INACTION AND AN EXCURSION 
entirely to Sam, who managed somehow to procure some 
wallaby, a piece of bacon, and biscuits. Instead of 
pudding we had a Cingalese plum-cake, made by Sam’s 
daughter, and a glass of claret rounded off the banquet. 
Harry and I dined together on the verandah, and 
remembered absent friends, but we were not very 
festive. 
There is one curious observance of the Port 
Moresby Christmas which may be worthy of mention 
here. At that season any Cingalese resident in the 
place may, on obtaining a Government permit, be 
served with spirits at the Stores. 
The effect of this privilege on one Port Moresby 
worthy was truly deplorable. J saw him in the road, 
and I have little doubt that he saw more than one of 
me, but then, of course, it was a year since he had 
permission before. He was quite a character, and his 
residence was as peculiar as himself. It was built 
entirely of flattened paraffin tins and other oddments, 
a style of architecture which I have also noticed in 
the West Indies. 
Another Port Moresby character was Weaver, the 
greengrocer; he has a history, but no man knows it, 
and it is popularly reported that he has a family in 
Australia. He has been in New Guinea for some 
years, and lives quite alone in an isolated district where 
he built a house and took up some land. He stands 
6 feet 2 inches, and is a curious eccentric fellow whom 
nobody understands. He does not care for visitors, 
and has even been known to threaten distinguished 
personages with his gun when they dared to knock 
at his door! Twice a week Weaver brings in his 
168 
