I am quite forlorn at the thought of parting with the policeman, the cassowary, and the dog—the latter does belong to the hotel, but evidently thinks now I am its master, as it is devoted to me, and, for the matter of that, I am to it. It really is a funny place here, and I have become so attached to it. have been here but a week, but feel as if I had been living here for years.
I can foresee a splendid future for Northern Australia—this island paradise in the Straits, and British New Guinea—it is far away, but it is to come one day. To me it is inexplicable how few people ever seem able to look beyond the present. The Barrier Reef and Torres Straits are mines of gold.
There are many Australian aborigines knocking about. The North Australian black is a much more intelligent and finer specimen than those of the south were—I have to say were, for they are no more. As from time immemorial the Malays from Macassar and elsewhere have visited Northern Australia in their phraus intent on pearl-fishing and trading for béche-de-mer, dugong, and other things, it is probable that the aborigines have benefited by an admixture of Malay blood, as well as Papuan. Nevertheless, their war-dances and such things I find very tedious, though curious to see. The wild ones who come amongst these islands behave themselves and are quite secondary to the Kanakas and other natives. There certainly is some Papuan blood in their veins—these Straits with their islands could not be bar enough to prevent it. One Australian black here—a chief—was quite striking in looks, a powerful, imposing person. But soon they will vanish as they did in the south. [All along the Australian coast, where there were so many, absolutely savage, when I first passed
