and musical-boxes, mostly constructed of paper, it seemed to me, and not warranted to last. Any one who can rise to possessing a barrel-organ—which they call a mangle—is the envied and adored of all. Coloured handkerchiefs are another thing in great request.
We were all photographed on the verandah here. Native men and women were posed about in front, but every time the cap came off the camera they bolted, vanishing into the shrubs like streaks of lightning, and you saw grinning or frightened faces peering out in every direction. Then they would be posed again and assured no one was going to be shot but off they went again. We grew quite hysterical with laughter over this, and whenever I think of those bare legs and feet disappearing into the bushes in every direction it sets me off again.
We then walked to another station, where were no ladies, and where Captain D was our host. Here we remained for the night—and what a night! Other men were there, and they all went in for “a regular night of it.” The amount of liquor of every description consumed was great. I kept secretly upsetting my glass over the verandah edge, but it was always filled again. Captain D took me to see the native quarters and to get out into the fresh air and quiet for a time. They had large numbers of Kanakas and others, also Chinese. I looked into one house, and three Chinese were sitting on the floor, with a lamp beside them, playing cards and gambling and forming the queerest of pictures in the circle of light. They were so absorbed that they neither heard nor saw me, and even when I went in and stood beside them, watching, not one of them noticed me. I was thankful when it came at last to bedtime, and the drinking was over. We all
