With regard to the singing of the present day, the root of the evil is the ever-increasing neglect of the art of sight vocalisation. Amateurs think it so much easier to learn each new song by ear, with the aid of the piano, than once for all to master the principles of vocalisation. Even the singing-master, instead of going through a rigorous course of instruction with his pupils, lets them learn an air by thrumming it on the piano, and then gives a few hints as to style, phrasing, and the management of the breath; putting on the roof, in fact, before the foundations are laid. It cannot be denied that solfeggi and interval practice are tedious and uninteresting even to those who have a natural taste for the art, but yet every child in Germany makes a good sight-singer; and the plan which succeeds there would be perfectly feasible here. The school children there, although they cannot read music, and however young, have the notes before them, either on the black-board or on paper, whenever they sing; so that a child singing by ear learns to identify certain progressions of sounds. with the corresponding series of printed notes, and with the help of a few explanations soon recognises and understands the whole principle, without much necessity of interval practice. This is probably enough the way in which our forefathers learned the art in the days of Elizabeth, James, and the Charleses, when the glee, madrigal, and catch-book were to be found in use round the fireside every winter's evening. When sight-singing becomes universal again, then will part-singing once more flourish in the domestic circle, for really good singers are never so anxious to be heard in solo pieces as those who have spent weeks in getting up a song, and are resolutely determined to let it off when an opportunity presents itself. At present, if we wish to hear one of Bennett's or Marenzio's evergreen madrigals, or Stevens's or Webbe's genial glees, we must pay a handsome price at a public concert, a pleasure that few of us can indulge in more than three or four times a year.

In conclusion, we would desire to impress it on our readers' minds, that music can be made something more than a mere pastime; it can soothe and benefit the mind of a listener more than one who is a stranger to the great masters can imagine, besides forming for its cultivator an intellectual, but, at the same time, always an interesting pursuit.

NOTES ON NEW GUINEA.

BY THE REV. W. WYATT GILL, B.A.

III.

Na previous paper we gave some account of our way of contrast with the continent of Australia. We now proceed to give some fuller details respecting this hitherto almost unknown region, which every month becomes of increasing interest, both in a missionary and a scientific point of view.

It was on a bright Sabbath morning in October, 1872, I first saw the not far-distant shores of the south-western part of New Guinea, like a dark line drawn across the horizon. At an equal distance from New Guinea lie the islands of Tauan and Saibai, separated by a narrow channel of three and a half miles, and hitherto regarded as one. Tauan is mountainous, dry, and healthy, whilst Saibai is a vast morass, with myriads of wading birds almost

tame. Saibai is extremely unhealthy. There is a capital place on the north of Saibai for repairing vessels, if needed. The inhabitants of these islands are a fine Negrillo race, averaging five feet six inches in height, brave in war, but suspicious of strangers. They speak a dialect and practise the customs of the mainland, maintaining a friendly intercourse with. the people of Katau and Torotoram.

The portion of New Guinea opposite to Tauan and Saibai is entirely inaccessible, the tribe occupying it being continually at war with their neighbours on the mainland and on the adjacent islands. The chiefs of Saibai and Tauan ornament their dwellings with strings of skulls of New Guinea bushmen. They were very averse to our touching these malakai," ie., ghosts, as they called them. On Saibai stands a lofty cocoa palm, with two branches growing out of the parent stem at the same point, all three crowns richly laden with fruit.

THE NEGRILLO RACE.

On the 29th of October we steamed for Katau, a village on the mainland twenty miles to the eastward. Miles of stately melancholy mangroves lined the coast. A conical hill, with villages on it, rose out of the gloomy forest some miles inland.

Our proximity to Katau was indicated by a graceful and seemingly interminable line of cocoa-nut palms. The houses are but few in number, but of immense length. Next morning early we landed at the western mouth of Katau river, and were kindly received by Maino, the chief. We were conducted to a covered place in the centre of the village. Athletic unarmed men crowded about us with smiling faces. The formidable Papuan pipe, sometimes thirty-three inches in length, was now filled with tobacco-smoke and passed round to the visitors. The pipe is furnished with a movable bowl. The fragrant vapour is drawn into it by applying the lips to the open end, which is then closed with the palm of the hand. The bowl is now removed, and friends are expected to inhale the fumes through the small aperture.

Opposite to our place of meeting was a huge pile of bones of the Dugong (Halicore Australis), and rows of pigs' jaw-bones. Not a woman or child could be seen through fear of a repetition of the outrages committed by Captain on an unoffending population.

Maino willingly agreed to receive teachers to instruct him and his people. The way had been prepared by the teachers in Tauan, who had twice visited the mainland in one of those fine New Guinea canoes which are the admiration of all voyagers through the Straits. These canoes are inforty-five feet in length. Each is furnished with a double outrigger and three mat sails. One was furnished with a pair of wooden arms to creep with. Another at the stern had a wooden fish-tail to assist the navigation. These Daudai natives travel in entire families, and with all their worldly gear. In the centre of the canoe is a raised platform, on which they carry fire for broiling fish, etc. In little square compartments they stow their firewood, fish-hooks and lines, and women's grass girdles. Beneath, in the body of the canoe, are a row of large water-jugs with lids. They often spend weeks in fishing on one of the numerous coral reefs near their coast.

out of a single log, measure

When, a week later, the teachers came, the

natives seemed delighted. A house was at once allotted for their residence. The great event of the day was the landing of the teachers' wives-the first stranger women that ever landed on this coast. It was pleasing to note their curious yet perfectly respectful behaviour towards these courageous women. Maino engaged to protect the teachers and their wives from all harm.

We discovered a second or eastern mouth to Katau river. We saw Bristowe Island in the distance. This part of New Guinea, from the western limits of the Katau district to Bristowe Island, is called Mauat. Opposite to Bristowe Island is a navigable river half a mile across. I regard this and Katau river and the Aird river as branches of the Fly, which is five miles across at its mouth, and doubtless is the high-road to the vast unknown interior.

We landed on two occasions at Torotoram, a village of some 500 people, five miles to the east of Katau. To reach it we had to wade about half a mile over a bank of fine black sand. We collected some shells, but found nothing new. The inhabitants, terror-stricken at the sight of white strangers, at first fled to the bush with all their valuables, leaving four or five men to watch our movements. When these scouts became convinced of our pacific intentions, they gave intelligence to their friends, and very soon the entire adult male population came out of their hiding-places and gave us a pleasant welcome.

A meeting was improvised under the shade of an immense fruit-tree (Usnea barbata) at the end of the village, the visitors and chiefs forming the centre of the group. The chief, Auta, is a man of mild aspect, but inferior in muscle and bearing to Maino. According to the custom of these people, presents and names were exchanged. By this proceeding the persons of their visitors became sacred in the estimation of these villagers. Auta and his people agreed to receive teachers, who soon afterwards settled amongst them, with every prospect of success.

AN ENIGMA SOLVED.

A flourishing tobacco-plantation was close by; quantities of the seed were preserved on the verandah of Auta's house; but we did not learn whether the plant is a native of the country. The Dutch navigator Torres noticed among the weapons used by the black inhabitants of Daudai "hollow bamboo sticks, which they filled with lime, and by throwing it out endeavoured to blind their enemies." This does not account for the fire. The true explanation of this mystery is that in using their long bamboo pipes the ascending smoke from the bowl was mistaken for lime blown out of the long tube. Cook says, "As they ran towards us, the foremost threw something out of his hand, which flew on one side of him, and burnt exactly like gunpowder, but made no report." And again," All this while they were shouting defiance, and letting off their fires by four or five at a time. What these fires were, or for what purpose intended, we could not imagine: those who discharged them had in their hands a short piece of stick, possibly a hollow cane." I have no doubt whatever that the long Papuan pipe was the innocent cause of alarm. In filling the bamboo with tobaccosmoke these seeming weapons would appear to be pointed at their visitors, whilst the smoke from the bowl suggested the idea of powder

They called us "malakai," i.e., "ghosts" or "spirits." God is spoken of by our teachers as "the true or great Malakai." The inhabitants of both Daudais (Australia and New Guinea) invariably associate the idea of whiteness with their notion of a spirit. Even our gifts were elliptically designated "malakai," ie., (belonging to glistening) spirits. The skulls of their foes are, as previously stated, "malakai," i.e., (belonging to) ghosts.

They were immoderately delighted at the whiteness of our skins. Some thought us painted like dolls; to set the question at rest, one man wetted his forefinger and vigorously rubbed my arm to see if the white would come off! Some amused themselves by plucking the grey hairs out of my beard, carefully treasuring them up as curiosities. Our shoes, socks, gloves, watches, and umbrellas delighted them exceedingly. Many would touch our hands and then run away in terror.

NEW GUINEA HOUSES.

Each dwelling here, as at Katau, is of great length, built on lofty piles, and provided at each gable-end with a wide verandah and a ladder. The interior of this spacious edifice is dark and gloomy, the thatch covered with soot. They build on piles for security against alligators and serpents, and to escape the annual inundations. The flooring is of cabbage-palm. On both sides of the interior are slight partitions of bamboo, large enough to admit a man and his wife, who sleep on the bare boards. No door or screen exists. Between every couple of sleeping-cribs is a circular mass of moist clay, where at sundown fire is lighted. Close to each berth is a shelf for tinder (bark of the Melaleuca) and firewood. On this soft bark infants sleep. In one large house at Torotoram there was accommodation for from sixty to eighty couples. The chiefs have houses of their own. In each village there are two large houses, one for boys, the other for girls. Elderly custodians, armed with long sticks, are expected to keep the young people in order. This custom obtains on Saibai and Bampton Island, proving those islanders to be colonists from the mainland.

Their houses are thatched with the leaves of the sago palm, which grows freely in all parts of western New Guinea.

NATIVE MANNERS.

One of our party walked into the bush at Katan for two miles amongst luxuriant plantations of bananas and taro. The country is low and flat, the soil rich. In the wet season the natives visit their plantations on the higher ground in canoes.

These villagers insisted on making us a present of food. Whilst waiting for it they amused us by relating a story of a visitor from a town in the far interior, "a man with four arms and four legs!"

As the ordinary tattooing would not show on their dark skins, a symmetrical scar is made on the right shoulder of all males in Mauat and in the Straits.

Their drums are like hour-glasses, smaller in the middle than at the extremities. One end is invariably covered with iguana skin. The other is open, but carved so as to represent an alligator's mouth. A profusion of cassowary feathers always adorns this remarkable musical instrument, which is about three feet in length. When struck with the tips of the fingers the sound is agreeable; but the songs accompanying the music are harsh and guttural.

The chiefs wear on important occasions headdresses of cassowary feathers, with a stuffed bird-ofparadise as a plume. Sometimes tufts of the long feathers of this beautiful bird, neatly tied together, answer the same purpose. I succeeded in purchasing one perfect specimen of this interesting bird.

I obtained several leg-bones of the "Samu" (as they call the cassowary), used for husking cocoanuts. At first, seeing them in the small baskets of the natives, we naturally concluded them to be human remains. The cassowary (Casuarius galeatus) abounds in New Guinea. The Mauat men obtain it by shooting

bows carry to a great distance. The arrows are of reed, of which those intended for killing game (four feet long) are pointed with hard wood, and of course are not poisoned; whilst those intended for war (five feet long) are pointed with human bone barbed and dipped in deadly poison. The bones selected for this purpose are the small bones of the arm and leg. A cane sheath is invariably worn on the left arm to protect the archer from abrasion.

These Mauat men are a fine race, but black. Their hair is woolly, their heads for the most part shaved. Their ears were universally slit and elongated by

with arrows, under cover, at the head. They assured us that it is needful to approach this huge bird with caution when it falls, as a kick from its foot would (?) kill a man. On the Island of Tauan I amused myself daily in watching the habits of a "samu," given by Maino to his friend Sauai as a pet. This is quite the custom throughout New Guinea. Although Sauai's cassowary was but half-grown, its legs were amazingly strong; it was double the height of a full-grown hen turkey, and seemed omnivorous. The full-grown cassowary is, we were assured, taller than a man. Its egg, unlike the greenish speckled egg of the emu, is perfectly white, measuring 5 inches by 33.

The natives of Mauat are extremely clever at catching dugong, which abounds all along the coast. Their warriors carry cane loops for the horrid purpose of catching their foes by the neck, while with their keen-edged bamboo-knives they cut off their heads. Their bows are upwards of six feet long, made of male bamboo, and highly polished. Strips of bamboo bark are used as string. These

means of weights, but with a regular series of holes, in each of which was inserted a short piece of the mid-rib of the cocoa-nut leaf.

The kangaroo is plentiful in Mauat. Our interpreter came upon a herd of forty or fifty feeding upon young grass, which had sprung up after a bush fire. The wild turkey and the megapodius tumulus abound. The gable-ends of several dwellings were ornamented with the wings of the flying-fox. The bread-fruit tree grows luxuriantly.

On our leaving, all the men followed us; some carrying food, and others helping to drag our boat over a long reach of sand into deep water. The writer had a double escort of tall fellows, delighted to put their heads under his umbrella. When the food was finally deposited in the boat, and we were ready to start, these amusing savages simultaneously raised the right hand, palm open, and most gracefully bade us "I aua,"-farewell.

On our way back to Tauan we passed two islets. On one of them once stood a populous village, but the Saibai warriors almost exterminated the in

Here and there tall mangroves actually grew out of the open sea, their pandanus-like roots of course resting in some unknown sandbank. We passed several stations for spearing dugong. We one day asked Sauai where the spirits of the dead go? Pointing due west, the chief replied, "They all go to Kipo, an island in the region of the setting sun inhabited by disembodied spirits." Doubtless Kipo is a mythical name for Hades, in accordance with the almost universal belief of Polynesia, that the spirittraveller follows the track of the sun-god Ra into the invisible subterranean world.

REDSCAR BAY.

The south-eastern peninsula of New Guinea is inhabited by a different race from that already described. The south-western are black; the southeastern are a pleasant-looking brown race, evidently of Malay origin. They differ also in language, the partial use of clothing, weapons, the chewing of the betel-nut, which is unknown in Mauat, and the chivalrous treatment of their women. The Redscar Bay natives are the same race which has in a marvellous manner spread itself all over the Eastern and Central Pacific; and in the Hova tribe have colonised and long ruled Madagascar.

Previous to our visit the only account of this part of New Guinea is that given in the voyage of H.M.S. Rattlesnake, which made a running survey of the coast. On Thursday, the 22nd, we sighted the Owen Stanley range, which forms the backbone of the peninsula. It is an interesting circumstance that the physical geography of the south-eastern and south-western portions of New Guinea differ as much as the inhabitants themselves. The western is a dead level, inundated during several months of the year, and malarious. The eastern is extremely mountainous, beautiful, and comparatively healthy.

We passed a number of palms drifting out to sea, the trunks and fronds covered with sea-fowl. We were pleased at the park-like appearance of Yule Island, although its shores were low and lined with mangrove. Coasting slowly along all that afternoon and night, early on the following morning we anchored in Redscar Bay, under the islet of Varivara. A canoe with five men came alongside; with difficulty some of them were induced to come on board. The canoe was very inferior to those of Mauat. On a raised platform they had large jars of drinking water, a bundle of arrows, and a fire. Lowering our boat (the Woolahra), we pulled up a salt-water creek. A canoe full of natives happened to meet us, when all on board, save one old man, instantly rushed ashore and hid in the bushes. Luckily we had one of our original visitors with us in our boat, so that in approaching the hamlet of Kido, the natives, though evidently trembling, did not attempt to run away from us. We found them preparing breakfast. Earthenware pots, filled with scraped long mangrove fruits, were simmering over a slow fire. A mother was nursing her naked babe; the curiously indented appearance of its skin surprised us. The mystery was soon afterwards cleared up by seeing a woman come in from the bush with her sleep? infant in a finely netted bag, after the manner o fishing-net, suspended from her forehead, the child,

floor of the hut; with her right foot she rocked to sleep a nude boy of two or three summers, who lay coiled up in a coarse long net suspended from the opposite rafters of the hut. After distributing a few presents, we walked a mile into the bush, over a level fertile soil capable of producing all tropical fruits. The natives we met were unarmed, and ran away at the sight of strangers. An extensive plantation of bananas had just been prepared, with a view to the impending wet season. A stack of firewood, neatly piled, almost made us fancy ourselves to be within the limits of civilisation.

The pottery made by the Redscar Bay women is excellent. Anxious to purchase a specimen, a couple of red handkerchiefs were cut off for the purpose. Unable to endure so attractive a sight, a general rush was made to get possession of these novelties. I am sorry to confess that the fair sex were the ringleaders. To pacify the crowd, it was necessary to divide the entire picce amongst them. When they saw that we had no more, their good-humour returned. The Kido ladies gladly accepted the handkerchiefs, but declined to part with any pottery in return. We were pleased, however, that we had won their good opinion, for they gave us a very hearty farewell as we pulled back again into the bay. After spending a couple of hours in investigating another salt-water creek, the "Nonoo river" of the charts, we returned on board tired and much discouraged at finding no suitable locality for commencing a mission. Fortunately, however, some Kido men had preceded us on board. We spent the afternoon in trying to pick up information from them. They repeatedly pointed to the head of the bay, and pronounced the name "Manumanu," which we concluded to be some important place. We determined on the following day to search for the unknown village.

After tea our Kido visitors were taken ashore. Amongst them was an old fellow who had received a complete suit of clothes. On landing he took up his little boy, who, not recognising his sire in his new attire, cried bitterly. It was not until the old man set down the child and laughed heartily that the youngster discovered his mistake and dried up his

tears.

Two canoes, in the distance not unlike paddle steamers, crowded with natives, bore down upon Varivara in the afternoon, and anchored there for the night. By sunset a fleet of these extraordinary craft had congregated under the islet. Bright fires were kept burning on their decks. At 3 A.M. they started again on their voyage to the Fisherman Islands with a fair wind. It was strange to see weird figures dancing to the sound of the drum by the light of deck fires.

Next day we started off in search of Manumanu. We walked for miles along the shore of this immense bay, and crossed a salt-water creek designated "Manao river" in the charts. We here met natives to whom we had previously given little presents; these cheerfully led the way to the village we were in quest of. We speedily came to the mouth of the Manumanu river, which was over a mile across in November, the driest month of the year. A fine grove of cocoa-nut trees lined the opposite bank of the river. A sharp bend brought us into a wellbuilt village consisting of a single long strect. We