It was believed formerly that New Caledonia was rich in gold-mines, and the principal object of the expedition of M. Garnier was to discover these.  After one or two short excursions in the neighborhood of Noumea he set out on an eight months’ journey through the entire eastern portion of the island.  The plan which he adopted was to double the southern extremity of the island, sail up the eastern coast between the reefs and the mainland, as is the custom, stopping at the principal stations and making long excursions into the interior, accompanied by a guard of seven men.  This plan he carried out, though some parts of the country to be explored were inhabited by tribes that had seldom or never seen a European.  His testimony as to the almost unexceptionable kindness of the natives, cannibals though they are, must be gratifying to those who accept the doctrine of the brotherhood of man.  Of the natives near Balarde he says:  “The moment you land all offer to guide your steps, and in every way they can to satisfy your needs.  Do you wish to hunt?  A native is ever ready to show you the marsh where ducks most abound.  Are you hungry or thirsty?  They fly to the cocoanut plantation with the agility of monkeys.  If a swamp or a brook stops your course, the shoulders of the first comer are ever ready to carry you across.  If it rains, they run to bring banana-leaves or make you a shelter of bark.  When night comes they light your way with resinous torches, and finally, when you leave them, you read in their faces signs of sincere regret.”

Captain Cook, in his eulogies of these gentle savages, probably never dreamed that they were anthropophagi, and if he had known the fact, his kindly nature would have found some extenuation for them.  Cannibals, as a rule—­certainly those of New Caledonia—­do not eat each other indiscriminately.  For example, they dispose of their dead with tender care, though they despatch with their clubs even their best friends when dying; but this is with them a religious duty.  They only eat their enemies when they have killed them in battle.  This also, in their code of morals, appears to be a duty.  Toussenel, in his Zooelogie Passionelle, has a kind word even for these savages:  “Let us pity the cannibal, and not blame him too severely.  We who boast of our refined Christian civilization murder men by tens of thousands from motives less excusable than hunger.  The crime lies not in roasting our dead enemy, but in killing him when he wishes to live.”

During M. Garnier’s expedition he met the chief Onime, once the head of a powerful tribe, now old and dispossessed of his power through the revolt of his tribe some years previous.  At that time a price had been put upon his head, and he took refuge in the mountains.  There was no sign of discouragement or cruelty in his manners, but his face expressed a bitter and profound sorrow.  There was not a pig or a chicken on his place—­for he would have nothing imported by the papales, or Europeans—­but