Towards the end of my stay in Papua my special work was translation, chiefly of the Scriptures, and there was a big pile of manuscript awaiting revision. This was generally done by one of the mission clergy and myself, assisted by intelligent natives who possessed a quick ear for mistakes. The little boy seen in the first photograph was known as “the Pundit,” because, although only fourteen years old, he gave us great assistance in the difficult work of translation. He had a wonderful memory, and was very discriminating in his choice of words. He would sometimes volunteer opinions as to the style of the sacred writers, and considered the Prophet Jeremiah, on the whole, “easier” than Isaiah--in which I agree with him, so far as concerns rendering the books into a native dialect. Perhaps it was for this reason that our youthful “Pundit,” when he was baptised and formally discarded his heathen name of Bonagadona, chose that of “Jeremiah,” by which imposing cognomen he is now known. Before long the revision work came to a standstill, however, for my fellow-reviser had gone far north to a pioneer station called Ambasi. It was finally decided that, accompanied by our mission nurse, I should take the MSS. to Ambasi and finish the revision there. So we set out on our long journey up the coast in the little fourteen-foot schooner. I am not a good sailor, and I found the journey very uncomfortable; I was only able to admire Nature when we anchored. [Illustration: “THE PUNDIT”--THIS LITTLE LAD, THOUGH ONLY FOURTEEN YEARS OLD, RENDERED THE AUTHORESS GREAT ASSISTANCE IN THE DIFFICULT WORK OF TRANSLATING THE SCRIPTURES. _From a Photograph._] We spent a very interesting time in Collingwood Bay, where only two white women had ever been seen, and that within the year. The women here wore strips of tappa cloth from waist to knee, instead of the grass skirts of the more eastern tribes, and the houses were of a finer and larger type. The villagers, after they had got over their surprise at seeing us, gave us almost too hearty a welcome. We were implored to pull down our hair, and great was the astonishment expressed at the sight when we did so. They also failed entirely to understand our hairpins, hats, and, above all, our long noses and small waists! The Papuans’ methods of hairdressing, however, would certainly cause almost equal astonishment in civilization. Look, for instance, at the following photograph, which depicts the coiffure of a man belonging to the dreaded Doriri tribe, a people living inland from Uiaku, whose warlike instincts have not yet been subdued. It will be noticed that the hair is allowed to grow long, divided into plaits, and elaborately braided until it looks like a collection of rope-ends. [Illustration: A NATIVE OF THE DREADED DORIRI TRIBE--THE HAIR IS DIVIDED INTO PLAITS AND BRAIDED, UNTIL IT LOOKS LIKE A COLLECTION OF ROPE-ENDS. _From a Photograph._]