These Pygmies of Societas, though small, are cunning, and wise in their generation. For the most part they toil not, (save at pleasure-seeking and lion-hunting), neither do they spin (anything beyond the edifying yarns they call "after-dinner stories"). But they manage to live on the fat of the land. The larger aborigines (called the Whirkirs) are very industrious, and form the clearings and cultivate the various produce of the place. The Pygmies appear to be aware that the plantations and powers of the Whirkirs are practically inexhaustible, and to think that they have as much right to the produce as the aboriginal owners and tillers. Therefore, they cling tightly to these plantations, and make the larger and more laborious natives pay dearly for the honour of their acquaintance. In another manner they perform valuable service by setting fashions, receiving strangers, and assisting in the defence of the settlements; they also hunt game, and supply the larger natives with plenty to do in working for and waiting on them. It appeared to me that the Pygmies were regarded somewhat as parasites (though highly ornamental ones, like orchids) whose departure would be more welcome--to the aborigines--than their vicinity. But a race which has survived so much and so many things is not easily to be got rid of. Anyhow, _I_ couldn't get rid of them, though sometimes I felt inclined to imitate Hercules. With their arrows and their unblushing importunities they had me at advantage, and even as _Gulliver_ became the victim of the midgets of Lilliput, so did I of the innumerable, inquisitive, imperturbably impertinent Pygmies of Societas. * * * * * THE FIRST FIGHT. (_Between the Seventh Team of Australian Cricketers and an English Eleven, begun at Sheffield Park, on May 8, 1890._)