We occupied our time with the despatch of our collections. The herbarium, of course, had perished, but the moths, butterflies, and birds had come safely down from Dinawa. We did not disturb the boxes already packed, but merely stowed them in large cases, packing them with cocoanut fibre and straw to resist concussion. Each box was tin-lined, and on receiving its full complement was soldered up. For the procuring of empty cases I was greatly obliged to the courtesy of Mr. Ballantine, the Curator of the Intestate Office at Port Moresby. This work occupied us in all over a fortnight, and finally we despatched our collections to England by way of Australia. Thereafter the days were very dull and uneventful. Christmas was fast approaching, but there was very little hope of its being a merry one—for us, at any rate. The stores of provisions were running very short, and our Christmas dinner was probably one of the queerest that was ever set before an exiled Britisher. I left the task of preparing the meal entirely to Sam, who managed somehow to procure some wallaby, a piece of bacon, and biscuits. Instead of pudding we had a Cingalese plum-cake, made by Sam’s daughter, and a glass of claret rounded off the banquet. Harry and I dined together on the verandah, and remembered absent friends, but we were not very festive. There is one curious observance of the Port Moresby Christmas which may be worthy of mention here. At that season any Cingalese resident in the place may, on obtaining a Government permit, be served with spirits at the Stores. The effect of this privilege on one Port Moresby worthy was truly deplorable. I saw him in the road, and I have little doubt that he saw more than one of me, but then, of course, it was a year since he had permission before. He was quite a character, and his residence was as peculiar as himself. It was built entirely of flattened paraffin tins and other oddments, a style of architecture which I have also noticed in the West Indies. [Illustration: A PIEBALD TRIBE: THE MOTU-MOTU PEOPLE OF HOOD’S BAY, AND A TYPICAL KALO HOUSE. The piebald people are one of the mysteries of New Guinea, and their origin is unexplained. The spear in the warrior’s hand is made of hard redwood, sharpened, and has no metal. The house is built on an open wooden framework, and the flooring of the dwelling-room begins at the bottom of the closed-in gable. On this inflammable floor, within the thatch of flag-grass, they actually have a fire on a mud hearth. The slanting pole is a ladder for the inhabitants. In some cases they have little ladders for the dogs. ]