74 LIFE OF PROFESSOR HUXLEY CHAP. IV 



the air, and finally, catching hold of me, we had a grand 

 waltz, with various poses plastiques, for about a quarter of 

 a mile. I daresay he was unsophisticated enough to 

 imagine that I was filled with sympathetic joy, but I 

 grieve to say that I was taking care all the while to 

 direct his steps towards the village, which, as we had as 

 yet examined none of their houses, I was most desirous 

 of entering under my friend's sanction. I think he 

 suspected something, for he looked at me rather dubiously 

 when I directed our steps towards the entrance in the 

 bush which led to the houses, and wanted me to go back ; 

 but I was urgent, so he gave way, and we both entered 

 the open space, where we were joined by two or three 

 others, and sat down under a cocoanut tree. 



;< I persuaded him to sit for his portrait (taking care 

 first that my back was against the tree and my pistols 

 handy), and we ate green cocoanuts together, at last 

 attaining to so great a pitch of intimacy that he made 

 me change names with him, calling himself 'Tamoo' (my 

 Cape York name), and giving me to understand that I 

 was to take his own lengthy appellation. When I did so, 

 and talked to him as ' Tamoo,' nothing could exceed the 

 delight of all around ; they patted me as you would a 

 child, and evidently said to one another, 'This really 

 seems to be a very intelligent white fellow.' 



" Like the Cape York natives, they were immensely 

 curious to look at one's legs, asking permission, very 

 gently but very pressingly, to pull up the trouser, span- 

 ning the calf with their hands, drawing in their breath 

 and making big eyes all the while. Once, when the front 

 of my shirt blew open, and they saw the white skin of 

 my chest, they set up a universal shout. I imagine that 

 as they paint their faces black, they fancied that we in- 

 geniously coloured ours white, and were astonished to see 

 that we were really of that (to them) disgusting tint all over." 



On May 2, 1850, the Rattlesnake sailed for the last 



