Though cannibalism is still practised among the inland tribes, and even occasionally on the islands adjacent to the mainland, the coastal natives have to be content nowadays with pigs' flesh. They are very fond of giving feasts, and the last photograph shows a group of feast-givers decorated for the occasion, with gay feathers stuck in their fuzzy hair, which is teased out with a comb something like a many-pronged wooden toasting-fork. They hang egg cowrie shells on their arms, putting on all the finery they possess, and smearing their faces with lime. All this preparation often took place days beforehand, for a feast in Papua is nothing if not movable. It used to be announced for a certain day, but at the appointed time all the necessary pigs might not have been brought in, or some expected visitors might not have arrived, or a pig already present might have struggled free from its bonds and have had to be hunted for a day or two. No one ever seemed to mind the delay, however. With well-bred calmness they waited until everything was quite ready, and then the feast began. On one such occasion there were nearly a thousand people present, and fifty pigs, two thousand coco-nuts, and huge piles of taro were distributed. The feast-givers got nothing; that is a universal custom. The recipients likewise neither cooked nor ate a morsel until they got home, for it is considered good form in Papua to eat nothing but to carry away everything, thus practically reversing our notions of hospitality. There was a great heap of dismembered pigs lying on the ground, and the presiding genius of the feast, with his assistants, threw these violently towards the guests. Each important man had retainers who ran forward and bore the joint off, while the less fortunate ones kept up a running fire of comment--identifying a pig's head as having been the contribution of some particular man, or reproving the hill-folk for their awkward gait, telling them not to fear precipices on the coast, and so on. At this particular feast one man, an ex-policeman, lost his temper completely. As his share of pork was thrown forward, the distributor took the opportunity of accusing him of certain misdemeanours. This so enraged the accused that he sprang to his feet brandishing a very unpleasant-looking knife about two feet long. His friends, not much impressed, stolidly brought him his pork and quite disregarded his angry commands to throw it away. Finally he subsided, muttering. In earlier days this would have been, no doubt, but the prelude to a very lively little battle, and spears would soon have been in action. The culprit, however, had served under Government, and knew what power it possessed to punish offenders. (_To be continued._) _Recollections of a Texas Ranger._ +By Isaac Motes.+