es, and bedding all more or less soaked. We
consoled ourselves with some hot tea and cold fowl, and went early to
bed.

The next morning was clear and fine, and I set out soon after sunrise to
explore the neighbourhood. The village had evidently been newly formed,
and consisted of a single straight street of very miserable huts totally
deficient in every comfort, and as bare and cheerless inside as out. It
was situated on a little elevated patch of coarse gravelly soil, covered
with the usual high rigid grass, which came up close to the backs of
the houses. At a short distance in several directions were patches of
forest, but all on low and swampy ground. I made one attempt along the
only path I could find, but soon came upon a deep mud-hole, and found
that I must walk barefoot if at all; so I returned and deferred further
exploration till after breakfast. I then went on into the jungle and
found patches of sago-palms and a low forest vegetation, but the paths
were everywhere full of mud-holes, and intersected by muddy streams
and tracts of swamp, so that walking was not pleasurable, and too much
attention to one's steps was not favourable to insect catching, which
requires above everything freedom of motion. I shot a few birds,
and caught a few butterflies, but all were the same as I had already
obtained about Cajeli.

On my return to the village I was told that the same kind of ground
extended for many miles in every direction, and I at once decided that
Wayapo was not a suitable place to stay at. The next morning early we
waded back again through the mud and long wet grass to our boat, and
by mid-day reached Cajeli, where I waited Ali's return to decide on my
future movements. He came the following day, and gave a very bad account
of Pelah, where he had been. There was a little brush and trees along
the beach, and hills inland covered with high grass and cajuputi
trees--my dread and abhorrence. On inquiring who could give me
trustworthy information, I was referred to the Lieutenant of the
Burghers, who had travelled all round the island, and was a very
intelligent fellow. I asked him to tell me if he knew of any part of
Bouru where there was no "kusu-kusu," as the coarse grass of the country
is called. He assured me that a good deal of the south coast was forest
land, while along the north was almost entirely swamp and grassy hills.
After minute inquiries, I found that the forest country commenced at a
place called