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OUR PARTY ARE FIRED UPON. 
Our crew were somewhat lazy, and stopped nearly a 
day at this point under pretence of laying in wood, 
but in reality to talk with the people, and kill a cow. 
However, we were rewarded for the delay by getting 
a favourable breeze near the point where we again 
joined the main stream. 
From thence to the Austrian mission-station of 
Kitch the banks did not present any landing-place ; 
we were hemmed in by reeds, and not a tree was to 
be seen. The station consists of a few round huts, 
with doors and glazed windows — a miserable place 
for the clergyman, the Be v. Mr Moorlang, who had 
there spent three years of his life. To land we had 
to be carried through swamps which lined the banks, 
and as we touched the tall grasses, clouds of mus- 
quitoes rose from the vegetation. Here was the good 
Christian s little glass-roofed chapel, surmounted by a 
cross of wood ; there was his schoolhouse too, — but 
all desolate and forlorn, for not a native would come 
to learn. The mission was therefore about to be for- 
saken, as Mr Moorlang had informed us at Grondokoro. 
On his passage down to Kitch, the natives had fired 
poisoned arrows into his boat in open day; one man 
had been wounded, and was since dead. This story 
elicited from our men mention of a simiiar incident. 
They also had been attacked while in rear of our larger 
boat, but it was during the night, and the arrows and 
spear fell harmlessly into their boat. To remedy such 
evils, I should say that the frequent visits of a river 
steamer would be highly desirable, both as protecting 
the natives from being plundered by the followers of 
traders and travellers, and as tending to civilise the 
people themselves. 
