iend; you are no longer Gidage, you are Tamate."

I gave him an extra present, and he gave me a return one, saying,
"Gidage, we are friends; stay, and I, Tamate, will kill you a pig."

"No, Tamate. Gidage must go; but hopes to re-return, and will then eat
Tamate's pig."

"No, stay now; we are friends, and you must be fed!"

"No, I cannot stay; but when I return, then pig-eating"--not a very
pleasant employment when, other things can be had.

Pigs are very valuable animals here, and much thought of, and only true
friends can be regaled with them. The women nurse the pig. I have seen
a woman suckling a child at one breast and a small pig at the other; that
was at South Cape. I have seen it also at Hula and Aroma. Proceeding to
the beach, we parted, old and well-known friends.

"Gidage, must you go?"

"Yes; I cannot now stay, Tamate."

"Go, Gidage; how many moons until you return?"

"Tamate, I cannot say; but hope to return."

"_Kaione_ (good-bye), Tamate."

"_Kaione_, Gidage;" and away he started, leaving Tamate on the beach,
surrounded by an interesting crowd of natives.

It was near here, a few years after, that a _beche-de-mer_ party of seven
were murdered; and on the opposite side of the bay two cedar-seekers were
waylaid, and lost their lives. We went into Sandbank Bay, and I landed
at the village of Domara. What a scene it was! The women rushed into
the long grass, and I was led, after a good deal of talk, up to the
village--only to see, at the other end, grass petticoats disappearing,
the wearers hidden by the quantity of stuff they were carrying. One poor
woman, heavily laden with treasures, had perched above all her child, and
away she, too, was flying. Never had white man landed there before, and
who knows what he may be up to?

The following incident illustrates the shocks a traveller must put up
with in New Guinea.

It was resting-day at a village, far away from the coast, and, spreading
my chart out on the middle of the floor in the small native house in
which we were camping, several sitting round, I was tracing our journey
done, and the probable one to do, when strange drops were falling around,
a few on the chart. They came from a bulky parcel overhead. Jumping up
quickly, I discovered that they were grandmother's remains being dried.
Our chart was placed on the fire, and the owner was called lustily, who
hurriedly entered and walked away with the parcel. It was altogether a
h