It may make for clearness in following my journeys if the reader will at this point submit for a moment to the drudgery of a brief examination of the map, for my trail exhibits various doublings backwards and forwards, and consequently exposes the narrative to the risk of confusion, unless the main outline of the itinerary be followed. It had been my intention to work first in Dutch New Guinea, but various accidents, and the hostility of a warlike tribe, brought these plans to an untimely end, and I had to spend the greater part of my time within the borders of the British possession. Port Moresby, the British Government station, consequently became my main base of operations, and it was in a north-westerly and south-easterly direction from that settlement that my journeyings lay. On the first of these I went by sea from Port Moresby north-west to Yule Island, separated from the mainland by Hall Sound, and then I struck up the Ethel River as far as Oo-fa-fa, where we began our march into the interior. The chief points of the route as noted on the map were Epa and Ekeikei, Madui, and then on to Dinawa, where we established our first camp, and settled down for five months’ work, which included a short expedition to the St. Joseph River. Returning to Port Moresby, and having some time to spare, I and my son went down the coast 75 miles to the south-east, partly on foot, partly by boat, by way of Tupeselae, Kappa-kappa, Kalo, and Kerapuna, as far as Hood’s Bay, a journey rather of observation than of exploration, for the region is within the sphere of missionary enterprise, and cannot be regarded as altogether unknown, although the geographer has not yet by any means had his last word upon it. Reaching Port Moresby by a reversal of the same route, we returned once more to Yule Island, and struck inland by way of Mekeo and Epa to Ekeikei, where we built our second and most elaborate camp, which served us as the base for our furthest journey to Mount Kebea, and thence inland by way of Googoolee, Cooloo-coolu, Babooni, Amana, Foula, and Avola, to Mafalu, our highest point. It may be worth while noting that as soon as we had passed Bioto Creek on the Ethel River, existing maps ceased to be of use to us, and with the exception of a few vaguely indicated mountains, presented a complete blank. Such outlines of topography as we have filled in give in every case the native name of the place. The fashion of rechristening localities, although often complimentary to European explorers and their friends, pastors, masters, and disciples, and probably commemorative of a discovery, seems to me always to sever an interesting link with the country under examination. For this reason I prefer the melodious native name Papua to its western supplanter New Guinea. [Illustration: A FEATHERED ARTIST, THE BOWER-BIRD, WITH HIS HOUSE AND GARDEN. He distinguishes between colours, lays out his garden in alternate rows of white and mauve flowers. ]