So strong is their superstitious belief in the powers of the Koitapus, that directly one of them falls ill, presents are immediately despatched to a Koitapu man or woman with instructions to remove the evil influence that has brought the sickness or calamity. The weather also is supposed to be in the hands of the Koitapus, and be it wet or fine the Motus have to pay up, that is if they want it changed.

As a tribe the Motus undoubtedly are superior, especially in such things as cleanliness, cooking, and eating. The Koitapu natives will devour almost anything with a relish unknown in civilised countries, but the Motu is careful and particular both about the cooking of his food and the article cooked. Most of the Motus have their eatables boiled in earthenware jars, whilst the Koitapu cooks his in an earth oven.

The Motus gain their living chiefly by fishing and making pottery, and they exchange both fish and pots with the Koitapu for animal food, vegetables, and the results of their agricultural pursuits.

The position of the two tribes is summed up thus:—

“Yours is the sea, the canoes, the nets,” says the Koitapu man, “ours the land and the wallaby. {24} Give us fish for our flesh, and pottery for our yarns and bananas.”

It is on this understanding that the two tribes live amicably together in Hanuabada and Elevera.

Altogether Port Moresby is as quaint and picturesque a spot as ever was seen. A bright blue sky and a sea the colour of which is for ever changing, a stillness only broken by the roaring surf, the hum of insects, the occasional cries of the sea-birds, and the chatter of the natives, make up this delightful haven of rest. No roaring train or smoking chimney is there to distract the wayfarer; no newspaper boy yelling out his “disasters” to cause one a sleepless night. A spot in which to rest and dream, ay, and study the curious customs of one of the most interesting savage races in the world, if you like that sort of employment.