been rolled in mud and then thrown up the chimney; dried sharks' fins, mother-
of-pearl shells, as well as birds of Paradise, which, however, are so dirty and so
badly preserved that I have as yet found no specimens worth purchasing. When I
hardly look at the articles, and make no offer for them, they seem incredulous,
and, as if fearing they have misunderstood me, again offer them, and declare
what they want in return—knives, or tobacco, or sago, or handkerchiefs. I then
have to endeavour to explain, through any interpreter who may be at hand, that
neither tripang nor pearl oyster shells have any charms for me, and that I even
decline to speculate in tortoiseshell, but that anything eatable I will buy—fish, or
turtle, or vegetables of any sort. Almost the only food, however, that we can
obtain with any regularity, are fish and cockles of very good quality, and to
supply our daily wants it is absolutely necessary to be always provided with four
articles—tobacco, knives, sago-cakes, and Dutch copper doits—because when
the particular thing asked for is not forthcoming, the fish pass on to the next
house, and we may go that day without a dinner. It is curious to see the baskets
and buckets used here. The cockles are brought in large volute shells, probably
the Cymbium ducale, while gigantic helmet-shells, a species of Cassis,
suspended by a rattan handle, form the vessels in which fresh water is daily
carried past my door. It is painful to a naturalist to see these splendid shells with
their inner whorls ruthlessly broken away to fit them for their ignoble use.
My collections, however, got on but slowly, owing to the unexpectedly bad
weather, violent winds with heavy showers having been so continuous as only to
give me four good collecting days out of the first sixteen I spent here. Yet
enough had been collected to show me that with time and fine weather I might
expect to do something good. From the natives I obtained some very fine insects
and a few pretty land-shells; and of the small number of birds yet shot more than
half were known New Guinea species, and therefore certainly rare in European
collections, while the remainder were probably new. In one respect my hopes
seemed doomed to be disappointed. I had anticipated the pleasure of myself
preparing fine specimens of the Birds of Paradise, but I now learnt that they are
all at this season out of plumage, and that it is in September and October that
they have the long plumes of yellow silky feathers in full perfection. As all the
praus return in July, I should not be able to spend that season in Aru without
remaining another whole year, which was out of the question. I was informed,
however, that the small red species, the "King Bird of Paradise," retains its
plumage at all seasons, and this I might therefore hope to get.
As I became familiar with the forest scenery of the island, I perceived it to
possess some characteristic features that distinguished it from that of Borneo and