bead necklace, and she stands very quiet at a discreet dis- tance from all the people in the camp. Heaven knows where she or her parents obtained the necklace. But there is was. And there, with all the trumpery of Aida, she stood. And she will have nothing to do with any of the other pickanninies who come and go on errands for their fathers. We are honored at various intervals with visits from a roaming clan of pigs. They are curious looking tings, more like South American tapirs than any other breed of pigs I have seen. They have long overhanging sharklike noses and razor backs. They are semi-wild and sniff interrogatively into the area of the camp through openings in the surrounding bush. They are considered a rare delicacy by the natives, and, I suppose, if we were to catch one it would have to be the result of very pointed diplomatic negotiations. Every day we add also to our collection of spears, bows, and arrows. The spears, except the much-valued Bougainville king spear, are similar to the Solomon Island variety. They are made of long pliable black poles, circumscribed with sharp curved fragments of human bone and painted with white, yellow, and red de- signs, much after the manner of the Alaskan totem poles. The arrows, which are designed with color difference for every village, are made of young bamboo stalks point- ed and bound at the head with a gilt colored vine. Due to the tesselated feudal state of the population of