, which represents the higheststage to which the design has been brought. Under the influence of the peril-ignoring hunger, the hunter sat on thefloat with legs extended frontally. Across his thighs crouched hisfavourite dog, and behind him, her thin shanks outside his and her skinnyarms round his slim waist, sat, uncomfortable, his cowed wife--anecessary part of his equipment. Can he be imagined half turning to hisdeferential spouse, and saying: "My dear, in the words of Shakespeare, "On such a full sea are we now afloat And we must take the current when it serves Or lose our'--turtle"? Is it not edifying, too, to reflect that the timid man, encouraged by theobject-lessons of Nature, given in pity of his simplicity, had contrivedthe only rafts the resources of his island made possible? And does notthe fact that he had courage to cross the estranging deep thereon givegraphic proof of the inhospitality of his native soil? Flat and generally of sad aspect, the country of the raftsman lies remoteand uncommended. The scented sandalwood is there, dwarfed, attenuated, worthless. The most fragrant of the Pandanus palms is plentiful, thefruit forming the chief part of the vegetable diet of the lean andstunted inhabitants, who find difficulty in fashioning weapons with whichto obtain fish and turtle, the land failing to supply straight sticks ofthe length needed for spears. Each has to be spliced. The islands areexpressed in the race they sustain--possibly the lowest of Australiantypes. Does it not bespeak much to the credit of men and women who havebeen used to the cities where the advantages of civilisation are atcommand and its comforts available, that they should abandon the societyof kin and friends and isolate themselves in a drear and unfriendly tractfor the sake of a few coloured folk whose mental capacities are feebleand whose habits are shockingly disgusting? NATURE IN RETALIATION "Red in tooth and claw. " TENNYSON. In a mangrove creek a shoal of barramundi had been bombed with dynamite. Immediately after the explosion the white onlookers as well as the blacksdived off-hand into the stream to secure the helpless fish. One of theparty seized a weighty and unconscious victim of the outrage, and toretain it thrust his fist through the gills and found himself unable towithdraw, and when the fish began to revive he realised that he was notmaster. With a supreme effort he did manage to get his head above waterto gulp a mouthful of air, but the gallant fish promptly exerted itself, and a deadly struggle took place on the muddy bottom. Once more the fishwas tugged to the surface, only to dive just as the man became consciousof the applause of the interested spectators. When they came to thesurface again ill luck on the part of the fish had brought it into theshallows caused by a ridge of rocks, and the man hauled his prize ashore, frankly acknowledging that the happy chance of the rocks and not his ownwits and strength had given the victory into his hands. On another occasion heartless dynamite was used in a creek, where hadassembled many blacks, who scrambled riotously in the muddy water for thespoil, among which were several huge crabs, some dismembered by the forceof the explosion, some stunned, some merely agitated. Dilly Boy, thebiggest and the greediest of the crowd, acquired several fish and threeor four crabs, the largest of the latter of which seemed sound asleep. The dynamite had ministered an anodyne from which, apparently, therewould be no awakening. It the boy disregarded, while he secured thosewhich were more or less active. Busily engaged, he was not aware that acrab when he seems asleep may be merely plotting. This hero was hatchingout a scheme whereby it might be revenged for the outrage. It watchedand deliberated, and as the boy sat down grabbed him with ponderous andtoothed pinchers on that part of the body which is said to be mostsusceptible to insult. The boy rose. Not half a plug of dynamite couldhave given more hearty impulse, not all the clamour of a corroboreeequal his yell of surprise and anguish. He capered. The crab, which hadnot speculated on the caper, and to avert summary divorce, locked itsclaws, now guaranteed to hold to death and beyond it--to destruction. Astounded--indeed, petrified--by the high antics of the boy, none of thespectators could venture to his aid. They were fully engaged withunrestrained and joyful hysteria. The more the boy yelled and cavorted, the more frantic the fun. Blood trickled down the chocolate-colouredskin, but the valiant crab held on. It was there for a definite purpose. The hour and the crab had arrived. Vengeance for centuries of wrongs tothe race and heroic self-sacrifice animated brain and inspired the clawwith the dynamics of ten; while the afflicted victim imagined--he had nomirror to hold up to Nature--that he was the sport of a lusty crocodile. Amidst his shrieks he commanded the ministration of his wife. She ran tomeet him with a waddy. True to the limitations of her sex, though herintentions were admirable and dutiful, the result was disastrous. The boygot a paralysing blow on the small of the back, and flopped down. Upjumped Dilly Boy, and the gin raced after him, murderously inclined tothe crab. Half her blows were misses and the other half seriouslyembarrassed her husband, as his tumbles testified. She belaboured himimpartially and with perverted goodwill from shoulder to heel, for sheaimed invariably at the crab, and where is the woman who ever hit whereshe designed? The crab was merely tickling; the faithful spouse, withthe tenderest motives, was cruelly beating her lord and master todisablement, and it can scarcely be credited that the echo of his remarkshas yet subsided. In his fervour the boy made an exceptionally viciousthreat against the gin, and in response she missed him and hit the crab. Under such forceful compulsion the crab parted with its claw. It wasponderous and toothed, be it remembered, and well and truly locked, andretained its grip. The target being smaller, the aims of the gin wentmore and more astray. The back of the boy, owing to the incessant missesof the waddy, changed from brown to purple, and a red ribbon wavered downhis thigh. Still he ran, and the devoted gin coursed after him with theenergy of a half-back, the fury of a disappointed politician, and theriot of three-dozen cockatoos scared from a corn-field. Almost worn out, the boy sprang round, and, seizing the waddy, began to chastise the gin, whose screams blended with his unwholesome threats. But the claws heldon--not like grim death; they were grim death. Every second blow wasdirected aft--one blow forward, which generally severely disagreed withthe gin; one blow astern, which afforded neither mental relief norphysical comfort. The gin fled from the infuriated boy; the boy from thefearsome relic of the crab, and called louder as he ran. When in fullflight, the gin tripped over a mangrove root, and, spread-eagled, fell. The boy came tumbling after, but the remnants of the crab--the bony bud ofa tail--stood erect and firm. Then the pitying spectators seized DillyBoy, and, holding him, unlocked the pinchers. He rolled over--it was theonly easeful attitude--as he cursed all gins, crabs, and dynamiters withwondrous fluency. And may the potency of those coloured curses rest uponthe latter! "STAR RUN ABOUT" "It is the stars, The stars above us, govern our conditions. " SHAKESPEARE. Primitive folk have ever looked up to the heavens for signs of good andill. Celestial appearances have fought for them terrestrial battles, orhave weakened their arms by prognostications of impending disaster. Appeals have been made to passionless planets for justice against mundanedecrees, and when coincidences have been favourable the devout student ofthe skies has loudly proclaimed them as proof of supernatural interest intrivial, transient occurrences. In accordance with the degree of poetryin the fibre of the people, so, in a certain degree, has the belief instellar influence been manifest. The blacks of North Queensland, being, possibly, the least of the racesin a poetic sense, have but slight regard for the interference of thestars in their poor little affairs, and in this respect are saner thanmany a nation which has given abundant proof of wisdom. One of theirbeliefs is that meteors are baleful, though under given conditions theyderive from such phenomena longed-for assurance. A meteor is described as"Star run about. " "That fella no good; him kill'em man!" Yet incircumstances to be mentioned they find in a meteor a sign that life hasbeen restored to an individual whom they have done to death. It is theopinion of men who have studied the customs of the blacks that they--andto their honour be it said--were never among themselves premeditated, gluttonous cannibals. Human flesh was eaten, if not with solemnity, atleast with ceremony, for the belief exists to this day that the moral andphysical excellencies of the victim are assimilated by those who partakeof his flesh. Reincarnation is prompt and practical, and unaccompanied by wasteful anddelusive hope. Herein lies the explanation of many a deliberate andconfessed killing, while to the meteor have the perpetrators looked forabsolution and remission of their sin. That which in the eyes of thewhite man is regarded as an atrocious murder has not been, in theirsemi-religious code, in any sense criminal, but a rite from which many ifnot all the camp must inevitably benefit. In one respect the killing of a boy is the highest compliment which maybe paid him, for it is proof that he has personal qualities which are theenvy and admiration of others, and for general welfare should be sharedby all. The boy who so dies is an unconscious patriot. This is provedsufficiently by the fact that only what are considered to be the morevitalising portions of the boy's body are eaten, whereas if gluttony werethe impulse of the deed the whole of the body would be consumed. An illustrative incident has been told me by one who has gained theconfidence of the blacks, and to whom other facts connected with it werepersonally known. Not many years ago a boy from from a distant localityvisited a certain district in company with his master. He was tall, wellfavoured, a good rider, quite an athlete, an accomplished performer withthe mouth-organ and concertina; ready and persuasive of tongue. Thesequalities provoked unaffected admiration; for the natives of the placeare undersized, ill-looking, and deficient generally in the arts ofpleasing. Before the master left, Caesar was persuaded by his enviousfellow-countrymen to remain with them to be flattered and courted. To evade trouble, the whole camp took to the hills for a while. In themeantime Caesar's master departed, thinking, no doubt, that the boy wouldfollow him to his own "more better country. " After several weeks thelocal blacks returned, but Caesar was not of the party, and it did notoccur to any of the white residents to ask questions concerning him. Inaccordance with the love of notoriety which affects humanity irrespectiveof complexion, one of the boys began to boast of being as good as Caesar, and to prove his contentions by aping the manners of his absent friend. It was not long before he blurted out the secret by which he had becomesuperfine--he had participated with others in a cannibal rite after Caesarhad been good-naturedly killed. Rumours of the tragedy came to the ears of the police. The ringleaders ofthe assassins were arrested, and one at least endured a term ofimprisonment as punishment. Caesar had been lured away and killed becausehe was a good fellow and strong, and because his murderers wanted to begood and strong like him. Certain parts of his body were eaten, withoutrelish, but with fervent hope. A remarkable circumstance in connectionwith the sacrifice and ceremonial rite for the general welfare is thatthe perpetrators console and comfort themselves with the belief thatshould a meteor appear it is a sign that the victim did not actually die, or if he died under their hands, that he has come to life again. Thosewho were concerned in the killing and who had partaken of the flesh sattogether for several evenings gazing with expectation into the sky. Ameteor flashed across it, and it was hailed as a sign that Caesar wasalive and had gone to his own country. The contrary evidence of relics ofthe dead was waved away before the imperious and disinterested testimonyof the falling star. "No matter. That fella him no dead--finish. Him walkabout 'nother country. Him good fella. That fella star run about bin tell'em. " They felt themselves to have benefited materially and spiritually byparticipation in the rite, and were calm in their belief that the victimwas none the worse for the temporary misfortune from which he suffered. In another locality a meteor signifies the death of an individual, and isreferred to as "Tee-go-binah. " When a death cannot be directly attributedto it locally, the phenomenon is referred to with such rustic logic asthis: "Some fella dead alonga 'nother camp. Might be longa way. " Theancients felt "the sweet influences of the Pleiades. " One of the twointimacies of the blacks of North Queensland with stellar phenomena whichhas come to my knowledge is associated with reincarnation after a deed ofblood. Their faith is as absolute, perhaps, as was that of the men of old. BLACKS AS FISHERMEN "For I tell you, scholar, fishing is an art, or at least it isan art to catch fish. "--IZAAK WALTON. Along the coast of North Queensland evidence may still be obtained, though it ever becomes more difficult to secure practical demonstration, of several novel methods of killing fish in vogue among the blacks priorto the advent of civilisation. In many parts, indeed, the presence of thewhite man has swept away not only the use of decent, if trivial, pursuitsand handicrafts, but the knowledge also that they ever existed. The few facts here presented are, with some slight reservations, drawnfrom actual observation. No doubt the well-informed on such subjects willhave plenary reasons--if ever these lines are honoured by perusal of theclass--for the accusation that there is nothing in them having the virtueof newness or novelty. But I am not a professor with a mind like awarehouse, rich with the spoils of time, but a mere peddler, conscious ofthe janglings of an ill-sorted, ill-packed knapsack of unconsideredtrifles. Some pioneers know more about the acts of the past than the best informedof the younger blacks, who look with wonder and unconstrained doubt whenshown articles similar to those which their grandfathers must have usedalmost every day. Though the blacks of the past had but casual knowledge of the cruellittle barb that the resourceful white fisherman finds essential tosport, and had neither neat tackle, nor reels, nor creels; though theywere denied the solace of tobacco, and every other accessory, they wereadepts at fishing. They had at command a stock of accumulated lore sographically transmitted that the babe and suckling must have seemed toacquire it almost intuitively. They knew much of the habits of fish. Their methods of laying under tribute the harvest of the sea were sovaried and unconventional that when one expedient failed, others, equallyfree from the ethics of sport, were available at the shortest notice. Fishing was not a pastime, but a serious occupation in which nearlyeveryone was proficient. Times are changing; but still the mouths of smaller creeks are sometimesdammed, save for certain sluices and by-washes where puzzling pockets areset. Weirs formed by stakes driven into the sand and interwoven withtwigs guide incoming fish into ingenious traps, whence they are scoopedup in dilly-bags. Occasionally the whole camp, dogs and piccaninniesincluded, take part in a raid upon the sea. Men in deeper water, womenand boys and girls forming wings at right angles to the beach, enclose aprescribed area in the ever shifting, mobile fence. Certain of the menhave huge dilly-bags made of strips of lawyer-cane, and shaped like aninepin with a funnel for a head. The tactics of the party combine todrive the fish towards the silent men having charge of the dilly-bags, who manipulate what certainly has the appearance of being a very awkwardutensil in the water with great skill and alertness. Hurried to frenzyby the shouting and splashing of the crowd, and the flurrying of thesurface with bushes, the fish dart hither and thither until most of themhave found their way into the bags, at the only spots where, for the timebeing, peace and quietude prevail. At other times a somewhat similardesign of basket is used for trapping eels. Men armed with spears surround and exterminate a shoal detected inshallow water; and the boomerang and the nulla-nulla as well as the spearform the weapons of the solitary fisherman. On one of the islands of theGulf of Carpentaria the boomerang (I am told) alone is used, the blacksbeing so expert that little is left to chance. Though the wommera, or, as it is known locally, the yellamun, is commonin the neighbourhood of Dunk Island, it is not employed as an accessoryin the spearing of fish. Further north it is so almost universally, acombination of boomerang and wommera being the most popular form. Thisdual-purpose weapon is merely a boomerang to one of the ends of which isfitted a spur, which engages the socket in the butt of the spear. Whileon this subject, it is interesting to note that, though the common formof the implement for increasing the velocity and range of the spear isgenerally considered to be peculiar to Australia, its principle isembodied in a contrivance which was used for a similar purpose in the NewHebrides in Captain Cook's day. Describing some of the arts of the inhabitants of Tanna, Cook ("Voyagesof Captain Cook round the World, " vol. I. , chapter vi. ) says that in thethrowing of darts "they make use of the becket, that is, a piece of stiffplaited cord, about six inches long, with an eye in one end and a knot inthe other. The eye is fixed on the forefinger of the right hand, and theother end is hitched round the dart where it is nearly on an equipoise. They hold the dart between the thumb and the remaining finger, whichserve only to give direction, the velocity being communicated by thebecket and forefinger. The former flies off from the dart the instant itsvelocity becomes greater than that of the hand, but it remains on thefinger ready to be used again. " It is obvious that the Australian implement is much the more reliable andeffective. Cook mentions that with the dart the Tanna Islanders "are sureof hitting a mark within the compass of the crown of a hat at a distanceof eight or ten yards; but at double that distance it is chance if theyhit a mark the size of a man's body, though they will throw the weaponsixty or seventy yards. " Such a standard of marksmanship would beregarded with contempt by the average black of North Queensland. The useof this becket (introduced very many years ago by the Kanaka) is a fairlycommon accomplishment among coastal blacks. In shallow water, too, fish are chased until they become so exhausted andnerve-shaken that they partially bury themselves in the sand, orendeavour to elude observation by concealing themselves beneath stone orcoral, or by remaining passive among seaweed, trusting, no doubt, toprotective tints and assimilation with their surroundings. Few of thesestratagems of the fish are of avail when once a hungry black is on itstrack. The science of war, we are bidden to believe, is not designed forthe slaughter of mankind, but so to impress the enemy with ademonstration of overwhelming power, force, and majesty, that he maybecome mentally unable or unwilling to offer resistance, because of itsobvious futility. So it is with the black in pursuit of a fish or turtlein shallow water. By noise and bluster he works on the senses of the fishuntil it becomes semi-paralysed. Then he proceeds callously to thekilling, which, in the case of fish, if his right hand is encumbered, hegenerally accomplishes by a crunching bite into the back-bone at theshoulders. At rare intervals the black varies his tactics by a night attack, whichis often highly demoralising. When the moon is on the other side of theworld, with spears and flaring torches of paper-bark, he rushes in a bandto raid the reef, to the dismay of startled and bewildered fish. Substitute for the gurgling cadences of semi-submerged coral and mutenessand universal dimness instant noise and splashing, and dazzling lightshere and there and everywhere, and it is not to be considered strangethat the fish--tipsy with panic and confusion--fail to exercise theirhabitual alertness. At a certain season of the year--November and December in theneighbourhood of Dunk Island--myriads of fish, about the size of asardine, appear in shoals, an acre or so in area, or encircle the islandswith a living, bluish-grey frill yards broad. The blacks bestow on thisgodsend, popularly known as "sprats"--HARENGULA STEREOLEPIS (Ogilby)--thename of "Oon-gnahr. " How skilfully does Nature dovetail her designs! This great multitude offish appears when it is most needed. The terns (sea-swallows) are rearingtheir families, and ever need fresh food in unstinted quantities. Thesmall fry come to an excited and enthusiastic market. Slim, silverykingfish, grey sharks, and blue bonito, harry the shoals, ripping throughthem with steel-like flashes, and as the little fish ruffle the surfaceof sea or emerge therefrom in living silvery spray, in frantic efforts toescape, the terns take all they want, screaming with satisfaction. Then, too, the blacks join in the work of destruction. When the frill of fishlies limp on the beach, they fabricate a seine net, cheap, but admirablysuited for the purpose. Long strands of beach trailers and grass andslender twigs are rolled and twisted up--apparently without the slightestart--into a huge loose cable eight inches in diameter. The men run outthe cable into the water at right angles to the beach while still thegins, with nervous haste, are adding to its length. If it breaks, a fewtwists and pokes suffice to repair it. The men at the lead curve intowards the beach, and the gins and piccaninnies wade out in line to meetthem. Gradually the cable, shocking in its frailty, is worked in, enclosing a patch of the fish in a perilous coffer dam. Tumult andcommotion are almost as necessary contributories to the success of thestratagem as is the cable. But before they realise what has happened, they are in such close company that escape is impossible; dilly-bags arefilled in a single dip, and it may take half an hour to pick out those"meshed" in the cable. It is all the work of a few minutes, and the hauloften amounts in quantity to a surfeit for the whole camp. One of these rude seines which was overhauled was composed largely of thelong, leafless, twine-like branches of the leafless parasite CASSYTHAFILIFORMIS (which the blacks term "Bungoonno"), IPOMEA PESCAPRAE("Koree"), Blady-grass ("Jin-dagi"), and the tough sprawling branches ofBLAINVILLEA LATIFOLIA ("Gallan-jarrah"), the whole being reinforced withwithes of CLERODENDRON IMERME ("Missim"), all of which plants grow onthe verge of the sea. Vast as is the congregation of small fry, it gradually fritters away, martyred to fish, flesh, and fowl. By the time the little terns arethrown upon their own resources the violet frill of the sweet islands isfrayed and ragged, and drifts loosely in shabby remnants. For large fish--groper, the giant perch, king, bonito, rhoombah, sweet-lips, parrot-fish, sea-mullet, and the sting-rays (brown andgrey)--a harpoon and long line are used. When iron is not available apoint is made of one of the black palms, the barb being strapped on withfibre, the binding being made impervious to water by a liberal coating ofa pitch-like substance prepared from the resinous gum of the arral-tree(EVODIA ACCEDENS). The point is eight or ten inches long, the barbless end being swathed infibre so that it may fit easily into the socket of the eight or ten feetshaft. A long line is tied to a point above the swathing, and, beingdrawn taut along the shaft, is secured to the end by a series ofclove-hitches. When the fish is struck the point is drawn from thesocket, while the shaft acts as a cheek on, and an indicator of, itscourse when just below the surface. Such harpoons and lines are also usedfor the capture of dugong and turtle, the line being made of the innerbark (the bast layer) of one of the fig-trees, and is of two strandsonly. Occasionally the HIBISCUS TILLIACEUS is laid under tribute forropes and lines, which, however, are not considered as durable as thosefrom the fig. Nets, set and hand, are also made with twine from the figor hibiscus. When, at low spring tides, the coral reef is uncovered, small rock-cod, slim eels, parrot-fish, perch, soles, the lovely blue-spotted sting-ray, catfish, flathead, etc. , are poked out unceremoniously with spears orsharp-pointed sticks from labyrinthine mazes, or from the concealmentafforded by the flabby folds and fringes of the skeleton-less coral(ALCYONARIA), or from among the weeds and stones--a kind of additionalsense leading the black to the discovery of fish in places that a whiteman would never dream of investigating. At this opportune time, too, huge, defiantly armed and brilliantly coloured crayfish are exposed tocapture. A statement was published recently that this was the speediestof all marine animals. The assertion is much to be questioned, but therecan be no doubt that the crayfish is a wonderful sprinter. Familiar withits lack of staying power, blacks race after it uproariously as it fleesface to foe, all the graduated blades of its turbine apparatus beatingunder high pressure. Two or three rushes and the crayfish pauses, andthen the agile black breaks its long, exquisitely sensitive and brittleantennae, deprived of which it becomes less capable of taking care ofitself; or it may find its gorgeous armour-plates smashed with a stone orpenetrated by a spear. For the most part, however, the crayfish lurks incoral caves, sweeping a considerable frontal radius with ever-shiftingantennae--not in pride or conceit of their beautiful tints and wonderfulmechanism, but with a pitiful apprehension of danger, for the admirers ofthe creature are many and ever so much in earnest--the earnestness ofunceasing voracity. Having a decided partiality for eels, the blacks of North Queensland havedevised several means of capture, one of which does not call for theexercise of the least skill on the part of the individual whose longingfor the dainty becomes imperative. His placid perseverance, too, is of noavail, unless luck favours. Wading in a shallow, mangrove-bordered creek, he blindly probes the bottom with a six-feet length of fencing wire, themodern substitute for the black palm spear. Frequently he trifles thuswith coy Fortune for hours, an inch or so separating each prod; andagain, in a spasm of indignant impatience, he stabs determinedly into themud at random. Non-success does not make shipwreck of his faith in theexistence of the much-desired food in the black mud, for as far back ashis own experience and the camp's traditions go, substantial reason forthat faith has been plentifully revealed. He returns to the monotonousoccupation until an unlucky eel is impaled, and then it is given nochance of escape. Pushing his spear a couple of feet through, the boy grips the prize withboth hands, or bends the wire into the form of a hook. Fortune maycontinue to smile, and the boy takes several during the afternoon. Many boys enhance the charms of solitude by ingeniously tricking eels, Nature presenting them with an efficient engine of deceit anddestruction, so designed that neither the agitations of art nor theinvention of science could much improve it. About two feet of the thongor lorum of one of the creeping palms (CALAMUS OBSTRUENS) is all that isnecessary. These lora are armed with definitely spaced whorls of recurvedhooks, keen as needles, true as steel, about one-eighth of an inch long. Three or four of the whorls are removed to provide an unfretful but firmgrip. The pot-holes and shallow pools and gullies and trickling creeksare populated by nervous, yet inquisitive, semi-transparent prawns, uponwhich eels liberally diet. So silent and steady of movement is the boythat even the alert prawns are unaware of, or become accustomed to, hispresence; and what is there to warn the eel, enjoying its comfort amongthe dead leaves in the gloomiest corner of the pool, of danger? Couldany but a black boy detect the difference between the brown sodden leavesand the half-inch of body which the eel has unwittingly exposed? The"pig-gee" (as some term the lorum) is used with almost surgical delicacyof touch to hook away two or three of the leaves. Then it is placedparallel to whatever increased length has thus been made visible, andwith a decisive twitch the eel is torn from its retreat and killedoff-hand. Even the shy, long-armed little prawns (PALAEMON AUSTRALIS) do not escapespecial means for their destruction. A pliant rod about four feet long isimprovised from the midrib of the creeping palm before mentioned, to theend of which is fastened a slender thread of the same material, split offby using the nails of the thumb and second finger. This strand, which isabout four inches long, is delicately noosed. Standing a few feet awayfrom the water-hole, the black so manipulates the line that the nooseencircles the tail of the prawn, which, making a retrogressive dart uponalarm, finds itself fatally snared. The prawns are not, as a rule, eaten, being reserved for bait. In creeks and lagoons thin, hollow logs are submerged. Eels naturallyseek such refuges, and in due course the boy dives, and, sealing the endswith his hands, brings log and eel to land. Dr. W. E. Roth mentions thatcrayfish and a certain fish resembling the rock-cod are similarlycaptured, and remarks that the log is lifted at an angle, with one handclosing the lower aperture, in which position it is brought to and heldabove the surface, when the water trickles out between the fingers of thesealing hand. Yet another method (analogous to "bobbing") is practised for securingeels. Huge worms, found under decaying logs, are threaded by means of aneedle formed of a thin strip of cane on a line from ten to twelve feetlong until several feet of bait are available. The line is merelydoubled, the ends made fast to a stout pole, and the loop dangled in thewater. The boy fishes patiently, nor does he strike at the first nibble, but permits the eel to swallow slowly what might be considered an undueproportion of the bait, when it is landed and compelled to disgorge forthe benefit of the next comer. Among coastal blacks--all of whom may be said to be fishermen--some areardent devotees to the sea. Others of the same camp restrict themselvesto unsensational creeks and lagoons. The frog in the well knows nothingof the salt sea, and its aboriginal prototype contents himself withmilder and generally less remunerative kind of sport than that in whichhis bolder cousins revel. Such a man, however, may possess aquatic loreof which the other is admittedly ignorant, and be apt in devices towardswhich the attitude of the salt-water man is adverse, if not contemptuous. The fresh-water man is skilful in the use of a net shaped something likethe secondary wings of a certain species of moth, and expanding andclosing similarly. It is made of fine twine (one-inch mesh), preferablyfrom the bark of one of the fig-trees or the brown kurrajong, tightlystretched on two pieces of lawyer-cane each bent to form the half of anirregular ellipse. This net ("moorgaroo") is manipulated by two menworking in concert, principally for the capture of eels. They do not waitfor the eel to come to them, but by shrewd scrutiny discover itswhereabouts under the bank of the creek or among the weeds and roots. Then one silent man holds the net widespread, or adroitly dodges it intointercepting positions, while the other beats the luckless fish in itsdirection with more or less fluster. The persistency with which thecreeks are patrolled by men with spears, netted and poisoned, invites oneto marvel that any fish escape, and yet once again quite a haul is made. That great philosopher, Herbert Spencer, once in his life made a joke andconfessed to it, with apologies for its littleness. Lunching at a tavernin the Isle of Wight, he asked: "Oh, is not this a very large chop forsuch a small island?" Similarly, I have been astonished at the apparentdisproportion between the size of the eel and the insignificance of thecreek whence the exultant black has hauled it. An instance of the poor part which the slimmest eel plays when pittedagainst the Smartness and resourcefulness of the black may be related. Alarge eel, in a moment of indiscretion, showed itself in a fairly deepcreek. Bewailing the absence of his wing-net, or "moorgaroo, " the boyhunted the elusive fish hither and thither with cunning determination. Atlast it disappeared under a log. In most of his activities the black boysniffs at conventions. Hastily stripping, the boy dived and when hereappeared the eel was vainly squirming in one of the legs of histrousers which had been knotted below the knee. Another boy, a stranger, brought with him traditions which hesuccessfully materialised in favour of the employment of several lightdarts instead of a single heavy spear for fishing. The subject wasfrequently debated, but none of the camp adopted George's theories. Hisfavourite weapons were the dried stems of an all too common weed, whichgenerally grows straight and true. Into the thick end he would insert afour-inch length of No. 10 fencing wire, sharpened to a delicate point, and with a battery of eight or ten of these he would sally forth. His bagaveraged high. Often he treated me to practical demonstrations of thesuccess of his methods. A big flathead reposed in two feet of water, halfburied in the sand. George had one of his darts fast in a twinkling, andthe fish flashed away, the tip indicating its movement. In a few minutesthe hapless flathead was carrying no less than six darts, and as such ahandicap was absurd it abandoned the race for life. On another occasion he struck a big sting-ray so full of his impish dartsthat it resembled an animated pincushion of monstrous proportions. It, too, realised the futility of kicking against so many pricks. On theother hand, Tom, with his heavy shaft and barbed point, relied on asingle weapon. It seldom failed, for his right arm was strong anddisciplined to a nicety. On a shallow tidal creek a settler had made a corduroy crossing of thefibrous trunks of the Pandanus palms, which the blacks of theneighbourhood turned to account in the capture of fish. A few frailsticks, artlessly interwoven with grass, formed a primitive weir at thedown-stream end of the crossing. Fish which went up with the tidefrequently found themselves stranded on the way down, for the waterpassed freely between the palm-tree trunks without affording them rightof way, and the rude weir often stopped for ever belated bream, mullet, and barramundi. This simple trap, though it does not appear to be putinto use on the coast generally, seems almost to indicate an instinctiveknowledge of a studied design described to me by an observant friend whohas travelled into many an odd nook and corner of Queensland. On a deepbut narrow tributary of the Georgina River a permanent trap on a largescale was wont to be maintained. A tree had been felled across the streamso that each end of the trunk was supported by the respective bank. Straight stakes were driven firmly into the bed of the creek as closelytogether as possible, the heads resting against the horizontaltree-trunk. This palisading formed the base of an embankment of packedgrass and rubbish, sufficiently tight to raise the level of the streamabout three feet. In the middle of the embankment, and about one footbelow water-level, a hole about one foot square had been cut. A platformabout ten feet long by three feet wide, having a fall of about one footand formed of a number of straight saplings laid parallel with thestream, and supported by a couple of transverse bearers on four stoutforked sticks, received the escape from the sluice. At the lower end ofthe platform was a rough weir of twisted grass, which was continued upeach side for about half its length. Water passed with little hindrancethrough the platform, while jew-fish, yellow-tail, and bream, wereretained in considerable numbers. Many years have elapsed--peradventure centuries--since the blacks ofMissionary Bay, Hinchinbrook Island, built a weir of blocks and bouldersof granite which oysters cemented here and there. On the fulness ofspring tides fish frolicked over and among the boulders. Those whichdelayed their exit found themselves in an enclosed pool which at certainseasons of the year runs dry. To this day the sea continues to paytribute, though the blacks of the locality have passed away, and there isnone but the red-backed sea-eagle or the heavy-flighted osprey and a rareand casual white man, to receive it. Among the few emblems of thevanishing race, this persistent weir-taking toll of the fish month aftermonth, year after Year, for the benefit of successive generations ofeagles and ospreys, appeals vividly to the imagination. HOOKS. From what can be ascertained at this late date, pearl shell hooks werevery sure and killing, but seem to have been used principally for smallerfish--whiting, perch, bream, flathead, etc. --the occurrence of largehooks being exceedingly rare. Mullet (if tradition is to be credited)were seldom caught by hook and line, but were speared among the mangrovesat high tide--a practice which prevails to this day. The Dunk Islandexamples have a resemblance to one of the forms of pearl-shell hooks usedby the Tahitians in Captain Cook's day. Tortoise-shell hooks capable of holding large kingfish and fair sizedsharks are common among the natives of Darnley Island, Torres Straits. During the process of cutting and paring the hooks to the size and designrequired, the shell is frequently immersed in boiling water, whichtemporarily overcomes its inherent toughness. Incidentally, it may bepointed out that the evidence derivable from these fish-hooks does notafford proof of Papuan influence on the mind of the Australian aboriginal, except at the extreme north of Cape York Peninsula and a few miles downthe eastern coast of the Gulf of Carpentaria. This default seems the moreremarkable in face of the fact that outrigger canoes, doubtless of Papuanor Malayan origin, were known as far south as the Johnstone River. To say that the coastal blacks of North Queensland had no knowledge ofthe use of barbed hooks is misleading. In sheer desperation, when thesupply of pearl-shell hooks was exhausted, they were wont to attachbait to their harpoon-points, and they used such unpropitious meanssuccessfully, and occasionally made a miniature hook by tying a sharpspur to a thin, straight stick. Recent proof has been obtained of the useof the lorum of one of the creeping palms, from which all the spurs savethree at the thicker end were scraped off. With the knowledge of theefficacy of the barb under extraordinary circumstances, is it not themore remarkable that they failed to employ it systematically? Dr. W. E. Roth describes crescentic hooks of coco-nut shell and wooden hooks withbone barb, and also barbs improvised from one of the spines of thecatfish. He also mentions as "the most primitive form of hook" the driedtendril of HUGONIA JENKENSII ("pattel-pattel" of the Dunk Island blacks). To anyone familiar with the crescent pearl-shell hooks, the use of thesingular tendrils of the Hugonia would immediately be suggested; but myobservation, inquiries, and opinion do not support the theory. The shapeof the tendril is all that can be said in its favour. It is neithersharp nor tough enough for actual use. With these barbless hooks the bait was not impaled, but strapped on withshreds of bark. NARCOTICS AND POISONS. It is said of the great Mogul Emperor Babur that he boasted of being ableto make fish drunk so that he might haul them in shoals, and when"Carathis" pronounced her "barbarous incantations" the fish with oneaccord thrust forth their heads from the water. Is it generally knownthat the North Queensland blacks also are expert in the use of narcoticsand indifferent to the ethics of sport? The most commonly used of thefish poisons on the coast of North Queensland is likewise employed by thenatives of Zambesi Land for a similar purpose. The plant is knownbotanically as "Derris. " Two varieties, "scandens" and "uligijiosa, " areknown in this State. The aboriginal titles vary in different localities, but "Paggarra" will suit the present purpose. Some blacks are sooffensively civilised that they know the plant by the name of "WildDynamite. " Possibly it owes its popularity among fish poisons to the factthat it is the handiest of all. It trails over the rocks, just out oftouch of high-water mark, but not beyond the reach of the spray ofsurges. With roots investigating inclement crevices, and salt air dampingits leaves, the plant flourishes, and flowers prettily in gracefulracemes. In the semi-obscurity of the crevices the flowers put on a tingeof pink, literally blushing unseen. The heartless blacks tear up theplant, branches, leaves, flowers and all, coarsely bundle them together, and, wading into an enclosed pool where fish are observed, beat the mass(after dipping it into the water and while held in the left hand) with anulla-nulla. The action is repeated until the bark and leaves aremacerated, and then the bundle is thrown into the pool. In a few minutesthe fish rise to the surface, gasping and making extraordinary efforts toget out of the infected water. Death ensues rapidly, but the fish arequite wholesome as food. Another of the vegetable poisons is known as "Raroo" (CAREYA AUSTRALIS). The bark at the base of the trunk and of the roots contains an effectiveprinciple, which is released in a somewhat similar fashion to thatemployed with "Paggarra. " The fruit of the handsome, shrubby tree known botanically as DIOSPYROSHEBECARPA is also a most effective fish poison. It is oval-shaped, redwhen ripe, and, as the name implies, covered with soft, fine hair. Forall its lofty title and attractive appearance, the fruit is deceptive, for it bites and blisters the lips and tongue like caustic, and on beingbruised and thrown into a pool on the reef, all fish are killed outright. A different and, for a black, singularly complicated process is employedfor the extraction of the noxious principle residing in the plant knownas "Koie-yan" (FARADAYA SPLENDIDA). This is one of the most rampant andambitious of the many vines of the jungle. It combines exceeding vigour with rare gracefulness. The leaves are alight glossy green, ovate, and often a foot long, while the flowers arepure white (resembling slightly the azalea, but free from its fragility), large, and with an elusive scent, sweet and yet indefinite. The fruit, smooth and of porcelain whiteness, varies in size and shape, and is saidto be edible, though blacks ignore it. A large marble and an undersizedhen's egg may dangle together, or in company with others, from thetopmost branches of some tall tree, which has acted as host to theclinging vine. The handsome but inconsiderate plant is turned from itspurpose of lending fictitious and fugitive charms to quite commonplacebut passive trees to the office of stupefying uncomplaining fish. But theelement which holds such deadly enmity to the sense of the fish is notobtainable by the simple primary means successful with other plants. Indeed, the process is quite elaborate, and goes to prove that theAustralian aboriginal has to his credit as a chemist the results ofsuccessful original research, and that he is also a herbalist from whomit is no condescension to learn. In this detail, at any rate, he isdistinctly an accomplished person. Portions of the vine are cut into footlengths; the outer layer of bark is removed and rejected, the middlelayer alone being preserved. This is carefully scraped off and made upinto shapely little piles on fresh green leaves. One might imagine that ablack boy preparing the deadly "Koie-yan" was really playing at chemist'sshop with neat-handed scrupulousness. When a sufficiency is obtained itis rubbed on to stones previously heated by fire. The stones then beingthrown into a creek or a little lagoon left by the receding tide, thepoison becomes disseminated, with fatal effect to all fish and othermarine animals. It is pointed out, however, by Dr. Hamlyn-Harris that the nature of theactive principle of the "Koie yan" does not permit of elaboration bysuch means. The heating of the shredded bark would, therefore, appear tofall into line with the gibberish of ancient alchemists. It wouldbewilder the uninitiated without enhancing results. Many other plants supply the means of killing small fish wholesale, or ofreducing them to palsied cripples. The three described are fairly common, and have, therefore, been selected to point a moral. Poisoning fish is apoor sort of sport, perhaps, but there are two classes of fishermen--thehungry and the artistic. The latter use flimsy tackle and complicatedgear, and play the game, giving the victims to their wiles a sportingchance. Though not the only representative of the hungry class, the blackboy generally fishes on an empty stomach, and his demeanour coincides. Noslobbering sentiment affects him. Yet he is not so cruel as the meanwhite who throws a plug of dynamite into the river while the fish areenjoying their crowded hour, though he will with as little taint upon hisconscience poison a pool full of fish as drag with hooked stick areluctant crab piecemeal from its burrow among the mangrove roots. Butthen he is responding to the appeals of a clamant and not over-particularstomach, while your dynamitard is occasionally a well-fed barbarian with aqueasy palate. FLY-FISHING. The neatest and most artistic method by which the blacks kill fishnecessitates the employment of a particular species of spider known tothe learned as NEPHILA MACULATA PISCATORUM. This spider was discovered onDunk Island by Macgillivray, the naturalist of the expedition of H. M. S. RATTLESNAKE in 1848. It has a large ovate abdomen of olive-greenbespangled with golden dust; black thorax, with coral-red mandibles; andlong, slender legs, glossy black, and tricked out at the joints withgolden touches. A fine creature, gentle and stately in demeanour, itspins a large web, strong enough to hold the biggest of beetles and otherinsects, and, to harmonise with the superior air of the manufacturer, thegossamer is of golden-green. The great spider at the focus of theresplendent web is a frequent and conspicuous ornament to the edges ofthe jungle, and having no fear, and no indocility of temper, it undergoesthe ordeal of admiration with an assumption of disdainful coquettism. Thelocal name of this comely creature is "Karan-jamara. " Shamelesspolyandrist, she maintains several consorts--from three to five seems tobe the average number--and they, semi-transparent, feeble, meek, subduedlittle fellows, maintain precarious isolated existences in the outskirtsof the web. Though my own experience is negative, direct incontrovertible evidence isextant to the effect that birds often meet their fate by blundering intothe web, to be devoured by the nimble and gaily decorated owner. I havefrequently seen karan-jamara disposing of hard-shelled beetles as big inbulk as some birds, and the strongest of butterflies, once entangled, ispowerless. The long-legged spider leaps on the struggling prey and stillsits beating wings with one pinch of powerful red mandibles. March fliesform the most frequent diet. One has been observed to dispose of fourteenof the great stupid flies in a single evening, and if the flies couldreason they might, while whimpering because of the existence of suchvoracious spiders, acknowledge that they design their webs in a veryperplexing and masterly manner. In pursuance of inquiries--the results of which are herein recorded--acasual black boy, a stranger to these parts, and therefore unfamiliarwith the local name and the special purpose to which the spider is put, was cross-examined. At first he failed to recognise the photograph, butwhen it was explained by the pointed allusion to a living Maltese-crossspider close at hand, a gleam of intelligence brightened his bewilderedface, and he delivered a self-satisfied dissertation on the orderArachnida that is worth quoting: "That fella Oo-boo-boo. That fella mammy belonga 'nother fellaaltogether. You no savee, come close up--that fella ply way. You nosavee, come close up, that fella no good; that fella vite. " And the boy looked gravely sagacious and smiled the wide, wise smilebetokening proud superiority of information. Had Macgillivray but knownthat the "Oo-boo-boo" was the parent of all the many species, and that itbelongs to the discreetly valorous class that "vites" and flies away, andlives to "vite" another day, he might have achieved renown of a morepopular kind than is the reward of the unromantic naturalist whodiscovers merely a superior spider. This spider is used on some of the rivers as a lure, virtues almostirresistible being ascribed to it. Experiments in salt water, though notabsolutely negative in their results, have not afforded any speciallyexciting sport; but possibly the fascination of the lure is moreefficient in fresh than in salt water, and is influential over thehabitual caution throughout a certain species of fish only. The trick isworked in the following manner: The angler takes a light, thin switch and entangles one end in the web, which, by dexterous waving action, is converted (without being touchedwith the fingers) into a strand about two feet long. The spider issecured and squashed, and the end of the line moistened in the juices ofthe body, some of the fragments of which are reserved for bait, and alsoto be thrown into the water as a preliminary charm. These buoyant titbitsattract shoals of small fish, among which the line, with its extract ofspider, is delicately trailed; a fish rises to the lure, the gossamerbecomes entangled in its teeth, and it is landed by a brisk yet easymovement of the wrist. A great angler recently said that throwing a flyis an act of feeling or instinct rather than reason. So the black boywith a careless flourish fills his dilly-bag, while he smiles at theserious attempts of the white man to imitate his skill. Owing to the brevity and the frailness of the line, the catch is limitedto fish under the recognised standard as to size. Tests prove that thebreaking strain of the line is nearly three-quarters of a pound, but theweight of the individual is of no great consideration, since numbers arecaught quickly. The gossamer is singularly sticky. The viscid substancewith which it is coated is not readily dissolvable in water; indeed, water seems to have the effect of hardening it, so that the line' wearslonger than might be expected. Piquant morsels of the spider areentangled in the frayed end of the line as its original potency becomesnon-effective. A friend for whose edification this novel method was demonstrated thuswrites it: "It did not take the boy long to get ready. They simply broke a switchabout three feet long and attached a portion of the web about six incheslong to the end; squeezed out on to a leaf the fluid internals of thespider, into which they dipped the end of the line, started a rathermelodious chant, and put the line in shallow water. I was only a few feetaway and could see no fish at first, but they came very soon. They werevery small, about one and a half inches long. They fasten their teeth inthe web, and are lifted out quite slowly. Some require to be pulled offthe line after being landed. I watched for about ten minutes, duringwhich time seventeen were caught. " Sir William Macgreggor, ex-Governor of Queensland, has described thePapuan art of fishing by means of kites, the lure being a tassel of theweb of a spider of the Nephila species. No doubt the blacks here made anindependent and original discovery, and in their simplicity applied it ina different, but none the less effective, style from that of the advancedPapuan. Thus, to use the web and the fragments of a spider for fly-fishing iscertainly meting out poetic justice to the spider on account of the manyensnared flies; and the black angler never pauses to reflect whether thecomminuted remains of a spider can possibly be construed into a fair fly. PART II--MISCELLANEA PEARLS WHAT IS A PEARL? What is a pearl? The substance of a sensation--the consolidation ofdiscomfort on the part of an oyster or other nacre-secreting mollusc. Itis a globular deposit of carbonate of lime, with a very small proportionof water, generally enclosing a trifle which is its cause and core and, so to speak, is a waste product of the body's chemistry. In therestricted, scientific sense, "true pearls are bodies consisting ofcalcareous material with an organic basis. " Similar bodies having coresof sand grains or other foreign substance are known as "blisters. " Science, which peers and probes into the innermost affairs of oysters, and speaks of them in terms of uneasy familiarity, asserts that pearlsare frequently caused by a parasite to which they are subject. It would ill become one who has no scientific pretensions to suggestother definitions, though he may claim to be among the few who have beenprivileged to observe a pearl in the making, or, rather, to watchNature's finishing touches. In the case of the oyster the radical home cure for the living irritantor insoluble substance which had gained entrance between its valves is anencasement of pearl-film. If this encasement is globular or pear-shaped, or takes the form of a button and is lucid, lustrous, flawless, and oflarge size, it may be of almost inestimable worth. Does the proud beauty who glories in the possession of a pearl condescendto imagine that she flaunts on her bosom just so many tombs containingthe dust of the germs of a parasite? Does she not rather love to think ofthe gems as emblems of almost celestial purity, and to dwell on the fableof the Persians rather than the audacious modern fact? Addison has set the fable in imperishable gold: A drop of water fell outof a cloud into the sea, and finding herself lost in such immensity offluid matter, broke out into the following reflection: "Alas! What aninconsiderable creature am I in this prodigious ocean of waters; myexistence is of no concern to the universe; I am reduced to a kind ofnothing, and am less than the least of the works of God. " It so happenedthat an oyster which lay in the neighbourhood chanced to gape and swallowit up in the midst of this its humble soliloquy. The drop, says thefable, lay a great while hardening in the shell, until by degrees it wasripened into a pearl, which, falling into the hands of a diver after along series of adventures, is at present that famous pearl which isaffixed on the top of the Persian diadem. Though one may count his pearls by the score, the hoard may be valueless. Upon such examples entertaining, if not valuable, experiments may be madewithout affectation or giving hostages to fortune. In all the littledeformed specimens thus dissected the core has been found to consist of aforeign substance, generally what seemed under a microscope of limitedpower a speck of dirt. The heart of one was a blob of mud, which gave offa most baleful vapour. This was the result of the house-cleaning of acommon, edible rock oyster, and the pearl, dirty green and lustreless, merely a thin casket, for the noisome mud had not solidified. The carewith which the impurity had been rendered innocuous demonstrated thecorrect ideas of the oyster on sanitation. No doubt the germ of thespecial form of tape-worm which troubles oysters, irritates topearl-making, and passes through other transformations in other hosts, and completes its cycle in the body of a shark, would be too minute forinexpert detection. The fact that molluscs do intern foreign andobnoxious substances is testimony to their decency and love ofcleanliness, and so may the pearl be still accepted as the embodiment ofpurity. Though all its little soul be dirt, the pearl is pure, and butfor the dirt or the germ of a filthy ailment it would not be pearl. So many molluscs produce pearls that it would be absurd for the greatoyster family to set up exclusive rights. They do not, for your oyster isever humble even when tenanted with a rivalless pearl. On the coast ofNorth Queensland, within the Great Barrier Reef, pinnas of at least twospecies are among the producing agents, which, covering a wide range, seem to meet in two distinct genera, far apart in appearance and habit. There is the frail, flat, translucent "window-shell" (Placuna), thevalves of which fit so closely that the poor little inhabitant issqueezed to a wafer, a film, a fragment of muscle. Yet in some localitiesnearly every individual has a pearl, pretty in tint, but too minute to beof value. An allied species is common on the coast of China, where thepearls are collected for export to India, to be reduced to lime bycalcination for the use of luxurious betel-nut chewers. These almostmicroscopic pearls are also burnt in the mouths of the dead who have beeninfluential and wealthy. Coal-black pearls occur in one of the pinnas, the interior of which issooty, shot with iridescent purple, and since the pearl, whether producedby oyster, mussel, pinna, or window-shell, is generally more brilliantthan the containing shell, that of the black pinna, with the high lightsof its environment concentrated, may be a gem of surpassing novelty andbeauty. But the habitual product of this pinna is small, dull, mud-tintedor brown, and of no value whatever. Another of the genera grows "seed" ofexcellent lustre, corresponding with the azure brightness of the shell. The chief source of orient pearls on the coast of North Queensland is thegold-lip mother-of-pearl PINCTADA MAXIMA, while the black lip PINCTADAMARGARITIFERA occasionally yields fine and flawless specimens of asilvery lustre. One which is still lovingly remembered was of pale blueand wonderfully lighted. The commonest of the giant clams TRIDACNAGIGAS sometimes betrays evidence of past internal trouble by the presenceof a concretion of porcelain whiteness and of porcellaneous texture, but such are not to be described as pearls and to be prized asrarities only. That some huge molluscs produced pearls before man, with his faculty foradmiration, came on the scene is proved by their existence as fossils inchalk. Hemispherical specimens have been found on the inner surface of ashell which has no living representative--viz. , the Inoceramus (some ofwhich attained a length of two feet)--and spherical ones of the sameprismatical structure occur detached in the chalk. It were curious to letthe imagination run over the fact that the hosts of these uncommendedgems died ages before the advent of man. The best of modern prizes may bepuny in comparison with those which caused distress to the giant molluscsof the age when the Ichthyosaurus, Plesiosaurus, and Pterodactylus werethe aristocrats of the animal world. Such gems have gone for ever, andeven during this age of insatiable and adventurous search man does notsecure a tithe of the ocean's tribute, for, since a pearl is a source ofdiscomfort to its host, the unceasing effort of the animal is towardsexpulsion. The greatest and possibly the most magnificent are cast out asrubbish on the ocean floor, or are retained within the valves when theanimal dies of old age. So-called pearls have been found in elephants' tusks and semi-adherent tothe bones of fish, and concretions--hard, smooth, and round, and of theflat hue of skimmed milk--in coconuts and in the cavities of bamboos; butin the production of the real gem neither oyster nor mussel nor pinnaneed fear the rivalry of anything on the earth's surface. The pearlbelongs to the sea. Completely spherical pearls can be formed only loose in the mantle orsoft parts of the body of the animal; but intrusions incite a deposit ofnacre in the form of a projection on the interior, which projection, often a mere bubble, but sometimes semi-detached, may take the shape anddimensions of the foreign substance. Or an inoffensive mollusc may begoaded by the piercing of its shell from the exterior to create that forwhich men venture into the depths of the sea. If a pearl-secreting oysterbe inherently robust, its defence against assault from without mayconsist of the strengthening of the interior at the point of attack bydeposits of nacre. Thus, a slight protuberance arises which becomes thebase of a blister or button or the starting-point of a pear-shaped gem. Many a lovely gem is, therefore, nothing more than the imperishablerecord of aggression on the part of a flabby sponge on a resourcefuloyster. Occasionally valuable pearls are found within huge blisters. Suchpearls originate, no doubt, in the ordinary way, but, becoming anintolerable nuisance on account of increasing size, are confined innacre. One of the accompanying illustrations shows the fate which befell aninfant chiton upon intrusion on a small black-lip oyster, andcoincidentally the origin of a blister. The chiton family being notoriousfor stolidity, the infant could not have realised the risks of itstrespass until the strait-jacket made its retirement impossible. Thenacre has reproduced the details of the chiton's exterior with thefidelity of a casting, and further reveals the fact that it was alivewhen entombed, for its struggles to escape are solidified. This deliberate act of the oyster may not stand comparison with the stoneof Pyrrhus's ring, which had the figure of Apollo and the nine Muses inthe veins of it produced by the spontaneous handiwork of Nature withoutany help from art. The marvellous stone belonged to the fabulous past;the imprisoned chiton to the prosaic present. Another illustration is that of an accumulation of nacre which hasassumed accidental resemblance to a miniature shark. It was found in agold-lip pearl shell in Torres Straits. The like quantity in globularshape would represent a pearl of great value. A PEARL IN THE MAKING. On a calm and luminous day I waded, disrobed, in shallow water as limpidas the fictitious stream which legend says King Solomon improvised at thefoot of his throne when the Queen of Sheba attended his court. Liftingher robes--for she imagined the crossing of the water to be a ceremonialdevice--the gorgeous Queen displayed her shapely calves. The water restingon the verge of the lovely Isle was as delusively clear, but was notdeceptive. It revealed living coral, good to avoid by the barefooted; clams withpatterned mantles of various tints--grey, slate-blue, sea-green, brown, and buff; anemones in many shapes, some like spikes of lavender, andirritant and repellent to the touch; some platter-shaped and cobalt-blue;some as living vases with the opalescent tints of Venetian glass, which, abhorring the hand of man, retreat into the sand until only aninconspicuous fringe of neutral tint is visible. Sea-slugs in almostendless form and variety of hue, and many other strange sea things, wereamong the inhabitants of the reef--a closely packed arena of never-ceasingslaughter. In the middle of a clump of brown seaweed, which had fallen apart likethe neatly dressed hair of a woman, was a black streak, signifying thegape of a wedge-shaped mollusc known as a pinna. The gape was about aslong as the parting of a woman's hair and about thrice as wide. As Icrouched to note the functions of the animal, my shadow intervened andthe caution of the creature was roused, the valves closing so that nosign of the presence of the shell was distinguishable among the slightlywavering, minute particles of alga. Changing my position, so that thepinna might not be deprived of its share of the rays of the sun, thevalves soon furtively opened. A slight movement on my part and theyclosed again, without having revealed any hidden charms. After a few minutes, a certain confidence being established between us, the pinna emerged from its retirement, in so far as such creatures arepermitted by Nature. The mantle of this particular species is shown as adelicate fringe of lace in old gold and black. It ripples along the upperedges of the confining valves, which are intensely black with a pearlylustre. The pretty movements of the mantle--like the swinging of theskirts of a well-apparelled damsel--attracted admiration, and on peeringinto the shell a glimpse of something precious was obtained. Tossed and twirled about just below the old gold fringe was a black pearlabout the size of a pea. The prize was safe. Without risk of loss itcould be watched in its unceasing revolutions. It seemed as if theanimal, with automatic perseverance, attempted to eject the incubus, theweight of which kept it about an inch below the aperture of the valves. Such motion would naturally tend to perfection. Whatsoever its lustre, itwould certainly be a sphere. Besides, it was a pearl in the making. Aslong as it remained within the pinna and it could not be voluntarilyrejected, its size would inevitably increase. It was the rolling stone towhich time and the secretions of the animal would add weight and, peradventure, beauty. Was mortal ever before privileged to watch over the growth of a blackpearl? The activities of the mantle, a blending of enticing colour andpoetic motion, were slow, free, and light-attracting. The ancientsbelieved that some pearls were constituted by flashes of lightningplaying on bubbles within the oyster. A relative of the family hereseemed to be wooing the tropic sun of its beams, if not to vitalise, atleast to burnish its treasure. Close scrutiny showed that the pearl was not absolutely free. It wasenclosed in a transparent membrane, the merest film, which confined it toa particular position in the mantle, while it seemed to possessindependent actions--vertical and revolutionary. Perhaps the rays of lightwhich fell unequally on it through the water created the illusion ofrevolutions, but it is certain that the pearl seemed to be playing a gameof hide-and-seek. Was it possible for human nature to deny itself so easily gotten andpretty a prize? I confess, though the possibility of the pearl increasingin size and loveliness was obvious, that the fact that pinnas are subjectto ills, chances, and mishaps, was also recognised. Left to be slowlytossed about, the pearl would become greater; but size, though animportant feature, is not the only desirable quality. And while it grewmight not another barefooted beach-comber discover it? Or might notone of the many unintelligent admirers of the pinna itself findentrance by drilling or by the violent crushing of the valves, and, ignoring the treasure, destroy the organs and the substance by and fromwhich it was being delicately elaborated? Suppose, I argued, I removethe gaping shell, I shall no longer be able to enjoy the rare, the uniquepleasure of presiding over the gradual perfection of a pearl, anaesthetic advantage to which I alone had been made free. Could presentpossession of a little sphere of carbonate of lime, polished and sootyblack, compensate for the continuance of the chaste joy of watching oneof the most covert and intimate processes of Nature? Balancing theimmediate material gain against the inevitable moral loss, I was almostpersuaded to self-denial, when, with a sudden impulse, begot of theconsciousness of rightful acquisition, the pinna was forcibly yetcarefully drawn out of the sand in which it was deeply embedded and inwhich it was anchored by toughened byssus. Directly the valves wereprised apart the pearl fell into my hand. Never before had I seen one soloosely retained within its shell. Generally, in the case of the pinna, pearls are embedded in the muscles or soft parts, and are not primarilydiscernible, but have to be sought for by passing the "meat" through thefingers. On this occasion all previous experience had been set at naught, so that it might seem that the prize had been presented by the animal asits perfect and most opulent work. STRANGE PEARLS. The engaging theory of the ancients that pearls were made of glutinousdewdrops condensed by the sun's heat does not take into account the factthat some of the rarest, though not the most valuable, have assumedcontrary and fantastic shape. Fish, crabs, and marine insects have proveda common origin of pearly developments while they have been regarded bysome as almost miraculous conceptions on the part of the afflictedmollusc. Hamed of Jeddah, the stubby Arab who deals in fish and oysters, and whoprofesses to have groped over in his youth a considerable extent of theRed Sea for coral and pearls, relates many experiences in which thepopular gem takes pride of place. Oriental that he is, he lovesexaggeration, and while lending a propitious car to the stories in whichhe enshrines his prime, when he could dive deep and long, and when theprecious red coral was "thick" and every shell contained a pearl, it isdiscreet to disregard obvious breaks and bulges along the prim path oftruth. The very crudeness of his embellishments invests with kind ofcomic relief some of his fables, which end invariably with insipiduniformity. All the pearls which have slipped through Hamed's rough handshave been valued at five hundred pounds, never more or less. It is notfor me to rub the gilt off the innocent inventions of the emotional Arab, but merely to relate one of his time-beguiling tales, and one which, probably, is of clean-cut truth. A huge gold-lip, found four fathoms deep, where the sea grass swaysindolently long, contained a tinted pearl like: "That fella sitting down along a tree and sing out along night time. " "Flying fox?" I guessed grimly. "No!" snapped Hamed indignantly. "'Nother fella. " "That bird which says 'chump, chump, chump?'" I meekly asked. Again Hamed sneered ironically. "No bird. No bird carn get along oyster. Little fella-green like leaf. Sing out 'Ko-rog, ko-rog, ko-rog!'" "Oh! Frog!" "Yes. Like frog. Me call him 'ghouk' along my country. That fella insidegold-lip. One inch long. Leg, hand, mouth, eyes all asame. I bin get fivehundred pounds for that fella. " Azure pearls in the similitude of tiny fish can be vouched for by peoplefar more careful of their facts than Hamed--fish which have intrudedthemselves on the oysters and have been encased in nacre. Probably therarity which fell into Hamed's hands was the pearly presentment of acrustacean, for marine frogs are infinitely rarer than pearls. Severalmolluscs admit tenants, one particular species a rotund crab; but in thecase in point the wrong mansion was entered and, so to speak, theobtruder was transformed. A common and neat industry in China is the production of fraudulentpearls, pretty and in accordance with submitted design, in which theco-operation of the obedient but frail mussel is necessary. If a roundpearl is desired, a naked shot is introduced between the valves so muchto the discomfort of the animal that it proceeds to cover it decentlywith layer after layer of pearl-film, the bulk of which depends upon thelength of life granted to the mussel. Sometimes little josses are stampedout in thin uncorrosive metal, which, being presented to the mussel, arefaithfully modelled, the thrifty Chinese obtaining in course of timequaint pearly gods--as potent as the best--without money and withoutprice. Not so long as a quarter of a century ago a spirit-bottle full ofpearls--buttons, blisters, and chips of all sorts, sizes, and shapes--waspurchased in North Queensland by one who had but the crudest ideas as tothe value of such gems. The vendor was a whity-brown man, thin, andthinly clad in cotton. The complexion of the buyer was ruddier than thecherry, for the tropic sun had beamed ardently on his peachy Scotch skin, proclaiming him a new-chum, a bright and shining new-chum. Because he wasnew he was alert to the value of money. Had he not come, as all new-chumsdo, to Tom Tiddler's ground to pick up gold and silver? Hence, when thehatless, spare, whity-brown man in soiled cotton offered for sale theodd-shaped beads in a besmeared whisky-bottle for five pounds, hisnational trait expressed itself in a scoff. The whity-brown man's seriousness, his confidentiality, his keen desireto sell, his mysticism and misty English, the ruddy young man interpretedas manifestations of the arts and wiles by means of which innocentstrangers from far away lands are tempted into bankruptcy bargains. Theseller, anxious to dispossess himself of ill-gotten gains prejudicial tohis love of liberty, pursued the Scotch youth almost tearfully, until thebottle changed hands, but at a considerable reduction on the priceoriginally demanded. Shortly after a friend enlightened the youth as tothe probable value of the collection, and gave him some cheap advice, especially on the desirableness of secrecy. The youth accepted the adviceso literally that the story ends. No one ever knew how, when, where, andfor what consideration, he disposed of his embarrassments. Fresh from theland of his birth, and with the text of Burns's poetic letter in hismind, he kept that something to himself. The days of such sensational deals are past. The primal crop has longsince been harvested. Science is now bidden to stimulate the docileoyster, for the rage for pearls is as the rage of the heathen. Is it notthe wish of every woman, old and young, to possess pearls? And whilesubject man, flushed with hope, ventures to the "utmost port, washed bythe furthest sea, " for such merchandise at the caprice of woman, Scienceplods sedately after man, beguiling him with the hope of some less riskyand laborious means of acquiring the gems, while at the same time shesoothes the irrepressible passion of every damsel with strings ofartistic counterfeits manufactured from the scales of silvery fish, andas pleasant to glance at as many an orient. The Spaniards say that a paper cigarette, a glass of water, and the kissof a pretty girl, will sustain a man for a day without eating. But whatis a man to do who has no tobacco, only stale water, who is separatedfrom the nearest girl by seventy miles of perilous seas forlorn, andwhose appetite sickens at the sight of the coarse fare of a béche-de-merboat? There is but one resource for such a martyr. He must do "aperisher. " That is precisely what the master of a lonely boat in an oddangle of the Coral Sea was doing when a joyful sail appeared--a dove-likemessenger from civilisation and shops. It was a pitiable famine. No onehad had a smoke for a week. The black boys had broken up theirnicotine-saturated clay pipes and masticated them to pulp, and stilltreasured the quids, while the "Boss" pondered cigars during the day anddreamt them at night. But relief was at hand. The master of the strangecraft, though well stocked, was not disposed to be generous, untiltempted by the sight of a lovely yellow pearl, about the size of a smallmarble and of satiny lustre--sweet to look upon, sweeter still to possess. Aware of the other man's agonising needs, he drove a hard bargain, andthe gem became his at the cost of a box of tobacco. He hugged himself forjoy, and after a decent lapse, during which he acted the part of thevirtuous who had relieved another's necessities out of sheer goodwill(for the pearl was only a curio, was it not?), he set sail for thenearest port. Certain that fortune had at last beamed upon him, he laid up his lugger, wound up his affairs, and hurried off to Sydney, secretly, to dispose ofhis prize first-hand. An expert weighed the treasure, scrutinised itshrewdly through a microscope, and handed it back with a casual remarkthat it was a pretty curio, but that its market value was about half acrown. "It has been exposed to great heat, and may crumble to pieces ata change of temperature. Get me one like that uncooked and I'll give youtwelve hundred pounds. " Some time after, the grasping man discovered that the pearl had beenfound in the "meat" of a "helmet" shell which had been roasted by ahungry and tobaccoless boy. Without appearing to suggest anything beyond a trifling blemish in thisstory, replete as it is with edifying illustrations of the frailties ofhuman nature, it would be well to remember that the helmet shell (CASSISFLAMMEA) is not nacreous and could not therefore produce a true pearl, but merely g porcellaneous concretion, which, however, might possess amost attractive tint, possibly pale salmon or orange. Such a gem might bevaluable. Great pearls are not generally found on shallow reefs. He who wouldsearch for them systematically must dive, and if he does not possess theproper costume and accessories his trips below are but brief, and notalways profitable. When a diver boasts that he can remain under water twoor three minutes--and the boast is very common--he has gauged his enduranceby his sensations, not by the clock. Once an expert was timed, a colouredgentleman who had great repute among his companions, all capable divers. He made a special and supreme effort, and though the watch recordedbarely seventy seconds, he was much distressed. Recovery was, however, speedy; of ten subsequent minutes he spent more than half out of sight. It is not argued that human beings cannot remain voluntarily under watermore than seventy seconds, but the feat is so rare that those whoaccomplish it are not usually pearl-divers. The natives of some parts of Borneo declare that the valves of theoysters containing the largest pearls are always open, and that bypeering into the water the pearls may be seen. They tell a story of agigantic pearl which was thus discovered by the men of old and actuallybrought while within the oyster into a canoe, but had slipped from thefingers of a careless holder into deep water. Spencer St. John, author of "Life in the Forests of the Far East, " hadamong his friends a chief who ventured most of his possessions in apearling cruise. Disaster attended the enterprise, but without subduinghis faith in luck; mortgaging everything, even to his wife and child, hewent out to woo fortune again. His slave-boy was preparing to dive one daywhen he started back, touched his master's hand, and with signs of greatemotion pointed into the water. The chief looked, and there, seven fathomsbelow, lay an oyster with an enormous pearl distinctly visible. Without amoment's reflection he plunged in, and, diving with skill and speed, reached the shell before it closed, his fingers being caught between thevalves. He quickly rose to the surface, and was helped into the boat byhis anxious follower. Upon the oyster being forced open, a pearl, unsurpassed in size and of extraordinary beauty, was revealed. Returningto his native village, the chief sold all his smaller pearls, and havingredeemed his wife and child, set sail for Manila, where lived an Englishfriend who advanced him money, to whom he said: "Take this pearl, clearoff my debt, give me what you like in return. I shall be satisfied. "The author adds: "The merchant took the pearl, gave him what he consideredits value--at all events enough to make Sulu ring with his generosity--andsent the pearl to China; but what became of it afterwards I could neverdistinctly trace; but I learned that a pearl in Bengal called 'The Mermaid'originally came from China, and as the one found in Sulu was said to beshaped like a woman's bust, it is probably the same. " Possibly the golden age of the pearl is passing as the golden age of thereptile has passed, for can it not be imagined that, in those far-backdays when oysters attained a length of two feet and better deserved thetitle of Tridacna (three bites) than the present clams, pearls ofcorresponding magnificence of size were produced? Or are robustpearlless oysters to be accepted as the type of the strong era, and smalloysters and pearls merely as signs of degeneracy? The largest of modernpearls measured two inches long by a circumference of four inches andweighed eighteen hundred grains. The containing shell may have been bigonly in comparison with its contemporaries. A very small man has beenknown to be afflicted with a disproportioned goitre, and there are somewho argue that the goitre may be but the prototype of the pearl. Is fact or fable to claim the most glorious of pearl stories? Some verilybelieve that Cleopatra did quaff the costliest beverage the world hasever known. The incident is so faithful to the character of "that rareEgyptian" that all sober record shall not discount delight in itstranscendent sumptuousness. Though the pearl may have been worth eightythousand pounds of our money, though Cleopatra was gay, though herextravagance was impious, she was a glorious woman, and she had at leastone glorious, if nauseating, drink. The pearl decoction was merely anepisode in her policy, which was to fascinate Antony--Antony who hadcalled her to account for having aided his enemies in their war againsthim. And what was an eighty thousand pound bauble in the high affairs ofState? "She was at the age when a woman's beauty is at its prime, andshe was also of the best judgment. So she furnished herself with a worldof gifts, stores of gold and silver, and of riches and other sumptuousornaments as is credible she might bring from so great a house and fromso wealthy and rich a realm as Egypt. But yet she carried nothing withher wherein she trusted more than herself, and in the charms andenchantment of her surpassing beauty and grace. " And then the supper following the magnificent pageant! Anything less thanan eighty thousand pound pearl would have been an anti-climax, a meanand clumsy culmination of a "gaudy night. " That soul-delighting gem whichvanished in foam told of a superb Cleopatra's "calm felicity and power. " Some say that, the jewel--cast away so majestically was one of a pairwhich Cleopatra wore as ear-rings, and that when Antony restrained hishostess from a repetition of the draught, she presented the now matchlesspearl to him. Another version implies that the ear-ring^ had beenoriginally one monster pearl, which Cleopatra had caused to be sawn intwo to gratify her lust for unique and lavish ornament. It is said, too, that the pearl was dissolved in wine. By a simplepractical test and at the sacrifice of a small quantity of baroque, proofwas obtained that ordinary culinary vinegar is a solvent of pearls. Theexperiment also yielded these notable conclusions--that either the wine ofCleopatra's age was much more corrosive than the vinegar of ours, or thatthe costly beverage was prepared beforehand, or that the stately banquetwas long-drawn-out while the inestimable gem spluttered and simmered inthe goblet. The dissolution of such a large pearl must have been slow, and the product far from nice, but it was one of the effects by which asovereign woman conquered the "most courteous lord" of his day. A curious superstition prevails in some parts of the East Indies, itbeing believed that if gold and pearls are placed by themselves in apacket they will certainly decrease in quantity or number, and in the endtotally disappear; but, if a few grains of rice are added, the treasureis safe. Rice is thought not only to preserve the original number ofpearls, but to actually cause increase. Tarnished pearls are occasionally submitted to the process of"skinning"--the removal with fine steel files under a magnifying glass ofthe outer 'layer, on the chance of the existence of a better underneath. The ancients treated lustreless gems differently, placing them beforedoves, under the belief that they could be polished by being pecked andplayed with by the gentle birds. In some respects pearls are superior to all other gems. They areemblematic of serenity, and serenity is often power in the highestmanifestation. None ever said an unkind word of pearls; no dubious legendclings to them, making the timid afraid. They come to us perfectlyfashioned. No coarse handiwork has touched them, no soulless machineground them to conventional pattern. The last diamond may be, the. Lastpearl never, until the sea gives up more than its dead, its very being. Pearls may begin and end in foam; but the beginning is now and always, and the ending rare, for the Cleopatras are gone. Emblems of purity, refinement, and peace, they are truly the gems for woman. Queenly ordemure, they become her, and she bestows on them a quality hard todefine, but singularly sweet and acceptable. Gold and precious stones mayoccupy billions of years in the making, or may be the product of-- "The war of elements, The wrecks of matter, and the crash of worlds. " Once we find these hard, cold things and take hold of and seize them, weknow that we have, to use a homely simile, eaten our cake. The supply ofpearls is continuous, and under the control of the cruel ingenuity of manthey grow to an ordinary size in less than a decade. Many years ago an opinion was expressed that the increasing knowledge 'ofthe mollusc and its habits would enable man literally to sow the sea withpearls as he sows a field with grain, and that the harvest would becertain. Under natural conditions not one oyster in a hundred is troubledwith a pearl, and not one pearl in the hundred is of any real value. Itis demanded that unsuspecting oysters shall be inflicted with a kind ofplague, so that there shall be not one but several pearls in everysuffering individual, and in the greater number chance will contrive alarger proportion of orients. Every oyster has its potentialities;Science seeks to convert potentialities into certainties. PEARLS AND HIGH TRAGEDY. Such merchandise has ever provoked the spirit of adventure in hardy, healthy men, and pearls have claimed the lives of the best among them. The health and figure of the friend who beguiled many an evening weresacrificed to the lustrous gem so prized of women. A model of stalwartmanhood of the Viking strain, he died early, worn out with the stresswith which he sought the most serene of personal adornments. There mayhave been some slight exaggeration in the popular belief that he hadwalked along the bottom of the sea from one end of the Great Barrier Reefto the other, a stretch of over one thousand miles; but that he hadaccomplished more than that distance in the aggregate of his submarinewanderings may be quite credible. Probably there was no human being whopossessed such intimate knowledge of the character of the ocean floorwithin the living bounds of the Great Barrier; and since he was silent, reserved, and self-contained to all save friends of long standing, wasnever guilty of boasting, and ever reluctant to tell of his adventures, the world is little the wiser from his work, though at the best time ofhis life most of his days were spent under water in fairyland-likescenes. It may seem absurd to associate fairyland with the depths of thesea; but the shy explorer of many a coral grove has been heard to saythat the scenes fulfilled his ideals of what the realms of the fairiesmight be like. Pearl-divers are more susceptible to the charms of wayward Fortune thanthose who have not realised tile thrill of expectancy with which a hugegoldlip, encrusted with coral and swathed with seaweed, is seized. It maycontain a gem worth a king's ransom, or but an animal which, though itmay be crossed in love, is not engaging in appearance or in any featureor quality commendable. There is the chance; and it appeals to mostrational men. Secretive Fortune lures on, promising the bubble pearl 'andproffering that which satisfieth not, until the stress and perils of theavocation tell on the enthusiast, who finds himself not exuberant aswont; that Fortune has been tricking him; that in the pursuit of pearlsChance is oft repellent; and that the prize which seemed impossible toavoid has eluded the most devoted seekers. It may be that my captain did not seek his pearls with zeal beyond thatwhich is common to the calling the world over; but that his enthusiasmbeguiled him into remote and odd parts of the Barrier, that he becamefamiliar with rare scenes (denied to all save submarine adventurers intropical waters), that he was oft in peril of his life, and that he couldpause in the midst of strenuous, nerve-racking work to watch thenever-ceasing hostilities of the denizens of the sea, may not bequestioned. Not long before he passed away he told of one of his adventures in a fewhurried words, after the manner of one who loves not to dwell on personalreminiscences, save as a text for the rectification of popular error inrespect of sensational happenings. The story is here repeated, for itthrows light on an incident which sent one ship of warfare on dubiouspatrol, and reveals the manner of the men who sought pearls in the olddays. "Have you found that pearl?" he asked smilingly; for we had often talkedof the possibility of being rewarded with a fortune-bestowing gem. "Yes, indeed, I have; and a real beauty. I very much doubt if you, forall your experience, ever saw such perfect shape and fine lustre. Here isan instance of the perversity of Chance. You, tied up in a rubber bag, rake the floor of the Barrier, fighting sharks and being hustled byturtle, and never find anything out of the way. I stroll about thebeaches, and see what Fortune bestows!" The size of a small marble, it lay swathed in white wadding. Minutefurrows sculptured the surface in radiating lines from pole to pole, enhancing rare radiance. The captain took the little casket in his hand that he might gloat overthe treasure, as, his eyes shining, he said: "You lucky fellow! Where did you get it? I never saw a finer pearl, andI have seen a few in my days. Fair numbers have passed through my hands;but--you fraud!" He lifted it, revealing a counterfeit, which had once ornamented a hatpin. In good-humour he settled down on a lounge and gradually drifted intoreminiscences. "About two years before what I am going to tell you happened, I heard ofa patch of shell off an island Sud-Est way; I kept the tip to myself, determined to work the spot on my own account if ever I got the chance. Iwaited till I saved a few pounds, and, taking in a mate, fitted out acraft, and with a crew of very fair boys sailed away. I found the spotall right; but--my usual luck--someone had been there before me. Strangeto say, the spot was by no means worked out, though it was fairly goodground and easy working, and the shell large. We did good business for awhile, until one day I got a proper start. The life-line fouled onsomething, and I found that it had taken a turn round the bowsprit of awreck. I got on top pretty quick, and, having had a talk with my mate, went down again. Very soon I knew the boat. It was the ----, and she hadbelonged to a man I had known very well. The strange part about thebusiness was that the boat had been burned. Her deck was gone; she hadburned to the water's edge and had sunk, and there she rested on herkeel. I knew that the owner had left port some months before on a secretcruise. Someone must have given him the. Tip, too. He was well known andliked, and generally did good business. My mate and I talked over thebusiness. We wanted to clean up that patch, so decided to remain a fewdays longer before clearing out to report. I was convinced that murderhad been committed-that the natives of the island had massacred the partyand had sunk the lugger. "While I was below next day an urgent message came down. I bobbed uppretty quickly. A boat was sneaking out from the beach, apparently withthe plan of cutting us off from our lugger, which was anchored somedistance off, with only a couple of boys on board. You bet, we got upsteam pretty quickly. When we got on board we reached for our rifles, andthen felt safe. "The boat was then making straight for us, and it appeared to be crowdedwith darkies. We had been off the island for four days, and had not seenthe sight of a native. I knew there were plenty, and the fact that theyhad kept away had made me a bit suspicious. As the boat came along I wassure they meant mischief, and was determined, no matter how friendly theywanted to be, not to let one of the beggars on deck. "About half a mile away we saw one of them, who appeared to be a bitlighter in colour than the rest, stand up in the bow and wave a kind ofmessage. He kept one arm going like a semaphore. Then we saw that hecarried under the other arm a basket--a peace-offering of yams and fruit, no doubt. He had only a shirt on, and still he kept his right armworking. When he got within hailing distance, the man in the bows shoutedmy name. He was a brawny chap. I thought to myself that if it came to arow I would pot him first, for he was ringleader. "All the rest were naked. His scanty uniform marked him out. Probably hegot that shirt from the owner of the sunken lugger. I wetted my lips withmy tongue as I thought it might be my duty to wipe him out. Then my namewas shouted out again, and, recognising the voice, I discovered the manin the shirt to be a well-known character who goes under the name of ----. "I've got something nice for you, captain! Don't look so nasty with thatrifle to an old friend!' "Still keeping our rifles ready, we let the boat come alongside and thetinted man passed up the basket, It was native-made, and all the top wascovered with green leaves. Thinking of fresh yams and fruit, I pulled offthe leaves, and there--poof!--the head of a man-an old man who must havedied a violent death about two days before. "The man in the shirt laughed loud and long at the disgust in my face, and, coming on board, soon told of the tragedy of which the awful headwas a symbol of retaliation. "The owner of the sunken lugger had fitted her out with unusual care. Hiscrew consisted of natives of the island off which we were lying. As aspecial inducement to one of the boys, whose name was Massai, he hadpromised a rifle, but designedly withheld the gift until towards the endof the term of agreement. Massai had persistently begged for the rifle, and it having become necessary for the Boss' to take a trip to theport, he had definitely, promised to bring it with him. Again hedesignedly forgot. Massai became morose. Things went on calmly enoughuntil one day, when the mate was below, the 'Boss' was suddenly thrownoverboard. As he floundered on the surface one of the boys struck at himwith a tomahawk, and then he must have realised that his life was atstake. "Diving until well clear of the boat, he swam off to the lugger, about aquarter of a mile away. As his master came up, Massai leaned over theside, his master's rifle in his hand. "'Don't shoot me, Massai, ' he shouted. 'I give you good rifle belongayourself. ' "Massai shouted back, 'Me catch 'em plenty riple! You no good!' andfired. The bullet splashed over the man's head. The next struck him fairin the forehead, and he sank. "In the meantime Massai's confederates were sporting with the diver, hauling him up to the surface, pumping sufficient air to keep him alive, shutting it off until he must have been nearly suffocated, reviving himwith fresh supplies, and with joy prolonging life until the fun of thething ceased; then they had cut the pipe so that he might drown. "The lugger having been ransacked, she was fired, and she had sunk at heranchorage. "A few days after the man with the shirt arrived at the island, and sincethese simple children of Nature cannot keep their doings to themselves, he very soon was made a confidant, learning the whole details of thetragedy by pidgin English and expressive pantomime, and obtaining asproof the coat of the reckless man who had made a promise to Massaiwhich, possibly, he had never intended to fulfil. The plot of the revengeand murder had been hatched out ashore at the instigation of Massai'smother. "Fortified with full information, he sailed away to a neighbouring port, where he exhibited the coat of the murdered 'Boss. ' Being impressed, theofficial representing the majesty of the law gave some vague commissionto the man, who now wears other clothes than a shirt, and he sailed awayfor ports unknown. "Interpreting his commission to make further inquiries very broadly, heappeared off the island, and received a cordial welcome, for he was 'Hailfellow well met' with the inhabitants of many a remote isle. He madehimself very friendly, and the frank natives rather gloried thanotherwise in the recitation of evidence which condemned them. "Then he made plans for unauthorised punishment. Having disarmedsuspicion--just as the boat's crew had done in the case of his friend--hewaited, and one dark night surrounded the village with a well-armed, hostile force. These Papuan villages are fortified in a certain sense. Some of the exits are set with traps and spring spears, and none butthose in the secret dares venture along a track when the village has beenmade secure for the night. "The man with the shirt posted his forces so that the exits werecommanded, and waited for dawn, his instructions being that nodemonstration was to be made until he gave the signal. Before thedesigned time a shot was fired, and the conscience-stricken communityfled, all save one old man and infant, who met their fate. "The village was spoiled and fired, and thus retributive justice done tothose who had wantonly murdered two white men and destroyed theirproperty. "Once again, " said the captain, "my luck was out. Goodness knows! Theremight have been a big pearl in that patch. We didn't wait to find it!" SNAKE AND FROG PRATTLE "Surely, then, it interests us to know the lot of other animal creatures. However far below us, they are still the sole created things which sharewith us the capability of pleasure and the susceptibility topain. "--HUXLEY. It may be edifying to confess a particular interest in man's firstenemy-not such interest as the man of science displays when he seeks toadd to the knowledge of the world, but a kind of social concern. None ofus is likely to forget that on the authority of Holy Writ the serpentbecame familiar with mankind very shortly after his appearance on earth, and whispered injurious secrets into guileless ears. Ever since the scenein the Garden of Eden, war between man and the serpent has prevailed, andnow, if we are to credit the sayings of the wise, the end of allreptiles, if not actually in view, cannot be long postponed. Is it notmete, therefore, to take fair opportunity of studying the characteristicsand qualities of an animal, closely associated with us by fable and infact, which is doomed to extinction by the ruthless strides ofcivilisation, which is regarded by some as cleanly and decent, and byothers as repulsive and direful? Plain, unromantic, unsensationalstatements make for the acquirement of knowledge illustrative of thehabits and faculties of the creature against which the hand of theaverage man is raised with a mixture of wrath, vengeance, and fear. By study and observation one may come to understand the higher principlesof Nature, and so learn how to withstand influences inimical to hisinterests without upsetting laws which tend to his welfare. Occasionally quite casual happenings and bare and slight matters of factshow that those who study natural history first-hand acquire informationnot to be obtained from authoritative works. Let one instance concerningthe varied diet of the death adder be quoted, since it confounds theexperience of one of the most learned men in Australia on the subject. Onthe beach just at high-water mark, beneath an overhanging shrub, severalbirds sounded an alarm, notifying by peculiar and persistent screechingthe presence of an enemy. After a few minutes' search, for the strainedattitudes of the birds indicated the direction, a death adder was seengliding among thickly strewn brown leaves with a limp bird between itsjaws. It was quickly killed, and then the bird, a dusky honey-cater, wasseen to be dead. Dusky honey-eaters generally spend their days among thetopmost sprays of flowering trees and shrubs, while death addershabitually seek the seclusion of the shadiest places on the surface ofthe soil. In this case the adder was small, so small that it seemed to bea vain if not impossible feat for it to swallow the bird. Hitherto the food of the adder had been deemed to be frogs, lizards, beetles, and such game of the ground. Was it curiosity which brought thesun-loving bird within reach of the shade-loving snake? Upon theincident being referred to Mr. Dudley Le Souef, who has quite an uneasyfamiliarity with Australian snakes, dating from the days of ardent youth, when he was wont to carry some species about with him in his pockets, that authority wrote: "I did not know that death adders ever killedbirds; I did not think they were active enough, their usual prey beingfrogs, lizards, etc. The honey-eater must have been taken unawares. " Though scientifically regarded as "the most dangerous and probably themost deadly" of Australian snakes, the death adder has to its creditmany everyday proofs to the contrary: so many, indeed, that some areinclined to class it as comparatively harmless, the reasons for suchopinion being--(1) the small size of the creature, reducing the risks ofits being interfered with inadvertently; (2) its amiability; (3) the factthat unless the sensitive membrane at the end of the tail, to which thecurved spine is the culminating-point, is trodden on or otherwiseinsulted, the chances are that there will be, no active resentment. Whileadopting all precautions, accepting no risks, and being very eager toreduce the number by all and every possible means, it is well to avoidoverexcitement; for though the reptilian age is passing away, those wholive in the bush are too often reminded that snakes are still numerous, and some of them decidedly vicious. To disappoint the snake and at the same time to discredit its reputation, calmness on the part of the individual who may happen to be bitten iscounselled. He should behave as a neighbour who one dark night steppedoff his verandah barefooted on to nearly cleared land. As he strode alongthe scarcely distinguishable track, he trod on something other than ahalf-burnt stick. Almost instantaneously the Scripture was fulfilled--theserpent had bruised the man's heel. Now, this man has been in manystrange, not to say fear-provoking, situations, and has listened to morethan one close call without spoiling the occasion by anticipatory andhideous outcry. He does not smoke or drink whisky or give way to anynerve-affecting habit. He lives within hearing of the soothing lullaby ofthe sea. When his heel was gripped he did not jump or offend the airwith unmanly plaint and ineffectual clamour, or otherwise fluster hisheart with pernicious apprehension. With calm deliberation he put hishand into his pocket and drew forth--no! not a razor-edged knife, withwhich to slash the region of the punctures, but a box of matches, so thatthe scene might temporarily be surveyed. He saw, not the expecteddeath adder, not a deadly copper head, not the venomous black whichflattens and distends the neck like a cobra when its passions are roused, not the great red pugnacious beast which has been known to kill off-handa big horse, but a shame-faced carpet snake, which, though innocent andinoffensive, will, like the worm, turn if rudely trodden on. The snakewas quite ready to apologise for impulsive and graceless misbehaviour;but it seemed fascinated by the sudden light--how little of brightnessbewilders such lovers of darkness--and maintained its repentant attitudeuntil the sacred law was finally vindicated by the fatal bruising of itshead. Many years ago a locality a few miles away suffered from a raid by bushrats, which congregated in great numbers. Similar plagues have often beenrecorded from the western downs; but the coastal visitation was singular, for it was associated with death adders, which seemed to be on good termswith the rats. One of the settlers was growing sweet-potatoes on a fairlylarge scale for pig food, the plough being used for the harvesting of thecrop. Seldom was a furrow run for the full length of the field withoutturning up both adders and rats. Suddenly the rats migrated, and then thedeath adders disappeared, few of either being seen for a decade, when theassociation between them was again sensationally illustrated. Thedaughter of a settler rose at dawn, and with others ran off to thevegetable garden for salads for breakfast. While she was looking for aseemly cucumber, a rat was disturbed, and almost immediately after shewas bitten by a death adder which had lain inert at the very spot whencethe rat had fled. The child recovered, while the deceptive snake, whichwill not submit to have its tail saluted even by the airiest of treads, was killed. Not only have we here another proof of the non-fatalcharacter of the bite of an adder, but a singular instance of associationbetween an adder and a rat. Why and for what purpose does this apparentamicability exist? Sometimes mankind is startled by the unexpected appearance of a snake. Will credit be given to an almost magic disappearance? Those who hearkento the voices of birds learn to discriminate between the language ofcontent and happiness and love and that of dismay and terror. A number ofloud and pleasant-noted fasciating honey-eaters suddenly changed theirtune to that indicative of fear. They were, gathered on a thick-leavedtree on the edge of the jungle in a crude circle, with heads pointing toa common centre. It was simplicity to conclude that a snake was present, but not at all easy to see it, for the flustered birds began to changetheir manoeuvres directly help was at hand. Eventually a thin brown snakewas seen doubled up and apparently sound asleep among the branchlets Thegun was called for, and two others hastened to the scene, each of whomdistinctly saw the snake. When the shot was fired, a peephole was madethrough dense leafage just where the snake had reposed, but with thereport it had 'disappeared. Fragments of twigs and leaves came to MotherEarth, but even a smart black tracker failed to find a trace of thesnake, though the force of the explosion must have carried portions outinto the open. The point of this artless narrative is that the black boyformed the firm opinion that that which he and two others had concludedto be a snake must have been "'Nother kind. Him no good. Close up'debil-debil!'" To him a visible snake was quite commonplace; but onethat vanished under the impulse of a charge of shot represented a mysterywhich called for caution and hasty departure, and the boy strode awaywith the suggestion of hot bricks below. But the tell-tale birds, suspicious of the material only, returned, stared at the vacancy, andfluttered off with--was it?--a note of thankfulness. The serpent has one infallible, perhaps because it is automatic, regardfor its own comfort and well-being--it cannot be induced to tie itselfinto a knot. It is in mind that once in the old country a very long andvery cold lethargic boa constrictor became benumbed and forgot the primalinstinct of the family, and paid for its absent-mindedness with its life. But the ordinary snake under extraordinary conditions, whatsoever itslength, is most careful to disentangle itself even when knots aredesigned for the special purpose of embarrassing it. Though the head of asnake be battered until all apparent sense is obliterated, the lithe bodywill cleverly evade attempts to cause it to disregard the great law. However tight the corner into which it may squeeze or narrow the quartersinto which it may be driven, and though head and tail may be closetogether and in the midst of a complication of coils, and the twistingand writhing may appear to be without method, yet the snake emerges atriumph of single purpose. A complication was presented to a 6 foot 8 inch specimen, and truth bidsme say that the snake did not seem in the least bewildered. From a nestof eggs six had disappeared in one night. The loss was debited to asnake, and it being calculated that the meal would suffice for severaldays, no particular zeal was displayed in tracing out the thief. Experience has taught that snakes do not wander very far when good andnutritious food is to be obtained by intrusion on the cosy quarters of apet hen. , Three days were permitted to pass, and then in the nest a rattrap was placed baited with two eggs, the door being secured with wire. The bait proved to be irresistible and the trap effective. In the morningthe trap was crowded with snake, which had thrust its head between thewires, swallowed the eggs, and was a prisoner until they were dissolvedby the processes of digestion or the door was unbolted. The naturalprocess was not complete when the discovery was made, but the snake hadmanaged to make itself as comfortable as possible in its temporaryhabitation. The trap seemed almost suffocatingly full, and when theoccupant thrust its head and more than half its length between the bars, only to be checked by the hard-hearted eggs, it was thought thatpossibly, in its confusion, the snake might entangle itself; butinvariably it retired into the trap without putting itself into any falseposition. It was killed, the executioner justly reflecting that a snakehas mental limitations. Nothing could induce it to tie itself into aknot, and yet, wilfully and with its eyes open, it had entered a trapfrom which there was no possibility of escape until in the course ofnature it had digested the bait. Is it generally known that a snake does everything with its eyesopen--that it is denied the privilege of closing its eyes? Such is theindisputable fact. 'But without presuming to trespass on the preservesof men of science, the belief may be expressed that some species, if notin possession of a movable eyelid, have some means of suspending thefaculty of sight. Indeed, there is evidence in support of the view thatone species has a membranous eyelid similar to, but slighter than, thatof a bird. It is not to be doubted that another reptile--the greenturtle--is thus endowed, and that the "winking membrane" is found in manyanimals at the inner angle or beneath the lower lid of the eye. Thismembrane is represented in animals by a rudiment only. In the eyes ofhuman beings the small reddish patch in the corner corresponds to thewinking membrane--indeed, is the vestige of it. In monkeys, and in mostmammals below them, there is present in this vestige a small piece ofcartilage, and this is found occasionally in man. In white races it isvery rare, occurring, as far as observations have shown, in less than oneper cent. Recent investigations by Dr. Paul Bartels show that intwenty-five South African natives whom he had examined it occurred intwelve. Another investigation found it five times in twenty-fiveJapanese. It is curious to find that vestige more common in certainraces, as it shows that in this small point they are less advanced thanthe white race. This quotation from a forgotten source supplies important links in thechain of evidence in favour of the theory that certain species of snakesmay have the winking muscle, which exists in marine reptiles and ispresent in some human beings. Apart from theory, it has been mygood-fortune to see a sleeping snake the eyes of which were obscured by agreyish film, giving it the appearance of being "wall-eyed. " Beingsatisfied that it was blind, for it betrayed no uneasiness at athreatening demonstration, a determination was made to preserve it forcritical examination. As soon as the snake was touched the cloudy veilswere withdrawn, and the eyes flashed with the fire of malignity. Itappeared to be spiteful because it had been caught napping. The specimenwas not preserved, although it was bottled. The blacks of this district are more nervous about adders than any othersnake, with the exception of that known to them as the "Wat-tam"(pronounce the "a" as in cat), and believed to belong to the same genusas the brown snake. This is a large snake, reddish-brown in colour, theunderside, for about half the length, being bright orange, the tintgradually subsiding to pale yellow towards the tail. Post-mortemexamination of the first specimen detected on this Island cleared up abush tragedy. A nest had been built in a conspicuous spot by a pair ofshrike thrushes, which the blacks, according to locality, know as"Moorgoody" and "Too-dring. " The birds are the sweetest-voiced of allnatives, and become wondrous tame and confiding. After the big spottedand blotched eggs were hatched, the hen would perch on the side of thenest within a foot of admirers, accepting compliments with tilted headand bright and twinkling eyes. One night the brood disappeared, anddesperate things were held in store if ever a snake were found in theneighbourhood. Two days after, the alert dog gave tongue, his languagedemanding urgency and extreme caution. Within twenty yards of the site ofthe violated nest he was found "setting" at a big snake, which had raisedthe forepart of its body and appeared to be concentrating its strengthand agility on one fatal and perfidious spring. But the faithful dog waswatchful too, and agile, as he crouched fearlessly across the track ofman's first enemy, with its crafty pose and glittering eyes. The blackboys stood afar off, for the "Wat-tam" is so arrogant and pugnacious thatit does not hesitate to attack a man, invariably with fatal results ifgreat vigilance be not exercised--at least, such is their belief. Science, however, shows that though the snake has poison fangs, they are locatedso far back in the jaws as to be practically ineffective. Its fiercedemeanour is probably, therefore, assumed for the purposes ofintimidation. The gun speedily put the wicked-looking snake out ofaction, and a bulge in the body indicated the site of the last meal--theconfiding thrush and her fledgeless brood. The incident illustratesanother favourite theory--viz. , that venomous snakes have a specific, distinctive odour, which warns animals likely to be attacked of theirpresence. The dog kills green tree, ordinary whip snakes, and the black, white-bellied species fond of reposing in the mounds of scrub hens, without ceremony and with all the zest and enthusiasm of a good sport;but in the case of venomous species so far he has not failed to call forhelp, but if assistance be delayed he takes the law into his own hands. Be it far from me to cast doubt on the truth of that which follows. Therecord is found in "Memoirs of the Queensland Museum, " vol. Ii. , page 43:"Although the scientific worker is hopelessly handicapped by the vividlyimaginative journalist when snake stories are told, yet occasionallythere are noticed incidents startling enough in their way. During thecooler months a young and lithe DIEMENIA PSAMMOPHIS, Schleg, popularlyknown as a 'whip snake, ' usually retired under a piece of bark placed inits case, and it was only to be tempted out on warm and sunny days. Onone occasion a small skink lizard was introduced, and the snake commenceda lively chase. The lizard ran under the bark, and on reaching the otherside scampered back over the top, closely pursued by the snake. Again thelizard entered the bark tunnel, through which the tail of the snake wasrapidly disappearing, making a spurt to keep up with the main body. Thesnake darted for the lizard, missed it, and then seized its ownretreating tail about two inches from the tip. With characteristicpertinacity it held on, and apparently the classic episode of a snakeswallowing itself was to be attempted. It was not until the snake wastaken, out of the case and forcibly handled that it let go, there beingapparently no distinction to the ophidian palate between its own fleshand that of its favourite lizard. " The only comment that an unversedstudent of Nature may presume to make on this incident is that, possibly, the snake retained its tail because it could not do otherwise. Are notthe jaws and teeth of some snakes so constructed, that the privilege ofrejection is denied? The interests alike of science and the speculativeworld demanded that in the circumstances Nature should not have beenbalked. Why deprive the serpent of having its own blundering way with itsown tail? There is no doubt that man does directly benefit by the conflicts whichrage continuously between living things lower in the scale of life thanhimself; but the common slaughter is at times so cruel and soinexplicable that it is not given the average intellect to discover goodand sufficient cause, though he may observe the more obvious habits andappetites of frogs and snakes. The former oft implore aid against theattacks of green tree snakes and of a big light brown lizard, fond ofsleeping in hollow logs, and since one does not understand from thebeseeching tones of the frog whether it is being molested by theuniversal enemy or not, he often hastens to the rescue, laboriously cutsdown to the scene, to find, instead of a snake, a lizard, perhaps moreuseful in the harmony of Nature than a frog, and certainly moreendearing, since it possesses the habit of silence. Unless the frog ispast recovery it has become a practice to scare the lizard, and tosuggest to the frog the sanctuary of another hollow. But frogs are not always considerate of other and gayer creatures. Afriend who possessed a pet canary noticed that one morning in the cage ofhis pet there sat a panting frog, blinking in the sunlight. Thinking thatthe intruder had entered the cage to assuage his thirst, he did not ejectit. It was the habit of the canary to hail the smiling morn with cheerfulcarol. In a few minutes unaccustomed silence prevailed, and then it wasnoticed that the frog was distended to a degree which must have caused itinfinite satisfaction, while the canary had vanished. The conclusion wasobvious and damning. Being accustomed to post mortems, my friend settledthe point forthwith, the warm canary being revealed, with but slightlydisarrayed feathers. A further illustration of the capacious and criminal appetite of the frogmay be quoted. The wet season had been generous and prolonged, the cropof frogs prolific. The verge of a lagoon was crowded with active andlusty creatures, belonging, if colour was to be accepted as evidence, todifferent species, in fairly equal numbers. A casual glance inspired thethought that the occasion was nothing more than a vast assembly of greysand greens enjoying the pastime which boys imitate. All round wereleaping frogs engaged in contests--greys against greens. Suspecting noevil intent, it was interesting thus to note the derivation of the gamewe have all played in sportful youth; but closer inspection proved that, instead of a friendly tournament on the grand scale, the rival frogs wereindulging in shocking cannibalism. A grey frog would approach a green, when each would appear to become fascinated by the appearance of theother. Thus would they squat for several minutes, contemplating eachother's proportions and perfections. Then both would leap high withmouths agape, and that which timed the feat to the best advantage, or had the widest gape, seized the less fortunate, and slowly and withmuch straining and little apparent joy swallowed it. Often the rivalswould not meet in mid air, and the lapse provided the delusion ofinnocent play. There were hundreds of examples of absorption of theleast fit by the fittest to survive, and the chronicling of the cannibalfeast would be incomplete if a singular detail were unrelated. Theparticipators seemed of like size. Complexion alone varied and foppishdiscrimination was exercised, for since dog does not in a general wayeat dog, greys did not eat greys or greens greens. With unswervingdecision, greys swallowed greens and greens greys, and extreme corpulencywas the inevitable result. Does this not smack of the snake story? Itcertainly does, but it has the virtue of being unexaggerated, and whyshrink from the telling of the plain truth? An unwitnessed tragedy may be told in a very few words. About twenty-fivefeet above high-water mark was the shaft of a white sand-crab. The sitewas not common, for the crabs are in the habit of burrowing well withinthe range of the tide. For two or three days--for the spot was at theback of the boat-shed and under daily observation--the alert creature wasoft disturbed by my coming and going. One morning it remained motionlesson the verge of its retreat. It seemed to be on guard, and as acompanionable feeling had been aroused, I was careful as I passed not tounduly affright it. The statuesque position being abnormally retained, Istooped down, to find the crab dead, with the froth still on thecomplicated lips, while beside it was a huge wolf spider, "tremendousstill in death, " with head crushed to pulp. One may theorise that thespider invaded the crab's burrow and was promptly evicted; a fight tookplace for possession of the retreat, resulting in untoned tragedy. Venomand ponderous weapon each had done its work. Each participant had beenvictorious, each a victim. A still more singular bush conflict was witnessed by a friend. He heard, and not without concern, the pleading of a frog from the assaults of anenemy, but having far too many of them about the premises decided onnoninterference, thinking that the hungry snake would soon silence theclamour. But the cries becoming shriller and more piteous, heinvestigated, finding among the leaves of a creeper on the verandah alarge green Mantis--religiosa, too--voraciously making a meal off thehind-leg of a little green frog, which it grasped firmly. Almost thewhole of the flesh of the limb had been eaten, and the observer was ofopinion from the rapacity of the insect that there would have been littleleft of the screaming frog if he had not interfered. THE BUSH TRACK "They trade with Nature and the earth--a trade by which all thatbreathe upon the earth live. "--RALEIGH. It has no beginning. It ends--who shall say where Every high tide smoothsaway the footprints of those who use it now, just as it did the erratictramplings of the host of the past. In those free, unregulated dayspiccaninnies sprawled and scampered hard, glistening beach; young men andgirls there; men lazed and fought on its convenient spaces; womenwandered on the serious business of food-getting. The camps stood a paceor two above high-water mark in the meagre shelter of sighing casuarinas, and were often changed, for there were six miles of gently curving, ripple-embroidered shore on which to rest. To this day most of thetraffic is regulated by the tide. High water drives the wayfarer to theloose, impeding sand, over which the great convolvulus sends its tirelesstentacles, to be thrown back twisted and burnt by salt surges. The ebb discovers a broad space, firm and wellnigh unimpresslonable. Thebarefooted traveller may walk for miles and be trackless, so tough andelastic the moist sand. It is not an officious thoroughfare, made formaland precise by coarse hands working to plans correct to a hair, butsubject to economic deviations of some soulless contractor. It was notlaid with the foundation of the earth, and compacted by heat and stress. It is still in the making, and sand, coral, and shell-grit ground topollen-like fineness and certain chemicals from the reef outside areamong its component parts. One other element invokes perpetualthanksgiving--the flaked mica, which glistens delusively with hues ofsilver and gold, and gives to the tide-swept track that singular pliancywhich resists the stamp of passing generations. Midway between high and low water is a zone sensible to the airiesttread, being fitted for such temporary effect by a mechanical operation. Millions of the smallest of crabs, sand-tinted, delicate, apprehensiveand alert, possess this area, working out their destiny by diggingcircular shafts. Obedient agents in the execution of the imperativeordinances of Nature, they have the quality of compacting the almostfluid spoil and carrying it to the surface in pellets complementary tothe size of the individual, and such pellets retain their rotundity. Theyare scattered about, not without design, as may be seen if theindustrious workers are closely observed, and in such profusion that thefeet of the user of a crab-infested zone must press them flat. Then it isthat the track becomes visible as far as the eyes reach. But the incomingwavelets, babbling in unison, dissolve the myriads of laboriously liftedpellets, effacing the record of the passing of man. As the tides ebb, thecrabs begin their work again, preparing for the next-coming wayfarer. There is something almost incomprehensively great in the tirelessactivities of the nervous crabs, for not only do they carry compactedsand from their burrows, but they seem to spend odd moments in formingsimilar globes from material gathered from the surface. Digging, furrowing the surface in stellate patterns, moulding pellets which to thetenderest ripple are but the plaything of a moment, so are the lives ofthe shy crustaceans spent. What may be the motive for the perpetuallabour, as useless, apparently, as the rolling of Sisyphus's stone? Forpart of the year the beach is the resort of the red-necked sandpiper, which has an enormous appetite for the small, live things of the sea'smargin. To bewilder the birds and so reduce the risk to life, Natureimposes the task upon the crabs of forming replicas of themselves notreadily distinguishable in size and tint, which represent labourunconsciously expended as life insurance, and serve the subsidiarypurpose of detecting the passing of man. What material has been left by the wayside for the history, not to bealtogether despised because of its rusticity, of the unstable ways of oneof the ancient peoples of the world, now few in numbers, forgetful of thepast, estranged from the customs of their fathers, and dying withoutmourners and without records? Search the sites of camps the trackpasses, and there is naught to tell of the manner of those who recentlyoccupied them save a tomahawk or a rare domestic implement of stone, andsuch stones do not preach thrilling but distinctive sermons. Why hurryalong this pleasant way? Is not the one domestic appliance of thelong-deserted camps worthy of passing notice? There it rests, halfburied in the sand--a worn stone, with two others complementary to it tobe had for the searching. It is meet that the most primitive of millsshould be examined, and that one of the several and slow processes bywhich a poisonous, repugnant, and intractable nut was wont to beconverted into food should be cited to the credit of the economicforethought of the most thriftless of people. On adjacent flats and slopes grow survivals from one of the most ancientof all plants--a Cycad, that botanical paradox, combining some of thecharacteristics of the lie palm and of the pine with the appearance of atree-fern, while being of distinctive order, which flourished during theage when the Iguanodon and the Polacanthus and other monstrous andungainly reptiles roamed the land. Let us rest awhile reviewing the earlier operations by which its nutswere rendered innocuous, and while the ghosts of the past make and baketheir bread. The fresh nuts of the plant (CYCAS MEDIA) known as Kim-alo, were roasted, and while hot bruised between two stones, the upper (Ookara) a sphereflattened at the poles into which the use of ages wore thumb and fingerindentations, the nether (Diban) flat with a saucerlike depression. Fragments of the husks were carefully eliminated. The coarse meal was putinto a dilly-bag and placed in running water below a slight fall, fromthe lip of which fluming, improvised from the leaf of native ginger, conducted a gentle stream. Two days were sufficient to leach thepoisonous principle; but if the initial process of roasting the nuts wasomitted--as in some districts--the meal was submitted to the purificationof water for as long as two months, when it would be tasteless. It wasthen ground on the nether stone by the Moo-ki (almost a perfect sphere), used with a rotary action, until reduced to flour-like fineness, when itwas made into flat or sausage-shaped cakes, wrapped in green leaves andbaked. The intractability of the Cycad is such that if cattle eatthe leaves they die or become permanently afflicted with a diseaseof the nature of rickets. To the human palate the fresh nuts-areinflammatory, and are said to cause intense pain ending with death. Thatthe blacks discovered the means of converting such a substance intodesirable food proves that they were often enterprisingly, daringlyhungry. Let us push on, there is far to go. Chance rather than principle, it hasbeen said, turned the paths of old England into roads. Here may bestudied the germ of the primal path worn by the tread of the leastreflective and least mobile of human beings, the causes of its erraticcourse, and the transitions by which, with amendments due to theirrefutable facts of topography, it becomes formal and authoritative--ahighway for the usurping race. Leaving the shore, one branch of the track crosses the high-water fold, follows the bend of a mangrove creek, through which it Makes a muddyford, and is firmly impressed through forest country where every tree isorchid-encumbered, and where the eager soil produces its own varieties. It wriggles up and along a ridge, with the glaucous spathes of grasstrees standing like spears on each hand, and where wattle and toughshe-oaks grow leanly out of hard soil, thickly strewn with buckshotgravel, rust-coloured. Soon it descends into a low valley and through a belt of fan-palms andjungle bordering an ever-flowering stream the banks of which areknee-deep in fat, rich loam. Huge tea-trees stand in the water, where thefibrous roots are matted like peat. Out of the moist coolness the track abruptly ascends to a pleasantforest, and thence drops almost imperceptibly to tea-tree flatsintersected by Pandanus creeks, which bulge here and there intosedge-margined lagoons. In this "devil-devil" country it is barely thewidth of the foot, and it wanders sinuously like the trail of a lazysnake. Sometimes it is barely more discernible than such a trail, andagain in the soft places it broadens and deepens, for the man with bootshas taken the place of the original soft-footed traveller, and horses andcattle are ever fond of the short-cuts which their owners design. Here a distinct branch is made towards a river, across which Nature, thefirst of bridge-builders, many a generation ago afforded an easy, drypassage by throwing down a huge tree. It spans from bank to bank, and thewood is worn to slippery smoothness by the passing of shoeless feet. Thence it leads through forest and jungle and mangrove belts to anotherriver, and away south. The western branch keeps to forest and jungle, following, generally, theridges, for in the wet season the grass lands are flooded, when the trackis but a silvery grey ribbon on a carpet of green. With carelessindecision it trends west, with here an angle and there a curve, dippingand twisting, crossing gullies and creeping up slopes. The men whose feetmade it in ancient days knew all the landmarks. Mostly it keeps to soundground, albeit its wanderings perpetuate wayward impulses. Imagination may follow the blacks of bygone days as they swung past, afallen tree; where sportful youths wandered a few yards to throwgrass-tree spears at white-ants' nests on bloodwood-trees; where theyturned aside for a drink from the palm creek. Possibly the track deviatedto follow the run of a scrub turkey, or because the boys knew of a scrubhen's mound, where the rich pink eggs were raked out by the gins. It wasgin's work to overhaul the mounds; the boys did not like to do thedigging with their hands, for often little snakes bedded themselves inthe warm compost--snakes, though they bite not to the death, make one'shands big and sore. Why incur any risk when there was a well-disciplinedwoman to take it? There was a turn off (which was officially followed)leading to a huge tree where in the hollow bees had hived; and anotherstraggled up the creek to the pool where eels secrete themselves in themoist, decaying leaves. Six or seven miles from the beach, where the scarcely discernible crabs, with persistency as eternal as the sea, are strewing the way withmillions of tell-tale pellets, the track, skirting swamps, following thebends of a river, passing through forest and jungle, is lost in vaguenessand indecision. When it was ordained that roads should be defined in the interests ofsettlers, it was natural that the original track as it thenexisted--broadened and amended and bridged by the good bushmen who hadused it for practical purposes--should be followed. On the plan the formalroad runs a strangely erratic course, for in many places it is faithfulto the footpad. Some of the zigzags of the long past, some of its elbowsand angles, its stringent lines and curves, have been copied andconfirmed, for the bush track is one of the fundamental things, bearingthe stamp of Nature, and no more to be obliterated by the trivialities ofart than is the sand of the shore and the illimitable crabs. THE LITTLE BROWN MAN "Care, that troubles all the world, was forgotten in hiscomposition. "--CHARLES LAMB. If you chance to visit the Chief Protector of Aborigines on board hisyacht the MELBIDIR, one of the first to greet you, be you an oldacquaintance or a stranger, may be "Jimmy, " the cook. He is a little brown man who wears blue shoes, which are also socks, anda perpetual smile. The shoes, which are of some soft material, have aseparate compartment for the great-toe, and hook down the heel. The ChiefProtector has a similar pair of combination shoes--a gift from "Jimmy"--andis given to smiling; but he does not pretend to compete with his cook inthat quality. "Jimmy's" smile is almost a fixture. It is set, yet notprofessional. It is the smile of a happy man, and of one who is adiplomat as well as a ship's cook. His customary costume is of holland. When on duty he wears an exaggerated bib, and "Jimmy" without his bibwould be as little conceivable as "Jimmy" without his smile. He maydiscard it when he puts on his sky-blue pyjamas for the night, but thathe smiles in his sleep is sure. The honourable wrinkles on hismahogany-hued face forbid him to relax the appearance of unceasinggood-humour, and who would suggest that his serenity is artificial? When he takes a hand with the whole of the ship's company to get up sailor hoist the dinghy on board, he whistles as well as smiles, and then theblack boys laugh, and life on the trim ship is more buoyant than ever. Hegoes down into the doll's-house galley backwards, smiling. Now, it is nosmiling matter to be jambed up against a hot stove on a hot day when theseas run high and the yacht digs her crescent nose into the blue andwashes her own decks with Neptune's suds. But "Jimmy" will bob up againin due season with a plate of hot cakes or, perhaps, even cool cakes--andthe smile. He has been smiling to the oven, which is inclined togymnastics, only it is restrained by effectual bolts. "Jimmy" is agymnast, and his free great-toes enable him to cook under circumstancesand conditions which others not so equipped would profane. Smiles are his antidote for all injurious mental ferments, and how manydiseases of the mind are there which are not to be alleviated by such aptphysic? It has been said that "Jimmy" is a diplomat. He certainly is. TheMELBIDIR had run within hailing distance of another yacht, the owner andcommander of which is an old friend of the Protector and "Jimmy. " When wedid hail, a silvery head and a sunburnt pair of shoulders popped up frombelow, and with a comprehensive wave of sunburnt arms--the redtype--vanished. Soon the same head and the same shoulders, decently butloosely clad in blue and followed by the rest of the hearty body, emerged, and in a few minutes friends were gripping each other's handsand talking furiously about a particular island, pilots, pearls, andTorres Straits "Jimmy" passed, and the florid man in blue said, nudginghis friend, "I seem to know that boy. " "Of course you do, " replied the Protector; "that's 'Jimmy' from T. I. " When "Jimmy" next appeared he had a jug of water in his hand and a biggersmile than ever. "Well, 'Jimmy, ' you haven't forgotten me?" suggested the big man in blue. "No. You capitain! My word, you young fellow now!" And we all laughed, for though the years had been tender to the man inblue, still, they had come and gone by the decade since the previousmeeting. "Jimmy's" smiles became vocal. Professional diplomats use thegreat gift of speech, it is said, to delude the enemies of their country. "Jimmy's" adroit compliment was the more delicate in that it was notofficial and he cannot possess an enemy. When he puckers his lips to whistle, "Jimmy's" smiles are singularlyinfectious. The Protector's yacht is not a missionary, but merely, as hername signifies, a messenger; but the Protector does not forbid thehymnal. "Jimmy" has one, and as he studies the pious poems, for he readsfluently, whistles appropriately. While we lolled on deck, familiar tuneswooed my wandering thoughts. "Jesu, Lover of my Soul, " came line afterline, verse after verse, precisely, though the tone was soft. Was theblack boy thus accompanying his work at the pump? No; for the strokeswere not in time, and the boy occasionally chatted with his chum. Iasked, and was told that "'Jimmy' mak'm good fellow corroboree. "Presently he came up--smiling, and with the last notes of "Abide with Me"on his lips. Then I questioned him, and for a space we discussed ourfavourite hymns and hummed them, or rather I did, for "Jimmy" was too shyto do more than nod in time before a stranger. He confided, almost in awhisper, that when he was alone he learned the words of the hymns, andafterwards picked up the tunes. Is it not pretty to think of the wrinkledJapanese in bunk beside the hot and clamorous engine conning hymnal--atrifle blotched with grease here and there--and whistling softly thoseendearing tunes on which so many of us were brought up? Long may "Jimmy" cook and wear blue shoes a modestly supplicate "Forthose in Peril on the Sea"! That he may smile to the last would be asuperfluous prayer. He cannot do else. UP AND AWAY "Man is the merriest species of creation; all above and below himare serious. "--ADDISON. "Let's up and away, Bill, " said Breezy Jim, as he started to his feet. "I'm dog tired of this game. We're just working for tucker for the boysand nothing--not even a smoke--for ourselves. " "Don't be in such a flurry. We might drop on a patch yet. I vote we stayfor another week. The anchorage is all right, and the season's young. Thelittle bit of fish we've got ain't too stinking. It'll pay expenses. "Placid and patient, the half-caste Solomon Islander, Billy Boolah, keptcheek on his impetuous partner, whose restless disposition forbade him tocontinue long in one stay unless circumstances were essentiallyfavourable. Certainly fish were not too plentiful, but the aboriginal crew workedwell, and were lighthearted almost to a fault. They had had no credit topledge for the season's stores. They had merely to pick up inert andunresisting béche-de-mer from among the coral five fathoms down, wherethe deceptive sea looked no more than ten feet deep under the squalidflatties; to smoke and jabber in idle moments; to eat and to sleep, andto listen to Mammerroo's version of the opening phrases of "The Last Roseof Summer" on a mouth-organ worn with inveterate usage to the bold brass. The tune was not quite beyond recognition, and no musician was ever morein earnest, ever more soul-tied to an elusive, unwritten air than theblack boy who wore little else than his own unwashed complexion and astrip of red Turkey twill. For long months he had pursued it with all thefervour of his simple soul, and though it said him nay, still did he hopeand woo. Out of his scanty earnings he bought mouth-organs by the dozen, for he believed that owing to some defect on the part of such instrumentsthe tune was impossible save to one. Would he ever obtain that prize? Theorgan which could play that tune as he had once heard it when his bosstook him to a concert at Cairns had to be discovered, and to earn moneyto buy it Mammerroo shipped on these detestable béche-de-mer cruises. Inthe meantime he would play with all his energies and with endlessrepetition the halting, nerve-disturbing notes he knew to be incorrect. "That boy will drive me mad. He bought ten mouth-organs at Cooktown, andhe hasn't got the one that plays the tune yet. Does this smell like 'TheLast Rose of Summer'? Why, you can hear those fish of yours humming!What with hardly any fish, the stink of the whole boat, and thatmaddening mouth-organ, I feel almost inclined to jump overboard and marrya mermaid. Let's chuck it. " "It's you as got the bad breath, Jim. Every man when he gets nasty temperhe gets bad breath. That tune it's little bit close up. He can play rightup to the 'left blooming alone' sometimes. " "He's taken four months to get up to the 'left blooming alone'! At thatrate it will be years before he gets to the finish. I'll be mad if hestays on this hooker another month. I'll chuck the three of them--organ, boy, and tune--overboard. " "If you make yourself a fool like that, no more work from that boy. Don't be a fool and spoil this game. We're out till November. Let's makethe best of it. " It was not clean work. The reek of the fish-raw, cooked, smoked, anddrying in the sun-saturated everything, even the damper. The brown, shrivelled things were scattered in orderly profusion wherever the suncould catch them to top them off prior to bagging. The bitter, eye-searing smoke from the red mangrove fire in the hold, where themeagre catch of yesterday was lying on a couple of trays, stung thenostrils. The odour was as interminable as the half-accomplished tune, and Breezy Bill writhed. He was not new to the game, but bad luck hadbeen the portion of the ship from the start, and small things irritatedhim, rasping his far from sensitive soul. "I think you are going to catch fever, Jim. That's what's the matter withyou. At the mission I used to read about that bird you call thebrain-fever bird. It just keeps on whistling the same old thing, andwhite men go mad. That 'Last Rose of Summer, ' it's got hold of you. Don'tbe a fool! It's only a good tune half done. It won't kill anybody--at anyrate, a tough old shell-back like you!" "Oh, bother! Stinks and rotten 'Last Rose of Summer' are driving me mad. I could stand lots of both if we were doing well. They might be fortyoverproof and played by forty bands, and every darned piccolo of them outof tune, if only we were making money. Come, let's up stick and away. Wecan't do worse and we might do better on that bit of 'reef Mammerrootalks about. Here, Mammerroo, stop that blasted corroboree! Come andtell us where that little fella reef sit down. " Mammerroo shuffled down to the hatchway covering and traced a chart ofthe locality with a grimy forefinger. "That fella reef sit down 'nother side Red Hill alongside mainlan'. Nodeep water. Plenty mangrove--my word full up pigeon. Reef him little fella. Full up tit fish, calla-calla, mainlan' black. Fill'um up boat. Take'malonga Thors'dilan'. Come back. Fill'm up one time more. Too much. Fullup. " "The same old yarn. I've been all over that ground. There's no reefthere, and if there had been it would have been found and skinned yearsago, " said dogmatic Billy, with a sneer. "I see, " said Jim; "the season's over as far as you are concerned. Youcan go where you like. I'm sick of it now. " TROPIC DAYS The next morning saw the NAUTILUS scudding before a strong south-eastbreeze, Jim, true to his name, sulky as a toad-fish. The good wind harpedon the rigging as Mammerroo tirelessly lagged after the ever evasivetune. Jim heard him not. Billy, in a rage, was inclined to bundle the boyand his battered instrument overboard, for he saw in the race northnothing but a waste of time. Three days later the NAUTILUS anchored to the north of Red Hill under thelee of a low mangrove island uproarious with nutmeg pigeons. All hands turned out to prospect, with Mammerroo as pilot. He was notlong in locating the reef--a forgotten and neglected patch that teemedwith fish. Béche-de-mer lay in shallow water, thick and big, by the ton. . The reef, with its clear sandy patches, seemed to be thegathering-ground, the metropolis, the parliament of the curious creaturewhich makes feeble eddies with its distended gills, moves with infiniteand mysterious deliberation, and which, though it may be two feet longand three inches thick, can pass through a half-inch space, constrictingits bulging body during the progress. The mangroves of the islet provided the best of fuels for thepreservative smoke. The fortnightly steamer passed not so very far out, so that it would be possible to send away a couple of tons at a timewithout leaving the locality or suspending work for more than an hour ortwo. With cheerfulness and enthusiastic haste all started to work. Noirritating odour, no vexing tune, was perceptible or audible. Boysbrought in such quantities of fish that the mates could hardly cook andcure them. Money was being coined, and the making of money begat dreams. Seamen do not invariably build castles in the air. They devise aerialfleets. They build bigger, better, and faster boats to sail on bluer seasinto more prosperous and happy havens than belong to this too substantialworld. Each sketches out the boat of his desire, and fits her withwondrous comfort and conveniences. He glances, approving head thrownback, up her tall, tapering, well-oiled masts, silver-topped with goldentrucks. He paints her in rival colours, rigs her with silken sails, namesher after a sweetheart, and sails away to lands fairer than any of theisles of the Pacific--those isles of dreams where in coral groves thegold-lip is embarrassed with pearls of ineffable lustre and of excessivesize. As they day-dreamed they gathered in actual riches, for the lazy fishwere big and almost overlying each other in their crowded spaces. Never was there a happier béche-de-mer cruise, for the prospects of goodwages soon and a quick return to accustomed camps overladen with thespoils of the Cooktown stores made each boy as joyful as a cherub and asindustrious as a scrub hen. Mammerroo saw visions of mouth-organs, one ofwhich was sure to contain the coveted tune. Little deaf Antony thought oftobacco unlimited, a silver-mounted pipe, and plenty of unforbidden rum. Indeed, most of the boys contented themselves with these ingredients tofill the cup of happiness. But big lazy Johnnie's fancy went to a smalljockey's cap of red and yellow, to be worn with a football jersey oforange and green in stripes, and blue trousers. This gorgeous costume wasto compensate for present pains and humiliation, for he had nothing but ascanty and dirty loin-cloth, a necklace of grass beads, and a chip oflustrous black-lip pearl-shell stuck in one ear. As they worked they lettheir fancies range, and thus was the toil eased and the bags of driedfish safely stowed in the hold. With twenty-eight bags in primecondition, the NAULITUS sailed out to intercept the steamer--the LAVAKAVA. The honest stuff was sent off to the agent at the Island post, and back the stout little vessel went to the reef. "As good as a gold-mine, " said Breezy Jim, who every day became breezier, so that he threatened to develop into a gale of good humour. "Better than splitting coco-nuts at the Mission Station, " said BillyBoolah. "Do you ever feel like chucking Mammerroo overboard now?" Another fortnight saw another big load on the way to the agents. Mammerroo poured out his soul in fervency over the limping phrases of hisbesetting tune, and even Boisterous Jim applauded his persistency. "That boy will catch 'The Last Rose of Summer' some day if themouth-organ market holds out. I'll give him the best to be got inCooktown, and I'm bothered if I don't teach him the tune!" Late one afternoon a strange sail came into view. Slowly the big cuttermade for the anchorage, for the wind, busy elsewhere, could spare only afew idle puffs for her business. "That's a dago, I bet, " said Bill. "And I know who it is! Why, it's thathumbug, Black Charley!" "We'll have to be pretty spry, or he'll have some of this patch. We'llhead him off, and ship what we've got to-morrow. " A flattie slid over the side of the cutter and plopped into the water, and Black Charley, with a couple of downcast boys, came alongside theNAUTILUS. "Hullo, Bill! Hullo, Jim! How's yous getting on? Yous drop on good place. I see yous boys picking up fish like a hen picking up corn. " "Not much, " replied Jim. "It was pretty thick, but it was only a smallpatch, and we've pretty well cleaned it up. Sent away half a dozen bags, mostly mainlan' black. Too close in to be much good. " "Well, I suppose you'se no objection to me anchoring here for a bit and'seeing what I can do with the leavings?" said Black Charley. "We found the patch, and it's too small for two boats. We'd be betterfriends if you cleared off and left it to us, " replied Jim. "But ifyou're up to dirty tricks stay where you are. We don't want sneaks onboard this craft. " "It's no good being nasty. All the fish on the Barrier don't belong toyous. I got a ton and more on board now, and I'm going to run out with itto-morrow. " "So are we. Come on board and have a drink" It was late in the afternoon when the smoke of the LAVA KAVA showedsouth-east. Both boats were waiting as she slowed down in her course, and while they made fast transhipment began. Then she steamed slowlyahead. "Better send you'se boys back with the NAUTILUS, " suggested BlackCharley, "and me and my mate will take yous back when we've had a drinkand a bit to eat. It's a long time since I've had a decent feed, andCaptain Andrews, he won't mind. " Breezy Jim and Bill agreeing, the NAUTILUS cast off, with instructions toanchor at the old spot and to work until the bosses returned. There was more than one drink as the steamer forged ahead, with BlackCharley's cutter romping and curtseying behind. Then tea-time came, andthe captain asked his guests to remain. Black Charley had had so manyrefreshments that he was scarcely fit company for the saloon, so heoffered his excuses and they were accepted with politely veiled relief. The mates told of their bad luck down at the Barnards and the Palms; howthey had been driven away by the unmusical black boy in desperate pursuitof "The Last Rose of Summer, " and of their great stroke of luck on thereef of which he had told. There's plenty more fish on it yet. We'll be troubling you to stop for acouple of months yet. " "You won't be making a very early start to-morrow if we jerk your boatmuch further, " remarked Captain Andrews, with a smile. "Come, " urged Bill. "We'll hunt up Charley and cut away back. " The well-contented partners strolled on deck, anticipating a very tipsyCharley, whom neither steward nor bo'sun could discover. The sun had just set. A bewildering blank astern excited a wide andcomprehensive survey, and there in the blue-grey of the south-east BlackCharley's big white-winged cutter was fast fading from view. When the partners got back to the reef, via Thursday Island and Cooktown, a fortnight later, the boys were there, looking somewhat jaded. TheNAUTILUS was as trim as ever, for which the owners were sufficientlythankful; but cute Black Charley, working both crews day and night likegalley slaves, had mopped up the patch as clean as the floor of ahospital ward. "We've bin had proper, Bill, old fellow. Let's up and away for Cooktown. Mammerroo moans for that mouth-organ!" And the Christian in Billy Boolah. Smiled as he hummed "Left bloomingAlone. " "PASSETH ALL UNDERSTANDING" "Whence has the man the balm that brightens all?" BROWNING. Though not popular, perhaps Tsing Hi was the best known of hiscontemporaries on the tableland through which the Palmer River wanders ahundred miles from the Gulf of Carpentaria. Short, slimly made as afourteen-year-old boy, nimble, fussy, plausible, he stood out from amonghis countrymen as one having authority, while he posed among theEuropeans as a kind of diplomatic agent, explaining awaymisunderstandings, conciliating grievances, and generally comportinghimself as the chartered representative of the horde of yellow new-chumswhich invaded the most sensational of all Australian goldfields. Heappeared to have cousins among every fresh shipload from China, as wellas among the hundreds who ferreted in the gullies. There was not a whiteman, from the Police Magistrate to Frank Deester's off-sider, with whomhe was not on terms of easy familiarity. Had he not often confidentially consulted the Warden when a cousin hadblundered into the hands of the police, embarrassing that flusteredofficial with torrents of half intelligible speech, the purport of whichgenerally was to flout the proceedings with evidence of indubitable alibi?All this he translated to his countrymen as proof of personal influencewith court authorities, and, what was more to the point, made them payfor it. No case in which a Chinaman was concerned as the accused, or plaintiff, or disinterested witness, but Tsing Hi took, if not an official, anofficious part. Every new-comer from the Flowery Land passed through hishands. He knew what personal property each possessed, and the value ofthe gold of the lucky departing ones. That he prospered exceedingly wasevident. The fact was expressed in his costume. Beyond the court fees asinterpreter, the merry, chirping little fellow had really no lawful, visible means of support. Yet he glistened and gleamed with emblems ofriches. He was a dandy from the soles of his shiny elastic-side boots tothe crown of his jaunty hard-hitter. Across a yellow waistcoat hung a veryaggressive chain, from which dangled a huge masonic jewel in gold-and-blueenamel, and the frequently consulted watch--a big, bold-facedlever--ticked with snappy determination. Tsing Hi had much more to live upto than the huge watch, the chain, and the emblem; but they seemed toconstitute special and peculiar insignia. They were always to the front. He was one of the men of his day and scene--to be admired, feared, and tobe conciliated by his fellow-countrymen all along the traffic-torn road. The dust from that tortuous road rose in an earth adhering cloud fromout which honest, clean-souled men came like pain-distorted spectres, wearing grey tear stained masks with pink-rimmed eyeholes and mud edgedmouths. But the dust was less distressing than that which Tsing Hi threwin the eyes of bewildered mankind by this burst and gusts of speech. In the heyday of his fame and prosperity Tsing Hi disappeared. Hisabsences were customary, for did he not flit here, there, and everywhere?The police were not troubled to make inquiries. They knew where he was, and the reason for his sudden retirement from accustomed scenes. The nextday all Byerstown knew also. Tsing Hi, within the rough-hewn walls of the lock-up, was sad and silent. He had been arrested for gold-stealing. It was a clear case. Hundreds of complaints had been made. Dozens ofsuspects had been shadowed, until a quick-witted detective intuitivelyfastened the responsibility on the court interpreter, who, on the instantof arrest, had become dumb. The ransacking of his hut revealed a magazine of riches, the earthenfloor beneath the bunk being honeycombed with pits containing easilyportable but valuable property. In a jam-tin were several nuggets, amongthem the very specimen which Bill Haddon had given to Mrs. Sinclair, landlady of the Carriers' Arms--a plane of crystal from which rose awonderfully true pyramid of gold. It had been admired by hundreds, andcould be sworn to by everyone who had seen it. There was the whitesapphire, with a tell-tale flaw running down the middle, which had beenfound in the hopperings at Revolver Point (where fighting Cameron madehis pile) by Sam Kickford, and likewise bestowed on Mrs. Sinclair as a"curio, " and because that bounteous lady had mothered the unlucky Sam andnursed him through the fever which took him to the very gates of a filthyhell. Dozens could swear to it, but ever so many more were capable ofbearing witness against Tsing Hi on account of the specimen which Sam'smate, who had died of the fever, had given to Mrs. Sinclair, havingpicked it out from the face of his drive. It was a slug of rough gold inthe shape of a tiny canoe, with an upright splinter of white quartz ateach end. Sam's mate had intended it for a girl down at Ballarat, and sheeventually got it--an emblem of what might have been. Dozens of fancyslugs were brought to light, in addition to two hundred ounces of finegold against which no one could make good claim. Another tin held six rings, two of decidedly suspicious metal, the othersgenuine and with good stones. A fine pearl was wrapped in a fragment ofsilk. A pale green jade amulet, with three sets of. Chinese toiletcontrivances--ear-cleaners, tongue-scrapers, back-scratchers--inivory, were in a box with two rolls of gold-embroidered silk illustratedwith weirdly indecent scenes. Three gold watches wrapped in silkhandkerchiefs were stuffed into a ginger-jar. The sordid hut was a mineof wealth, and the buzzing town became furious. It had accepted Tsing Hias a character, but not as a bad one. Being deceived, it swerved fromtolerance to righteous indignation and absolute wrath. The quaking thief, not too comfortable, for the bloodwood slabs seemed too frail a partitionagainst the virtuous anger of the crowd, was condemned forthwith. All the identifiable gold and other property was handed over to those whosuccessfully established claims, and Tsing Hi, limp and dejected, passedinto the custody of Tim Mullane for escort to Cooktown. Tim was rough and raw, teeming with good-nature and blessed with a brogueas thick as the soles of the massive boots made for him by his cousinTerence at misty Ballinrobe. The once perky Tsing Hi slunk alongside thefar-striding Tim, and Tim looked down at him and was half ashamed of sucha "wee scrap of a Chinkee" as his first prisoner. "Come away wid ye, me little fella--come away. Doan give me trouble, andye'll fin' me gintle wid ye. Thry to maake a fool af me, and be the HolySaints ye'll have occasion to be sorrowful. " And he picked Tsing Hi upwith one hand and set him down again with as big a jolt as such a fag-endof humanity could expect to produce. Tsing Hi remained meek. The crowdwas unanimously against him. Big Tim might jolt him again and againrather than he would take the risk of venturing among his recent friends, for tales of his thieving, his acceptance of bribes, and imposition oflevies, were coming in so fast and thick that the crowd would haverelished adding something on its own account. Before daylight next morning Tim left with his disconsolate captive, whowore handcuffs and was manacled to the "D's" in the saddle of the horsewhich he bestrode manifestly ill at case. In front of him was a huge swagcontaining the unidentifiable gold, three watches, three rings, silkstuffs, three pairs of elastic-side boots. , several pairs ofpuce-coloured socks, flash neckties, four hats, three suits of clothes, and other clothing. , All this was his own, to be handed over at theexpiration of the sentence. Tim merely held the inventory. There was somesort of gratification for ill-doing, for the swag contained a fortune. Hesavagely reflected that six months would soon pass. He would then vanishfrom "Qee'lan, " to enjoy himself for the rest of his days. The sadnesswhich had stagnated during the past week began to dissolve. He sought tomake a friend of his escort. "I tink we cam' harp way to-ni', Tim. " "Shut up, you implicating tadpole! Wasn't I ordhered to hold convarsewid me prisoner? Spake win Ye're spoke ter and be civil, Or I'll joltthe teeth troo your hat!" Tim jogged on, and the led horse bearing Tsing Hi jogged after. Tsing Hibumped until he was fain to lean heavily on his precious swag, trying todiscover by sensation an' unbruised part of his body on which to jolt. "Hi! hi!" he shouted. "Horsey, him no goo'! You l'me walk!" Tim whistled and jogged. Tsing Hi jolted and whimpered. The hot mileswriggled slowly past. Dust lay a foot deep on the track. It was awindless day. Tsing Hi, gripping with fearful intensity his swag, couldnot lift a finger to wipe the stains which stood for many tears andcoursed down his cheeks in tiny rivulets, making puddles on his crampedhands. He, the dandy, smothered in dust, weeping, sore in every bone, blistered and scalded, pondered over his petty sins, moaned continuously, and longed for the hard floor of the gaol. He, a disciple of Confucius, found no present relief in the tags of themaster's philosophy that he could call to mind. Tears made him a grimspectacle. The beautiful yellow waistcoat was indistinguishable beneathdirt and dust. His carefully tended queue shook out in disordered loops, and finally dangled, dust-soiled, behind. His trousers worked andwrinkled up to the knees, chafed his unaccustomed skin, and still Tim ina cloud of dust jogged on singing: "Until that day, plase God, I'll shtick To the wearin' o' the green. " It was a poor little prisoner, but his first and his own, and Tim waselated, and when a true Irishman is happy he becomes poeticallypatriotic. But happy though he undoubtedly was, even Tim was not sorrywhen the chance came of stretching his legs and incidentally sluicingdown the dust. The halfway house looked cool and clean to him. In fact itwas neither. It must have appeared a celestial scene to moaning Tsing Hi. The rough upright slabs (once rich yellow, now dingy) promised some sortof refuge from the dust, and the narrow strip of verandah a thin slice ofshade. The mound of broken bottles at the rear betokened the drinks ofthe past, while the mind dwelt lovingly on those of the present. Three panting goats, all aslant, but tressed themselves determinedlyagainst the end of the house, and two boys, long since dust immune, occasionally hunted the goats into the sun and away among theant-hills. But when Tsing Hi slid from the horse and into the shade, hefelt like a saint in bliss. They gave him water, and he wailed until Timsilenced him with threats of jolts and locked the manacles round themiddle post. Tim sighed profoundly as he scented beer. "I do belave I'm dhry, Jerry. Give's a long un. I've swallowed mud by the bucket. Give the wee littledivil outside a pannikin o' tay. Maybe it'll revoive, him!" Tim drank long and well. "I've heard about the case, " Jerry said, as he filled the thick glass athird time. "Fancy the little beggar, an' him commin' and goin' as flashas ye make 'ern, and pickin' and thavin' all the time. Maybe he got theear-rings the missis is after missin'. " "Nawthin' o' the sort's in the swag we took with the raskil. " A bit of dinner in the back room waited, for Jerry believed in keepingwell in with the force. Tim fed heartily, and, in spite of dust, heat, and the chatter of the children, dozed, to wake with a start. "Me sowl to glory! It's aslape I've bin! Let's hav' a look at thelittle fella and be off. " The horses stood limply, as much out of the shade as in, the big swagleaned against the wall, the handcuffs lay half buried in the dust, butTsing Hi had vanished. "Me sowl to glory! The little divil's scooted! It's a ruined man I am!In the name of the Saints, why is blasted Chinkees made with han's an''em like a 'possum? Look at the wee han's on 'em to slip out of darbieslike the same. He's slipped out as aisily as meself out of ahorse-collar, and the face a' him as bould and as big as the hill o' hope!I'm the ruined man, I am!" "Off after him, " advised Jerry. "There's his tracks. " "Just none o' your blasted interfarances! Lave 'm to me. He's away backto hell, an' I'll folly him! How much does I owe yer, Jerry!" "Nothing at all, sure, Tim. 'Tis little ye've had, and yer welcome asposies in May, though it's little we see of 'em here. And good luck. Shall I tell him away, back to look out V' "Say nothing and be damned to yer! Keep your mout closed and lave me todo the bizinis me own road, " shouted Tim as he disappeared in the dust, led horse, swag and all. A mile and a half back and a bit off the road lay the narrow, shelteredflat between two forbiddingly barren ridges which Hu Dra, the gardener, had converted into an oasis. Thin-leaved tea-trees fringed the little damwhence the industrious fellow hauled water for his vegetables. Drought-stricken, broad, blue-leaved, scented ironbarks stood in enviousarray on the steep sides of the ridges, and grass-trees, blackened at thebutts, struggled with loose boulders for foothold. The muddy water whichthe forethought of Hu Dra had conserved created the green patch whichinsulted the aridity of the ridge. He was a proud and happy man, afollower of the healing Buddha, a new-churn with scarce a word ofEnglish, and a gardener. He had a way with vegetables. They prosperedunder his hands, and he also prospered, for next to gold, vegetables werehighly prized in that dry, almost verdureless country. Just now he swayedalong with a pair of heavy baskets slung on a bamboo all the way from WuShu, as the pilgrim under his load of sin, and as he swayed he sang in aweak falsetto a ditty which sounded like-- "Nam mo pen shih shih chia Man tan lai lei tsun fo; Hu fa chu t'ien p'u sa, An fu ssu, Li she tzn. " His baskets, each screened with languid gum-leaves, held the week'soutput of his garden, representing in money value at least two pounds. Itwag not likely to yield half as much, for, being a new-chum, he was fairgame, and it was considered smart to impose on his good-nature. He alsopaid through an agent a weekly levy to Tsing Hi, which he understoodpurchased the tolerance, if not goodwill, under all and everycircumstance of the dreaded police and the populace generally. It was atax; but Hu Dra was patient under such exactions, as all his ancestorshad been. They were unavoidable, inevitable, a part of the mystery oflife, and consequently to be endured, if not with complacency, at leastwithout murmur. His profits for the week might total one pound, aprincely sum considering the scene and circumstances of his birth andupbringing in far Li-Chiang, where his father had reared a large familyin a shed over a sewer, and had never possessed property or estate worthmore than five shillings. Soon, if this money-making business continuedto thrive, he would return thither. He might--for had he not been rearedto the art of living in such places?--resume the sewer habit; but withthree hundred pounds in good English gold what sewer in Li-Chiang couldnot be transformed into Paradise? One basket contained a huge fruit which he understood his white customersto term "plonkn"; with it was a broad-bladed knife, with which he wouldslice off slabs according to demand. That one item might bring him inmore money than his revered father's fortune. Wrapped in day-dreams, hehummed again his chant, dwelling on the refrain with lyrical gladness-- "Li she tzu. " Perhaps it was the name of the maiden he proposed to ask to share hisfortune and his portion of the sewer, and so he repeated-- ---"Li she t----!" A big, strong, authoritative hand had gripped him by the shoulder. He screamed. The baskets sat down plump. "Come away wid ye! I've cotched yer! I'll tache ye to escape from lawfulcustody!" "No savee! No savee!" screamed Hu Dra. "I'll tache ye, thin V' shouted Tim, and Hu Dra reeled under the severityof the first lesson--a back-hander across the face. "Wha' for?" asked Hu Dra, still staggering. "Come on! You know wha' for! I'll stan' none o' yer wha' for's!" Hu Dra clung to the basket-stick threateningly. "Fwhat! Resisting the pollis in the execution of dooty. Me bhoy, ye're anew-chum or yer niver wad be so bould. It is sarious bizinis. " The stickflew out of Hu Dra's hands, and, as if by magic, he found his handsclamped in iron bands, which pinched his wrists excruciatingly. He yelled with vexation, fear, and pain. "Ye can holler as much as ye have the moind ter. Be jabers, the nexthaythen Chinkee that gits out of the darbies I clap on'm 'll be aslippery, slathery eel, and meself after fergittin' to maake a knot inhis taale! Come quiet, me good haythen, and I'll dale aisy wid yer. " Hu Dra securely manacled to a scented gum, Tim dealt with the baskets, capsizing the contents and belabouring them with the bamboo until theylooked as if they had been the playthings of a baboon. Hu Dra watched thefoundation of his fortune vanish. He wailed. "Come away, me bhoy! I arrest ye, Tsing Hi, fer escaping from lawfulcustody. Ye may be charged also with resisting the pollis in theexecution of dooty. It's a sarious charge. If ye come quiet I'll maake itaisy fer ye. If ye maake it a haard job for me, be gorra I'll inuake yesorryful!" Hu Dra gathered that it was a case of mistaken identity. He endeavouredto explain that he was Hu Dra, and not Tsing Hi. Tim curtly informed himthat he was none other than Tsing Hi, that he had been convicted ofstealing gold, and while on the way to Cooktown had wilfully and withmalice aforethought escaped from legal custody. He would be taken toCooktown at once. Hu Dra understood but little of the harangue, but beinga pious Buddhist, having once climbed the Holy Mountain to gain merit, and being in the hands of a strong man armed, he accepted the fate of themoment. Meekly he followed Tim to the spot where the horses had beenleft, and was hoisted into the saddle and manacled. It was all a dreadfulmystery, but he was sage enough to accept hard facts. "Me Hu Dra, " he explained over and over again, in vain repetition. "Ye're Tsing Hi, I tell yer. Ye're Tsing Hi in the name of Her Majesty. Haven't I arrested ye as sich?" "Me Hu Dra, " reiterated the captive as they jogged on. "Me come Coo'tow'one yar. " "Shut yer mout! Didn't I tell yer before that ye're Tsing Hi? Didn't yerwilfully and knowingly escaape from me whin I was having a bite to ate, and I had yer tied to the post at the shanty back beyant there! Naw, I'll hear no more of yer Hu Rahin'. Kape a civil tongue betune yer taath, or, be gorra, worse 'll happen yer. " Hu Dra was patient. He thought of his pilgrimage long ago to the top ofMount Omei. Was this the reward he had gained? He solaced his soul by murmuring the pious invocation which all pilgrimsto the Sacred Mount have perpetually on their lips--"Om mane padme om!" Torn from his secluded garden and happy and profitable toil, bruised andmanacled, bundled on to a fear-provoking horse, hurried off he knew notwhither, through a drought-stricken land under a searing sun, the roadreeking with dust--what a plight for a devout Buddhist, who had sought toavert calamity and prolong life by the ascent of the chill mount where, alone in all the world, is revealed the "Glory of Buddha. " Mystic that he was, he found sure comfort in pious meditations. Presentpains of body and mind vanished as with half-shut eyes he drifted intothe chill realm where he hearkened to chants of priests, the tinkling ofthe temple bells, the fervent response of hundreds of pilgrims as meek ashimself--"Om mane padme om!" Such was the potency of the mechanical repetition of the all-healingwords that Tim presently found himself echoing them, and brought himselfup with a jerk. "It's all haythen rubbish and cussing. The pore fule's daft wid the hateand the dust and the welt I give him. Shure it's the way I have to besorry for the crature. " Like the refrain of an infectious song, the musical phrase would not bebanished from Tim's mind and lips, and so the tough, rough Irishman andthe gentle exile from the Flowery Land went on their way, scarceconscious of the grimy miles, both dreamingly hailing the jewel in thelotus. Three days later the travel-stained pair arrived at Cooktown, where HuDra--henceforth to be known officially and authoritatively, and in spiteof all protest, as Tsing Hi--was duly consigned to the custody of thelock-up keeper, to await escort to the town where his sentence was to beserved. "He's that quare in his hid, " Tim informed Jock Egan, who now had charge. "He's bin Tsing Hi-in and Hu Rah-in' and Paddy Om-in' (d'ye know themaan, Jock?) all along the thrack till it's fair fascinated I am. Andbarrin' him bein' the very thafe o' the wurrld, it's a poor honest bodyhe be. Shure it's little enough truble he give me, and me all alone bemeself. An! the swag of him! Glory be to God, I dunno but it's wortfive hundred pounds if it's wort a sint! Yirra! but it's weery I am. It's little slape I've had. Shure the whole beesely thrack be lousy widshnaakes; and show me the man as cud slape shweet wid maybe four of thevarmint all ascroodging and squaaking nath his blanket!" "It's quare in yer head yerself, " ye're exclaimed Jock. "Be off to bedwid ye. If the sargint gets ye a-talkin' like that, he'll be aftherthinkin' ye're in dhrink. " "Then, me sowl to glory; he'll jist be thinkin' fwhat I'm wishful for. It's that farefull dhry up there on the Palmer I could dhrain a bucket. " "Get to bed, yer fool! Ye're talkin' that wild, ye'll have no care foryerself. It's meself that'll git the good woman beyant there to git ye acup o' biling hot tay. " With that Jock got him out, with papers all in order. Hu Dra had disappeared from the tableland as suddenly but not as'tracklessly as a phantom. Lonely men in their tents and three or fourmothers of families in their slab humpies looked out vainly for him forthree days, anticipating necessary vegetables, and, being disappointed, slandered him courageously, while they found consolation in thereflection that if he ever came his round again they woulddistress and vex him by withholding payments for the vegetables ofthe past. Not a customer but owed him something. His country men gavenotice of his disappearance to the police, and black-trackers off-handtold a graphic and obvious story. Hu Dra had begun his weekly round whenhe had been attacked by myalls. They had capsized his baskets andwantonly battered them to pieces. For him had been reserved thecustomary fate. He had been hustled off to the gorges contiguous toHell's Gates, to be killed and eaten in peace and comfort. His hut, hischerished garden were forthwith occupied and tended by another of therace-claiming cousinship. The newcomer even demanded payment of debtsowing to his unfortunate relation, but the whole population sniffed withsuch vigour that the claim was not persisted in. Once a Chinaman had leftthe district unceremoniously, more especially at the forcible persuasionof flesh-hungry blacks, his dues lapsed by unanimous consent. He becamemerely a fragrant remembrance. It is so still, and the virtue is asvirile as the odour of musk. To himself Hu Dra was always so. Be his official and authoritative titlefor the time being what it might, he was determined not to sacrifice hisidentity. The gaoler found him a docile and obedient creature with an abidingaffection for plants, which sprang up under his hands like magic. Withintwo months corners of the desert yard began to blossom, to bear cucumbersand radishes, and to be fragrant with shallots. The pride of the gentle gardener lay in a few plants of zinnias close toa dripping tap. In bright red, gold, and white, he accepted them assubstitutes for the sacred lotus, and prison flowers never flaunted morefreely. As innocent as they, he deftly, tirelessly trained each plant, caressed each opening bud, cherished it as if it were a jewel, and foundsurcease of the pangs of exile, easement for the restraints upon liberty, and blissful consolation. Tendance upon the garden under the straitshadow of wall was to him, not a duty, not a pastime, but a ritual. Thecaptive was happy, for here was the end of his pilgrimage. Exemplary conduct, combined with the art with which he forced salads fromthe boorish soils, found him favour and earned privileges andconcessions. Hu Dra kept no count of the passing months. What was time to acontemplative Buddhist whose being was permeated with the hope of releasefrom delusions and sorrow and of attaining final sanctification? One morning he was summarily marched into the presence of the bigloud-voiced man whose orders were obeyed with instant smartness, who toldhim, to his amazement and despair, that he must depart with his property. The seals of a sack were broken before him, and its contents displayedand duly accounted for--a sleeping-mat, a small red blanket, theelastic-side boots, two scrolls of sinfully painted silk, a hard round hatstuffed with gaudy handkerchiefs, three watches and varied jewellery in aginger-jar, the quaintly carved toilet devices, the jam-tin full ofnuggets, and a chamois-leather bag delusively heavy with fine gold. The same authority which had ordered his affairs ever since he had beentorn from the burnt hills now commanded him to begone. For nigh upon two years he had dwelt passively in dream-land. This wasbut another wonderment entrancingly agreeable. Without endeavouring toelucidate the incomprehensible, he accepted the gifts of the gods, andasked for a yellow zinnia. It was a reality, a guarantee, an assurance. Good, though gruff, the gaoler was wont to say that his departing guestgazed on the flower with almost religious fervour and mumbled over it aprayer; and the gaoler's insight was true, for in comparison with aflower, the masonic emblem, the pride of Tsing Hi's life was to Hu Drabut tinsel. It passed all understanding. , Hastening to escape from the land of bewilderment and easily gottenriches, Hu Dra-the quietest, the happiest, the wealthiest of a greatcompany of his fellows boarded a steamer for Hong-Kong. Many a long year after, Tim, who had blossomed into a sub-inspector, hadretired on pension, and had lost most of his brogue in the process, confided in me the whole story. "You see, my friend, it was either the sack or Chinkee for me. I got theChinkee. There were plenty of 'em!" TIME'S FINGER "The more cleer and the more shynynge that Fortune is, the more brutil and the sooner breketh she. "--CHAUCER. High up on the auspicious shoulder of the Island mountain stands theSentinel, a coarse, truncated pinnacle of granite, roughened and wrinkledby the toll of the moist breezes, alternating with the scorching flamesof the sun. It overlooks the league-long sweep of the treacherous bay, with its soft and smothering sands, the string of islets of the YackaEebah group, while Bli and Coobie lie close under foot, set in a swirlingsea. One aspect of the Sentinel commands all the map-like detail of Pun-nulBay, with its labyrinthian creeks among a flat density of mangroves, likelustrous, uncertain byways in a sombre field, erratic of shape, magnificent of proportion. Beyond are many islets--dark blue on a lighterplain. In the distance, on the other hand, islands and islets trail awayuntil lost in the vague blending of sea and sky; and for a background isall Australia. In front alone does the Sentinel peer over uninterruptedspace, and not always, for at times patches of white filigree mark theoutliers of the Great Barrier Reef. Looking up from Pun-nul Bay before sunrise, the base of the Sentinel 'wasswathed in white--night's rumpled draperies not yet tossed aside. As theeast glowed it stained the mist pink, and so warmed it that it partedinto patches of luminous fluff which floated up and dissolved intocrystalline air, and the great lumbering rock stood naked and bold in thesunshine. Then it was that the apex of a splintered peak beyond the Sentinelglittered, and that Chutter-murra Wylo, the one survivor of the truculentnatives, told once more of the wonderful stone for which many hadventured, which had caused the disappearance of several, which decoyedman and beast, and stored their bones close to the awful hole whenceissued the smoke which made the rain, and the dread lightning, and thethunder. None ever ventured there now; but sometimes in the early morning thestone twinkled for a moment like a malignant sprite, watchful all night, but abashed yet impudent to the authoritative sun. Chutter-murra Wylo had so often indicated the exact locality of thestone, and had described its dire influence with such sincerity that, when it twinkled, a resolution which had been long in the back of my mindbecame wilful and imperative. He said that it was "on top, alongoo-nang-mugil"--a gloomy place among rocks--and that the old men of thecountry had been wont to say that this particular "oo-nang-mugil" was thefavourite resort of the "debil-debil, " the to whose arrogance and awfuldeeds the bones of man and beast bore terrifying testimony. Between the Sentinel and a spur to the south is a narrow ravine, fromwhich in the rainy season mist rises like jets of steam, and this was thevery spot whence the lightning and thunder ranged when the "debil-debil"lifted the mighty stone which blocked the entrance to the cave of thewinds. All about was fantastic ground, peopled by evil spirits whoresented the intrusion of human beings and inflicted upon trespasserspeculiar punishments. Ill befell everyone who invaded that remote, almostinaccessible, uninviting region, at the very centre of which the alluringstone glittered. Of those who rashly determined to gaze at the prodigy atclose quarters, some never returned. Those who did come back were vexedwith burning and smarting pains; they suffered illnesses; their skinbroke out into blotches; they became old and enfeebled prematurely. Andall, whether they survived for a few irritating weeks or a few sad years, wore to the end a startled, awe-struck air. "That fella no more sit downquiet; him frait all time, " Wylo explained. And the stone was good tolook at. Sometimes it was white like water; sometimes blue, like the sea;sometimes red, like "carrie-wy-in-gin" (sunrise). Sometimes it shook, andthen it became so bright that the eyes were dazzled. The star-like stonehad been on the rock for all time, protected by distance and mystery. Wasit not, indeed, the eye of the "debil-debil" who had custody of thelightning and thunder imps, and could it not be elevated or depressedlike the eye of a sand-crab? No intruder had ever escaped its vigil orthe consequences of his temerity. We were camped under the lee of a low sand-dune, the top of whichcommanded Pun-nul Bay. As the wind swayed its scalp-lock of twistedshrubs, the dune quivered, and rivulets of singing sand, almost as fluidand as unstable as water, trickled down, for it was one of therubbish-heaps of the sea, over the brink of which waste was unceasinglyshot. The maze of mangroves whence weird hoots and bubbling cries and sharpclicks came at night, the stealthy sand marching over the land, thebarren slopes of the mountain, and the misshapen rock, gave one'sthoughts a twist in the direction of the vague and mysterious. Wylo'scontinual harping on the wonderful stone renewed the old longing foradventure. He had seen it from a safe distance, but from the presentaspect only the indecorous glint at sunrise was visible. The stone was a crystallised fact, but why had the blacks invested itwith such ill omen? Here was a worthy quest--a beautiful if notprecious crystal betokening the actual presence of a wary demon guardantover the mouldering skeletons of Wylo's forefathers! What quest could bemore sensational or likely to be so famously rewarded? Wylo was prepared to climb the mountain to the base of the Sentinel, butno higher. Secrets hidden from his intemperate, insistent gaze mustsurely be inconsequent. Once and for all, the legend of the crystal mightbe disposed of at the cost of two or three hours' climbing. I would bringit back to prove to Wylo that no irreverent "debil-debil" would everagain blink at the sun from that particular spot. As for the skeletons, they were, without doubt, as mythical as the evil spirit, and in any casea few old bones were not to scare me from venturing to the boldly obvioussummit of the mountain. Wylo went wellnigh naked, carrying a day's provisions and the rifle. I, too, was lightly clad, but wore thick-soled boots, freely studded, andwith a tomahawk felt efficiently armed. Beyond the entanglement of the beach scrub the way was open, thoughrough, with granite boulders half hidden among rampant blady grass. Thecountry was decidedly hostile to the climber, though far from actuallyforbidding, and with Wylo in the lead--for I held myself in reserve forthe final clamber up the ravine, to which the ascent to the base of theSentinel was merely a prelude--the pace was respectable and sure. Closeracquaintance forced a certain sort of respect for the Sentinel, which wasmore massive, more venerable and time-worn than could be imagined fromafar off, while all the scene below seemed softer and smoother and morefairyland-like than in reality. Having indicated what he deemed to be the direct route, and firmlyresolving to take no risks by peering into the domain of the"debil-debil, " Wylo sat in the shadow of a huge boulder whence he couldcommand a view of the entrance to the rock-bestrewn gorge. Not more thaneight hundred feet separated the spot from the summit of the peak. Acouple of hours at most and I would be down again, and, semi-seriously, Icounselled Wylo to stop where he was until late in the afternoon, and ifI had not then appeared to return to the camp, where he was to remain fora couple of days, when he would be at liberty to make his way to the headof the mangrove creek where the boat was anchored, with the design ofbringing help to kill the "debil-debil" that detained me in hisclutches. He was not too cheerful in his parting injunctions. "No goodyou fight'm that fella. Suppose he catch'm you, he kill you onetime--finis. No good me come back. Me clear out quick!" In all seriousness he undertook to "sit down" for two days, and finallyimparted advice which might enable me to out-manoeuvre the"debil-debil, " and either curb him or throw him out from his lair "withwondrous potency. " Up the gorge I would find a prickly bush, from whichI was to cut a leafy branch as a frontal shield. Then, when the fiendswooped upon me, its long arms and pliant hands, furnished withneedle-like nails, would become embarrassed by the "nails, " of thebranch, and while it howled and danced I could "kill'm alonga leg" withthe tomahawk. I was to be careful not to look up, for the eye of the"debil-debil" was so bright and hot that it burnt up mortal sight, leavingthe intruder a blind and hopeless victim. Discreetly valorous, Wylo was quite enthusiastic, anxious, indeed, thatthe quest should be accomplished by an audacious white man and at no riskto himself. Therefore did I accept his counsel gravely, and in partingpromised to bring down one of the hands of the long-standing terror ofthe mountain as proof that I had exacted the last penalty for manydemonic deeds. Thus, good-humouredly, I began to clamber up the ravine through aperplexity of shrubs growing among loosely packed stones, thankful forstrong boots and hands toughened by the sun. Overhanging trees and shrubsalmost converted the ravine into a tunnel, but here and there a greenishlight wrought changeful patterns on the gloomy rocks, and ferns of sombregreen with unfolding fronds of ruddy brown occupied crannies and crownedrocks favoured by drips. No sound of animal life came to my cars, but anever-increasing current of air was perceptible as the walls closed in andbecame almost precipitous. The narrow footway was swept bare of loose stones and vegetable rubbish, save where the wet-season torrents had scooped out basins, or where aledge of resisting rock made a wet-season water fall. Such places had tobe discreetly scaled, for the rock was worn to polished smoothness andhand and foot holds were few and far between. Aerial roots, thin aswhipcord, hung from the branches of trees crowding on the brink of theravine, and with tasselled terminals sopped up moisture. A melancholy, humming monotone pervaded the ravine, seeming to increase in remonstranceand warning the higher I ascended. Wylo had told of the noise like asteamer's whistle a long way off. His local knowledge was beingauthenticated at every step. Such a sound was almost uncouth in such alocality; and there, overhanging a jutting angle of red rock, was thepredicted bush with keen prickles thickset on limber branches. Halfamused, I climbed to the spot, and, clinging precariously to theprincipal stem, cut off a branch which, falling into the ravine, slippedseveral yards down the smooth floor. It was not worth recovering, but acertain half-humorous sense of obedience to the black boy's cautionsinduced me to return for it; and as I trimmed off some of the pricklesthat it might be grasped comfortably, a stone clattered down, bouncing onthe rock almost at my feet. A substantial mystery! What invisible agency had given this hard factits force? A gleeful chuckle followed by a discordant crow dissipateddoubt-the stone had been dislodged by an industrious scrub fowl raking onthe brink of the ravine. A sense of fellowship with the harsh-voiced birdmanifested itself. A transient sensation of relief--I had not beenconscious of the least mental depression--followed the thought that in andabout the ravine there were other living things besides myself andsnakes. The death adder, the head of which I had fatally bruised justnow, had been the only sign of life, and it had been as dull-coloured andalmost as inert as the rock on which it lay--an emblem of death at home inthis almost lifeless seclusion. Dwelling with amusement on Wylo'ssuggested precautions, I bore the branch before me as I climbed a steepface, the tomahawk in my belt, intent for the time being, and as cautiousand suspicious as a black boy. On the lip of what seemed to be a hollow afig-tree grew, the naked, interlacing roots of which made the finalstages of the ascent easy and safe. Briskly hauling myself up, I steppedover the edge of the depression, and the solid rock lapsed and slidunderfoot. In a flash the head of a python arose, and with gaping jaws struck as thebranch fell from my hand. ' In a moment I had whipped the tomahawk from mybelt and slashed at the body of the snake squirming at my feet, as, baffled for a moment by the falling branch, it gathered itself for asecond attack. Few of the enemies of man are more easily disabled than a snake. Alwayszealous in obedience to the Biblical law, it is honest to confess to adecided preference for elbow-room when engaged in its actual fulfilment. This was a fight with man's first enemy in close and awkward quarters--aprecipice behind, walls of rock in front and at either hand. Three timesmy length, strong enough to constrict to death a giant, wily enough toseek the cover of the matted roots of the tree, several points were infavour of the snake. My first wild haphazard stroke, which had merelyscored its flesh, seemed to have roused its vindictiveness. Once in thosecoils, the chances of victory would be remote indeed. Part of the python's still gliding length was within reach, while (theforepart resting on a branch) the head was but slightly higher than mine, though beyond the radius of the tomahawk. The bulging head drew slowly back, as the snake released sufficient ofits length to encompass me. The yellow, blinkless eyes, with knife-edgepupils, flashed with the hate of agelong feud as I edged against thewall. My arm was free. The lust of battle tightened every nerve. Neitherflashing eyes nor strangulating length made for fear. The hithertoall-conquering snake, lord and master of the ravine, bade defiance, joining issue with the craft of its kind. Slowly the pendant portion increased as the subtle beast seemed toconcentrate all its energies on one triumphant, invincible effort. Anticipating the fateful instant, I slashed with all my force at theportion of the body within reach, ducking simultaneously. Shooting overme, the head of the enemy struck the rock with brain-bemuddling impact. For once the serpent had been foiled. With jaws awry, the head swunglimply, like a ceasing pendulum. One blow with the back of the tomahawkestablished the right of man to wander at will among the rough and secretplaces of the mountain. Still did the swaying reptile cling with a single coil round thefigtree's branch, while chill blood dripped and splashed among theintertwined and snake-like roots. A sudden tug brought the body down asquirming mass. With rough-shod heel, I fulfilled the letter of the law, bruising the battered head, and then were revealed the bosses by which, with the tail, the snake had sustained its dead weight. Was this the "debil-debil" which had scared so many from the quest--apython which any man might kill in the open without running any risk, andwhich a black boy, with time on his hands, would joy to eat? Yet I ownthat I was somewhat flustered, and not a little tired and bruised andangry, because such an impediment had had to be cleared from the track. Was there not cause for indignation? Why should a gormandising serpent, full to repletion, lie slothfully across a highway open to all, to thechecking of a holiday-making mortal in lawful pursuit of a demon-protectedcrystal? Let me once more vindictively stamp on its head. But which way? Here was a dead and unscalable wall to right and left andin front, and all in deep shadow. I estimated that another one hundredfeet would take me to the mountain-top, whence it would be possible tosurvey the scene in relation to the bejewelled rock. Descent was the onlypracticable preliminary towards further ascent. Utilising the interlacingroots of the fig-tree, the way down was easy enough, and, choosing theleft wall of the ravine, I began a perilous climb out of gloom intosunshine, upon a conglomeration of immense granite boulders, over whichthe Sentinel cast a shadow. This shadow indicated that the ascent hadoccupied at least three hours, and in my self-complacency I hadcalculated to beard the "debil-debil" in his den, dislodge the crystal, and be back at the camp gloating over the escapade to open-eyed Wylo inless time. Though a night was to be spent in the haunt of the evil spirit, yet wouldI proceed. I found not one but many "oo-nang-mugils, " lowering caves andclefts in which scores of fearsome "debil-debils" might lurk, butwhich, as far as a vigilant mortal could detect, were given over toinnocent bats and those sun-loving swiftlets which rear their young innests adherent to rocks in dusky places. Over and beneath boulders, squirming through bolt-holes and up flue-likeopenings, bruised and with bleeding hands, at last the top was reached, harsh with granite, and there to the right, on a gigantic splinteredboulder which seemed to block the end of the ravine and to peer down intothe blue bay below, was the crystal glinting in sunshine. It was not morethan fifty yards away, and, easeful of mind, I sat down to munch a pieceof damper. Close by a patch of vivid green moss indicated the existenceof moisture and the further possibility of water. Sure enough, twentyyards down spongy moss and fern spread over a lip of rocks, and fromdangling tufts and drooping fronds water dripped in melodious splashesinto a shallow depression, and overflowed in a fan-shaped film. Thefacets and apex of the crystal reflected harsh brightness as unsullied asthe moss-filtered, unstable drips which gathered second by second andwere gone. How like those drips, how unlike the scarred, time-chastenedrock, that steadfast slip of light which since the dawn of creation hadflashed messages across the unresponsive sea. From a ledge in which ferns and orchids grew in carelessprofusion--bird's-nest fern and polypodium and white-flowering orchid--thecrystal might be reached by a little manoeuvring. But why hurry? Everyminor crevice was embossed with spongy moss, from which sprang modestlittle flowers, a flower of mountaintops alone, lacking a familiar name, but which in its dainty form and rich mauve is none the less precious. While all the rest of the way had been barren or gloomy, here was bravesunshine and space, a jewel-like crystal, and moss and ferns and flowers, and calm and cool serenity which' bespoke remoteness from the"debil-debil" and all his works, and from the noisy cave of the winds. Magic there was in plenty-the air tingled with it--that exhilarating, mind-expanding silence of mountain-tops which is the most thrilling magicof all. Leisurely glances at the mass of granite from which the crystal shoneshowed that from the ferny ledge it would be beyond reach, and thatunless care was exercised in the dislodgment it might fall among aconfusion of boulders far below and be lost for ever. My plan was ofto build a buttress of loose stone on which to stand to tap it with thetomahawk. Like a miniature railway cutting, the ledge ran out on the faceof the rock, so that standing upon it one looked down into the ravine;but it was broad enough to afford safe and even convenient footing. As a final preliminary to the beginning of operations, I clambered up onto the ledge. Ferns grew among decaying vegetable matter in massesdifficult to push through. Polypodiums with brown, oak-leaf like, infantile fronds clung tightly to the rocks with furry fingers, and the birds'-nests were big enough to conceal a man. A broad andcomfortable path it was, leading directly under the crystal, and withhaste and confidence I pushed along, smiling inwardly at "shynynge"fortune, to be in another moment dismayed by her "brutilness. " The earthsank under me. I shot into an acute fissure with ferns and dust piledoverhead! Gasping and coughing, I cleared away the smothering rubbish, to findmyself a fixture--jambed fast between walls of granite. Deceptive fernshad masked the crevice. I had walked along a treacherous track until at aweak spot it had given way as the gallows' trap beneath the feet of amurderer. Light came from ahead, too. There the lancehead-shaped fissure opened onthe ravine, whence it was flushed with cool air. Was ever mortal in such a plight? A drop of eight from the spacious topof the mountain had lodged me a prisoner in the narrowest of cells. Dismayed but not despairing, I struggled frantically, working withshoulder and arms against the walls of granite. The right foot was firmlyfixed, while a sensation of easiness was perceptible with regard to theleft. Gently yet firmly, and fearful lest the slight grain of comfortmight be fraudulent, I felt the weight of my body on the left foot, whilescrutinising in detail the horrible trap into which the crystal bait hadlured me. There, a few feet below and further towards the ravine, was the skull ofa human being, and still further down, where space was more confined, other bones were fixtures. There was a weird fascination about the skull, for at noon it would receive the benediction of the sun, and the diurnalglare into the secrets of the crevice had made a patch of white desert inan oasis of grey mould. The bones below, green and earthly with age, layin disorder and confusion--poor fragments of the framework of man andharmless beasts, sharing a common fate. Though fast a prisoner, nothing to live on but hope and fresh air, asense of relief, somehow, sometime, established itself in my mind. Mostof the significant features of the adventure had been faithfully foretoldby Wylo--the prickly bush, the snake (archetype of the fiend), the mockingdelusive stone, the stored bones of man and beast-all as he haddescribed. He must have known more than he had voluntarily told, andassuredly would he come', when he would coo-ee, and I would shout forvery joy. In the meantime would I possess my soul in patience andconserve all the strength of my lungs and power of endurance. Just beyond the platform of ferns a splash of lovely tints illuminatedthe edge of the time-recording shadow--the solar spectrum produced by theprism which had beckoned from afar. Was there no escape from the wizardryof the crystal? No hope of evading comparison of its beauty andpermanence with the muddy and fleeting passions of mankind? Yet howfruitless its functions--to glorify for aeons the intractable rock, andto leave it ever unstained! For once in all the centuries may not ahuman hand be interposed between those ineffectual flames and the surlyrock? Cannot even that small measure of space be overcome? A few inches from the tips of my outstretched fingers were the prismatictints with which the crystal daily registered the decline of the day; butnot for all my striving and all my wit could I get within reach. Theywere as remote as the creating sun! The narrowness of the cleft forbade effort to reach down so that I mightunlace my boots. There wan but one chance of deliverance--the coming ofWylo. And would he, agitated by superstitious awe, dare to venture intothe haunt of the evil spirit when he began to realise that I, too, hadfallen into the clutches he so much dreaded? Yet he must come! Of whatspecial impiety had I been guilty that so rare and terrible a fate shouldhave been reserved for me. He must come! Yes. Listen! I hear his coo-ee far below! He is making his way up theravine! And with, all my vocal power I coo-eed and yelled. But themuffling rocks stifled all noise at lips. Listen! Yes! The soundagain--merely the mellow cadences of a swamp pheasant whooping among theblady grass. Wylo dared not venture to the very door of the cave of the winds. I wasalone with my fate! Could I master it? The clean-cut shadow crept up the rock, and with it the colour splashreceded. As I gazed it glittered and was gone. It would not be visibleagain until the next afternoon. Would I be here to watch it illuminatethe rock once more? Could I contain myself until then, and perhapsafter, and for day after day, until the last? And were my bones to beadded to the secret horde mouldering within a few feet of themountain-top? A few feet of nothingness--mere empty space--separated mefrom lost and lovely liberty, and with frantic hands I strove against thehard face of the rock, and cried aloud in agonising protest. The old rock had disregarded similar protests and supplications, and hadendured like infantile pushings! Call, and who shall listen? Push andshove and fight, and what availed it? In my delirium I cursed and blasphemed, and "full of shriekynge was thatsory place. " Darkness followed brief twilight, and up the ravine came the murmuring Ihad heard below--a sobbing sound which at first affrighted and thensoothed, for it could be nothing but the echo of the sea on the curvingbeach below; and in its comfort that lulled all ineffectual clamour, andeventually to fretful but frightful sleep. Always I awoke panting withthirst, stiff and strained, and with unmanly cries of fear and pain on mylips, while the chaste stars danced across the narrow slit as I strove tostem the turbid stream of despondency. About midnight a singular peacefulness possessed me, overcoming me inspite of myself. Feverish impatience and resistance seemed futile, and inmy resignation I began to realise that to avert cramp and disablementfrom cold--for a chill, moist breeze from the ravine played continuouslyon me--some sort of exercise must be undertaken. My left foot was certainly not so compressed as the right. Though itcould not be raised, it was possible to move it ever so slightly forwardsand backwards. Might it not be possible, by never-ceasing friction, to soabrade the edges of the sole of the boot that it might be reduced to suchdimension as would permit it to be raised? With all the force of my mind concentrated on the one idea, I began towork in a passion of patience. At first the play of the boot was hardlyto be registered; but hour after hour of ceaseless and calculated effortnot only counterbalanced mental tension and imparted some degree ofwarmth to my body, but so amended the shape of the boot that it began tomove with some degree of freedom. The more easy the fit, the morecautious and calm I became. No insipid monotony pervaded the remote, cold crevice. The operation waslubricated with hope. Once every heart-beat--for I kept strict tally, asfurther mental relaxation--my boot rubbed against the rock, and each rubwore away minute particles of leather. As time passed and the work becamestill easier, it became more engrossing, until calmness gave way, andevery nerve thrilled with excitement, and I was convinced that I wouldwin a joyful passage from this narrow strait by dint of the resolutecontinuation of the simplest of processes. But the long night was not to end with such placid and entertainingoccupation. Absorbed in it, sternly waving off all sense of weariness ordespair, I was staggered and stunned by the fall, among an avalanche offern debris, of a heavy living body on my head and shoulders--a grunting, struggling thing which kicked and scratched. With a despairing shriek, 'all my vibrant nerves collapsed, as in thedarkness and confusion I fought against infernal odds. For one appallinginstant I was convinced of the reality of Wylo's most diresome fact, anddid furiously believe that I was actually entrapped in the stronghold ofa demon at that moment, intent upon tearing me limb from limb. The mostfantastic and horrific of nightmares was actually materialised. But at that instant a familiar odour sluiced away all mystery. Thisstruggling thing, from the shock of which my very soul still trembled, was but a fellow-victim--a wallaby which, feeding along the ledge, hadhappened on the trap made by my fall. In a flash of remorseless energy, I seized the panting body, felt for thethroat, and, expelling pity from my heart, gripped until all was still. How precious and comforting it was! And once again all my powers of willand muscle were centred on a single design and action as withmachine-like rhythm the boot wore itself against the rock. Disengagedfrom every other theme, my mind dwelt on the one steady, inevitablepurpose. Rub! Rub! Rub! And I fancied I saw leathern dust fall likefilings from iron down deeper into the crevice. Before dawn the boot wasworking freely, and with one arm on the compressed body of the wallaby tocase my weight, rest was possible. The plan for the disengagement ofthe right foot, painfully rigid and cold, was perfect in theory. Would ithold in practice? When the left was free I would, by friction of theiron studs In the sole, wear away the laces of the engaged boot so thatthe foot might be withdrawn. But physical weakness became imperious. The distraction of cramped andbruised flesh had to be withstood the while the constancy of thefunction was maintained. Continual comfort came from the dead body of theill-fated wallaby--a sort of fellowship, and a feeling that with itsco-operation the contest between living flesh and blood and the inertforce of the mountain was not altogether one-sided. Light was certainlycheerful, but the crevice filled with mist which distilled on the rock, and a chill current of air benumbed my aching limbs. Under the pressure of fierce determination the task persisted, until, quite unexpectedly as it seemed, the boot was free; and then, shoving andsqueezing the wallaby as a cushion for my right arm, the sole of the leftboot began to rasp away at the instep of the right. In such a constrainedposition the operation, which could be persevered in by fits and startsonly, was exasperatingly slow. The sun sopped up the morning mist andboldly explored the crevice, revealing the marvellous precision of thespace between the walls. No work of art could be more regular. The sheersimplicity of the trap made it the more effectual. The sunlight showed, too, that the fissure was the skylight of a cave which opened out on theravine. Dry boulders were strewn about fifty feet below, while ahead Icould catch a glimpse of a narrow ribbon of blue sea. This provokingsight of unattainable water aggravated thirst almost beyond endurance. Throughout the night had my longing increased, but now the pangs wereextreme. The most gratifying of all drinks--cool, fern-filtered, flower-decorated water, water dripping in iridescent spangles from greenmoss soft as velvet--splashed incessantly into a hollow out there a fewyards away in the free space of the mountain. Here, manacled with"adamant eterne, " in an agony of impatience I quaffed thethirst-stimulating draught of unsatisfied longing as I strove fitfully towear away the stubborn strips of leather which held me in bondage. In adoze or dream the action went on. Startled, I awoke to find myselfpommelling with inane savagery the poor crumpled body of the wallaby, andto the realisation that the imprisoned foot was loose in the boot. A luxurious stupor took possession of my mind. I was at liberty to workout of the crevice knees and shoulders; yet an impalpable force detainedme. It was not that I was not master of my fate, but that out there inthe glare of the sun was patient water, dripping for the refreshment andcleansing of my grimy lips. So enchanting a thought was not to beabruptly ended. Was it not deliciously dreamy to hold myself in suspenseawhile, to linger over anticipated sweetness and prolong blestgratifications indefinitely? Strange drowsiness and peace bewitched the sunlit chink. Why should Istruggle more? Could I not, in fancy, hearken to the measured splash ofthe drops from the sodden moss? Could anything be more consoling thanthis cushion to my bruised and aching arms? Ease and sloth were sweetindeed. I was free, but not at large. The amazing adaptability of thehuman mind had reconciled me in a few suffering hours to this confinedspace. Verily do I believe that the overcoming of this subtle anodynedemanded the expenditure of more vital force than the sum of all thelong-sustained automatic exertion by which I had won physical release. One supreme mental tug and the baneful torpor was dispelled, and withstiffened legs and bruised hand@ I began to screw myself up to the freeair cautiously and painfully; and there, in a beam of light from thecrystal, was the slow-dripping flower-bedizened water-celestial nectar toparched lips. Hours after I awoke as from a dream. Far below a column of smoke showedthat Wylo still watched. My first act was to send up a responsive signal. In a fit of petty passion I flung the toil-worn boot into the ravine, andbegan the descent by way of the spur to the west. Wylo seemed scared by the sight of the staggering and tattered scarecrow, barefooted, and stained with blood and dirt, who stumbled into the campat dusk, too weary to talk, almost too spent to eat; and to this day heis convinced that I was actually detained by the "debil-debil, " whom I hadovercome by some means of which wonder-working white men alone have thesecret. After two days' rest I climbed the mountain again, blocked the fissurewith loose stones, and built a buttress, standing upon which I tapped thecrystal gently with the tomahawk. It quivered. A shaft of rainbow tintsdazzled my sight. I tapped again. As I touched it it third time, thefragile finger with which the gaunt old rock had scorned the ploddingcenturies vanished in a splutter of spangles! THE SOUL WITHIN THE STONE "These ghosts of the living and of the dead assuredly illustratein a striking manner the mysterious workings of the human mind, and the unsuspected influence of soul on soul. "--PRODMORE. Not more than a hundred yards from its mud-besmeared mouth the convenientmangroves disappear and the little creek assumes becoming airs. Hugetea-trees, with cushiony bark, straddle it, and ferns grow strongly inall its nooks and bends. When the big trees blossom in watery yellow, yellow-eared honey-eaters, blue-bibbed sun-birds, and screeching parrotsin accordant colours, assemble joyously, for the aroma, as of burnthoney, spreads far and wide, bidding all, butterflies and jewel-backedbeetles which buzz and hum, to the feast, until the aerial anthem isharmonic to the rustle of the sea. The sturdy feet of the trees stand in black peat, through which the waterfrom the wholesome hills oozes and dribbles, and the russet stain fromdiscarded leaves is on their white bases. Russet, too, is the surface ofthe ever moist soil. Some element in the water derived from pacted rootsof palm and fern tinctures whatsoever in it lies, so that the bottoms ofthe shallow, erratic pools are thick with russet slime. All above isbright and pure, and the water which flows over the slime-smudged rootslimpid and refreshing. If you cut into the bark of the tea-tree you willfind water in beads and trickles, water which sparkles with purity andhas a slightly saline taste. The bare roots alone suffer defilement. Many a tall tea-tree stands sentinel on the margin of the creek, andthere are groves of slim palms with narrow truncated leaves--palms whichcreep and sprawl over vegetation of independent character, and palm&which coquette with the sun with huge fans. Orchid& display sprays ofyellowish-green flowers, which contribute a decided savour to themedley of scents, and palm-like Cycads meander from the low bank outInto the forest. But there is one tree which, if not superior to the rest in broadness ofbase, height, fairness of bark, and fullness of bloom, has especialendowment. It stands at the spot where generation after generation of theoriginal owners of the soil has crossed the creek, wearing a waving pathupon which ferns ever encroach and which every flood amends. In a recessin its massive roots reposes "Kidjo-bang, " the restless stone--a boulder, man's-head size, stained with a rim of sober brown. This is its accustomed scat. It roves the locality, returning, swallow-like, to the close-fitting hollow of the root. The embraces of theroot are sometimes so strong that the dingy stone may not be moved. Butthe floods of the wet season maintain an unceasing cataract to itsdislodgment, and then, according to the legends of the blacks, it beginsto "walk about. " It may rest a month just out of reach of the disturbingwater among the ferns. It has been known to appear mysteriously on thesandy beach two hundred yards away, to which spot it is said to travel byway of the grass lands, avoiding the slur of the muddy creek. Whether it seeks change of scene beyond the ripple of dead leaves andspoil of the flood, or whether it ventures out on to the open beach, where the breezes from the Pacific play upon it, the round white stonereturns, independent of the agency of man, to the sanctuary which time, ever-flowing water, and the hospitable roots of the tree, have combinedto afford. It is there this day. Should it be taken to one or other ofthe blue islands in the broad bay, sooner or later it will be discoverednestling cosily in the grotto in which the dyed slime smears it as withpale blood. To the ordinary investigator of the whimsicalities of "Kidj-o-bang" theblacks betray no secret, though they would verify, with what to them isproof positive, that it does on occasion appear in unexpected places andunaccountably reoccupies its cell. Discreetly pursue the subject andperadventure you may be told precisely why the stone may not always restin the one spot in the whole world which it fits as a kernel its shell. It has been, they assert, associated with an evil deed of which it is nowthe emblem. Among the many the mysteries of "Kidj-o-bang" dwell with thepast, though it is still associated with the ceremonies of the bestowalof totemic names on the children of a certain father. More than one legend concerning it is extant, and the young fellows ofthe present day frankly scoff at them all, while the old men believe eachother's versions and repeat them with bated breath. They cannot discreditstories which were accepted as established facts when they were young, which no one then ever dreamed of doubting, and which provide acomfortably satisfactory account for otherwise perplexing incidents. Musing on the spot, the legend of the roving stone usurped my thoughts. The trivial and uncertain notions of the black boy who was the first totell it, and by theatrical gestures to illustrate its verities, becamemore and more indistinct. The soothsayers of the long past had beenforbidden by Nature to doubt that which was the lore of the camp. Was itthat Nature re-asserted her influence--that the essences of the scene, subtle and pervasive, had recurred, creating a receptive spirit, so deepa religion of assent that shadow and substance intermingled to mybewilderment? I was permitted to be a sensitive percipient in the midstof the ashes of shiftless folk who had passed away, catching but a casualand deceptive glimpse of the coming of the desolating white man. Piln-goi, the black boy, had wandered up the creek. A thrilling silenceprevailed. Stooping down, I laved my hands in the softly flowing water, idly intent on lifting the stone. The tawny slime defeated irresoluteefforts, and my slipping hands bestowed a baptismal splash. Instantly I became conscious of a strange presence, and, glancing over myshoulder, saw an unfamiliar black boy lurking behind a glistening-frondedCycad. The whole scene had undergone wishful transformation. The white-barkedtrees, purified of smears from the sooty fingers of fire, stood out insplendid contrast to a richer, thicker, a flowery undergrowth. Tallfern trees spread green cobwebs to entrap sunbeams. The Cycad under whichthe boy crouched was slim-shaped, and its foliage resembled that of one ofthe most beautiful of ferns, with languorous, dolorous fronds, while itwas crowned with a huge fruit of golden-brown. All the scene had beenwondrously transfigured. Time's treacheries had been defeated. Agarden-like age had been restored. The sword-leaved orchid dangledyard-long sprays of brilliant yellow flowers, which saturated the air withdelicate perfume. Fearless birds fluttered among and hovered over thependant blooms, whistling and calling. Water-rats sported in thelily-bespangled stream, and a platypus basked, on the bank. From the strained and expectant attitude of the boy, it was apparent thathe was hunting. He stepped cautiously out of cover, and, using a wommeraof dark wood with oval clutches of white shell, threw a spear into thelong grass. A kangaroo, mad with fear and pain, staggered forward, knowing not whence fate had struck it, and, lurching helplessly, sankamong the ferns on the margin of the water. Ignoring my presence theboy, having completed the hunter's office with a blow from a nulla-nulla, called in a thin, shrill voice: "Yano-lee!" (We go this way). In a few seconds a young girl of his own race stepped through the leafyscreen. She cast casual glances at the dead kangaroo, and without sayinga word to her companion came to the pool, stooped down beside me, anddrank eagerly and noisily, using a scoop improvised from a leaf. Her backglistened with perspiration, and her coarse, fuzzy, uncleanly hair ceasedin tufts on her neck. It was a slim and shapely little figure. The plumesof the orchid, golden and syrupy, swayed over her heedless head andseemed to caress it. Her eyes, round, large, and brimful of thebewildering eagerness of youth, relieved the unobtrusive expansiveness ofher nose and almost atoned for her savage lips. Though almost touchingme, the most shy, wild creature of the bush seemed unconscious of mypresence. She was in fact and deed: "We have the receipt of fern-seed; we walk invisible. " I was thephantom--invisible, intangible. The pair beside, the unembarrassedrealities. Do phantoms reflect? That privilege was mine. Let memory treasure everydetail of the scene, every vestige of its incidents. "Kidj-o-bang" had vanished. There was its cell. A full and stainlessstream, in a gurgling cataract, sparkled over the big root, while highamong the blossoms birds clambered incessantly for nectar. The primitive pair were at home, but not at case, In this Garden of Eden. They spoke in mumbling tones, of which I could catch but stray phrases, though I listened eagerly. Presently the girl took up two dry sticks, and, using one as a drill between the palms of her hands, essayed to makea fire. The boy imperatively intervened. "Poo-nee imba!" (No fire). The girl started up, and instantly both slid into the jungle as silentlyand as tracklessly as snakes. The dead kangaroo, the expectant phantom (gifted for the time being witha faculty more subtle than any moral sense), remained alone among thebirds and the orchids, while shy pencil-tailed water-rats began to sniffand peer among the sedges. So enthralling was the scene that time passedinsensibly. The sun was overhead when the pair reappeared noiselessly. Smears of shell and grit betrayed an intervening meal of oysters. Swarmsof green ants, in a scramble for food, almost obscured the blood-stainson the fur of the kangaroo, and, brushing them away, the boy made andenlarged with his fingers an opening in the body, and having torn out theheart, liver, and kidneys, made a fire, scarce a hand's-breadth wide andsmokeless, on which the meat was singed prior to being munched with grimdeliberation. They ate largely, some of the flesh from the hind quartersbeing also eaten, scrap by scrap. Were they fugitives? Tall and strong, the boy was as alert andsuspicious as a dingo. Every sense was strained. He seemed intent uponsubduing the very noises in his head as he slowly crushed his food andgulped. A forlorn cry, half appeal, half gurgle, filtered through the leafage asfrom the beach, and on the instant the jungle had soundlessly absorbedthe affrighted pair. The handful of fire and the mutilated kangarooremained as the only evidences of the handiwork of man. What of the intruder? The cry was almost too weird to be human. Again itthrilled through the leafage, a trifle stronger, and seemed to convey athreat commingled with a prayer for succour. The scene held me. I was powerless, but not indifferent; capable ofsight, incapable of action or utterance. Something in the tone of thevoice told of a member of my own race in sore distress. Yet I could notrespond to his appeal or move to his aid. Half an hour of intense silence passed, and then a lusty shout startledthe air. Surely, I thought, the wayfarer who makes such outcry in thisunpeopled wilderness is an uncouth fellow who has lost his way and thinksto dialogue with echoes for relief of loneliness. Presently the crackingof branchlets and a rumble of discontented phrases told of someoneblundering along through the mangroves. Accustomed to the gentle soundsand the delicious silence of the jungle, the clumsy noises irritatedwhile preparing me for the sight of the intruder--a big, aggressive, weather-scored man, his only clothing a pair of short pants of canvas, stained with wear and stiff and whitened with frost like sea-salt. Theocean had but an hour ago cast him like its scum on the beach. He burst on the scene to plunge his broken lips into the water at myfeet. Like the natives, he drank long and noisily, and when his thirstwas allayed called to an imaginary mate--"Pietro, Pietro!" cursed freelywhen no answer came, and whimpered like a babe. Huge of body, strong of limb, bully and brute stamped on his coarsefeatures, yet did his dread of loneliness piteously overcome him. Hisbald pate, hung about with scant reddish ringlets, had been roasted bythe tropic sun until it glowed, and eyes and nose strove for supremacy ofinflammation. An unkempt moustache did not hide teeth of disreputabletint; chin and jowl were covered with a fortnight's growth of streakyhair. Turning from the water, he saw the dismembered kangaroo, and, seizing oneof the legs, tore the flesh from the bones and with ravenous greed beganan uncleanly feast. The impure drank of the pure water and gulped thestrong flesh until his gorged stomach swelled cask-shape, and then heslept as noisily as he had eaten and drank. A leathern belt, cracked and whitened, furrowed his distended girth, andas he lay stretched with the sun scrutinising his face, flies andmosquitoes and carnivorous green ants feasted on his blood at will. Eachleaden-tinted, lean fly revelled until it assumed similitude to acolouring grape, some "reeled to and fro and staggered like drunken men";bloated mosquitoes and green ants, commingling, made a living mosaic onthe skin of the unconscious man. What could the assaults and stings ofmyriads of insects avail against fatigue so formidable? But a decree had gone forth that the sleeper should wake, and who is manthat he should flout imperious commands? The merciless sun insisted. Thestrong man fidgeted under the persistent blaze. Perspiration poured fromhis skin; he snarled; his eyelids twitched and quivered; the veins ofneck and forehead throbbed ominously. The sun does not toleratedisobedience. A thin trickle of blood issued from the grimy nose, andwith a snort the man awoke, his flame-red eye% swilled with enforcedtears. Dazedly he plunged his head into the water and drank greedily, and, sitting up, spat sullenly and with signs of disgust and contempt. What comfort could cold water afford so repleted a stomach? Having disdainfully spurned the remnants of the kangaroo, he sat headbetween knees, grumbling against fate. To him the fruitful and pleasantland was disconsolate. A castaway, he had drifted on to its welcomeshores, and all that it could offer was loneliness, cold water, the rawflesh of a strange animal, and denial of the solace of sleep. Out of thedepths of his misery and dejection he called imperatively on his God, andtaking from the lining of his belt a thumb-sized purse, of netted silver, displayed a glorious pearl, which he held aloft, and with an admixture ofsupplication and imprecation proffered it to the Most High as grudgingransom from a God-abandoned country. Who is there that delights not in the susceptible purity of pearls? Thegem which symbolises virginal placidity was like to be contaminated bythe coarse handling of the fretful, bargaining castaway. Did I lean forward acquisitively to accept it from the noisome fingers, reluctant that so serene a prize should be retained in so coarse asetting? The man started, for the votive offering had vanished, and blasphemouslamentations and curses against the Supreme Being, whom he abused fordefrauding him of fortune by trickery, shocked the quietude. Then a spasmof religious fervour jerked him to his knees as he patronised theAlmighty for having accepted a pledge for safe-conduct from death-likesolitude. After transports of impious piety, as uncouth and boisterous ashis struggles through the labyrinth of mangroves to the purifying water, he sat bareheaded in the sun. Steamy heat distilled strong aromatic odours from the myriad leaves;languid flowers gave copiously and of the best of their fragrance; fernsand lotus did obeisance to high noon. The birds had ceased to whistle, and the droning of bees gave to the upper air slumbering rhythm of itsown. Again the intruder slept. Again the sun commanded and he woke raging. Standing, he cursed both loud and long, eyes protuberant, face purplingunder the strain of vindictive oaths. What an unflattering contrast to the unclad natives who had dominated yetblended with the scene-the girl the prototype of a swaying palm, the boythat of a tough young bloodwood beside the creek, among the topmostbranches of which a crimson-flowered mistletoe made a splash of colour inharmony with the single red feather from the wing of a black cockatoowhich the soft-tongued youth had entangled in his hair. This gross, profane, sun-smitten, sea-rejected herald of civilisation, disowned by his fellows, disinherited of the world, defiled the spot, andhis voice created an inaugural discord. With arms uplifted, he muttered ineffectual curses against his fellows, upbraided his saints, and defied his deity. But while his lips frothedwith the passion of a stuttering tongue, the provoked but just genius ofthe spot passed sentence, and swiftly and silently the messengers ofDeath came. Four slender spear& penetrated his shaggy chest, as with a&cream which ended lit a gulp he splashed back into the water. Hisstruggles and splutterings soon ceased. Silence resumed its fascination. Blood welled from the mouth and nose and spear wounds, which the eagerwater carried off in wavy, independent streams, while the dead facewhitened. Many minutes elapsed before a dozen white-eyed natives cautiously oozedthrough the Jungle, stimulating each other's nervousness by reassuringgestures. Certain that the trespasser on their dominion was incapable ofmischief, they began to chatter, showing fidgety interest in the body, which they touched and poked fearsomely with spears. Dead eyes stared unblinkingly at the sun through a curtain of water, which had already cleaned them of heat and passion, and wisps of red hairdrifted over the forehead. The untimely yelp of a dingo some few yards in the jungle inspired asimilar response from one of the men, and without shyness or reserve theboy and girl joined the throng, and all began to talk excitedly. Some ofthe men assumed threatening attitudes towards the girl, who stoodsubmissively, while the boy talked in a rage of excitement. He had chosenhis mate, and would not, even on pain of summary death, abandon her. So trivial an incident as the love affairs of boy and girl could notcompare with the phenomenon in the water. The crisis was momentary. Amazement was pictured in every face, and not a man but subjected thebleeding body to gross contempt and what passed among them for ridicule. They mimicked the high stomach as they stood, as the dead man had stood, with arms aloft in rebellion against his lot, and fell back, as he hadfallen, screaming, to kick and wallow on the ground. Here was plot andmatter for ludicrous corroboree, the first rehearsal of which took placeon the scene. Soon curiosity took possession of the unstable actors. The belt wasremoved, and on the purse being fumbled with, several small pearls fellout. They were disregarded; but the strong man of the party looped thebelt about his own inadequate waist, the girl hid the purse (which hadbeen passed from hand to hand) in her hair, while the men tore the bonebuttons from the pants and fitted them into their ears as they struttedfoppishly. The dead eyes stared defiantly up into the sky, the face whitened, andthe stains of blood seemed to settle on it. A harsh sound came as an electric shock, and I heard as from afar offPiln-goi shout: "You bin sleep long time, boss! Big low water. We fella look outpearl-shell!" The scene had resumed everyday aspects. The sun concentrated its rays onmy head through a rift in the jungle, and the stone, stained dull red, lay in its cell, while rootlets fringed with tawny slime wavered over it. Had soul communed with soul on that illusive borderland we range indreams, the emblem of a deed of blood eloquent to reveal its secret? Andnow that the tale is told, will it cease from bewildering the simple oldmen of the soil who with one hand grapple the magical past and with theother the realities of the present? Piln-goi's impatience drew me from the spot and out on to the reef laidbare by the ebb. The beguiling pearl still eludes him, but memory holds ararer treasure than all the fecund sea contains. End