little time for writing poetry or for a-strumming on the lyre. Under the circumstances it is surprising how many smiles the men have for each other, and how many giggles the women pour out over the trails as they start for the taro gardens in the morning. January 8th. At noon a native from Kokere came down the trail with the news that there was a white man behind him. He made gestures to show that the white man was disabled. This was exciting news to us. There are no white men on the opposite coast of Bougainville and none in the interior. The nearest white man to us is Esson at Arawa Plantation, the foot of the trail on the northern coast. Not being able to understand who it could be and what could be in the wind we were prepared for most any- thing. An hour later a very tall man in a giant sombrero hat came around the corner of the hut. He was leaning heavily on a stick, his feet were bare, his trousers rolled up, and he wore a month's old beard. As he came nearer his youth penetrated the startling incognito of his appearance. His first words were, "The original New Guinea tramp!". He turned out to be a chap called Fordyce, a re- cruiter from Rabaul, and very much of a gentleman and a fine fellow. Two months ago he and his partner set out from Rabaul on a schooner belonging to W. R. Carpenter & Co. They