Hanuabada and Elevera are the names of the two native settlements near Port Moresby. At certain tides Elevera is an island, at other tides it is a peninsula, but at all tides and all times it teems with interest. Quaint huts built on long poles line the shore and look like nothing one has ever seen before. When the tide is high the water washes right under them, swishing merrily against the stout poles, and if you want to inspect one at these times a canoe is necessary, but even then it is a hazardous job unless you are used to it. No one knows exactly why the natives went to such trouble in building their huts, unless it was with a view to protecting themselves against the attack of an enemy from the land. There were no wild animals for them to fear. A regular street divides these rows of huts, all exactly alike, but the inhabitants seem to know where their friends live, though I am sure the most {18} experienced London postman would suffer from continual confusion if his services were required in these parts. In the distance these villages look very much like rows of haystacks built on stakes, but on closer inspection they are particularly interesting and have a very imposing appearance. On reaching the piles one clambers up a rude ladder and arrives on a platform made of ordinary poles with gaps of a foot or two between each. Here it is that the natives squat all day and do what work they have, or, more generally, idle the hours away. Above the platform is a kind of porch built on a slant and projecting from the roof, which acts as a protection against the sun or rain. Under this is an open doorway which leads into the house. From a sanitary point of view, no habitation could be better than these pile dwellings, but for comfort give me a modern hotel. [Illustration 4: MOTU VILLAGE FROM THE SEA] No furniture or mats are to be seen in these dwellings to catch the dust, and you can squat on the floor and see through the planks the waves washing and swelling a few yards below. The floor consists of the same kind of piles, only flatter and broader than those used for supporting the house. The platforms are arranged like big steps, and many of the boards are beautifully carved. {19} Some of them are immense pieces of timber, which must have required a deal more energy to cut than the Papuan of to-day is capable of exerting—much less would he put them into position. The wood used for the flooring is the hardest obtainable, and seems to be of a material which takes no heed of wear and tear; the planks are sometimes heirlooms, and have been handed down from father to son for many generations. One log tougher than the rest is placed in position by the door, and on this a fire will probably be burning and a woman squatting by it cooking her lord and master’s evening meal.