Mosquitoes and leeches--I explain pictures--An awkward admission--My great portrait--The stomach as a deity--The portrait a success--A colossal statue of "H.

R.H."-- Fish without eyes--A sad reflection--A strange illusion--A grave danger--I sink a well--"Universal provider"-- A significant phenomenon--Bruno as accomplice--I find Bruno dead.
I must say I was not very much troubled with mosquitoes in my mountain home, and as I had endured dreadful torments from these insects whilst at Port Essington and other swampy places, I had good reason to congratulate myself.

Whilst crossing some low country on one occasion I was attacked by these wretched pests, whose bite penetrated even the clay covering that protected my skin.

Even the blacks suffered terribly, particularly about the eyes.

I, however, had taken the precaution to protect my eyes by means of leaves and twigs.