To the blacks of North Queensland there is a great deal in a name.  When a piccaninny is born, the first request is—­“You put ’em (or make ’em) name belonga that fella!” When a strange boy, a myall, “comes in” he wants a name, and until he gets it he is as forlorn as an ownerless dog.  Anything does, from “Adam” to “Yellow-belly” or “Belle Vue.”  He seems as proud of the new possession as a white boy of his first pair of trousers, and soon forgets his original name.  “What name belonga you, your country?” I asked an alert boy.  “I bin lose ’em; I no find ’em.  Boss, he catch ’em alonga paper!”

THE KNIGHTLY GROWTH

Wallace, in his Malay archipelago, gives an amusing account of a native who was superbly vain of an isolated tuft of hair on the one side of his chin, the only semblance of beard he possessed.  A black boy on one of the inland stations left with a mob of travelling cattle for the south.  When he returned after many days, two hairs had sprouted from a mole on his cheek, and he was for ever fondling them with pride and pleasure.

“Hello!  Jacky!” exclaimed the manager of the station, noticing him on his return for the first time.  “You catch gem plenty whisker now,” and feinted to pluck out the twin hairs.

Jacky started back in dismay.  “You no broke ’em!  You no broke ’em!”

Another boy showed that the cruel edge of vanity which prompts others to dye their hair is felt by the race.  White hairs began to mingle with the black of his moustache, and one by one he plucked them out.  The moustache became thinner and thinner, until the lip was as bare as a baby’s cheek, while the fraudulently youthful appearance gave obvious satisfaction.

HONOUR AND GLORY

As we sat enjoying the cool moonlight, Mickie announced that Jinny desired an interview.  “All right, Mickie, tell her come along.”  “No, bi’mby.  When finish wash ’em plate.”  That duty disposed of, Mickie—­“Now Boss.”  “Well, come along, Jinny.  What you want?” “No, Boss; I no want talk alonga you, Mickie humbug you.  What for you humbug Boss, Mickie?” Jinny was bashful, for the subject was momentous, touched her pride, and had been depressing her gaiety for many weeks.  Presently she came and with emphatic deliberation said—­“Boss—­No—­good—­Missis—­call—­out—­ Jinny!  Jinny!  When want wash ’em plate.  More better you hammer ’em that fella, all asame Essie!” Jinny did not wish that the missis should be chastised, but that she should be summoned to the plate washing with the pomp and ceremony of a dinner gong, as the maid used to do in a more civilised home.

FIRE JUMP UP

Mickie and Jinny once paid a visit to town, and Jinny, making an afternoon call, was invited to have a cup of tea.  She said, “Never mind, Missis.  Fire, he no burn.”  A gas stove was available, and Jinny jumped and exclaimed as the blue flame sprang from nowhere.  Wherever the lady of the house pleased to apply a match the fire came.  Next morning Mickie was brought round to witness the wonder, Jinny asking—­“Missis.  You show ’em Mickie fire jump up all about!”