As we drew nearer to the shore we noted unmistakable evidence of the drought, which had just set in, and which lasted for nine whole months. The vegetation was entirely brown, and everything seemed barren and burned up. The drought, it was said, extended as far west as the Fly River, at the 141st degree of longitude. Even at an altitude of 6000 feet, as I found afterwards, lycopodiums, orchids, and parasites were falling off the trees, and this, too, within the zone of humidity for New Guinea. The approach to Port Moresby is dangerous owing to the reefs that encircle the coast, and accordingly great caution had to be used in navigating the ship into the harbour. The course lies east, then west along a certain known channel, and finally the navigator follows the coast for a few hours, when, rounding a promontory on his right, he catches his first glimpse of this anchorage. The Government post of Port Moresby, although picturesquely situated among rolling hills which slope down to the water’s edge, is in itself unpretentious enough—merely a collection of houses and offices of bare, galvanised iron, architecturally as insignificant as rabbit hutches. During the day the temperature resembles Hades or Aden, whichever may have the priority. Here the British official chooses to abide, although comfortable houses of sago, with thick grass thatch, cool on the hottest day, offering a delightful dwelling-place, might be had only a few miles distant. A paternal administration, however, prescribes galvanised iron, and there its servants swelter, patient and uncomplaining, after the manner of Britons. Clustered about the Government buildings are various other buildings—the jail, which more resembles a pleasure-ground, shipping offices, stores, and the hotel. On an elevation at the farther end of the bay stands Government House, a pleasantly situated bungalow raised off the ground on five-foot posts. The best building in the place, as one might expect, is the station of the London Missionary Society. Life at Port Moresby is not without its events, and one of the most noteworthy of its public spectacles, and one which I was fortunate enough to see on a subsequent visit, is the annual starting of the _lakatois_ or huge sailing rafts, laden with pottery for trade in the western part of the possession.