in house-burning, cattle-houghing, and other
nocturnal amusements peculiar to the "first flower of the sea." After a
couple of years of this praiseworthy career, he had been captured, tried,
and transported to Australia. He escaped, with ten fellow-convicts, and,
after various adventures, reached Papua. Nine of their number were slain
by the Horraforas, who spared the two others and made them serve against a
hostile tribe. Connel's companion was killed in a fight, but Connel
greatly distinguished himself, and became head-chief, or king. Under his
guidance and protection, we find Captain Trainer, four of his crew, and
the indefatigable Coulter, wandering in the Horrafora territory, through
magnificent tropical scenery, where snakes abounded, rats were as big as
ordinary cats, the mosquitos flew about in dense clouds, huge bats flapped
their mirky wings beneath the branches of gigantic trees, and immense
saucer-eyed owls glared from out the gloom. Hog-hunting was the principal
sport here; but the Horraforas were at war, as usual, and Dr Coulter's
services were again put in requisition. Fighting is the business of life
with these savages, and with an Irish king at their head, their combative
propensity was not likely to be weakened. They have scouts out
continually, and but for this precaution, as Connel explained, "one tribe
would break in on top of t'other, be murdherin' man, woman, and child, and
carrying off the rest to sell to the Chinese for slaves, all through
divilment, or fair divarsion." To guard against surprise, the natives live
in trees, amongst whose branches they construct commodious sleeping
apartments. They ascend and descend by a notched pole, drawn up at night,
and take their meals on the ground below.

The party from the schooner soon found they had got themselves into
trouble, being cut off from their vessel by the Whitepaints, a race of
savages thus named by Dr Coulter from their habit of disguising their
dusky complexion with a ghastly coating of white. A battle was inevitable,
and Connel disposed his forces with all the tact of an experienced
general. About a thousand of the enemy were opposed to eight hundred and
fifty Horraforas, but the latter had the Englishmen to help them, and
especially Dr Coulter, who, with his terrible rifle, was a host in
himself. The Whitepaints came on to within about four hundred yards of
their foe, and halted, their chief still advancing and yelling defiance,
in hopes