e for the flesh
of a wholesome white man. What business the doctor had in such a
predicament, is altogether another question. "_Que diable allait-il faire
dans cette galere?_"

The New Irishmen have some queer customs. The night following the battle
was passed by Dr Coulter at one of their outposts, where he was prevented
sleeping by the strange torches kept burning in the house he lodged at.
They consisted of long sticks, with a quantity of cocoa-nut fibre steeped
in rosin and twisted round the top. These were lighted, and held by naked
men, who relieved each other. The idols worshipped by these heathens are
of a peculiarly ludicrous description, ten feet high, made of polished
wood, with arms akimbo, oyster shells for eyes, and red pegs for teeth.
The expression of the face is one of grotesque laughter, irresistibly
provocative of mirth in the beholder. In one respect the example of these
savages might be followed with advantage by more civilised communities.
Their cemeteries are invariably remote from their dwellings, in lonely and
unfrequented spots.

The ship's company of the Hound had been long without seeing any but
savage faces, and it was with much satisfaction that on entering a bay on
the coast of Papua or New Guinea, they perceived a brig riding at anchor.
She hoisted the stars and stripes, and presently her captain paid a visit
to the Hound. A Scotch Highlander by birth, his name Stewart, he was a
daring and unscrupulous dog as ever fired a round of grape into a mob of
South Sea savages. He had the reputation of a tolerably fair dealer, but
some of his articles of traffic were extraordinary and disgusting. He was
once at Cook's Straits, New Zealand, when there was a great fight amongst
the tribes. A feast was to follow, and to save land-carriage, the
cannibals freighted Stewart's ship with the provisions for their horrible
banquet. "He took on board upwards of two hundred dead bodies, cut up and
well packed, with eighteen or twenty chiefs, sailed round, delivered his
cargo, and received in payment a large quantity of dressed flax, which he
afterwards brought to Sydney and sold at a satisfactory price." After
this, people looked askance at him, and held their noses when he passed;
but Stewart jingled his dollars, and said it was no one's business but his
own, admitting, however, that it was "a stinking cargo." Like the Roman
emperor, he denied that good coin could carry an evil smell. "Another
trifling affa