X 
STRANGE DANCES 
139 
The too short day is over here, before I realise it 
has commenced. I wish I had the privilege granted 
to Joshua of power to arrest the sun. I never want 
to go to bed, and I grudge the night hours that I 
waste. I am up at half-past six ; when I have a big 
tumbler of milk, and commence my painting ; other- 
wise I could do nothing, and even now I must leave 
dozens of flowers to wither. I work on till the cool 
of the evening, when kind hands take my painting 
from me, and we go for a scramble, or the horses are 
brought round and we ride. We spend the evenings 
in our lounge chairs on the verandah, and the children, 
who have beautiful voices, sing to us. 
Sometimes we watch the natives at their corroborees, 
which are different from those I have seen ; they wear 
masks representing birds of different species, or alligators. 
Last night they were pelicans, and they imitated all the 
movements of these birds in their dances, which were 
almost graceful, but it was on the whole a most grotesque 
sight to see the fire-light flickering on their huge beaks 
ornamented with feathers, while round their waists they 
wore the young white leaves of the cocoa-nut palm torn 
into shreds. Those who did not dance, sang or 
chanted and kept time, beating on a sort of drum. 
Some strange natives from the Batavia River are 
here now, very much tattooed across the chest and on 
the arms. They also have one front tooth knocked out. 
One of their prettiest dances is a funeral one, when they 
carry the head of the dead and go through a sort of 
processional ceremony. They place the dead body at 
first on four high sticks and wait until the head falls off 
before they touch it again. 
Dulness seems a thing unknown here ; there is life 
and movement going on all round ; steamers are con- 
stantly passing back and forwards, and some fire a gun 
