seemed quite
scandalized at such unprecedented bad manners, and only very gradually
made any approach to fraternization with the black fellows. They
reminded me of a party of demure and well-behaved children suddenly
broken in upon by a lot of wild romping, riotous boys, whose conduct
seems most extraordinary and very naughty. These moral features are
more striking and more conclusive of absolute diversity than oven
the physical contrast presented by the two races, though that is
sufficiently remarkable. The sooty blackness of the skin, the mop-like
head of frizzly hair, and, most important of all, the marked form of
countenance of quite a different type from that of the Malay, are
what we cannot believe to result from mere climatal or other modifying
influences on one and the same race. The Malay face is of the Mongolian
type, broad and somewhat flat. The brows are depressed, the mouth wide,
but not projecting, and the nose small and well formed but for the great
dilatation of the nostrils. The face is smooth, and rarely develops the
trace of a beard; the hair black, coarse, and perfectly straight. The
Papuan, on the other hand, has a face which we may say is compressed and
projecting. The brows are protuberant and overhanging, the mouth
large and prominent, while the nose is very large, the apex elongated
downwards, the ridge thick, and the nostrils large. It is an obtrusive
and remarkable feature in the countenance, the very reverse of what
obtains in the Malay face. The twisted beard and frizzly hair complete
this remarkable contrast. Hero then I had reached a new world, inhabited
by a strange people. Between the Malayan tribes, among whom I had for
some years been living, and the Papuan races, whose country I had now
entered, we may fairly say that there is as much difference, both
moral and physical, as between the red Indians of South America and the
negroes of Guinea on the opposite side of the Atlantic.
Jan. 1st, 1857.-This has been a day of thorough enjoyment. I have
wandered in the forests of an island rarely seen by Europeans. Before
daybreak we left our anchorage, and in an hour reached the village of
Har, where we were to stay three or four days. The range of hills here
receded so as to form a small bay, and they were broken up into peaks
and hummocks with intervening flats and hollows. A broad beach of
the whitest sand lined the inner part of the bay, backed by a mass of
cocoa-nut palms, among which the
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