216 TROPIC DAYS 



that it proceeds to cover it decently with layer after 

 layer of pearl-film, the bulk of which depends upon 

 the length of life granted to the mussel. Sometimes 

 little josses are stamped out in thin uncorrosive metal, 

 which, being presented to the mussel, are faithfully 

 modelled, the thrifty Chinese obtaining in course of 

 time quaint pearly gods as potent as the best with- 

 out money and without price. 



Not so long as a quarter of a century ago a spirit- 

 bottle full of pearls buttons, blisters, and chips of all 

 sorts, sizes, and shapes was purchased in North Queens- 

 land by one who had but the crudest ideas as to the value 

 of such gems. The vendor was a whity-brown man, 

 thin, and thinly clad in cotton. The complexion of 

 the buyer was ruddier than the cherry, for the tropic 

 sun had beamed ardently on his peachy Scotch skin, 

 proclaiming him a new-chum, a bright and shining new- 

 chum. Because he was new he was alert to the value 

 of money. Had he not come, as all new-chums do, to 

 Tom Tiddler's ground to pick up gold and silver ? 

 Hence, when the hatless, spare, whity-brown man in 

 soiled cotton offered for sale the odd-shaped beads in 

 a besmeared whisky-bottle for five pounds, his national 

 trait expressed itself in a scoff. 



The whity-brown man's seriousness, his confiden- 

 tiality, his keen desire to sell, his mysticism and misty 

 English, the ruddy young man interpreted as manifesta- 

 tions of the arts and wiles by means of which innocent 

 strangers from far away lands are tempted into bank- 

 ruptcy bargains. The seller, anxious to dispossess himself 

 of ill-gotten gains prejudicial to his love of liberty, 

 pursued the Scotch youth almost tearfully, until the bottle 

 changed hands, but at a considerable reduction on the 

 price originally demanded. Shortly after a friend 

 enlightened the youth as to the probable value of the 



