“Pearls Before Swine.”

What Islands Residents Miss.

(By A. J. Vogan.)

NOW I have typed the heading to this, I don’t like it! But, like many other rude, rough sayings, it expresses an idea; and the very audacity of its ex pression may make it stick, when a polite, maidenly label would come oft the first hot day.

One of the worst tropical diseases is that of boredom. You don't find really busy men stricken down with fever in the Islands, or in fluenza in the cities, as often as is the poor, soft idler, or pub-bench warmer.

Ergo, when you have nothing whatever to do, or to think about, take up your old and useful hobby, which I hope will prove to be a, more or less, scientific one.

We old folk thing we are the wisest; and, perhaps, owing to our having lived through rougher times than you have to face, we are. I can remember when opals had no value —we kept a few to give to our girl-friends; but we didn't save any. “Pearls before” —well not ex actly swine in our case, of course; but as fans to the Esquimaux; or bath heaters for the Maoris!

There is not a Pacific Island of any size, that is not potentially attractive with “jewels of great price” to those in itiated ones, who can recognise a good thing when they see it. Take the moths and butterflies, for example.

Every one you see around you is worth from sixpence to one shilling in London —some are worth pounds on pounds! I remember the great William Poole, the missionary-architect, of Antananarivo (“ankidibivava” is the rest of the name, but “enough” is as good as “too much”), long before the French had sent to Mad agascar their wonderful Lyautey —of whom we English would have heard no thing, but for the delightful book of Andre Maurois! Dear old Poole sent Home, at my father’s request, some but terflies, to the unconcealed amusement of his Temeraire friend: “I cannot be lieve,” he wrote, “that they have any value; but I send them as requested.”

One of these was sold by auction at Austin Friars for £52; and another for £4B. Five hundred were sent home; and brought an average of 5/- each.

I am not using this as an argument that all you need do is to collect the moths round your hurricane-lamp, and make an easy fortune with them! But many things your ignorance passes by

with a glance from those tired bored eyes, is worth study; any many of them, if not commercially useful to-day, may be so to-morrow. But, money apart, what fun and interest can be got from your local birds, for example. Become ah “Authority” upon them; and corre spond with some expert in London, or Sydney; and how you will be feted, and welcomed when you return to the savage civilisation of the busy and re morseless cities of the slaving white folk.

Last year I was delighted to recognise in the 'Trobriands certain birds that “hadn’t oughtern’ bin there.” to quote an old pioneer friend’s saying—amongst them the Godwit —or, as my Maori friends call it, the Kuaka. We know that they are migratory birds; and I have witnessed their arrival in Septem ber in countless thousands along New Zealand, Ninety Mile beach (of Wizard Smith fame) and beautiful Spirits at North Cape; but their route to and from Siberia is still unknown.

Botany: what valuable discoveries you pass every day—perhaps the solution of manufacturing difficulties that are worth fortunes wave branches before your idle eyes! Anyway, new orchids are worth money; and what neglected pleasure is your when you might so easily become the expert as regards the orchids of your group, with immortality awaiting you when So-and-so completes his, or her, book upon the Monocotyle dons of the Pacific.

New bats, new beetles, new plants around you; and yet you remain stiff with boredom, whilst folk down south would give their whiskers to have your chances of discovery!

The old saying, “A little knowledge is a dangerous thing” only applies where the undisciplined mind is affected. A tew small books upon Botany, Birds, and “How to Collect” and you will find every stroll you take full of a new interest