A Macassar Farm. 



233 



the plo\r-handle with one hand, while a long bamboo in the 

 other serves to guide the buflaloes. These animals require 

 an immense deal of driving to get them on at all ; a contin- 

 ual shower of exclamations is kept up at them, and " oh ! ah ! 

 gee ! ugh !" are to be heard in various keys and in an unin- 

 terrupted succession all day long. At night we were favor- 

 ed with a different kind of concert. The dry ground around 

 my house had become a marsh tenanted by frogs, who kept 

 up a most incredible noise from dusk to dawn. They were 

 somewhat musical too, having a deep vibrating note which 

 at times closely resembles the tuning of two or three bass- 

 viols in an orchestra. In Malacca and Borneo I had heard 



NATIVE WOODEN PLOW. 



no such sounds as these, which indicates that the frogs, like 

 most of the animals of Celebes, are of species peculiar to it. 



My kind friend and landlord, Mr. Mesman, was a good 

 specimen of the Macassar-born Dutchman. He was about 

 thirty-five years of age, had a large family, and lived in a 

 spacious house near the town, situated in the midst of a grove 

 of fruit-trees, and surrounded by a perfect labyrinth of offices, 

 stables, and native cottages, occuj^ied by his numerous serv- 

 ants, slaves, or dependents. He usually rose before the sun, 

 and after a cup of coffee looked after his servants, horses, and 

 dogs till seven, when a substantial breakfast of rice and 

 meat was ready in a cool veranda. Putting on a clean white 

 linen suit, he then drove to town in his buggy, where he had 

 an office, with two or three Chinese clerks, who looked after 



