Transcriber’s Notes:
1) Morrumbidgee/Murrumbidgee each used on several occasions and left as in the original. ‘Morrumbidgee’ is the aboriginal name for the Murrumbidgee.
2) Used on numerous occasions, civilisation/civilization; civilised/civilized; civilising/civilizing; uncivilised/uncivilized—left as in the original.
3) Same with variations of colonisation/colonization, and a few other “z” words that should be “s” words in their English form.

The

XXVI.

AUSTRALIA,

ITS HISTORY AND PRESENT CONDITION;

CONTAINING

AN ACCOUNT BOTH OF THE BUSH AND OF THE COLONIES, WITH THEIR RESPECTIVE INHABITANTS.

BY THE

REV. W. PRIDDEN, M.A.

VICAR OF BROXTED, ESSEX.

“Truth, in her native calmness and becoming moderation, shall be the object of our homage and pursuit; and we will aim at the attainment of knowledge for the improvement of our reason, and not for the gratification of a passion for disputing.”—Address of the Bp of Australia in 1841 to the Church of England Book Society.

LONDON:
JAMES BURNS, 17, PORTMAN STREET,
PORTMAN SQUARE.
1843.

LONDON:
PRINTED BY R. CLAY, BREAD STREET HILL.

[missing illustration: Map of Australia]

PREFACE.

A few words by way of Preface are requisite, in order that the objects of the present Work may be stated to the reader, and that he may also be made acquainted with the sources whence the information here communicated is derived, and from consulting which he may still further inform himself concerning Australia. The aim of the writer of the following pages has been,—while furnishing a description of some of the most flourishing and interesting settlements belonging to the British Crown, which, at the same time, exhibit in contrast to each other the two extremes of savage and civilised life;—to call the attention of his countrymen, both at home and in the colonies, to the evils which have arisen from the absence of moral restraint and religious instruction in colonies of civilised and (nominally) christian men. And although it must in many ways be a disadvantage that the person professing to describe a particular country should have gained all his knowledge of it from the report of others, without ever having himself set foot upon its shores; yet, in one respect at least, this may operate advantageously. He is less likely to have party prejudices or private interests to serve in his account of the land to which he is a total stranger. In consequence, probably, of his being an indifferent and impartial observer, not one of our Australian colonies wears in his eye the appearance of a perfect paradise; but then, on the other hand, there is not one of those fine settlements which prejudice urges him to condemn, as though it were barren and dreary as the Great Sahara itself. And the same circumstance—his never having breathed the close unwholesome air of colonial party-politics—will render it less likely that his judgment respecting persons and disputed opinions should be unduly biassed. There will be more probability of his judging upon right principles, and although his facts may (in some instances, unavoidably) be less minutely accurate than an inhabitant of the country would have given, yet they may be less coloured and less partially stated. Instead of giving his own observations as an eye-witness, fraught with his own particular views, he can calmly weigh the opposite statements of men of different opinions, and between the two he is more likely to arrive at the truth. With regard to the present Work, however impartial the author has endeavoured to be, however free he may be from colonial passions and interests, he does not wish to deceive the reader by professing a total freedom from all prejudice. If this were desirable, it is impossible; it is a qualification which no writer, or reader either, possesses. But thus much may be stated, that all his prejudices are in favour of those institutions with which it has pleased God to bless his native land. In a volume that is intended to form part of a series called “The Englishman’s Library,” it may be permitted, surely, to acknowledge a strong and influencing attachment to the Sovereign, the Church, and the Constitution of England.

The object and principles of the present volume being thus plainly set forth, it remains only to mention some of the sources whence the information contained in it is derived. To the Travels of Captain Grey on the western coast of New Holland, and to those of Major Mitchell in the interior, the first portion of this Work is deeply indebted, and every person interested in the state of the natives, or fond of perusing travels in a wild and unknown region, may be referred to these four volumes,[1] where they will find that the extracts here given are but a specimen of the stores of amusement and information which they contain. Captain Sturt’s “Expeditions” and Mr. Oxley’s “Journal” are both interesting works, but they point rather to the progress of discovery in New Holland than to the actual state of our local knowledge of it. Dr. Lang’s two volumes upon New South Wales are full of information from one who has lived there many years, and his faults are sufficiently obvious for any intelligent reader to guard against. Mr. Montgomery Martin’s little book is a very useful compendium, and those that desire to know more particulars concerning the origin of the first English colony in New Holland may be referred to Collins’s account of it. Various interesting particulars respecting the religious state of the colonies in Australia have been derived from the correspondence in the possession of the Society for the Propagation of the Gospel in Foreign Parts, free access to which was allowed through the kind introduction of the Rev. C. B. Dalton. Many other sources of information have been consulted, among which the Reports of the Parliamentary Committee upon Transportation, in 1837 and 1838; and that of the Committee upon South Australia, in 1841, must not be left unnoticed. Neither may the work of Judge Burton upon Religion and Education in New South Wales be passed over in silence; for, whatever imperfections may be found in his book,[2] the facts there set forth are valuable, and, for the most part, incontrovertible, and the principles it exhibits are excellent. From the works just mentioned the reader may, should he feel inclined, verify for himself the facts stated in the ensuing pages, or pursue his inquiries further. In the meantime, he cannot do better than join the author of the little book which he holds in his hand, in an humble and earnest prayer to Almighty God, that, in this and in every other instance, whatever may be the feebleness and imperfection of human efforts, all things may be made to work together for good towards promoting the glory of God, the extension of Christ’s kingdom, and the salvation of mankind.

INTRODUCTION.

[[Page 1.]]

Subject of the Work—Discovery and Situation of New Holland—Its Interior little known—Blue Mountains—Conjectures respecting the Interior—Van Diemen’s Land, or Tasmania.

CHAPTER I.

[[Page 8.]]

The Bush described—Remains of it near Sydney—North-western Coast of New Holland—Sandy Columns and Fragments—Recollections of Home—Gouty Stem Tree—Green Ants—Fine Volcanic District—Cure for Cold—Travelling in the Rainy Season—Rich sequestered Valleys—Plains near the Lachlan—Falls of the Apsley—Beauties of Nature enjoyed by Explorers—Aid afforded by Religion—Trials of Travellers in the Bush—Thirst—A Christian’s Consolations—Plains of Kolaina, or Deceit—Bernier Island—Frederic Smith—A Commander’s Cares—Dried Streams—Return from a Journey in the Bush—Outsettlers—Islands on the Australian Coast—Kangaroo Island—Coral Reefs and Islets.

CHAPTER II.

[[Page 42.]]

Forbidding aspect of coast no argument against inland beauty and fertility—River Darling—The Murray—Other Rivers of New Holland—Contrasts in Australia—The Lachlan, Regent’s Lake, &c.—Sturt’s Descent down the Murray—His Return—Woods—Difficulties and Dangers of Bush travelling—Wellington Valley—Australia Felix—Conclusion.

CHAPTER III.

[[Page 72.]]

Comparative advantages of Europeans over Savages—Degraded condition of Natives of New Holland—Total absence of Clothing—Love of Ornaments—Peculiar Rites—Ceremony of knocking out a Tooth—Hardships of Savage Life—Revengeful Spirit—Effect of Native Songs in exciting Anger—Cruelty—Courage—Indifference to accounts of Civilized Life—Contempt of its ways—Treatment of Women—Family Names, and Crests—Language—Music.

CHAPTER IV.

[[Page 97.]]

Means of Subsistence—A Whale Feast—Hunting the Kangaroo—Australian Cookery—Fish—Seal Catching—Turtles—Finding Opossums—Birds—Pursuit of the Emu or Cassowary—Disgusting Food of the Natives—Vegetables—By-yu Nuts—Evils of European Settlements in cutting off the native supply of Food—Native Property in Land—Inhabitants of Van Diemen’s Land—A word of Advice to Christian Colonists.

CHAPTER V.

[[Page 120.]]

First Shyness of Natives natural—Their perplexity between European Customs and their own—Health and Longevity—Old Age—Funereal Rites—Belief in Sorcery—The Boyl-yas—Various modes of Interment—Tombs—Riches of a Native—Bodily Excellences—Secrecy—Quickness of Sight, &c.—Kaiber and the Watch—The Warran Ground—Various Superstitions—Mischief of bad Example, for which the British nation is responsible—The Church, the right Instrument, and the only one that will be found successful, for civilising the Australian Tribes, if they are ever to be civilised.

CHAPTER VI.

[[Page 149.]]

Bennillong—Barangaroo’s Funeral—The Spitting Tribe—Mulligo’s Death—The Corrobory—Peerat and his Wives—Woga’s Captivity—Ballooderry and the Convicts—Native Hospitality and Philosophy—The Widow and her Child—Miago.

CHAPTER VII.

[[Page 186.]]

Infancy of New South Wales an interesting subject to Englishmen—Arrival, in 1788, of the Sirius, and the Supply at Botany Bay—Settlement commenced in the Harbour of Port Jackson—Character of the Convicts—Influence of Religion—Particulars respecting the Chaplain—His peculiar situation and efforts—A Gold Mine pretended to be found—Supply of Food precarious—Farming—Failure of Provisions—Erection of a Flag-staff at the entrance of Port Jackson—Activity of Governor Phillip—Emigration to Norfolk Island—Loss of the Sirius—Departure of the Supply for Batavia—Arrivals from England—Cruel treatment of Convicts on board—Paramatta founded—Arrival of the Second Fleet—State of Agriculture—The Chaplain’s bounty abused—Attendance at Divine Service—A Church built—Its subsequent fate—Scarcity of Provisions, and great Mortality—Profligacy of Convicts—Harvest of 1792—Departure of Governor Phillip—Major Grose’s government—Captain Paterson’s—Various occurrences—Drunkenness—Love of Money—Spirit of Gambling.

CHAPTER VIII.

[[Page 216.]]

Arrival of Governor Hunter—His efforts for reformation—Advancement of the Colony towards supplying its own wants—Wild Cattle found—Coal discovered—Governor’s regulations—Incendiarism—Natives troublesome—Difficulties in governing New South Wales—Crimes common—Laxity of public opinion—The gaols at Sydney and Paramatta purposely set on fire—Departure of Governor Hunter—Captain King succeeds him—Norfolk Island abandoned—Sketch of Norfolk Island—Settlement of Van Diemen’s Land—Free Settlers—Philip Schoeffer—The Presbyterian Settlers at Portland Head—Resignation of Governor King—Captain Bligh his successor—Great Flood of the Hawkesbury—Unpopularity of the Governor—Seizure of his person—Rebellion—Usurpation—Arrival of a new Governor, Colonel Macquarie—Improvements in his time—Road-making—Passage across the Blue Mountains—Public Buildings—Patronage of Emancipists—Discoveries in the Interior, and Extension of the Colony—Continued neglect of the spiritual need of the Colonists—Governor Macquarie’s Departure—His own statement of the progress of the Settlement under his administration.

CHAPTER IX.

[[Page 243.]]

Subject stated—Day-dreams of Colonization—Local divisions of New South Wales—Its Counties—Cumberland—Camden—Illawarra and the Cow Pastures—Argyle—Bathurst—Northumberland—Coal Pits—Hunter’s River—Remaining Counties—Sydney—Port Jackson—Buildings, &c. of Sydney—Commerce—Public Press—Paramatta—Windsor—Liverpool—Conclusion.

CHAPTER X.

[[Page 266.]]

Description of Van Diemen’s Land—Its local Divisions—Its general Character and Aspect—Hobart Town—Launceston—Other Australian Colonies—Port Phillip—South Australia—Adelaide—Western Australia—Its Towns—North Australia.

CHAPTER XI.

[[Page 286.]]

Climate of Australia—Drought—Agriculture—Flocks and Herds—Government of the Colonies—Discontent—Means of National Improvement—Bishopric of Australia—Tribute of Thanks justly due to the Whig Government—Effects of a Bishop being resident in New South Wales—Educational provision made by George the Fourth—Dr. Lang’s Account of it—Judge Burton’s—Church and School Corporation, established in 1826; suspended in 1829; dissolved in 1833—Causes of this change of Policy—Conclusion.

CHAPTER XII.

[[Page 307.]]

Inhabitants of Australian Colonies—What seed has been there sown—Elements of Society in the Penal Colonies—Convicts—System of Assignment—Public Gangs—Mr. Potter Macqueen’s Establishment—Norfolk Island and its horrors—These have been mitigated of late years—Means of reforming Convicts—Prevalence of Vice among them—The class of Convicts called specials described.

CHAPTER XIII.

[[Page 325.]]

Emancipists—Their general Character—Their conduct in the Jurors’ Box no argument in favour of bestowing upon them a Representative Government—Free Population—Ancient Nobility of Botany Bay—Prevailing taste in New South Wales and Van Diemen’s Land—Love of Gain—Land Sharks—Squatters—Overlanders.

CHAPTER XIV.

[[Page 338.]]

Importance of Religion—The Lord’s Day—Habits of duly observing it nearly lost among many of the inhabitants of our Australian Colonies—Opposition to Improvement—Religious strife prevails where religious union is needed—Sir R. Bourke’s novel system of religious Establishments—Its practical working—Efforts of the Church coldly seconded or else opposed, by Government—Petty Persecutions—Similar opposition to National Religious Education as to National Church—Blunders respecting the Irish System of Education in 1836—Attempt in 1840 to banish the Creed and Catechism from Protestant Schools having Government support—Schools of a higher rank in New South Wales—King’s School, Paramatta—Sydney College—The Australian College—The Normal Institution—Proposed College at Liverpool—Other Schools—Population of New South Wales in 1841—Emigration—Conclusion.

van diemen’s land.

INTRODUCTION.

The vast tract of country which it is the object of the present volume to describe in its leading features, both moral and natural, may be said to consist of two islands, besides many small islets and coral reefs, which lie scattered around the coasts of these principal divisions. The larger island of the two, which from its size may well deserve the appellation of a continent, is called New Holland, or Australia; and is supposed to be not less than three-fourths of the extent of the whole of Europe. The smaller island, so well known by the names of Van Diemen’s Land, or Tasmania, (from those of the discoverer, Tasman, and the Dutch governor of Batavia, Van Diemen) is not to be compared in size to the other, being about equal in magnitude to Ireland, and, like that island, abounding in fine and excellent harbours. Although, strictly speaking, the name of Australia is confined to the former of these two islands, yet it may be understood to include the smaller island also; and under this name it is proposed to make the reader familiar with the chief objects of curiosity in the natural world, and likewise with the state of human society, whether savage or civilised, in the two islands of New Holland and Van Diemen’s Land, so far as both of these have been hitherto known and explored.

It is by no means certain what nation may justly lay claim to the honour of the discovery of New Holland, the coasts of which were probably seen by the Spaniards, Quiros or Torres, in 1606, and are by some supposed to have been known to the Spanish and Portuguese yet earlier than this date, but were not regularly discovered until the Dutch, between the years 1616 and 1627, explored a considerable portion of the northern and western shores of that vast island, to which they gave the name of their own country, Holland. To the Spaniards this land was known by the names of Terra Australis Incognita, (The Unknown Southern Land,) or Australia del Espiritu Santo, (The Southern Land of the Holy Spirit,) the meaning of which last name does not exactly appear, unless it arose from the discovery of Quiros having been made a little before Whitsuntide. Since that time the coasts of this immense island, extending, it is said, to no less than 8000 miles, have been gradually explored, although they still remain in some parts very imperfectly known. Indeed, it was only in the year 1798 that Van Diemen’s Land was discovered to be an island separated from New Holland, of which before that time it had been thought to form a large projection or promontory.

New Holland is situated in the vast ocean extending to the south and east of the Spice Islands, and it lies about even with the lower part of the continent of Africa, only at an immense distance due east of it. Its extreme points of latitude are 39 degrees and 10½ degrees S., and of longitude 112 degrees and 153 degrees 40 minutes E. from Greenwich, so that it includes in its huge extent climates both tropical and temperate, but none that are decidedly cold. It must be remembered, indeed, that the countries south of the equator become colder at the same latitude than those that extend towards the north; but, nevertheless, the nearest point towards the South Pole, 39 degrees, nearly answering to the situation of Naples in the northern hemisphere, cannot be otherwise than a mild and warm climate. The shape of New Holland is very irregular, its coast being much broken and indented by various great bays and smaller inlets; but it has been estimated to have a width from E. to W. of 3000 miles, and a breadth from N. to S. of 2000, containing altogether not less than three millions of square miles. Of course, it is impossible, in so large an extent of country, that the interior parts of it should have been explored during the few years in which any portion of it has been occupied by Europeans. Accordingly, almost all the inland tracts are still a vast blank, respecting which very little is known, and that little is far from inviting. Indeed many hindrances oppose themselves to the perfect discovery of these inland regions, besides those common obstacles, to encounter and overcome which every traveller who desires to explore new, wild, and savage countries, must have fully made up his mind.

First among the peculiar difficulties which have opposed the Australian explorer is the height and ruggedness of that chain of mountains, called, in the colony of New South Wales, the Blue Mountains, which form a mighty barrier of more or less elevation along most parts of the eastern coast of New Holland, sometimes approaching as nearly as 30 miles to the sea, and at other places falling back to a distance of 60 or nearly 100 miles. These mountains are not so very high, the loftiest points appearing to exceed but little the height of Snowdon in Wales, or Ben Nevis in Scotland; but their rugged and barren nature, and the great width to which they frequently extend, render it no very easy matter to cross them at all. Indeed, although the settlement of New South Wales was founded in 1788, it was not before 1813 that a route was discovered across those vast ranges which shut in the colony to the west. Frequently had the passage over the Blue Mountains been attempted before, but never with any success; and the farthest point which had been reached, called Caley’s Repulse, was a spot that almost seemed to forbid man’s footsteps to advance beyond it. Nothing was to be seen there in every direction but immense masses of weather-beaten sandstone-rock, towering over each other in all the sublimity of desolation; while a deep chasm, intersecting a lofty ridge covered with blasted trees, seemed to cut off every hope of farther progress. But all these difficulties have now long since been got over, and stage-coaches are able to run across what were a few years ago deemed impassable hills. Yet, when this dreary barrier of barren mountains has been crossed, another peculiar hindrance presents itself to the exploring traveller. In many parts of the interior of New Holland, which have been visited, the scarcity of water is such that the most distressing privations have been endured, and the most disagreeable substitutes employed. And yet, strange to say, the very same country, which sometimes affords so few springs, and of which the streams become dried up into chains of dirty pools, and at last into dry ravines and valleys, is, occasionally, subject to extreme floods from the overflowing of its rivers, and then offers a new obstacle to the traveller’s progress in the shape of extensive and impassable marshes! To these difficulties must be added the usual trials of adventurous explorers, the dangers and perplexities of a journey through pathless forests, the want of game of any kind in the barren sandstone districts, the perils sometimes threatened by a visit from the native inhabitants, and, altogether, we shall have reason rather to feel surprise at what has been done in the way of inland discovery in New Holland, than to wonder that so much remains yet undone.

In consequence of the interior portions of the country remaining still unknown, fancy has been busy in forming notions respecting them, and one favourite supposition has been that there exists somewhere in the central part of New Holland an immense lake or inland sea; but of this no proof whatever can be produced, so that it can only be said that it may be so. Certainly, unless some such means of communication by water, or some very large navigable river, should exist, it is hardly possible to imagine how the extensive tracts of inland country can ever become civilized or inhabited by Europeans. And of that portion which has been visited a considerable extent of country appears to be shut out by the natural barrenness of its soil and sandstone-rocks from any prospect of ever supplying food to the colonies of civilized man. So that, while the whole of New Holland is an interesting country from its natural peculiarities, and even the desolate portion of it adds, by its very desolation, a deep interest to the adventures of those persons who have had the courage to attempt to explore it; yet the chief prospects of Australia’s future importance seem to be confined to its line of coast,—no narrow limits in an island so extensive. Hence the colonies now flourishing on the eastern, southern, and western shores of New Holland, especially on the first, will form a chief object of attention in the present work; although, as will be seen by its contents, the “bush,” or wild country, and its savage inhabitants, will be by no means overlooked.

Respecting Van Diemen’s Land much need not be here said, although, however small in comparative extent, its population was in 1836 above half of that of the whole colony of New South Wales. It is, therefore, and always will be, an important island, though, from its mountainous character and confined limits, it cannot, of course, be expected to keep pace with the increasing population of the sister colony. Van Diemen’s Land was discovered in 1642, by the Dutchman, Tasman, who first sailed round its southern point, and ascertained that the great Southern Land, or Australia, did not extend, as it had been supposed, to the South Pole. The island was apparently overlooked, until, in 1804, a colony was founded there by the English, and it was taken possession of in the name of his Britannic majesty. Since that time, with the exception of those early hardships to which all colonies seem liable, it has been flourishing and increasing. To many Englishmen its colder climate, (which is yet sufficiently mild,) and its supposed resemblance in appearance and productions to their native land, have appeared preferable to all the advantages which the larger island possesses. Van Diemen’s Land is divided from New Holland on the north by Bass’s Straits, its extreme points of latitude are 41° 20', and 43° 40' S., and of longitude 144° 40', and 148° 20' E. Its shape is irregular, being much broken by various inlets, but its greatest extent from N. to S. is reckoned to be about 210 miles, and from E. to W. 150 miles, containing a surface of about 24,000 square miles. The native inhabitants of this smaller island have entirely disappeared before the superior weapons and powers of civilised man.

travellers in the bush.

CHAPTER I.

THE BUSH, ON OR NEAR THE COAST.

All that country, which remains in a state of nature uncultivated and uninclosed, is known among the inhabitants of the Australian colonies by the expressive name of the Bush.[3] It includes land and scenery of every description, and, likewise, no small variety of climate, as may be supposed from the great extent of the island of New Holland. Accordingly, without indulging in surmises concerning the yet unknown parts, it may be safely said, respecting those which have been more or less frequently visited and accurately explored, that the extremes of rural beauty and savage wildness of scenery,—smiling plains and barren deserts, snowy mountains and marshy fens, crowded forests and bare rocks, green pastures and sandy flats,—every possible variety, in short, of country and of aspect may be found in that boundless region which is all included under the general appellation of the Bush. To enter into a particular or regular description of this is clearly no less impossible than it would be tedious and unprofitable. And yet there are many descriptions of different portions of it given by eye-witnesses, many circumstances and natural curiosities belonging to it, and related to us upon the best authority, which are likely to please and interest the reader, who can see and adore God everywhere, and is capable of taking delight in tracing out and following the footsteps of Almighty Wisdom and Power, even in the wilderness and among the mountain-tops. It is proposed, therefore, to select a few of the pictures which have been drawn by the bold explorers of the Bush, so as to give a general idea of the character, the scenery, the dangers, and the privations of that portion of the Australian islands. And, having first become familiar and acquainted with these, we shall be better able to set a just value, when we turn to the state of the colonies and their inhabitants, upon that moral courage, that British perseverance and daring, which have, within the memory of man, changed so many square miles of bush into fertile and enclosed farms; which have raised a regular supply of food for many thousands of human beings out of what, sixty years ago, was, comparatively speaking, a silent and uninhabited waste. When the troops and convicts, who formed the first colony in New South Wales, landed at Port Jackson, the inlet on which the town of Sydney is now situated, “Every man stepped from the boat literally into a wood. Parties of people were everywhere heard and seen variously employed; some in clearing ground for the different encampments; others in pitching tents, or bringing up such stores as were more immediately wanted; and the spot, which had so lately been the abode of silence and tranquillity, was now changed to that of noise, clamour, and confusion.”[4]

And still, even near to the capital town of the colony, there are portions of wild country left pretty much in their natural and original state. Of one of these spots, in the direction of Petersham, the following lively description from the pen of a gentleman only recently arrived in the colony, may be acceptable. “To the right lies a large and open glen, covered with cattle and enclosed with bush, (so we call the forest,) consisting of brushwood and gigantic trees; and, above the trees, the broad sea of Botany Bay, and the two headlands, Solander and Banks, with a white stone church and steeple, St. Peter’s New Town, conveying an assurance that there are Englishmen of the right sort not far from us. And now we plunge into the thicket, with scarcely a track to guide our steps. I have by this time made acquaintance with the principal giants of the grove. Some are standing, some are felled; the unmolested monarchs stand full 200 feet high, and heave their white and spectral limbs in all directions; the fallen monsters, crushed with their overthrow, startle you with their strange appearances; whilst underfoot a wild variety of new plants arrest your attention. The bush-shrubs are exquisitely beautiful. Anon a charred and blackened trunk stops your path: if you are in spirits, you jump over all; if you are coming home serious, weary, and warm, you plod your way round. Well,—in twenty minutes’ time you reach a solitary hut,—the first stage of the walk: you pass the fence, the path becomes narrow,—the bush thickens round you,—it winds, it rises, it descends: all on a sudden it opens with a bit of cleared ground full twenty yards in extent, and a felled tree in the midst. Here let us pause, and, kneeling on the turf, uncovered, pour forth the voice of health, of cheerfulness, and gratitude to Him who guides and guards us on our way. And now, onward again. The land falls suddenly, and we cross a brook, which a child may stride, but whose waters are a blessing both to man and beast. And now we rise again; the country is cleared; there is a flock of sheep, and a man looking after them; to the left, a farmhouse, offices, &c.; before us the spire of St. James’s, Sydney, perhaps three miles distant, the metropolitan church of the new empire, and, a little to the right, the rival building of the Roman church. Beneath us lies Sydney, the base-born mother of this New World, covering a large extent of ground, and, at the extreme point of land, the signal station, with the flags displayed, betokening the arrival of a ship from England. Till now we have met with no living creature, but here, perhaps, the chaise with Sydney tradesman and his wife, the single horseman, and a straggler or two on foot, begin to appear.”

The general appearance of the coast of New Holland is said to be very barren and forbidding, much more so than the shores of Van Diemen’s Land are; and it thus often happens that strangers are agreeably disappointed by finding extreme richness and fertility in many parts of a country, which at their first landing afforded no such promises of excellence. One of the most dreary and most curious descriptions of country is to be met with on the north-western shores of New Holland, quite on the opposite coast to that where the principal English colony is situated. The daring explorer of this north-western coast, Captain Grey, has given a fearful account of his dangers and adventures among the barren sandstone hills of this district. Its appearance, upon his landing at Hanover Bay, was that of a line of lofty cliffs, occasionally broken by sandy beaches; on the summits of these cliffs, and behind the beaches, rose rocky sandstone hills, very thinly wooded. Upon landing, the shore was found to be exceedingly steep and broken; indeed the hills are stated to have looked like the ruins of hills, being composed of huge blocks of red sandstone, confusedly piled together in loose disorder, and so overgrown with various creeping plants, that the holes between them were completely hidden, and into these one or other of the party was continually slipping and falling. The trees were so small and so scantily covered with leaves that they gave no shelter from the heat of the sun, which was reflected by the soil with intense force, so that it was really painful to touch, or even to stand upon, the bare sandstone. Excessive thirst soon began to be felt, and the party, unprepared for this, had only two pints of water with them, a portion of which they were forced to give to their dogs; all three of these, however, died of exhaustion. After a vain search of some hours, at length the welcome cry of “Water!” was heard from one of the party; but, alas! upon scrambling down the deep and difficult ravine where the water ran, it was found to be quite salty, and they were compelled to get up again as well as they could, unrefreshed and disheartened. After following the course of the deep valley upwards about half a mile, they looked down and saw some birds ascending from the thick woods growing below, and, knowing these white cockatoos to be a sure sign of water very near, the weary party again descended, and found a pool of brackish water, which, in their situation, appeared to afford the most delicious draughts, although they shortly afterwards paid the penalty of yet more intolerable thirst, arising from making too free with a beverage of such quality.

The nature of the country near Hanover Bay, where the party belonging to Captain Grey was exploring, is most remarkable. The summits of the ranges of sandstone hills were generally a level sort of table-land, but this level was frequently broken and sometimes nearly covered with lofty detached pillars of rock, forming the most curious shapes in their various grouping. In one place they looked like the aisle of a church unroofed, in another there stood, upon a huge base, what appeared to be the legs of an ancient statue, from which the body had been knocked away; and fancy might make out many more such resemblances. Some of these time-worn sandy columns were covered with sweet-smelling creepers, and their bases were hidden by various plants growing thickly around them. The tops of all were nearly on a level, and the height of those that were measured was upwards of forty feet. The cause of this singular appearance of the country was at length discovered by the noise of water running under the present surface, in the hollows of the sandstone, and gradually carrying away the soil upon which the top surface rests. Formerly, no doubt, the level of the whole country was even with the tops of the broken pillars, and much higher; and hereafter what is now at the surface will give way beneath the wasting of the streams that flow below, and no traces of its present height will be left, except in those places where the power of the water is less felt, which will rear up their lofty heads, and bear witness by their presence of the ruin that will have taken place.

In wandering through a country of this description, how natural does the following little remark of Captain Grey appear! A plant was observed here, which, in appearance and smell, exactly resembled the jasmine of England; and it would be difficult to give an idea of the feeling of pleasure derived from the sight of this simple emblem of home. But, while the least plant or tree that could remind them of home was gladly welcomed, there were many new and remarkable objects to engage the attention of the travellers. Among these the large green ants, and the gouty stem tree may be particularly noticed. The ants are, it would seem, confined to the sandstone country, and are very troublesome. The gouty stem tree is so named from the resemblance borne by its immense trunk to the limb of a gouty person. It is an unsightly but very useful tree, producing an agreeable and nourishing fruit, as well as a gum and bark that may be prepared for food. Upon some of these trees were found the first rude efforts of savages to gain the art of writing, being a number of marks, supposed to denote the quantity of fruit gathered from the tree each year, all but the last row being constantly scratched out, thus:

But, miserable as the general appearance of that part of the north-western coast of New Holland undoubtedly is, yet are there many rich and lovely spots to be found in its neighbourhood; and, further inland, vast tracts of fertile country appear to want only civilised and Christian men for their inhabitants. What is wanting in the ensuing picture but civilisation and religion, in order to make it as perfect as any earthly abode can be? “From the summit of the hills on which we stood,” (says Captain Grey) “an almost precipitous descent led into a fertile plain below; and, from this part, away to the southward, for thirty to forty miles, stretched a low, luxuriant country, broken by conical peaks and rounded hills, which were richly clothed with grass to their very summits. The plains and hills were both thinly wooded, and curving lines of shady trees marked out the courses of numerous streams.” This beautiful prospect was over a volcanic district, and with the sandstone which they were just leaving, they were bidding farewell to barrenness and desolation. It was near this beautiful spot, and in a country no less rich and delightful, that the party of adventurers was overtaken by the violent rains, which occur in those hot climates, and which struck the men with so great chill, that they were driven to make trial of an odd way of getting warm. Some of them got into a stream, the waters of which were comparatively warm, and thus saved themselves from the painful feeling arising from the very cold rain falling on the pores of the skin, which had previously been opened by continued perspiration.

The rains appear during the wet season to fall very heavily and constantly in North-Western Australia, and though a good supply of these is an advantage to an occupied country, well provided with roads, it is a great cause of trouble to first explorers who have to find a ford over every stream, and a passage across every swamp, and who often run the risk of getting into a perfectly impassable region. Of this sort, alike differing from the barren sandstone and the volcanic fertile country, was a third track through which Captain Grey endeavoured to pass. A vast extent of land lying low and level near the banks of the river Glenelg,[5] and well fitted, if properly drained, for the abundant growth of useful and valuable produce, was found, during the rainy season, to be in the state of a foul marsh, overgrown with vegetation, choking up the fresh water so as to cause a flood ankle-deep; and this marshy ground, being divided by deep muddy ditches, and occasionally overflown by the river, offered, as may be supposed, no small hindrances to the progress of the travellers. In some places it was quite impossible, from the thickly-timbered character of its banks, to approach the main stream; in others they appeared to be almost entirely surrounded by sluggish waters, of which they knew neither the depth nor the nature of their banks. Elsewhere, unable to cross some deep stream, the explorers were driven miles out of their way, and sometimes even in their tents, the water stood to the depth of two or three inches. On one occasion, when the party was almost surrounded by swamps, their loaded ponies sank nearly up to the shoulders in a bog, whichever way they attempted to move, and from this spot they had two miles to travel before they could reach the nearest rising ground. The river Glenelg was at this time overflowing its banks, and, to the natural alarm of men wandering in its rich valley, drift-wood, reeds, grass, &c. were seen lodged in the trees above their heads, fifteen feet beyond the present level of the water, affording a proof of what floods in that country had been, and, of course, might be again. However, this very soil in so warm a climate, only about sixteen degrees south of the equator, would be admirably fitted for the cultivation of rice, which needs abundance of moisture. But little do the peaceful inhabitants of a cultivated country, well drained, and provided with bridges and good roads, think of the risk and hardships undergone by the first explorers of a new land, however great its capabilities, and whatever may be its natural advantages.

But it was not in the plain country alone, that Captain Grey found spots of great richness and fertility, as the following description of the happy vallies frequently found among the mountain-ranges may testify: One may be chosen as a specimen of many. At its northern end it was about four miles wide, being bounded on all sides by rocky, wooded ranges, with dark gullies from which numerous petty streams run down into the main one in the centre. The valley gradually grows narrow towards the south, and is bounded by steep cliffs betwixt which the waters find an outlet. Sometimes a valley of this kind, most beautiful, most productive, will contain from four to five thousand acres of nearly level land, shut out from the rest of the world by the boundary of hills that enclose it. How great a contrast to these lovely vallies does the description, given by another traveller in a different district, present! Nothing, according to Mr. Oxley’s account, can be more monotonous and wearying, than the dull, unvarying aspect of the level and desolate region through which the Lachlan winds its sluggish course. One tree, one soil, one water, and one description of bird, fish, or animal, prevails alike for ten miles, and for a hundred. And, if we turn from this to a third picture of desolation mingled with sublimity, the contrast appears yet more heightened. Among the hills behind Port Macquarrie on the eastern coast, Mr. Oxley came suddenly upon the spot where a river, (the Apsley,) leaves the gently-rising and fine country through which it had been passing, and falls into a deep glen. At this spot the country seems cleft in twain, and divided to its very foundation, a ledge of rocks separates the waters, which, falling over a perpendicular rock, 235 feet in height, form a grand cascade. At a distance of 300 yards, and an elevation of as many feet, the travellers were wetted with the spray. After winding through the cleft rocks about 400 yards, the river again falls, in one single sheet, upwards of 100 feet, and continues, in a succession of smaller falls, about a quarter of a mile lower, where the cliffs are of a perpendicular height, on each side exceeding 1,200 feet; the width of the edges being about 200 yards. From thence it descends, as before described, until all sight of it is lost from the vast elevation of the rocky hills, which it divides and runs through. The different points of this deep glen, seem as if they would fit into the opposite openings forming the smaller glens on either side.[6]

Amid scenery like that which has now been described, varying from grandeur to tameness, from fertility to barrenness, from extreme beauty to extreme ugliness, but always possessing, at least, the recommendation of being new, the wanderers in the Bush are delighted to range. There is a charm to enterprising spirits in the freedom, the stillness, and even in the dangers and privations, of these vast wilds, which, to such spirits, scenes of a more civilised character can never possess. If it be true,—and who has never felt it to be so?—that

“God made the country and man made the town,”

much more distinctly is God’s power visible in the lonely wastes of Australia, much more deeply do men feel, while passing through those regions, that it is His hand that has planted the wilderness with trees, and peopled the desert with living things. Under these impressions men learn to delight in exploring the bush, and when they meet, as they often do, with sweet spots, on which Nature has secretly lavished her choicest gifts, most thoroughly do they enjoy, most devotedly do they admire, their beauty. In travelling some miles to the northward of Perth, a town on the Swan River, Captain Grey fell in with a charming scene, which he thus describes: “Our” station, “this night, had a beauty about it, which would have made any one, possessed with the least enthusiasm, fall in love with a bush life. We were sitting on a gently-rising ground, which sloped away gradually to a picturesque lake, surrounded by wooded hills,—while the moon shone so brightly on the lake, that the distance was perfectly clear, and we could distinctly see the large flocks of wild fowl, as they passed over our heads, and then splashed into the water, darkening and agitating its silvery surface; in front of us blazed a cheerful fire, round which were the dark forms of the natives, busily engaged in roasting ducks for us; the foreground was covered with graceful grass-trees, and, at the moment we commenced supper, I made the natives set fire to the dried tops of two of these, and by the light of these splendid chandeliers, which threw a red glare over the whole forest in our vicinity, we ate our evening meal; then, closing round the fire, rolled ourselves up in our blankets, and laid down to sleep.”

The very same feeling of religion, which heightens the pleasures and gives a keener relish to the enjoyments of life in these lonely places, can also afford comfort, and hope, and encouragement under those perils and privations which first explorers must undergo. Religion is the sun that brightens our summer hours, and gives us, even through the darkest and most stormy day, light, and confidence, and certainty. And when a small body of men are left alone, as it were, in the wilderness with their God, whatever occurs to them, whether of a pleasing or of a trying character, is likely to lift up their souls to their Maker, in whom “they live and move, and have their being.” When the patient traveller, of whose adventures in Western Australia so much mention has been made, had waited weather-bound on a lonely coast, never before trodden by the foot of civilised man, until eight days had been consumed in watching to no purpose the winds and the waves,—when, at a distance of thousands of miles from their native country, and many hundreds of miles from the nearest English colony, he and his little party were wasting strength and provisions in a desert spot; from which their only means of escaping was in one frail boat, which the fury of the sea forbade them to think of launching upon the deep,—when the men, under these circumstances, were becoming more and more gloomy and petulant, where was it that the commander sought and found consolation? It was in religion. And the witness of one who has successfully gone through trials of this kind, is well deserving of the utmost attention. “I feel assured,” says Captain Grey, in his account of this trial of patience, “that, but for the support I derived from prayer, and frequent perusal and meditation of the Scriptures, I should never have been able to have borne myself in such a manner as to have maintained discipline and confidence amongst the rest of the party; nor in all my sufferings did I ever lose the consolation derived from a firm reliance upon the goodness of Providence. It is only those who go forth into perils and dangers, amidst which human foresight and strength can but little avail, and who find themselves, day after day, protected by an unseen influence, and ever and again snatched from the very jaws of destruction, by a power which is not of this world, who can at all estimate the knowledge of one’s own weakness and littleness, and the firm reliance and trust upon the goodness of the Creator, which the human breast is capable of feeling. Like all other lessons which are of great and lasting benefit to man, this one must be learned amid much sorrowing and woe; but, having learned it, it is but the sweeter from the pain and toil which are undergone in the acquisition.”

The mention of these trials to which travellers in the bush are peculiarly liable, brings naturally to mind that worst of all privations, a want of water, to which they are so frequently exposed. The effects of extreme thirst are stated to have been shown, not merely in weakness and want, in a parched and burning mouth, but likewise in a partial loss of the senses of seeing and hearing. Indeed, the powers of the whole frame are affected, and, upon moving, after a short interval of rest, the blood rushes up into the head with a fearful and painful violence. A party of men reduced to this condition have very little strength, either of mind or body, left them, and it is stated, that, in cases of extreme privation, the worst characters have always least control over their appetites.[7] Imagine men marching through a barren and sandy country, a thirsty land where no water is, at the rate of about two miles in an hour and a quarter, when, suddenly, they come upon the edge of a dried-up swamp, and behold the footmark of a native, imprinted on the sand,—the first beginning of hope, a sign of animal life, which of course implies the means of supporting it. Many more footsteps are soon seen, and some wells of the natives are next discovered, but alas! all appear dry. Kaiber, a native companion of the party, suddenly starts up from a bed of reeds, where he has been burying his head in a hole of soft mud, with which he had completely swelled himself out, and of which he had helped himself to pretty well half the supply. It is so thick that it needs straining through a handkerchief, yet so welcome, after three days and two nights of burning thirst, under a fierce sun, that each man throws himself down beside the hole, exclaiming “Thank God!” and then greedily swallows a few mouthfulls of the liquid mud, declaring it to be the most delicious water, with a peculiar flavour, better than any that had ever before been tasted by him. Upon scraping the mud quite out of the hole, water begins slowly to trickle in again.[8] As might be expected, game abounds here, driven by the general dryness of the country to these springs. But the trembling hand of a man worn down by fatigue and thirst is not equal to wield a gun, or direct its fire to any purpose; so it seems as if thirst were escaped for a time, in order that hunger might occupy its place. At length, however, the native kills a cockatoo, which had been wounded by a shot; and this bird, with a spoonful of flour to each man, and a tolerable abundance of liquid mud, becomes the means of saving the lives of the party.

Such is the picture, taken from life, of some of the privations undergone, during dry seasons, in certain portions of the bush, and we must, at the risk of being tedious, repeat again the witness of a military man, of one who has seen much of the world, respecting the best source of comfort and support under these distressing trials. At such times, upon halting, when the others of the party would lie wearily down, and brood over their melancholy state, Captain Grey would keep his journal, (a most useful repository of facts,) and this duty being done, he would open a small New Testament, his companion through all his wanderings, from which book he drank in such deep draughts of comfort, that his spirits were always good. And on another occasion, he shared the last remaining portion of provision with his native servant; after which he actually felt glad that it was gone, and that he no longer had to struggle with the pangs of hunger, and put off eating it to a future hour. Having completed this last morsel, he occupied himself a little with his journal, then read a few chapters in the New Testament, and, after fulfilling these duties, he felt himself as contented and cheerful as ever he had been in the most fortunate moments of his life.

As in life, those objects which we have not, but of which we think we stand in need, are ever present to our fancy, so in these thirsty soils the mere appearance of that water, of which the reality would be so grateful, is frequently known to mock the sight of man. A remarkable specimen of this was seen at the plains of Kolaina (Deceit), in North-Western Australia. From a sand hill, not very far from the coast, was seen a splendid view of a noble lake, dotted about with many beautiful islands. The water had a glassy and fairy-like appearance, and it was an imposing feeling to sit down alone on the lofty eminence, and survey the great lake on which no European eye had ever before rested, and which was cut off from the sea by a narrow and lofty ridge of sandy hills. It was proposed at once to launch the boats upon this water, but a little closer survey was thought prudent, and then it proved that the lake was not so near as it had seemed to be, and that there were extensive plains of mud and sand lying between it and the rising ground. It appeared to be about a mile distant, and all were still certain that it was water they saw, for the shadows of the low hills near it, as well as those of the trees upon them, could be distinctly traced on the unruffled surface.[9] As they advanced, the water retreated, and at last surrounded them. The party now saw that they were deceived by mirage,[10] or vapour, which changed the sandy mud of the plains they were crossing into the resemblance, at a distance, of a noble piece of water. In reading the history of mankind, how often may we apply this disappointment to moral objects! how very frequently do the mistaken eyes of mortals eagerly gaze upon the mirage raised by falsehood, as though they were beholding the living waters of truth itself! What appearance, indeed, does the whole world present to one who rests upon the everlasting hill of the gospel,—the rock upon which Christ’s church has been built,—except it be that of one vast plain of Kolaina, or deceit? It was no long time after the explorers of the north-western coast of New Holland had been mocked by the mirage or vapour which has just been spoken of, that they had a fearful lesson of the vain and shadowy nature of human hopes and expectations. When they had first arrived off the coast, on that expedition, they had chosen an island, named Bernier Island, upon which to bury, for the sake of safety, their stores and provisions, so that they might return to them whenever it should be necessary. Bernier Island is a barren spot, formed of limestone, shells, and sand, and without a single tree or blade of grass upon it, but only wretched, scrubby bushes, amidst which the light sand and shells are drifted by the winds. Such was the remote spot, surrounded by the ocean’s waves, yet not very far from the main shore, upon which it was resolved to conceal their store of necessaries, secure, as it was supposed, from every enemy. In little more than three weeks, during which the adventurers had gone through many perils, and much stormy weather, they returned again, not without some difficulty, to their stores. But on approaching Bernier Island with their boat they scarcely knew it again, so vast a difference had the recent storms made in its outward appearance, so fearful were the pranks which the hurricane had played upon a land which was, in fact, nothing but loose sand, heaped upon a bed of limestone. The place where their stores had been securely left was gone, the remains of the flour-casks, salt provisions, &c. were scattered about in various directions; and the whole spot so entirely altered that it could hardly be ascertained, except by the fragments that were seen near it. How to get back again to Swan River, the nearest British settlement, without provisions, without water, without strength, was indeed a perplexing inquiry, and to answer this the leader of the party, having left his companions for a while, set himself seriously to work. Sitting down upon a rock on the shore, he felt the gale blowing fiercely in his face, and the spray of the breakers dashing over him; nothing could be more gloomy and dreary. Inland, no objects were to be seen but a mere bed of rock covered with drifting sand, on which were growing stunted, scrubby bushes; and former experience taught him, that no fresh water was to be found in the island. Several plans of escape, all apparently alike hopeless, offered themselves to his mind, and, more fully to compose himself, he took forth his constant companion in the wilderness, and read a few chapters of Holy Writ. Contentment and resignation were thus in some degree gained, and he soon joined the rest of the party, having resolved upon that plan, which God’s providence and mercy finally enabled him to carry out, without losing, from a party of twelve, constantly exposed during a very long journey to most dreadful toils, hunger, and thirst, more than one man only, who died at no great distance from the English colony. That one person was a youth of eighteen years of age, who had come out from England, led solely by an enterprising spirit, and not with any view of settling. On the return of the party under Captain Grey towards Swan River, they were so sadly pinched by want of provisions, and by thirst, that five of them were obliged to start with their leader, in order to reach the British colony by forced marches, and Frederick Smith, the youthful adventurer, was one of those that remained behind. After undergoing extreme trials, which from his age he was less able to bear than the others, he, at last, became quite worn out, and sat down, one evening, on a bank, declaring that he could go no further. He was behind the rest of the party, and the man who was with him went and told his companions that he thought Smith was dying. The next morning that man went back for him; but, being himself very weak, he did not go far enough, at all events he did not find him. Probably, the poor sufferer had crawled a little out of the track, for, afterwards, when a party was sent from Swan River in search of him, they traced, with the help of a native, his footsteps up a bare sand hill to the height of twelve or fourteen feet, and there, turning about to the left, they found the object of their search stretched lifeless upon his back, in the midst of a thick bush, where he seemed to have laid down to sleep, being half wrapped up in his blanket.[11] All his little articles of baggage were very near him, and, from the posture in which he was found, it appeared that the immediate cause of his death was a rush of blood to the head, which would occasion no great suffering in his last moments. A grave was scraped in the sand by the searching party, and Frederic Smith was buried in the wilderness wherein he had died, and which he had been among the first to explore, about seventy-six miles northward of the Swan River. The grave was made smooth, and a piece of wood found upon the neighbouring beach was placed at its head, and then the solitary spot was forsaken for ever by the mourning companions of the departed youth, who left

“Heaven’s fresh gales, and the ocean’s wave,
Alternate to sigh o’er the wanderer’s grave.”[12]

It was only six weeks before this untimely end of the young explorer, that he had set out, full of hope, on the long journey by the coast, which the party made on their return, and had been a leading character in such beautiful pictures of life in the Australian wilderness as this which is given by his friend Captain Grey. “We soon found ourselves at the foot of a lofty cascade, down which a little water was slowly dropping; and, on climbing to its summit, it appeared to be so well fitted for a halting-place for the night, that I determined to remain there. The men made themselves comfortable near the water-holes, and Mr. Smith and myself crept into a little cave, which occasionally served as a resting-place for the natives, the remains of whose fires were scattered about. A wild woodland and rocky scenery was around us; and when the moon rose and shed her pale light over all, I sat with Mr. Smith on the edge of the waterfall, gazing by turns into the dim woody abyss below, and at the red fires and picturesque groups of the men, than which fancy could scarcely imagine a wilder scene.”

It is no uncommon mistake, with persons who ought to know better, to magnify the toils and hardships endured by the body, while those labours and anxieties that the mind undergoes are disregarded and forgotten. Every man engaged in an exploring party in the bush, for instance, has his severe trials to go through, but their trials are not to be compared to those of the commander of the party. How often when the rest are sleeping must he be watchful? How frequently, while others are gay, must he feel thoughtful! These remarks may easily be applied to the following description of the coast near Shark’s Bay, in the N. W. of the island of New Holland. There was great beauty in the scenery, both the sky and the water had that peculiar brilliancy about them to be seen only in fine weather, and in a very warm climate. To the west lay a boundless extent of sea, to the eastward was a low shore fringed with trees, not only down to the water’s edge, but forming little green knots of foliage in the ocean itself; behind these trees were low wooded hills, and in front of them were numbers of pelicans and water-fowl. There was only about three feet depth of clear transparent water, through which were seen many beautiful and large shells, and various strange-looking fish, at some of which last one or other of Captain Grey’s men would sometimes make an attack, while loud peals of laughter would rise from the rest, when the pursuer, too anxious to gain his object, would miss his stroke at the fish, or, stumbling, roll headlong in the water. The fineness of the day, the novelty of the scenery, and the rapid way they were making, made the poor fellows forget past dangers, as well as those they had yet to undergo. But this was more than their commander was able to do. “My own meditations,” adds Captain Grey, “were of a more melancholy character, for I feared that the days of some of the light-hearted group were already numbered, and would soon be brought to a close. Amid such scenes and thoughts we were swept along, while this unknown coast, which so many had anxiously yet vainly wished to see, passed before our eyes like a dream, and ere many more years have hurried by, it is possible that the recollection of this day may be as such to me.”

Among the wonders of Nature to be met with in the Australian bush, the large rivers occasionally dried up to their very lowest depth by the extreme drought, are very remarkable. Few natural objects can equal in beauty and utility a river in its proper state,—

“Though deep, yet clear; though gentle, yet not dull;
Strong without rage, without o’erflowing full;”

but few can exceed in terror and destruction a large river in time of flood; while nothing, surely, can surpass in horror and desolation the same object when its stream is wasted, its waters disappeared, its usefulness and beauty alike gone. This spectacle is, fortunately, but rarely seen, except in Australia, and even there only after very dry seasons. One river seen in this state consisted of several channels or beds, divided from each other by long strips of land, which in times of flood become islands; the main channel was about 270 yards in breadth, and the height of its bank was about fifteen feet. After the exploring party had passed the highest point in the channel to which the tide flowed from the sea, this huge river bed was perfectly dry, and looked the most mournful, deserted spot imaginable. Occasionally water-holes were found eighteen or twenty feet in depth, and it is from these alone that travellers have been enabled to satisfy their thirst in crossing over the unexplored parts of the bush, where no water could elsewhere be obtained. Still, notwithstanding the extreme drought by which they were surrounded, the strangers could see by the remaining drift wood, which had been washed high up into the neighbouring trees, what rapid and overpowering currents sometimes swept along the now dry channel.

On another occasion the same singular object is powerfully described, and the feelings of men, who had long been in need of water, at beholding a sight like this can scarcely be imagined. Beneath them lay the dry bed of a large river, its depth at this point being between forty and fifty feet, and its breadth upwards of 300 yards; it was at times subject to terrible floods, for along its banks lay the trunks of immense trees, giants of the forest, which had been formerly washed down from the interior of the country; yet nothing now met their craving eyes but a vast sandy channel, which scorched their eyeballs, as the rays of the sun were reflected back from its white, glistening bed. Above and below this spot, however, large pools of water were found, and even here, when a hole of a few inches depth was scraped in the dry channel, it soon became filled with water which oozed into it from the sand. At another stream, which the same exploring party afterwards fell in with, they were less successful, and found all the pools entirely dry. The sun was intensely hot, and the poor men grew faint for want of water, while it heightened their sufferings, that they stood upon the brink of a river, or wandered along its banks with eager, piercing eyes, and an air of watchfulness peculiar to those who seek for that on which their lives depend. One while they explored a shallow, stony part of the bed, which was parched up and blackened by the fiery sun: their steps were slow and listless, and it was plainly to be seen how faint, weak, and weary they were; the next minute another pool would be seen ahead, the depth of which the eye could not at a distance reach; now they hurried on towards it with a dreadful look of eager anxiety—the pool was reached—the bottom seen; but, alas! no water: then they paused, and looked one at the other with an air of utter despair. The order to march from this distressing spot was unwillingly and slowly obeyed. So fondly does the human soul cling to the very faintest semblance of hope, that the adventurers would rather have wandered up and down these barren and arid banks, in vain search after water, than tear themselves away by one bold effort from the deceitful expectations held out to them by the empty channel.

It was on his return from a journey attended by perils and privations like these, that Captain Grey relates the following simple occurrence, which may help to make men value more highly, or rather prize more justly, the many little comforts they may possess: The Captain had left some of his men behind, and was hastening with all speed to the settlement of Perth, in Western Australia, in order to get assistance and necessaries for them. Starting an hour and a half before daylight, he reached the hut of Williams, the farthest settler, north of Perth, in time to find the wife and another woman at breakfast. He had known Mrs. Williams, and, forgetting how strangely want and suffering had changed his appearance for the worse, he expected her to remember him again. But he was mistaken for a crazy Malay, nicknamed Magic, who used to visit the houses of the out-settlers. Hurt at his reception, “I am not Magic,” exclaimed he. “Well then, my good man, who are you?” inquired they, laughing. “One who is almost starved,” was his solemn reply. “Will you take this, then?” said the hostess, handing him a cup of tea she was raising to her lips. “With all my heart and soul, and God reward you for it,” was the answer; and he swallowed the delicious draught. Who can fail of being reminded, upon reading this anecdote, of those gracious and beautiful words of his Redeemer—“Whosoever shall give you a cup of water to drink in my name, because ye belong to Christ, verily I say unto you, he shall not lose his reward”? (Mark ix. 41.)

The mention of the out-settler’s hut, in which Captain Grey met with this small, but most acceptable, kindness, may serve to remind us of an object, which, although not, strictly speaking, belonging to the bush, is, nevertheless, very frequently seen in that part of the wild country which is most visited,—the portions of it which are adjoining to the British settlements. In these parts of the bush the small hut of the humble out-settler may often be espied; and, while we speak of the toils and privations frequently undergone by this class of people at first, we must not forget that they are thus opening to themselves a way to future wealth and comfort. Nor, be it recollected, is the condition of an out-settler in the Australian bush any more a fair average specimen of that of the inhabitants of the colonies than the owner of a mud-hovel raised on some English heath would be of the inhabitants of the parish in which he happens to dwell. One strong difference may be seen in the two cases. In England the cottager must, in all likelihood, live and die a cottager, as his fathers have done before him, and his children will after him; whereas, in the Australian colonies, with prudence and the Divine blessing, (without which a man can do well nowhere) the humble out-settler may gradually, yet rapidly, grow up into the wealthy and substantial farmer and landowner. Bearing in mind these facts, the following sketch of the premises of an out-settler on the river Williams, at the back of the Swan River settlement, in Western Australia, may be at once instructive, and not unsuitable to the subject of this chapter. The house was made of a few upright poles, to which, at the top, cross poles were fastened, and a covering of rude thatch tied upon the whole. It was open at both ends, and exposed to the wind, which, as the situation was high, was very unpleasant. Here, however, were the elements of future riches, a very large flock of sheep, in fair condition, also a well-supplied stock-yard, and cattle in beautiful order; while upwards of twenty dogs, for hunting the kangaroo, completed the establishment. The settlers were four in number, and, except four soldiers quartered about sixteen miles from them, there were no other Europeans within fifty miles of the spot. All stores and necessaries were sent from a distance of 120 miles, through a country without roads, and exposed to the power of the native inhabitants. In this but might be seen a lively picture of the trials occasionally endured by first settlers; they had no flour, tea, sugar, meat, or any provision whatever, except their live stock and the milk of their cattle, their sole dependence for any other article of food being the kangaroo dogs, and the only thing their visitors were able to do to better their situation was to leave them some shot. All other circumstances were on the same scale with them, and one, supposing them to have been faithful members of the Church of their native land, must have been the most grievous privation of all:—

“The sound of the church-going bell
Those valleys and rocks never heard;
Never sighed at the sound of a knell,
Nor smiled when a sabbath appear’d.”

They had but one old clasp knife; there was but one small bed, for one person, the others sleeping on the ground every night, with little or no covering; they had no soap to wash themselves or their clothes, yet they submitted cheerfully to all these privations, considering them to be necessary consequences of their situation. Two of these out-settlers were gentlemen, not only by birth, but also in thought and manner; nor can it be doubted that they were really happier than many an idle young man to be seen lounging about in England, a burden to himself and to his friends. Idleness and vice have often in England been the means of levelling with the dust the lordly mansion, whilst industry, in the wilds of Australia, can rear a comfortable dwelling on the very spot where once stood the hut of the out-settler.

Scattered round the shores of New Holland at various distances are many small islands and rocks, the prevailing appearance of which is that of extreme barrenness. On many of these it would seem that no human beings had ever set their feet before the Europeans, and especially the English, explored those coasts. In several parts the natives were without any means of conveyance across even a narrow arm of the sea, and thus the brute creation were left in a long and undisturbed possession of many of the isles which lie near the main land. In the more barren and miserable of these the bird called the sooty petrel, and the seal, are the principal animals to be found, whilst in those that are somewhat more fruitful, kangaroos, also, and emus are to be found; the smaller breed of kangaroos being usually met with in the smaller islands, and the larger species on the main land or in islands of a greater extent. The following short account, by Captain Flinders, may serve as a specimen of the lesser isles: Great flocks of petrels had been noticed coming in from the sea to the island, and early next morning, a boat was sent from the ship to collect a quantity of them for food, and to kill seals, but the birds were already moving off, and no more than four seals, of the hair kind, were procured. Upon the men going on shore, the island was found to be a rock of granite, but this was covered with a crust of limestone or chalk, in some places fifty feet thick. The soil at the top was little better than sand, but was overspread with shrubs, mostly of one kind, a whitish velvet-like plant, amongst which the petrels, who make their nests underground, had burrowed everywhere, and, from the extreme heat of the sun, the reflection of it from the sand, and frequently being sunk half way up the leg in these holes, the sailors, little used to difficulties in land-travelling, were scarcely able to reach the highest hill near the middle of the island. It was in the neighbourhood of scattered sandy spots of this description that the sailors of Captain Flinders would often endeavour successfully to improve their ordinary fare by catching a few fish. On one occasion they were very much hindered by three monstrous sharks, in whose presence no other fish dared to appear. After some attempts, and with much difficulty, they took one of these creatures, and got it on board the ship. In length it was no more than twelve feet three inches, but the body measured eight feet round. Among the vast quantity of things contained in the stomach was a tolerably large seal, bitten in two, and swallowed with half of the spear sticking in it, with which it had probably been killed by the natives. The stench of this ravenous monster was great, even before it was dead; and, when the stomach was opened, it became intolerable.

Quite contrary, in many respects, to these sandy islands, and yet but little superior to them in fruitfulness, are some of those which were visited by the same enterprising voyager on the eastern coast of Australia. Their shores were very low, so much so, that frequently a landing is impossible, and generally very difficult, on account of the mud; and often a vast quantity of mangrove trees are found growing in the swamps that surround the shores, and choking the soil with a rank vegetation. On one of these islands when a landing had been effected without a very great deal of trouble, and a rising ground was reached, the sides of this little eminence were found to be so steep, and were so thickly covered with trees and shrubs, bound together and interlaced with strong plants, resembling vines in their growth, that all attempts to reach the top of the hill were without success. It appeared to be almost easier to have climbed up the trees, and have scrambled from one to another upon the vines, than to have threaded a way through the perplexing net-work formed by these plants, beneath which all was darkness and uncertainty.

There are, however, some few islands, which promise to become, at a future time, inhabited and cultivated spots, being neither so entirely naked, nor yet so choked up by a poor and hungry vegetation concealing a thin soil, as those already described. Of these more smiling spots the large island, off the western coast, called Kangaroo Island, may serve for a specimen. A thick wood covered almost all that part of the island which was seen from the ship by Captain Flinders, but the trees that were alive were not so large as those lying on the ground, nor as the dead trees still standing upright. Those upon the ground were so abundant, that, in ascending the higher land, a considerable part of the walk was upon them. No inhabitants were seen in the island, but yet it seemed, from the appearance of the trees, as though, at the distance of some years, the woods had been destroyed by fire. The soil, so far as it was seen, was thought very good, and the trees bore witness of this by their size and growth; yet so frequently do travellers, like doctors, disagree, that another explorer, Captain Sturt, pronounces this spot to be not by any means fertile. The quantity of kangaroos found here was remarkable enough to give a name to the island; and so entirely were these harmless animals strangers to the power of man, that they suffered themselves to be approached and killed without any efforts to escape. Captain Flinders, on the first day of landing, killed ten, and the rest of his party made up the number to thirty-one taken on board in the course of the day, the least weighing 69 and the largest 125 lbs. The whole ship’s company were employed that afternoon in skinning and cleaning the kangaroos, and a delightful feast they afforded to men who for four months had scarcely tasted any fresh provisions. Never, perhaps, had the dominion held here by these creatures been before disturbed; the seals, indeed, shared it with the kangaroos on the shores, but they seemed to dwell peacefully together, each animal occasionally wandering into the haunts of the other, so that a gun fired at a kangaroo upon the beach would sometimes bring forth two or three bellowing seals from underneath bushes a good deal further from the water-side. The seal, indeed, was the most knowing creature of the two, for its actions bespoke that it distinguished the sailors from kangaroos, whereas the latter not uncommonly appeared to mistake them for seals. Indeed it is curious to trace the total absence of all knowledge of man in these distant isles of Australia. In another island a white eagle was seen making a motion to pounce down upon the British sailors, whom it evidently took for kangaroos, never, probably, having seen an upright animal, (except that, when moving upon its hind legs,) and naturally, therefore, mistaking the men for its usual prey.

In another part of Kangaroo Island, which was afterwards visited, a large piece of water was discovered at the head of a bay, and in this water an immense number of pelicans were seen; upon some small islets were found many young birds yet unable to fly, and upon the surrounding beach a great number of old ones were seen, while the bones and skeletons of many lay scattered about. So that it appeared to be at once the breeding-place and death-bed of these birds, who, in the hidden bosom of a quiet lake, in an uninhabited island, had long continued to extend their race, generation after generation retiring to the same spot where they were first brought to light, and there ending their days in tranquillity. In this part of the island kangaroos were less plentiful than in the other, but the soil appeared equally promising, and in all likelihood, before many years have flown by, trees, seals, kangaroos, and pelicans will all be forced to give up their old domains, and be destroyed before the pressing wants and daring spirit of the British emigrant. One important hindrance is noticed by Flinders,—the scarcity of water,—but the presence of so many animals shows that there is an abundance somewhere, though he could find but a scanty supply in one single spot. In Kangaroo Island only one accident occurred which showed any disposition or power on the part of its old inhabitants to wage war with the intruders. One of the sailors having attacked a large seal without proper caution, was so severely bitten in the leg, that he was not merely laid up in consequence of this hurt, but was obliged to be discharged, three months afterwards, when the ship was refitted at Sydney.

In addition to the numerous barren rocks and the few tolerably large wooded islands, which encircle the shores of Australia, there is a third description of isles or rocks, which must not be passed over altogether without notice. The substance called coral is well known in Europe, but with us the name connects itself with very different objects from those to which it is related in Australia. Here female ornaments and toys for infants are almost the only objects to be seen that are formed of coral; there it forms the most stupendous rocks or reefs, which serve frequently for a foundation to islands of no mean size; indeed, in one part of the north-eastern coast of Australia, the coral reefs are known to extend not less than 350 miles in a straight line, without a single opening of any magnitude occurring in them.

Among these, surrounded by dangers, did Captain Flinders sail, during fourteen days, for more than 500 miles before he could escape into less perilous seas. Upon landing on one of these reefs, when the water was clear, the view underneath, from the edge of the rocks, was extremely beautiful. Quite a new creation, but still not unlike the old, was offered to the view. There appeared wheat-sheaves, mushrooms, stags’ horns, cabbage-leaves, and a variety of other forms, glowing under water with brilliant tints, of every shade betwixt green, purple, brown, and white; equalling in beauty and surpassing in grandeur the most favourite flower-bed of the curious florist. These appearances were, in fact, different sorts of coral, and fungus, growing, as it were, out of the solid rock, and each had its own peculiar form and shade of colouring, but yet the spectators, who knew their ship to be hemmed in by rocks of this material, while considering the richness of the scene, could not long forget with what power of destruction it was gifted.

The cause of these coral rocks and islands, which are slowly, but certainly, increasing, is a very small marine insect, by which the substance called coral is formed. These work under water, generation after generation contributing its share in the construction of what, in the course of ages, becomes a solid rock, exalting its head above the face of the surrounding waters, and rising sometimes from the depth of 200 fathoms, and perhaps even more. To be constantly covered with water seems necessary to these minute animals, for they do not work, except in holes upon the reef, beyond low-water-mark; but the coral and other broken remains thrown up by the sea lodge upon the rock and form a solid mass with it, as high as the common tides reach. The new bank is not long left unvisited by sea-birds; salt-plants take root upon it, and a kind of soil begins to be formed; a cocoa-nut,[13] or the seed of some other tree, is thrown on shore; land-birds visit it, and deposit the seeds of fresh shrubs or trees; every high tide, and still more every gale, adds something to the bank; the form of an island is by degrees assumed; and, last of all, comes man to take possession.

explorers finding the bed of a dried up river.

CHAPTER II.

THE BUSH IN THE INTERIOR.

It needs only a single glance at the map of New Holland to see that, like most other countries, and even more than most others, the coasts are well known, while the interior parts are comparatively undiscovered, and, to a great extent, totally so. And, although a much more minute description of the shores of this immense island might easily be given, although we might accompany Flinders or King in their navigation of its intricate seas, and survey of its long line of coast, yet this part of the subject must necessarily be passed over without detaining us any further. A very considerable portion of the sea-coast of New Holland is not much unlike that in the Gulph of Carpentaria, in the north part of the island, where, when Captain Flinders had reached the highest spot he could find in 175 leagues of coast,—this loftiest hill did not much exceed the height of the ship’s masthead! And where the shores are not of this exceedingly level character, they are usually sterile, sandy, and broken, so as to offer rather an uninviting aspect to the stranger. It is obvious that, in either case, whether the coast be flat or barren, there may be many beautiful and lovely districts within a day’s journey inland; and nothing is more absurd than to take exception against the whole of a country merely because its borders and boundaries are forbidding. In the case of New Holland, it is true, the same sort of barrenness extends itself very much into the interior of the land; but, if we pursue the patient footsteps and daring discoveries of those few Europeans who have penetrated far into its inland parts, we shall find many interesting scenes described, and much both of the sublime and beautiful in nature brought before us.

One of the principal scenes on which have been displayed the perseverance and courage of the explorers of the interior is the banks of the river Darling. This stream, which has its source on the western side of the long range of mountains running parallel with the coast, and called in the colony the Blue Mountains, carries off the drainage of an immense extent of country, to the westward and north-westward of New South Wales. In fact, except in the southern parts of that colony, where the Lachlan and Murrumbidgee carry off the waters which do not fall eastwards to the coast, all the streams that rise upon or beyond the Blue Mountains, and take a westerly direction, finally meet together in the basin of the Darling.[14] It might be imagined that a river into which is carried the drainage of so extensive a district would be always well supplied with water, and so it would be in other countries, but the streams of New Holland are altogether different from those in other parts of the world. Comparatively, indeed, the Darling does assert its superiority over most of the other water-courses of that country; for, at a season when their channels were, in general, absolutely without water, or dwindled down into mere chains of muddy ponds, the Darling still continued to wind its slow current, carrying a supply of excellent water through the heart of a desert district. Along the weary plains by which its course is bounded, it proceeds for not less than 660 miles,[15] without receiving, so far as is known, a single tributary stream; and, from its waters being occasionally salt, it is supposed to owe its support, in its reduced state during very dry seasons, chiefly to natural springs. Its bed is, on an average, about sixty feet below the common surface of the country. There are no traces of water-courses on the level plains, and it would appear that, whatever moisture descends from the higher grounds, which (where there are any at all,) are seldom less than twelve miles from the Darling, must be taken up by the clayey soil, so as scarcely to find its way down to the river, except it be by springs. The average breadth of the stream at the surface, when low, is about fifty yards, but oftener less than this, and seldom more. The fall of the country through which it passes, in that part of its course through the interior, which was first explored by Major Mitchell, is very trifling; and it is the opinion of that officer, that the swiftness of its course never exceeds one mile per hour, but that it is in general much less. At the time of the Major’s expedition, the water actually flowing, as seen at one or two shallow places, did not exceed in quantity that which would be necessary to turn a mill. But, with all this scantiness of supply during the dry season then prevailing,[16] the marks of tremendous inundations were plain upon the surface of the country, frequently extending two miles back from the ordinary channel of the waters. And everywhere the banks of the river displayed the effect of floods in parallel lines, marking on the smooth sloping earth the various heights to which the waters had at different periods arisen. The surface of the plains nearest the river is unlike any part of the earth’s face that the travellers had elsewhere seen. It was clear of vegetation, like a fallow-field, but less level, and quite full of holes, big enough to receive the whole leg, and sometimes the body, of the unfortunate persons who might slip into them. Galloping or trotting in such a country was out of the question, and as the surface of this dry and cracked soil was soft and loose, it was very fatiguing for draught. Six of the bullocks accompanying the expedition never returned from the Darling. Yet, how much preferable was the country, even in this state, to that in which a flood would have placed it; for, had rainy weather, or any overflowing of the river, happened, travelling upon the banks of the Darling would have become absolutely impossible.

But the river Darling itself, though it appears as a principal and independent stream during so long a course, is, we have little reason to doubt, no more than an important tributary to the chief of Australian rivers, the Murray. This last channel collects eventually all the waters flowing in a westward direction upon the eastern side of New Holland, between the latitudes of 28° S. and 36° S. The Darling, the Lachlan, and the Murrumbidgee, without mentioning streams of minor importance, all find their way southwards into the basin of the Murray, which is really a noble river, and does not seem subject to the same deplorable impoverishment, which most of the others suffer in very dry seasons. It was very earnestly anticipated that the mouth of a stream like this would probably form a good harbour, and thus afford a reasonable prospect of its hereafter becoming a busy navigable river, the means of furnishing inland communication to a considerable distance. This is, of all things, what New Holland appears most to want, but the want is not (as we shall shortly find) adequately supplied by the entrance to the Murray. A like failure occurs at the entrance of other Australian rivers, as in the instance of a much smaller but very beautiful stream, the Glenelg, which falls into a shallow basin within the sandy hills of the southern coast, the outlet being between two rocky heads, but choked up with the sands of the beach. We cannot, while we read of the scanty means of inland navigation, with which it has pleased Divine Providence to favour an island so enormous as New Holland, but feel thankful for the abundant advantages of this kind which our own native islands possess; but at the same time there is no reason to despair, even yet, of a navigable river being discovered in New Holland;[17] or, at the worst, the modern invention of rail-roads may supersede, in a great measure, the need of other communication.

It would be impossible to compress into a moderate compass the various interesting particulars, which have been related of the rivers of New Holland and their neighbouring districts; but for this and much other pleasing information the reader may be referred, once for all, to the works of those travellers, whose names have been already so frequently mentioned. It is a curious fact that almost every stream of the least consequence in New Holland, appears to have its peculiar features, and a character and scenery of its own, which continue throughout its course, so that it could often be recognised by travellers coming upon it a second time, and at a different part of its career towards the sea. The beautifully-timbered plains, or the limestone cliffs of the noble Murray—the naked plains that bound on either side the strip of forest-trees of huge dimensions, by which the Lachlan is bordered,—the constantly full stream, the water-worn and lightly-timbered banks, the clear open space between the river and its distant margin of reeds, which mark the character of the Murrumbidgee,—the low grassy banks or limestone rocks, the cascades and caverns, the beautiful festoons of creeping plants, the curious form of the duck-billed platypus,[18] which are to be found on the Glenelg; the sandstone wastes of the Wollondilly, the grassy surface of the pretty Yarrayne,[19] with its trees on its brink instead of on its bank; the peculiar grandeur of the tremendous ravine, 1,500 feet in depth, down which the Shoalhaven flows; these and many more remarkable features of scenery in the Australian rivers, would afford abundance of materials for description either in poetry or prose. But we can now notice only one more peculiarity which most of these streams exhibit; they have, at a greater or less distance from their proper channels, secondary banks, beyond which floods rarely or never are known to extend. In no part of the habitable world is the force of contrast more to be observed than in Australia. A very able scientific writer[20] has ingeniously represented three persons travelling in certain directions across Great Britain, and finishing their journeys with three totally different impressions of the soil, country, and inhabitants; one having passed through a rocky and mining district, the second through a coal country peopled by manufacturers, and a third having crossed a chalky region devoted entirely to agriculture. An observation of this kind is even still more true of New Holland. And, consequently, when, instead of pursuing the course of certain similar lines of country, the traveller crosses these, the changes that take place in the appearance and productions of the various districts are exceedingly striking and follow sometimes in very rapid succession. A few examples of these contrasts, which arise in Australia from the nature of the seasons, as well as from that of the soil or climate, may here be noticed. How great a change did the exploring party under Major Mitchell experience, when, after tracing for forty-nine days the dry bed of the Lachlan, they suddenly saw a magnificent stream of clear and running water before them, and came upon the Murrumbidgee. Its banks, unlike those of the former channel, were clothed with excellent grass; a pleasing sight for the cattle—and it was no slight satisfaction to their possessors to see the jaded animals, after thirsting so long among the muddy holes of the Lachlan, drinking at this full and flowing stream. And yet, so different are the series of seasons, at intervals, that, down the very river of which Mitchell speaks in 1836 as a deep, dry ravine, containing only a scanty chain of small ponds, the boats of its first explorer, Mr. Oxley, had, in 1817, floated during a space of fifteen days, until they had reached a country almost entirely flooded, and the river seemed completely to lose itself among the shallow waters! During the winter of 1835, the whale-boats were drawn by the exploring party 1,600 miles over land,[21] without finding a river, where they could be used; whereas, in 1817 and 1818, Mr. Oxley had twice retired by nearly the same routes, and in the same season of the year, from supposed inland seas![22] So that, in fact, we rise from the perusal of two accounts of travellers of credit, both exploring the very same country, with the impression, from one statement, that there exists an endless succession of swamps, or an immense shallow, inland lake; where, from the other, we are taught to believe, there is nothing but a sandy desert to be found, or dry and cracked plains of clay, baked hard by the heat of the sun.

Changes of this sort in the seasons, affecting so powerfully the appearance of whole districts, cannot but have a proportionable effect on particular spots. Regent’s Lake, the “noble lake,” as its first discoverer, Oxley, called it, was, when Mitchell visited it, for the most part, a plain covered with luxuriant grass;[23] some good water, it is true, lodged on the most eastern extremity, but nowhere to a greater depth than a foot. There ducks and swans, in vast numbers, had taken refuge, and pelicans stood high upon their legs above the remains of Regent’s Lake. On its northern margin, and within the former boundary of the lake, stood dead trees of a full-grown size, which had been apparently killed by too much water, plainly showing to what long periods the extremes of drought and moisture have extended, and may again extend, in this singular country. And some of the changes in scenery, within a short distance, and frequently arising from the same causes, the presence or absence of water, are very remarkable. In Major Mitchell’s journal, at the date of April 10th, may be found the following observations: “We had passed through valleys, on first descending from the mountains, where the yellow oat-grass resembled a ripe crop of grain. But this resemblance to the emblem of plenty, made the desolation of these hopeless solitudes only the more apparent, abandoned, as they then were, alike by man, beast, and bird. No living thing remained in these valleys, for water, that element so essential to life, was a want too obvious in the dismal silence, (for not an insect hummed,) and the yellow hues of withering vegetation.” On the next page of the journal, under the events of the following day, what a contrast appears:—“The evening was beautiful; the new grass springing in places where it had been burnt, presented a shining verdure in the rays of the descending sun; the songs of the birds accorded here with other joyous sounds, the very air seemed alive with the music of animated nature, so different was the scene in this well-watered valley, from that of the parched and silent region from which we had just descended. The natives, whom we met here, were fine-looking men, enjoying contentment and happiness, within the precincts of their native woods.” They were very civil, and presented a burning stick to the strangers, at the moment when they saw that they wanted fire, in a manner expressive of welcome and of a wish to assist them. At a distance were the native fires, and the squalling of children might be heard, until at night the beautiful moon came forth, and the soft notes of a flute belonging to one of the Englishmen fell agreeably on the ear, while the eye was gratified by the moonbeams, as they gleamed from the trees, amid the curling smoke of the temporary encampment. The cattle were refreshing themselves in green pastures. It was Saturday night, and next day the party was to rest. How sweet a spot to repose from their toils and sufferings, and to lift up their hearts towards the mercy-seat of Him,—

“Who, in the busy crowded town,
Regards each suppliant’s cry;—
Who, whether Nature smile or frown,
Man’s wants can still supply.”

One of the greatest victories over natural difficulties that was ever gained by British courage and perseverance, was the exploring of the course of the Morrumbidgee and Murray rivers by Captain Sturt and his party, in the year 1830; and since their route was through a new country, and their descent from the high lands south-westward of Sydney, to the southern coast of New Holland was an amazing enterprise to project, much more to accomplish, an abridged account of it may not be unacceptable to the reader. And when it is remembered that the sight of the gallant officer commanding this expedition, was sacrificed almost entirely to “the effect of exposure and anxiety of mind in the prosecution of geographical researches,”[24] this fact may add to the interest which we feel in his adventures. The Murrumbidgee is a river which runs westerly from the district called Yass Plains, situated very nearly at the south-western extremity of New South Wales. It was for the purpose of exploring the course of this fine stream, that Captain Sturt was sent out at the latter end of 1829, and he had reached by land-conveyance a swampy region exactly resembling those marshes in which the Lachlan and Macquarie rivers had been supposed by Mr. Oxley to lose themselves. To proceed further by land was impossible, and, since they had brought with them a whale-boat, which had been drawn by oxen for many a weary mile, it was resolved to launch this on the river, a smaller boat was built in seven days only, and both boats being laden with necessaries, and manned with six hands, arrangements were made for forming a depôt, and the rest of the party were sent back; and when the explorers thus parted company in the marshy plains of the Morrumbidgee, it appeared doubtful even to themselves whether they were ever likely to meet again in this world. Of the country, whither the stream would carry the little crew of adventurers, literally nothing was known. There might be a vast inland sea,—and then how could they hope with their frail barks to navigate it in safety for the very first time? Or, even if they did so, how were they to force their way back again to the remote dwelling-places of civilised man? The river might gradually waste itself among the morasses; and then, with their boats become useless for want of depth of water, how were they to walk across those endless levels of soft mud? or, supposing that to be practicable, how were their provisions to be conveyed, or whence, then, except from their boats, could they hope for a supply? Questions of this nature must have offered themselves to the minds of the daring spirits, who accompanied Captain Sturt; nor can due justice be rendered to their courage without a careful consideration of the dangers which they deliberately braved.

Two oars only were used in the whale-boat, to the stern of which the skiff was fastened by a rope; but the progress of the party down the river was rapid. Having passed, in the midst of the marshes, the mouth of a considerable stream (supposed to be the Lachlan, here emptying its waters out from the midst of those swamps wherein it appeared to Mr. Oxley to be lost,) on the second day of their journey the voyagers met with an accident that had nearly compelled them to return. The skiff struck upon a sunken log, and, immediately filling, went down in about twelve feet of water. Damage was done to some of the provisions, and many tools were thrown overboard, though these were afterwards regained by means of diving and great labour, and the skiff was got up again. In the very same night a robbery was committed by the natives; and a frying-pan, three cutlasses, and five tomahawks, with the pea of the steelyards—altogether no small loss in the Australian desert—were carried off. The country in this part is “a waving expanse of reeds, and as flat as possible,” and the river, instead of increasing in its downward course, seemed rather to be diminishing. After some days, however, the party had passed through this flooded region, and reached a boundless flat, with no object for the eye to rest upon, beyond the dark and gloomy woods by which it was occupied. Several rapids occurred in the river; and, during great part of two days the channel was so narrow and so much blocked up with huge trees, that, in spite of every effort, the adventurers were expecting their boat every moment to strike. For two hours in the afternoon of the second of these days of anxiety, the little vessels were hurried rapidly along the winding reaches of the Morrumbidgee, until suddenly they found themselves borne upon the bosom of a broad and noble river, in comparison with which that which they had just quitted bore the appearance of an insignificant opening! The width of the large stream thus discovered was about 350 feet, and its depth from 12 to 20 feet, whilst its banks, although averaging 18 feet in height, were evidently subject to floods. The breadth of rich soil between its outer and inner banks was very inconsiderable, and the upper levels were poor and sandy. As the party descended, the adjoining country became somewhat higher and a little undulating, and natives were seen, while the Murray (for such was the name given to their new discovery) improved upon them every mile they proceeded. Four natives of a tribe with which they had met followed them, as guides, for some distance, and, after having nearly lost their largest boat upon a rock in the midst of a rapid, the British travellers continued their onward course, and a sail was hoisted for the first time, in order to save, as much as was possible, the strength of the men.

The country in this part of their voyage was again very low, and they fell in with a large body of savages, with whom they were on the point of being forced, in self-defence, to have a deadly encounter, when suddenly the four natives who had accompanied them appeared running at full speed, and, through their assistance, though not without some difficulty, bloodshed was prevented. Very shortly after this adventure, when the men had just pushed their boat off from a shoal, upon which it had struck, they noticed a new and considerable stream coming from the north, and uniting its waters with those of the Murray. Upon landing on the right bank of the newly-discovered stream, the natives came swimming over from motives of curiosity; and there were not less than 600 of these, belonging to some of the most ferocious tribes in Australia, surrounding eight Englishmen—Captain Sturt, his friend MʻLeay, and the crew—which last had been preserved by an almost miraculous intervention of Providence in their favour. The boat was afterwards pulled a few miles up the recently-discovered river, which is reasonably supposed to have been the Darling, from whose banks, some hundreds of miles higher up, Captain Sturt had twice been forced to retire in a former expedition. Its sides were sloping and grassy, and overhung by magnificent trees; in breadth it was about 100 yards, and in depth rather more than twelve feet, and the men pleased themselves by exclaiming, upon entering it, that they had got into an English river. A net extending right across the stream at length checked their progress; for they were unwilling to disappoint the numbers who were expecting their food that day from this source. So the men rested on their oars in the midst of the smooth current of the Darling, the Union-Jack was hoisted, and, giving way to their feelings, all stood up in the boat, and gave three distinct cheers. “The eye of every native along the banks had been fixed upon that noble flag, at all times a beautiful object,” says Captain Sturt, “and to them a novel one, as it waved over us in the heart of a desert. They had, until that moment, been particularly loquacious, but the sight of that flag and the sound of our voices hushed the tumult; and while they were still lost in astonishment, the boat’s head was speedily turned, the sail was sheeted home, both wind and current were in our favour, and we vanished from them with a rapidity that surprised even ourselves, and which precluded every hope of the most adventurous among them to keep up with us.”[25]

Cheered with the gratification of national feeling thus powerfully described, the patient crew returned to their toils in descending the Murray, whose banks continued unchanged for some distance; but its channel was much encumbered with timber, some very large sand-banks were seen, and several rapids were passed. The skiff being found more troublesome than useful, was broken up and burned. On one occasion, during a friendly interview with some of the savages, some clay was piled up, as a means of inquiring whether there were any hills near; and two or three of the blacks, catching the meaning, pointed to the N. W., in which direction two lofty ranges were seen from the top of a tree, and were supposed to be not less than 40 miles distant, but the country through which the Murray passed still continued low.

The heat was excessive and the weather very dry, while the banks of the river appeared to be thickly peopled for Australia, and the British strangers contrived to keep upon good terms with the natives. After having passed one solitary cliff of some height, they met with stormy weather for a few days, and several tributary streams of some size were perceived mingling their waters with those of the Murray, the left bank of which became extremely lofty, and, though formed almost wholly of clay and sand, it bore the appearance of columns or battlements, the sand having been washed away in many places, while the clay was left hollowed out more like the work of art than of nature. After a continued descent of 22 days, the party, who were pleased with the noble character of the river upon which they were, though disappointed at the poverty of the country through which it passed, began to grow somewhat weary; but upon inquiries being made of the natives no tidings could be gained respecting their approach towards the sea. The navigation of every natural stream is rendered tedious, though beautiful, by its devious course, but, “what with its regular turns, and its extensive sweeps, the Murray covers treble the ground, at a moderate computation, that it would occupy in a direct course.” The current became weaker, and the channel deeper, as they proceeded down the stream, and the cliffs of clay and sand were succeeded by others of a very curious formation, being composed of shells closely compacted together, but having the softer parts so worn away, that the whole cliff bore in many places the appearance of human skulls piled one upon the other. At first, this remarkable formation did not rise more than a foot above the water, but within ten miles from this spot it exceeded 150 feet in height, the country in the vicinity became undulating, and the river itself was confined in a glen whose extreme breadth did not exceed half a mile. An old man, a native, was met with hereabouts, who appeared by his signs to indicate that the explorers were at no great distance from some remarkable change. The old man pointed to the N. W., and then placed his hand on the side of his head, in token, it was supposed, of their sleeping to the N. W. of the spot where they were. He then pointed due south, describing by his action, the roaring of the sea, and the height of the waves. A line of cliffs, from two to three hundred feet in height, flanked the river upon alternate sides, but the rest of the country was level, and the soil upon the table-land at the top of the cliffs very poor and sterile. The next change of scenery brought them to cliffs of a higher description, which continued on both sides of the river, though not always close to it. The stream lost its sandy bed and its current together, and became deep, still, and turbid, with a muddy bottom; and the appearance of the water lashing against the base of the cliffs reminded the anxious voyagers of the sea. The scenery became in many places beautiful, and the river was never less than 400 yards in breadth. Some sea-gulls were seen flying over the boat, and being hailed as the messengers of good tidings, they were not permitted to be shot. The adverse wind and the short, heavy waves rendered the labour at the oar very laborious, but the hope of speedily gaining some noble inlet—a harbour worthy to form the mouth of a stream like the Murray—encouraged the crew to pull on manfully, and to disregard fatigue. The salt meat was all spoiled, and had been given to the dogs; fish no one would eat, and of wild fowl there was none to be seen; so that the provisions of the party consisted of little else but flour. And already, though hitherto they had been performing the easiest part of their task, having had the stream in their favour, it was evident that the men were much reduced, besides which they were complaining of sore eyes.

These circumstances all combined to increase the natural anxiety felt by the little band of adventurers to reach the termination of the Murray; and as its valley opened to two, three, and four miles of breadth, while the width of the river increased to the third of a mile, the expectations of the men toiling at the oar became proportionably excited. The cliffs ceased, and gave place to undulating hills; no pleasure-ground could have been more tastefully laid out than the country to the right, and the various groups of trees, disposed upon the sides of the elevations that bounded the western side of the valley, were most ornamental. On the opposite side, the country was less inviting, and the hills were bleak and bare. At length a clear horizon appeared to the south, the direction in which the river was flowing; Captain Sturt landed to survey the country, and beneath him was the great object of his search, the termination of one of Australia’s longest and largest streams. Immediately below him was a beautiful lake, of very large extent, and greatly agitated by the wind. Ranges of hills were observed to the westward, stretching from north to south, and distant forty miles. Between these hills and the place where the traveller stood, the western bank of the Murray was continued in the form of a beautiful promontory projecting into the lake, and between this point and the base of the ranges the vast sheet of water before him extended in the shape of a bay. The scene was altogether a very fine one; but disappointment was a prevailing feeling in the mind of the explorer, for it was most likely that there would be no practicable communication for large ships between the lake and the ocean, and thus a check was put upon the hopes that had been entertained of having at length discovered a large and navigable river leading into the interior of New Holland. The lake, called Lake Alexandrina, which was fifty miles long and forty broad,[26] was crossed with the assistance of a favourable wind; its waters were found to be generally very shallow, and the long, narrow, and winding channel by which it communicates with the ocean was found, as it had been feared, almost impracticable even for the smallest vessels. This channel unites itself with the sea on the south-western coast of New Holland, at the bottom of a bay named Encounter Bay, one boundary of which is Cape Jervis, by which it is separated from St. Vincent’s Gulph,—the very part of the coast where a ship was to be despatched by the Governor of New South Wales to afford the party assistance, in case of their being successful in penetrating to the sea-shore. Flour and tea were the only articles remaining of their store of provisions, and neither of these were in sufficient quantities to last them to the place where they expected to find fresh supplies inland. But the first view of Encounter Bay convinced them that no vessel could ever venture into it at a season when the S. W. winds prevailed, and to the deep bight which it formed upon the coast (at the bottom of which they then were), it was hopeless to expect any vessel to approach so nearly as to be seen by them. To remain there was out of the question; to cross the ranges towards the Gulph of St. Vincent, when the men had no strength to walk, and the natives were numerous and not peaceably disposed, was equally impossible. The passage from the lake to the ocean was not without interruption, from the shallowness of the sandy channel, otherwise Captain Sturt, in his little boat, would have coasted round to Port Jackson, or steered for Launceston, in Van Dieman’s Land; and this he declares he would rather have done, could he have foreseen future difficulties, than follow the course which he did. Having walked across to the entrance of the channel, and found it quite impracticable and useless, he resolved to return along the same route by which he had come, only with these important additional difficulties to encounter,—diminished strength, exhausted stores, and an adverse current. The provisions were found sufficient only for the same number of days upon their return as they had occupied in descending the river, and speed was no less desirable in order to avoid encounters with the natives than for the purpose of escaping the miseries of want; into which, however, it was felt, a single untoward accident might in an instant plunge them. With feelings of this description the party left Lake Alexandrina and re-entered the channel of the Murray.

It will be needless to follow the explorers through all the particulars of their journey upwards to the depôt on the Morrumbidgee. The boat struck, the natives were troublesome, the rapids difficult to get over; but the worst of all their toils and trials were their daily labours and unsatisfied wants. One circumstance ought, in justice to the character of the men, to be noticed. They positively refused to touch six pounds of sugar that were still remaining in the cask, declaring that, if divided, it would benefit nobody, whereas it would last during some time for the use of Captain Sturt and Mr. MʻLeay, who were less able to submit to privations than they were. After having continued for no less than fifty-five days upon the waters of the Murray, it was with great joy that they quitted this stream, and turned their boat into the gloomy and narrow channel of the Morrumbidgee. Having suffered much privation, anxiety, and labour, and not without one or two unpleasant encounters with the natives, at length the party reached their depôt, but they found it deserted! During seventy-seven days they could not have pulled, according to Captain Sturt’s calculation, less than 2000 miles; and now, worn out by fatigue and want, they were compelled to proceed yet further, and to endure, for some time longer, the most severe privations to which man can be exposed. But, under the guidance of Divine Providence, the lives of all were preserved, and now the reward of their deeds of heroism is willingly bestowed upon them. Among the boldest exploits ever performed by man, the descent of Captain Sturt and his companions down the Murray, and their return to the same spot again, may deserve to be justly ranked.[27] Nor, however disappointing the result of their examination of the mouth of the Murray may have been, was their daring adventure without its useful consequences. The lake Alexandrina is said to be navigable across for vessels drawing six feet of water, and the entrance to the sea, though rather difficult in heavy weather, is safe in moderate weather for vessels of the same size. The Murray itself is navigable for steam-vessels for many hundred miles, and probably it will not be very long before these modern inventions are introduced upon its waters.

Whoever has seen any recent map of New Holland must have been struck with the curious appearance of a vast semicircle of water, called Lake Torrens, near the southern coast, and extending many miles inland from the head of Spencer’s Gulph. A range of hills, named Flinders’ Range, runs to a considerable distance inland, taking its rise near the head of the gulph just mentioned, and Lake Torrens nearly surrounds the whole of the low country extending from this mountainous ridge. This immense lake is supposed to resemble in shape a horse-shoe, and to extend for full 400 miles, whilst its apparent breadth is from 20 to 30. The greater part of the vast area contained in its bed is certainly dry on the surface, and consists of a mixture of sand and mud, of so soft and yielding a character as to render perfectly unavailing all attempts either to cross it, or to reach the edge of the water, which appears to exist at a distance of some miles from the outer margin. Once only was Mr. Eyre, the enterprising discoverer of this singular lake, able to taste of its waters, and then he found them as salt as the sea. The low, miserable, desert country in the neighbourhood, and Lake Torrens itself, act as a kind of barrier against the progress of inland discovery at the back of the colony of South Australia, since it is impossible to penetrate very far into the interior, without making a great circle either to the east or to the west. The portion of the bed of the lake which is exposed is thickly coated with particles of salt; there are few trees or shrubs of any kind to be found near, nor are grass and fresh water by any means abundant. Altogether, the neighbourhood of Lake Torrens would seem a very miserable region, and forms a strong contrast to the smiling and cultivated district of which it forms the back country.[28]

Although Australia, in its natural and uncultivated state, abounds in trees, like most other wild countries, nevertheless, there are vast and extensive tracts where the plains are entirely bare, or covered only with a low, thick, and often prickly, bush, or else are what is termed “open forest,” that is, are dotted about with fine trees, dispersed in various groups, and resembling the scenery of an English park. The greatest peculiarity of the native forests appears to be, that the whole of their trees and shrubs are evergreen,[29] although European trees will flourish in the land of the south without acquiring this peculiarity, or losing their deciduous character. But it is rather a subject of complaint against the woods of New Holland, that they have very little picturesque effect in them, which may be partly owing to the poverty of the foliage of the prevailing tree, the eucalyptus, (commonly called the iron-bark, or blue gum, according to its species,) which seldom has anything ornamental to landscape, either in the trunk or branches. These sombre trees are, however, very useful for timber, and they grow to an astonishing height, often rearing up their lofty heads to 150 feet or upwards. The woods, in general, are very brittle, partly, it may be, owing to the number of acacias which are to be found among them; and no experienced bushman likes to sleep under trees, especially during high winds. We must by no means form our ideas of the appearance of an Australian forest from that of the neat and trim woods of our own country, where every single branch or bough, and much more every tree, bears a certain value. Except that portion which is required for fuel or materials by an extremely scattered population in a very mild climate, there is nothing carried off from the forests, and, were it not for the frequent and destructive fires which the natives kindle in many parts, no check worth mentioning would be placed upon the natural increase and decay of the woods of New Holland. The consequence of this is, that trees are to be seen there in every stage of growth or ruin; and, occasionally, in very thickly-planted spots, the surface of the ground is not a little encumbered by the fallen branches and trunks of the ancient ornaments of the forest. Nor is it by the hand of Time alone that these marks of destruction are scattered about in the vast woodlands; the breath of a tremendous storm will occasionally accomplish, perhaps, as much in a few hours as natural decay would in many years.[30] Altogether, the forests of Australia may be said to be in a purely natural state, and thus do they offer to the eye of the inquiring traveller many objects less pleasing, it may be, but nevertheless more sublime and solemn, than those with which the woods of more cultivated countries commonly abound.

To travel without any beaten track through a country clothed, in many parts, very thickly, by forests like those just described, is in itself no easy undertaking, and the operation of hewing a way for a mile or two through the surrounding woods, during the very heat of the day, and sometimes after a long march, is very trying. But when the exposure to burning thirst, and to the uncertain disposition of the native inhabitants is added, the patient endurance of successful explorers is still more strongly displayed. Nor, although it be only a minor annoyance, must the pain and inconvenience felt by wanderers in the bush from the prickly grass, which is found abundantly in the sandy districts, be forgotten. In those barren sands, where no grass grows, there are frequently tufts of a prickly bush, which tortures the horses, and tears to pieces the clothes of the men about their ankles, if they are walking. This bush, called the prickly grass, and a dwarf tree, the Eucalyptus dumosa, grows only where the soil appears too barren and loose for anything else; indeed, were it not for these, the sand would probably drift away, and cover the vegetation of neighbouring spots less barren and miserable. Against this evil, nature seems to have provided by the presence of two plants so singularly fitted for a soil of this description. The root of the Eucalyptus dumosa resembles that of a large tree; but it has no trunk, and only a few branches rise above the ground, forming an open kind of bush, often so low that a man on horseback may look over it for miles. This dwarf tree, and the prickly grass together, occupy the ground, and seem intended to bind down the sands of Australia. The size of the roots prevents the bush from growing very close together, and the stems being without leaves, except at the top, this kind of Eucalyptus is almost proof against the running fires of the bush. The prickly grass resembles, at a distance, in colour and form, an overgrown lavender plant, but the blades of it, consisting of sharp spikes, occasion most cruel annoyance both to men and horses. Another inconvenience and danger to which exploring parties are liable, are those fires in the bush already alluded to; which, whether caused by accident, or designedly by the natives, are not uncommon events.[31] “The country seemed all on fire around us.”—“All the country beyond the river was in flames; one spark might have set the whole country on our side in a blaze, and then no food would remain for the cattle, not to mention the danger to our stores and ammunition.” “Fires prevailed extensively at great distances in the interior, and the sultry air seemed heated by the general conflagration;” these expressions convey rather alarming ideas of the dangers to which travellers are exposed in the bush, and from which it is not always easy to make good an escape.

It may have been observed, possibly, in what has been related of the country and scenery of New Holland in its natural state, that the descriptions of very beautiful or fertile spots have been comparatively few. Now, although it is true that a very large portion of the known surface of that island is occupied by the sandstone rock, which is in its very nature utterly barren, nevertheless, it is by no means to be supposed that there is any scarcity of most rich and beautiful land—some of it fit for immediate occupation—to be found in most parts of Australia. In attempting to draw a picture of a distant and remarkable region, we are almost sure to mark and bring distinctly out its most peculiar and striking features; the scenes resembling those of our own quiet and happy land are passed over as tame and familiar, while the dreariness of the desert, the horrors of a “barren and dry land where no water is,”—the boundless plains, or the bare mountain-tops, the lonely shore or the rocky isle—scenes like these, are commonly dwelt upon and described. In short, the very spots which are least enticing, in reality, for the colonist to settle in, are often most agreeable, in description, for the stranger to read of.

But, since the reader must not be left with the erroneous and unpleasant impression that the country of which we have been treating is, for the most part, a mere wilderness, if not a desert, we may select two recently-discovered districts of it to serve for a favourable specimen of the beauty and fertility of many others, which cannot now be noticed.

The following description of Wellington Valley (now recently included in the limits of the colony,) is from the pen of its first discoverer, Mr. Oxley, and other travellers bear witness that it is not overcharged: “A mile and a half brought us into the valley which we had seen on our first descending into the glen: imagination cannot fancy anything more beautifully picturesque than the scene which burst upon us. The breadth of the valley, to the base of the opposite gently-rising hills, was between three and four miles, studded with fine trees, upon a soil which for richness can nowhere be exceeded; its extent, north and south, we could not see: to the west, it was bounded by the lofty rocky ranges by which we had entered it; these were covered to the summit with cypresses and acacias in full bloom, and a few trees in bright green foliage gave additional beauty to the scene. In the centre of this charming valley ran a strong and beautiful stream, its bright, transparent waters dashing over a gravelly bottom, intermingled with large stones, forming at short intervals considerable pools, in which the rays of the sun were reflected with a brilliancy equal to that of the most polished mirror. The banks were low and grassy, with a margin of gravel and pebble-stones; there were marks of flood to the height of about twelve feet, when the river would still be confined within its secondary banks, and not overflow the rich lands that bordered it. Its usual width is 200 feet; in times of flood it would be from 600 to 800 feet.”[32]

In Australia Felix, as it has been called by its discoverer, Major Mitchell, which is a much larger district than that just described, almost every earthly delight and advantage would likewise seem to have combined to make it a perfect dwelling-place for man. The temperate and mild climate; the neighbourhood of the sea; the variety and fertility of its surface; the ranges of lofty and picturesque mountains by which it is backed; the number of rivers, small and large, by which it is watered; the comparatively open nature of the country, yet not without an ample supply of timber close at hand; all these and other advantages unite in rendering Australia Felix one of the most desirable spots upon the face of the globe. And the beauties and blessings of a spot like this, must have stood forth in bold contrast with the dreary, lifeless plains of the Darling, or Lachlan, which the discoverers of Australia Felix had so long been engaged in exploring. One of the first harbingers of the better country, to which the travellers were drawing near, was a very curious height, called Pyramid Hill, which is formed of granite, and, being a triangular pyramid, standing quite alone, closely resembles the monuments of ancient Egypt. It rises 300 feet above the surrounding plain; its point consists of a single block of granite, and the view over the neighbouring country was exceedingly beautiful. The scene was different from anything the travellers had elsewhere witnessed. “A land so inviting, and still without inhabitants![33] As I stood,” continues the explorer, warming with the thoughts of his discovery, “the first European intruder on the sublime solitude of these verdant plains, as yet untouched by flocks or herds, I felt conscious of being the harbinger of mighty changes; and that our steps would soon be followed by the men and animals for which it seemed to have been prepared.” Twelve days afterwards, the whole of which had been spent in traversing a district rich and lovely in the extreme, the first view of a noble range of mountains (the Grampians) was obtained; they rose in the south to a stupendous height, and presented as bold and picturesque an outline as ever painter imagined.[34] And, during a journey of many days, the same rich and sublime scenery still appeared, mingled together in beautiful and endless variety. Every day the party of travellers passed over land which, for natural fertility and beauty, could scarcely be surpassed; over streams of unfailing abundance, and plains covered with the richest pasturage. Stately trees and majestic mountains adorned the ever-varying landscape, the most southern region of all Australia, and the best. On the river Glenelg, which was discovered about a month after they had left Pyramid Hill, the land appeared everywhere alike good, alike beautiful; whether on the finely-varied hills, or in the equally romantic vales, which opened in endless succession on both banks of the river. Further on in this lovely district, the British explorers came upon fresh scenes of surpassing sweetness. A small party of them were out upon an excursion, when they perceived before them a ridge in the blue distance—rather an unusual object in that close country. They soon after quitted the wood through which they had been passing, and found that they were on a kind of table-land, approaching a deep ravine coming from their right, which terminated on a very fine-looking open country below, watered by a winding river. They descended by a bold projection to the bottom of the ravine, and found there a foaming little river, hurrying downwards over rocks. After fording this stream, they ascended a very steep but grassy mountain-side, and, on reaching a brow of high land, a noble prospect appeared; a river winding among meadows that were fully a mile broad, and green as an emerald. Above them rose swelling hills of fantastic shapes, but all smooth and thickly covered with rich verdure. Behind these were higher hills, all having grass on their sides, and trees on their summits, and extending east and west throughout the landscaper as far as could be seen. After riding about two miles along an entirely open, grassy ridge, the party again found the Glenelg, flowing eastward towards an apparently much lower country. The river was making for the coast, (turning southward some miles below the hill on which they stood,) through a country far surpassing in beauty and richness any part hitherto discovered.

What, in fact, is there wanting to the charming and extensive region just described, or what to hundreds of other fruitful and lovely districts under the power of the British crown, except civilised inhabitants, and the establishment of a branch of Christ’s “one Catholic and Apostolic Church?” The population is ready, nay, even redundant, in England; nor are the means deficient in a land abounding beyond all others in wealthy capitalists. But the will, the wisdom, the understanding heart, the united counsels, are, it is to be feared, and are likely still to be, wanting with us. May that God who maketh men to be of one mind in a house or nation, so dispose events, that in due time the valleys and hills of Australia Felix may be dotted with churches, and filled with faithful members of Christ! Then will it become a happy land indeed. Then may its inhabitants feel a lively interest, both in the social and religious welfare of their country; and each one may join, from the distant shores of the once unknown Southern Land, in the holy aspirations of the Royal Prophet: “For my brethren and companions’ sakes I will wish thee prosperity. Yea, because of the house of the Lord our God, I will seek to do thee good.”[35]

CHAPTER III.

NATIVES OF THE BUSH.

In most instances in which a country is taken possession of, and its original inhabitants are removed, enslaved, or exterminated, the party thus violently seizing upon the rights of others is considered the superior and more civilized nation of the two. The very means by which this advantage is gained are, usually, boldness, and worldly talent, without which a conquest or successful invasion is impossible; and these, when prosperous, are qualities which awaken very powerfully the admiration and attention of men. So that, while earthly prosperity and excellence are combining to cast a splendour around the actions of the successful nation, adversity and inferiority do usually join in blackening the cloud which hangs over the character of that which is unfortunate. It is not for us to defend these judgments of the world, as though they were, in any case, altogether righteous judgments, but this we may safely affirm, in the particular instance of Australia, that, upon the whole, it is a gain to the cause of truth and virtue for Christian England to possess those wilds, which lately were occupied by miserable natives; and, while we own that it is wrong to do evil that good may come, yet may we, likewise, confess with thankfulness the Divine mercy and wisdom which have so often brought good out of the evil committed by our countrymen in these distant lands. It must be confessed, too, that, whatever may be the amount of iniquity wantonly committed among the natives of the other portions of the globe, for which Europe is responsible, still, the Europeans, upon the whole, stand higher than the inhabitants of the remaining portions, and, of course, in proportion, very much higher than the most degraded and least-improved race of savages, the Australian natives. True, indeed, these despised Australians may, hereafter, rise up in judgment against Europeans to condemn them; and when that which has been given to each race of men shall be again required of them, those that have received the most may frequently be found to have profited the least by the gifts of Divine Providence. Still, without pretending to pass judgment upon any, whether nations or individual persons,—without affecting, either, to close our eyes against the miserable vices by which the Christian name has been disgraced, and our country’s glory sullied, among distant and barbarous nations, we may with safety speak of the inhabitants of those heathen lands in terms that are suitable to their degraded state. In describing their darkened and almost brutal condition, we are but describing things as they really exist;[36] it changes not the actual fact to prove that, in many more respects than would at first sight appear, the behaviour of men of our own enlightened nation is scarcely less darkened or less brutal than theirs. Nay, the Australian savage, in his natural state, may be a far higher and nobler character than the British convict sometimes is in his degraded state; and, nevertheless, it may be correct to class the nation of the former among barbarians, and that of the latter among civilized people. But in forming our judgment respecting the real character of the natives of the Bush we must beware lest we try them by our own standard,—a standard by which it is unjust to measure them, since they have never known it, nor ever had the means of reaching it.[37] Every wise man will make all possible allowance for the effect of many generations of ignorance and degradation upon the human soul, and when this has been fairly done, the truly wise man, the humble Christian, whilst he reads of the deplorable condition to which the human soul may be reduced, (as it is shown in the instance before us,) will feel disposed to ask himself, “Who made thee to differ from others? And what hast thou that thou didst not receive?”

The native population of Australia is very peculiar in many respects, not exactly resembling any other known race of human beings in the world. They are more nearly akin to the Africans than to any others, and they have, accordingly, been sometimes called the Eastern Negroes, having the same thick lips, high cheek-bones, sunken eyes, and legs without calves, which distinguish the native of Africa; but, with the exception of Van Diemen’s Land, and the adjoining coasts, the woolly hair of the negro is not to be found among them, nor is the nose usually so flat, or the forehead so low. They are seldom very tall, but generally well made; and their bodily activity is most surprising; nor is their courage at all to be despised. The Australian native has always been pointed out as being the lowest specimen of human nature, and, since, in every scale of degrees, one must be lowest, this is probably correct enough; yet we are by no means to give too hasty credit to the accounts of their condition, which have been given by those whose interest it may have been to represent them in as unfavourable a light as possible, or whose opportunities of judging have been few and scanty, compared with their hasty willingness to pass judgment upon them. Men, more or less busily engaged in killing and taking possession, are not likely to make a very favourable report of those poor creatures into whose inheritance they have come; mere self-defence would tempt them to try to lessen the greatness of their crimes, by asserting the victims of these to be scarcely deserving of a better fate, and, in the present instance, the actual condition of the native population would be very favourable to excuses of this kind. Or, even without this evil intention of excusing wrong by slandering those that suffer it, many men, with but few means of understanding their character, may have spoken decidedly respecting the Australian natives, and that, too, in language even harsher than their degraded state would justify. Disgusting and horrid many of their habits and customs undoubtedly are, yet they appear even more so at first sight, and to one only imperfectly acquainted with them; especially when (which often happens) not the slightest allowance is made for the peculiar situation of the savage, but he is taken at once from the midst of his naked barbarity, and tried by the rules of refinement and civilization. Recently, indeed, public attention and pity have been more turned towards the unhappy race of natives, and many traits have been discovered in their character which would not dishonour more enlightened nations. The degraded position of those who are in the midst of the white population affords no just criterion of their merits. Their quickness of apprehension is often surprising, and nothing, however new and strange, seems to puzzle or astonish them; so that they follow closely the advice of the ancient poet:

“Wonder at nought:—the only rule I know
To make man happy, and to keep him so.”

“They are never awkward,” says Major Mitchell, who was well qualified to speak from experience; “on the contrary, in manners, and general intelligence, they appear superior to any class of white rustics that I have seen. Their powers of mimicry seem extraordinary, and their shrewdness shines even through the medium of imperfect language, and renders them, in general, very agreeable companions.” We may, therefore, if our inquiry be accompanied by humility and justice, be able to form a fair and impartial opinion respecting these people; and the result of an inquiry of this sort must be, in every well-regulated soul, not merely a feeling of thankfulness (still less of self-sufficiency,) that we are far removed from the savage state, but, likewise, a sense of shame, that, with many of our fellow-countrymen, their superior advantages have been productive of little or no fruit.

One very remarkable distinction of the natives of the Bush is, the entire absence of clothing, unless the cloak, made of opossum-skin, worn by some tribes, can deserve to be thought an exception. Their climate being, generally speaking, a dry one, and exposure to the air, even at night, being much less hurtful than in most other countries, this habit of going without clothing, after the fashion of a brute beast, is by no means so dangerous in Australia as it would be elsewhere. But, while they can dispense with clothes, like most other savages, they are extremely fond of ornaments,—at least, of what they esteem to be such: these are teeth of kangaroos, or men, jaw-bones of a fish, feathers, tails of dogs, pieces of wood, &c., fastened on different parts of the head, by a sort of gum; while scars, and marks of various kinds, are made upon the breast, arms, and back; or, upon certain occasions, as going to war, or mourning for a friend, the body is streaked over with white and yellow paint, according to the taste of the party concerned. In two very distant parts of Australia, namely, the gulf of Carpentaria, and the eastern coast of St. Vincent’s Gulf, the natives practise the rite of circumcision—a remarkable agreement, when we consider that they are about 1200 miles apart, and have no means of communication with each other. It is no uncommon custom, either, for the natives to pierce their noses, and to place a bone or reed through the opening, which is reckoned a great ornament. But there is another custom, almost peculiar to Australia, which, from its singularity, may deserve to be noticed at some length. Among many of the native tribes,[38] it is usual for the males to have a front tooth, or sometimes two, struck out at the time of their arriving at manhood, and this ceremony is performed in a most solemn and impressive manner. The following account of it, from the pen of an eye-witness, may be not unacceptable to the reader: Lieutenant Collins, the historian of the infant colony of New South Wales, was present during the whole of this curious operation, and thus describes the accompanying ceremonies practised by the natives of that part of Australia:—For seven days previous to the commencement of the solemnity, the people continued to assemble, and the evenings were spent in dancing, for which they adorned themselves in their best manner, namely, by painting themselves white, and especially by drawing white circles round their eyes. When the field was prepared, and the youths who were to be enrolled among men were all placed together upon one side of it, the business began with a loud shout, and a clattering of shields and spears, from the armed party, whose office it was to seize the patients about to undergo the extraordinary operation. This was done one by one, until the whole number, fifteen, were brought forward, and placed in the midst of the armed body of men; then each youth was made to sit down, holding his head downwards, with his hands clasped, and his legs crossed under him, in which painful posture it was said they were to remain all night, without looking up or taking any refreshment whatever.[39] The Carrahdis, or persons who were to perform the operation, now began some of their strange mummeries. Each one of these, in his turn, appeared to suffer most extreme agony, and put himself into every posture that pain could occasion, until, at length, a bone was brought forward, which was intended to be used in the ensuing ceremony; and the poor youths were led to believe that the more pain these Carrahdis suffered in obtaining the bone, the less would be theirs in losing a tooth. The following day began with the ceremony of the fifteen operators running round upon their hands and feet, in imitation of the dogs of that country, and throwing upon the boys, as they passed, sand and dirt with their hands and feet. The youths were perfectly still and silent, and it was understood that this ceremony gave them power over the dog, and endowed them with whatever good qualities that animal might possess.

The next part that was performed, was the offering of a sham kangaroo, made of grass, to the fifteen lads, who were still seated as before. One man brought the kangaroo, and a second carried some brushwood, besides having one or two flowering shrubs stuck through his nose, and both seemed to stagger under the weight of their burdens. Stalking and limping, they at last reached the feet of the youthful hunters, and placed before them the prize of the chase, after which they went away, as though entirely wearied out. By this rite was given the power of killing the kangaroo, and the brushwood, most likely, was meant to represent its common haunt. In about an hour’s space, the chief actors returned from a valley to which they had retired, bringing with them long tails of grass, which were fitted to the girdle. By the help of this addition, they imitated a herd of kangaroos, one man beating time to them with a club on a shield, and two others, armed, followed them and affected to steal unnoticed upon them to spear them. As soon as these pretended kangaroos had passed the objects of their visit, they instantly got rid of their artificial tails, each man caught up a lad, and, placing him upon his shoulders, carried him off in triumph to the last scene of this strange exhibition.

After walking a short distance, the men put down their burdens, placing them in a cluster, each boy with his head upon his breast, and his hands clasped together. In a few minutes, after a greater degree of mystery and preparation than had been before observed, the youthful band was brought forward to a place where a number of human beings were seen lying with their faces to the ground, as if they were dead, and in front of these was a man seated on a stump of a tree, bearing another man upon his shoulders, both having their arms extended, while two men, in a like attitude, were seen also behind the group of prostrate figures. These first two men made most hideous faces for a few minutes, and then the lads were led over the bodies lying on the ground, which moved and writhed, as though in great agony; after which the same strange grimaces were repeated by the two men who were placed on the further side of the apparently dead bodies. All the information that could be gained of the meaning of this, was, that it would make them brave men; that they would see well and fight well. Then followed a sort of martial exercise with spear and shield, in the presence of the future warriors, to signify to them what was to be one great business of their lives—the use of the spear; and, when this was finished, the preparations for striking out the tooth commenced. The first subject of this barbarous operation was chosen, and seated upon the shoulders of a native, who himself sat down upon the grass; and then the bone was produced, which had cost so much apparent pain to procure the evening before, and which was made very sharp and fine at one end, for the purpose of lancing the gum. But for some such precaution, it would have been impossible to have knocked out the tooth, without breaking the jaw-bone. A stick was then cut with much ceremony out of some hard wood, and when the gum of the patient was properly prepared, the smallest end of the stick was applied to the top of the tooth, while the operator stood ready with a large stone, as though about to drive the tooth down the throat of the youth. Here a certain attention to the number three, which had been before shown, was again noticed, for no stroke was actually made, until three attempts to hit the stick had taken place; and, notwithstanding repeated blows, so firmly was the tooth of the first boy fixed in his gum, that it was full ten minutes before it was forced out. The sufferer was then removed, his gum was closed, and he was dressed out in a new style, with a girdle, in which was stuck a wooden sword, and with a bandage round his head, while his left hand was placed over his mouth, and he was not allowed to speak, nor, during that day, to eat. In this manner were all the others treated, except one only, who could not endure the pain of more than one blow with the stone, and, breaking away from his tormentors, he managed to make his escape. During the whole operation a hideous noise was kept up around the patients, with whom, generally, it seemed to be a point of honour to endure this pain without a single murmur. Having once gone through this strange ceremony, they were henceforth admitted into the company and privileges of the class of men.

And as the commencement of manhood in this way, requires no small exercise of courage and endurance of pain, so the remainder of the life of an Australian savage is usually abundant in trials calling for the like qualities, and demanding both bravery and patience. Whatever may be the particular evils of civilized society, and however some wild imaginations may be tempted by these to regard with regret or envy the enjoyments of savage life, after all it must be confessed, these enjoyments are, at best, very scanty and very uncertain, whilst the miseries attendant upon such a state are of a nature continually to try the patience and weary the spirit of him who has to endure them. Without dwelling just at present upon the natural wants and sufferings to which savage men are perpetually exposed in the wilderness of Australia, it is deplorable to think of how many evils these thinly-scattered tribes are the cause to each other; enormous and sad is the amount of suffering, which, even in those lonely and unfrequented regions, human beings are constantly bringing upon their brethren or neighbours. War, which seems almost a necessary evil, an unavoidable scourge to man’s fallen race, in all ages and in every country, wears its most deadly aspect, and shows its fiercest spirit among the petty tribes, and in the personal encounters of savages like those of whom we are treating. Various causes of misunderstanding will, of course, arise among them from time to time, and every trifling quarrel is continued and inflamed by their amazing and persevering efforts to revenge themselves, which appears to be with them considered a matter of duty. The shedding of blood is always followed by punishment, and only those who are jee-dyte, or unconnected with the family of the guilty person, can consider themselves in safety from this evil spirit of revenge. Little children of seven or eight years old, if, while playing, they hear that some murder has taken place, can in a moment tell whether or not they are jee-dyte, and even at this tender age, take their measures accordingly. An example of this unsparing visitation of offences occurred not long after the settlement of New South Wales had commenced. A native had been murdered, and his widow, being obliged to revenge his death, chanced to meet with a little girl distantly related to the murderer, upon whom she instantly poured forth her fury, beating her cruelly about the head with a club and pointed stone, until at length she caused the child’s death. When this was mentioned before the other natives, they appeared to look upon it as a right and necessary act, nor was the woman punished by the child’s relatives, possibly because it was looked upon as a just requital.

When a native has received any injury, whether real or fancied, he is very apt to work himself up into a tremendous passion, and for this purpose certain war-songs, especially if they are chanted by women, seem amazingly powerful. Indeed, it is stated, on good authority, that four or five mischievously-inclined old women can soon stir up forty or fifty men to any deed of blood, by means of their chants, which are accompanied by tears and groans, until the men are excited into a perfect state of frenzy. The men also have their war-songs, which they sing as they walk rapidly backwards and forwards, quivering their spears, in order to work themselves up into a passion. The following very common one may serve for a specimen, both of the manner and matter of this rude, yet, to them, soul-stirring poetry:—

And thus it is that a native, when he feels afraid, sings himself into courage, or, if he is already in a bold mood, he heaps fuel upon the flame of his anger, and adds strength to his fury. The deadly feeling of hatred and revenge extends itself to their public, as well as to their private, quarrels, and sometimes shows itself in a very fierce and unexpected manner. In the valley of the Wollombi, between Sydney and Hunter’s River, some years ago, three boys of a certain tribe had been persuaded to reside in the families of three of the British settlers there. These were marked out for vengeance by the natives belonging to a tribe in a state of warfare with them, about 100 of whom travelled between 20 and 30 miles during one night—a thing almost unheard of among the natives—and reached the neighbourhood of the settlers on the Wollombi very early on the ensuing morning. Two or three of them were sent to each of the houses to entice the boys out, but these, it appeared, somewhat suspected the intentions of their enemies. However, they were at length persuaded to join the native dance, when suddenly a circle was formed round them, and they were speedily beaten to death with waddies or clubs. Immediately after which deed, the troop of natives returned back again to their own neighbourhood. A European happened to pass by, just as the boys were dying, but being alone and unarmed, his interference might have been dangerous to himself, without proving of any the slightest advantage to the unfortunate sufferers.

Another instance of that cowardly cruelty, which will take every possible advantage of a helpless age and sex occurred many years before this, when the colony of New South Wales was quite in its infancy. The father and mother of a little native girl, aged about seven years, had belonged to a party by whom many robberies had been committed on the banks of the river Hawkesbury, but an armed troop of Europeans was sent in pursuit of these robbers, and when a meeting took place, the child’s parents were among those that fell, while she accompanied the victorious party to the British settlement. Here she behaved herself with propriety, being a well-disposed child, she was a favourite at Government-house, where she resided under the protection of the governor. This circumstance, and the fact of her belonging to a different tribe from their own, awakened the jealousy of some of the natives, who belonged to the neighbourhood of Sydney, and she was consequently put to death in the most cruel manner. Her body was found in the woods, speared in several places, and with both the arms cut off. The murderers of the poor child escaped.

But, while we justly condemn and pity the cruel and cowardly acts of this description, which, unhappily, too often figure among the deeds of the natives of the Australian Bush, we are by no means to suppose them wanting in all feeling of kindness and humanity, still less would it be correct to consider them deficient in true courage. Every allowance ought to be made for the disadvantages of savage life, for the complete ignorance of these people, for the difficulty which they frequently have in procuring necessary food, and for the consequent cheapness in which life is held among them; and when these and other like arguments are duly weighed, we may learn not to abominate less the crimes of savages, but to pity more the unhappy beings who commit them. Indeed, if we go somewhat further, we may take shame to ourselves and to all civilized nations, in many of whose practices a counterpart may be found for the worst sins of the uncultivated, uncivilized heathens.

Within the last few years many crimes have been recorded in our newspapers, which, though committed in those large English towns, by some conceived to be centres of civilization, refinement, and enlightenment, might rival in horror and atrocity the very darkest deeds of savages.

Many proofs that the disposition of the native Australians is naturally brave and courageous (however cowardly some of their barbarities may appear,) could easily be brought forward; but none can be a stronger proof of this than the coolness and self-possession which they have so frequently exhibited upon meeting with Europeans, and encountering their fire-arms for the first time. An example of this occurred in Western Australia, when Captain Grey’s party were on their return home towards the British settlement of Perth. They were winding their way along on the summit of a limestone hill not very far from the coast, which formed a terrace about half a mile in width, with rich grass and beautiful clumps of trees to adorn it; and while, on the side towards the land, another terrace arose exactly like it, on the opposite side they overlooked a bay surrounded by verdant and extensive flats. Their enjoyment of the lovely scenery of this spot was soon disturbed by the appearance of a large body of the natives on the high ground to the east of them; and, although these strangers boldly advanced to within 200 yards of them, all endeavours to bring about an amicable meeting proved in vain, for the savages shouted to their companions, and these again to others yet more remote, until the calls were lost in the distance, while fresh parties of natives came trooping in from all directions. The question was, how to get rid of these people without bloodshed; and when an attempt to move quietly forward had been disappointed, by the Australians hastening on to occupy a thick piece of bush, through which the English party must pass, at last, Captain Grey, advancing towards them with his gun cocked and pointed, drove them a little before him, after which, to complete their dispersion, he intended to fire over their heads. But, to his mortification and their delight, the gun missed fire, upon which the natives, taking fresh courage, turned round to make faces at him and to imitate the snapping of the gun. The second barrel was then fired over their heads, at which they were alarmed, and made a rapid retreat, halting, however, upon a rising ground about 300 yards off, and preparing in earnest for action, when they perceived that they had suffered no loss. But since they had thus learned to despise the weapons of European warfare, prompt action was needful to prevent fatal consequences on both sides. The captain, accordingly, took his rifle from the man who was carrying it, and directing it at a heap of closely-matted dead bushes, about two or three yards from the main body of the enemy, he drove the ball right through it; the dry rotten boughs crackled and flew in all directions, and the poor savages, confounded at this new and unfair mode of fighting, hastily dispersed, without any loss of life having been sustained by either party.[40]

On another occasion, not long after this encounter, and in the same neighbourhood, the party of English explorers fell in with a native carrying his spear and a handful of fish; he was lost in thought, and they were close to him before he saw them, but, when he did so, he took no notice of them. Without even quickening his pace, he continued in his own course, which crossed their path, and, as he evidently wished to avoid all communication, the men were ordered to take no notice of him, and so they passed one another. He must have been a very brave fellow, observes the captain, to act thus coolly, when an array so strange to him met his eye. In like manner, when Major Mitchell was riding upon the banks of the Gwydir, he fell in with a tall native, covered with pipe-clay, who, although he could never have seen a horse before, nevertheless, put himself in a posture of defiance, and did not retreat, until the traveller galloped at him to prevent his attack.

In a different part of New Holland, on the eastern coast, when Flinders was exploring Pumice-stone River, near Moreton Bay, he was by no means successful in striking the natives with awe and astonishment. A hawk having presented itself to view, he thought this afforded a good opportunity of showing his new friends, the inhabitants of the Bush, a specimen of the effect and certainty of his fire-arms. He made them understand what he intended, and they were so far alarmed as to seem to be on the point of running into the woods, but a plan of detaining them was discovered, for the seamen placed themselves in front of the savages, forming a kind of defence; in which situation they anxiously watched the British officer, while he fired at the bird. What must have been his feelings at the moment!—the hawk, uninjured, flew away![41]

It is, certainly, no easy task to awaken in the soul of the completely savage man any great interest or concern in the ways and habits of civilized life. The fallen nature, of which all mankind are common partakers, renders it, unfortunately, easy to copy what is evil; and, accordingly, the drunkenness, the deceitfulness, and general licentiousness of depraved Europeans find many admirers and imitators among the simple children of the Australian wilderness; but when anything good, or decent, or even merely useful, is to be taught them, then do they appear dull and inapt scholars indeed. Living, as they do, in a peculiar world, as it were, of their own, they feel little or no pleasure at hearing of what is going on elsewhere, and it has been observed by one who had mixed very much with their various tribes, and had gained considerable knowledge of their language, that, while they cared not for stories respecting man in his civilized state, anything at all bearing upon savage life was eagerly listened to and well received. Once, having described to them some circumstances respecting England and its inhabitants, the traveller took occasion, from the mention of the length of days there in summer, to speak of those lands near the North Pole, where, in summer, the sun never sets, while it never rises for some weeks during the winter. The natives agreed that this must be another sun, and not the one seen by them; but, when the conversation turned upon the people of those northern regions, and the small Laplander, clothed in skins of the seal, instead of the kangaroo, was described to them, they were exceedingly delighted; and this picture of half-savage life, so different from their own, threw quite into the shade all the other stories they had heard. It is, indeed, really laughable to find with what cool contempt some of these natives, who have never had any intercourse with Europeans, treat our comforts, our tastes, and pursuits. We may contemn and pity them, but they seem to have very much the same feelings for us. We are horrified at the greediness with which they devour grubs, and many of them are shocked at our oyster-eating propensities! A remarkable instance of this occurred to Captain Flinders in 1798, when he was exploring the eastern coast of New Holland, and surveying Two-fold Bay. While measuring a base line upon the beach, the English sailors heard the screams of three native women, who took up their children and ran off in great alarm. Soon after this a man made his appearance, armed only with a waddie, or wooden scimetar, but approaching them apparently with careless confidence. The explorers made much of him, and gave him some biscuit; in return for which he presented them with a piece of gristly fat, probably of whale. This was tasted by Captain Flinders, but he was forced to watch for an opportunity of getting rid of it while the eyes of the donor were not upon him. But the savage himself was, curiously enough, doing precisely the same thing with the biscuit, the taste of which was, perhaps, no more agreeable to him than that of the whale to the Englishman. The commencement of the trigonometrical operations necessary for surveying the bay was beheld by the Australian with indifference, if not with contempt; and he quitted the strangers, apparently satisfied that from people who could thus seriously occupy themselves there was no great danger to be feared.

But, whatever may be urged respecting the variety of tastes and the want of a settled and uniform standard of appeal respecting them; however it may be argued the rich and luscious fat of a noble whale may intrinsically surpass the lean and mouldy flavour of dry sea-biscuit; nevertheless, in many other matters of greater importance, it must be confessed that the manners and habits of the natives of the Bush are extremely wretched and evil. And the Christian European, while he dares not despise them, cannot do otherwise than pity them. The fact has been already noticed, that these miserable children of nature scarcely ever wear anything deserving of the name of clothing; and, in many parts of New Holland, their huts, usually constructed by the women, and composed of little better materials than bark, or wood, and boughs,[42] reeds, or clay, scarcely merit the title of human habitations. But it is not so much in their outward state, as in their moral and social habits, that this race of men are most pitiable and degraded. One subject which has been frequently observed to mark the difference not so much between civilized and uncivilized men, as that between Christians and heathens, must especially be noticed. Cruel as is the treatment of women in many other parts of the globe, the inhabitants of Australia seem to go beyond all other barbarians in this respect. From the best and wisest people of christian Europe down to the vilest and most degraded tribes of heathen Australia, a regular scale might be formed of the general mode of behaviour to the weaker sex among these various nations; and, mostly, it would be found that the general superiority or inferiority of each nation is not untruly indicated by the kindness or cruelty with which their females are usually treated.

From their earliest infancy the female children are engaged or betrothed to a future husband, and in case of his death, they belong to his heir. But this arrangement is frequently prevented by the horrid practice, common among these barbarians, of stealing their wives, and taking them away by main force. Indeed, it seems a rule for the women to follow the conquering party, as a matter of course; so that on the return of an expedition into the interior of New Holland, the friendly and neighbouring natives, being informed that some of the distant and hostile people had been shot, only observed, “Stupid white fellows! why did you not bring away the gins?”

Polygamy is not uncommonly practised; and an old man, especially, among other privileges, may have as many gins, or wives, as he can keep, or maintain. Indeed, the maintenance of a wife is not expensive, since they are expected to work; and all the most laborious tasks, including that of supplying a great part of the necessary food for the family, are performed by them.[43] Hence, they are watched with very jealous care, being valuable possessions; but, in spite of all precautions, they are frequently carried off, and that in the most inhuman manner. The lover steals upon the encampment by night, and, discovering where the object of his affection is, he frequently beats her on the head till she becomes senseless, and then drags her off through the bushes, as a tiger would its prey![44] This, of course, is an undertaking attended with considerable danger; for if the intruder is caught, he will be speared through the leg, or even killed, by the angry husband or relatives. Thus many quarrels arise, in which brothers or friends are generally ready enough to bear a part. But—unlike the courteous and christian customs of our own country—the poor female, whether innocent or guilty, it matters not, has no one to take her part; the established rule with regard to women among these brutal creatures being, “If I beat your mother, then you beat mine; if I beat your wife, then you beat mine,” &c. &c. The consequence of these ferocious habits is evident enough in the appearance of most of the young women, who have any good looks or personal comeliness to boast of. The number of violent blows upon the head, or of rude wounds inflicted by the spear, form so many miserable trophies of victories dearly won by these Australian beauties, and the early life of one of these unhappy beings is generally a continued series of captivities to different masters, of wanderings in strange families, of rapid flights, of bad treatment from other females, amongst whom she is brought a stranger by her captor; and rarely is a form of unusual grace and elegance seen, but it is marked and scarred by the furrows of old wounds; while many females thus wander several hundreds of miles from the home of their infancy, without any corresponding ties of affection being formed to recompense them for those so rudely torn asunder. As may be well imagined, a marriage thus roughly commenced is not very smooth in its continuance; and the most cruel punishments—violent beating, throwing spears or burning brands, &c.—are frequently inflicted upon the weaker party, without any sufficient provocation having been given. It is evident, that treatment of this kind, together with the immensely long journeys which they are compelled to take, always accompanying their husbands on every excursion, must be very injurious to the constitution and healthiness of the weaker sex. And to these trials must be added the constant carrying of those children that are yet unable to travel, the perpetual search for food, and preparation of it when it is obtained, besides many other laborious offices performed by the women, all which being reckoned up together, will form a life of toil and misery, which we may hope is endured by no other human beings beside the females of Australia. Nor is such treatment without its ill effect upon the tempers and dispositions of the female sex. The ferocity of the women, when it is excited, exceeds that of the men; they deal dreadful blows at one another with their long sticks, and, if ever the husband is about to spear in the leg, or beat, one of his wives, the others are certain to set on her, and treat her with great inhumanity.

One custom, which to Europeans seems extremely remarkable, is that of the family name of the mother, and not of the father, becoming the surname of the children of either sex. And another, connected with this, forbids a man from marrying with a woman of his own family name. Each family has for its crest or sign, or kobong, as they call it, some animal or vegetable; and a certain mysterious connexion is supposed to exist between a family and its kobong; so that a member of the family will never kill an animal of the same species with his kobong, should he find it asleep; indeed, he always kills it reluctantly, and never without affording it a chance of escape.[45] This arises from the family belief that some one individual of the species is their nearest friend, to kill whom would be a great crime, and is to be carefully avoided. And, in like manner, a native having a vegetable for a kobong may not gather it under certain circumstances, and at a particular period of the year. It is said that they occasionally exchange surnames with their friends, a custom which is supposed to have prevailed among the Jews; and they have another practice resembling the same people, which is, that when a husband dies, his brother takes the wife.[46] Among beings who hold life so cheaply, it cannot be a matter of surprise that the destruction of infants should be occasionally practised, more especially in cases where the child is born with any natural deformity: nor is it an excuse for these barbarians that the polished nations of ancient Greece and Italy habitually committed the like atrocities, or even greater,—considering it in their own choice to rear up their offspring or not, exactly as it suited their convenience. In fact, we may learn from this and many other instances, that it is not civilisation alone, but yet more than that, Christianity, by which the difference between the European and the Australian is produced:—

“In vain are arts pursued, or taste refin’d,
Unless Religion purifies the mind.”

Respecting the languages spoken in different parts of New Holland, it is doubtful whether they have all a common root or not, but the opinion of Captain Grey, who was not unqualified to judge, is in favour of their kindred origin. In so vast an extent of country, among wandering tribes, that hold little or no communication with each other, great differences in language were to be expected, and are found to exist. If three men from the east, the west, and the north of England meet together, they occasionally puzzle one another by their various dialects; what, then, must be expected by way of variety in a country between two and three thousand miles across, without much communication, and totally differing, at its extreme points, in climate and in animal and vegetable productions? For new objects new names were, of necessity, invented; but the resemblance between words signifying objects common everywhere, as, for instance, the parts of the human body, is said to be remarkable. The Australian languages are stated to be soft and melodious in their sound, and their songs, though rude and wild, have amazing power over the feelings of the soul. Noise would appear to have great charms in savage ears, and, sometimes, from the high key in which our English songs are occasionally pitched, it would seem to have charms also for “ears polite.” But an elegant and refined European song would only be laughed at and mimicked by the musical blacks, some few of whom are not, however, quite insensible to the sweets of civilised melody. Warrup, a native servant, was once present when “God save the Queen” was sung in chorus, and it so affected him, that he burst into tears. He certainly could not have understood the words, much less could he have entered into the noble and loyal spirit, of our National Anthem: it must, therefore, have been the music, and, perhaps, the excitement prevailing around him, which affected him.

opossum hunting.

CHAPTER IV.

MEANS OF SUBSISTENCE IN THE BUSH.

One of the most important occupations of every man in this present state of things, is the pursuit of food and necessary sustenance for himself and those belonging to him. But this occupation, being in some respects more difficult, or at least, more uncertain and engrossing, stands more forward in savage life, and appears more important than ever; while, at the same time, the contrast upon this subject between the rude child of nature and the civilized inhabitants of the earth, becomes even stronger than usual. In glancing over the condition of the native of the Bush in Australia, with respect to his supply of needful support, and his means of obtaining it, several truths are to be borne in remembrance, obvious indeed when pointed out, and yet not unlikely to escape a casual observer. First, the vast extent of country, compared with the thin and scattered population it maintains; next, the very different sort of food required by a savage and a European; and lastly, the various kinds of food which are used by the inhabitants of the wilderness—are all matters which must be recollected, if we would form a fair judgment upon the subject, and do justice to the humble, and apparently scanty, bill of fare which Nature has provided for those that dwell among her wildest scenes and in her most secret, recesses. In these spots it is but rarely, of course, from the mere absence of sufficient provisions, that any large body of natives can assemble together; but, occasionally, a feast is prepared for a considerable number, either when some particular article of food abounds at a certain place and is in full season, or, especially, when a whale (a fish very common on the coasts of New Holland) is thrown ashore. In the latter case, it is impossible for us entirely to enter into the feelings of the savage, for we have never, unexpectedly, had so large a quantity of what is considered the greatest delicacy placed at once before us. Hence, when the Australian finds a whale thrown ashore in his own district, his heart warms and opens with kind feelings of hospitality; he longs to see all his friends about him, and large fires are immediately kindled to announce the fortunate and joyful event. Notice of the feast having been thus given, and a due invitation forwarded, he rubs himself all over with the blubber, and his favourite wives are served in the same manner, after which, he begins to cut his way into the flesh of the whale, the grain of which is about the firmness of a goose-quill; of this he chooses the nicest morsels, and either broils them on the fire, or cooks them by cutting them into small pieces, and spitting them on a pointed stick.

Other natives, attracted by the flaming signal of revelry, soon assemble in gay companies from all quarters: by night they dance and sing, and by day they eat and sleep, and the feast continues unchecked until they at last fairly eat their way into the whale, and may be seen climbing in and about the carcase choosing their favourite pieces. The fish, in a few days, becomes more disagreeable than ever, but still they will not leave it, until they have been completely gorged with it,—out of temper from indigestion, and therefore engaged in frequent quarrels. And, even when they are, at length, obliged to quit the feast, they carry off with them as much as they can stagger under, to eat upon the way, and to take as a rarity to their distant friends. Such is a true picture of a native Australian feast, and the polished sons and daughters of Europe will turn away from it with feelings of unmingled disgust. But, with how many of these is life itself a perpetual series of feasting, less gross and disgusting indeed, but not less really sensual than this! How many inhabitants of civilised countries live continually as though the saying, “Let us eat and drink, for to-morrow we die” were the whole sum and substance of practical wisdom! Yet if it were so, who would be more happy, who more blessed in his situation, than the savage devouring, day after day, the food his heart delights in?

But a whale-feast is an event of no ordinary kind in the life of an inhabitant of the Bush, and, if we would know how the common sustenance of life is procured by him, we must follow him through a variety of scenes and pursuits, of which, by no means the least important or interesting, is the chase of the kangaroo.[47] This singular and harmless creature is now so well known to Europeans, from specimens that have been brought over and placed in our public collections of animals, and also from numberless pictures, that it would be waste of time to stop to describe it. In truth, being one of the productions peculiar to Australia, it may be said, from the figures of it to be seen upon the back of every book relating to that country, to have become almost the kobong or crest of that southern region. In many portions of New Holland, particularly where the country is wooded and the soil tolerably fertile, kangaroos are very abundant; but so great havoc is made among these defenceless creatures by their various enemies, especially by man, that their numbers appear to be upon the decrease.[48]

A day’s hunting is often the cause of no small excitement, even in England, among men who care nothing for the object of their chase, and are certain of a good dinner at the end of their day’s sport; but we may suppose this to be a matter of more serious interest to the Australian, who depends upon his skill and patience in hunting for his daily food. His whole manner and appearance, accordingly, are changed on these occasions; his eyes brighten up, his motion becomes quick though silent, and every token of his eagerness and anxiety is discoverable in his behaviour. Earth, water, trees, sky, are all in turn the subjects of his keenest search, and his whole soul appears to be engaged in his two senses of sight and hearing. His wives, and even his children, become perfectly silent, until, perhaps, a suppressed whistle is given by one of the women, denoting that she sees a kangaroo near her husband, after which all is again quiet, and an unpractised stranger might ride within a few yards of the group, and not perceive a living thing. The devoted animal, meanwhile, after listening two or three times without being able to perceive any further cause of alarm, returns to its food or other occupation in complete security, while the watchful savage poises his spear, and lifts up his arm ready for throwing it, and then advances slowly and with stealth towards his prey, no part moving but his legs. Whenever the kangaroo looks round, its enemy stands still in the same position he is in when it first raises its head, until the animal, again assured of safety, gives a skip or two, and goes on feeding: again the native advances, and the same scene occurs, until the whizzing spear penetrates the unfortunate creature, upon which the whole wood rings with sudden shouts; women and children all join in the chase, and, at last, the kangaroo, weakened from loss of blood and encumbered by the spear, places its back against a tree, and appears to attack its pursuer with the fury of despair. Though naturally a timid animal, it will, when it is hard pressed for life, make a bold stand; and, if hunted by Europeans, will sometimes wait for the dogs and tear them with its hind claws, or squeeze them with its fore arms, until the blood gushes out of the hound’s nostrils; and sometimes the poor creature will take to the water, and drown every dog that comes near it.[49] But by the natives the poor beast is generally soon dispatched with spears thrown from a distance, and its body is carried off by its conqueror and his wives to some convenient resting-place where they may enjoy their meal.

There is likewise another mode of hunting the same animal, in which many persons join together, and which, though more lively and noisy, is not so characteristical as the first. A herd of kangaroos are surprised either in a thick bushy place, to which they have retired during the heat of the day, or else in an open plain. In the first case, they are encircled by a party, each native giving a low whistle, as he takes up his place, and when the blockade is finished, the bushes are set on fire, and the frightened animals fly from the flames towards the open plains; but no sooner do they approach the outskirts of the wood, than the bushes are fired in the direction in which they are running, while they are driven back by loud calls and tremendous cries, which increase their terror, and they run wildly about, until, at length, maddened by fear, they make a rush through their enemies, who allow but few of them to escape. When the kangaroos are surrounded upon a plain, the point generally chosen is an open bottom encircled by wood; each native has his place given him by some of the elder ones, and all possible means that art, or experience, or the nature of the ground, can furnish, are employed to ensure success in approaching as nearly as may be towards the animals without disturbing them. Thus the circle narrows round the unwary herd, till at last one of them becomes alarmed, and bounds away; but its flight is speedily stopped by a savage with fearful yells; and before the first moments of terror and surprise have passed by, the armed natives come running upon them from every side, brandishing their spears, and raising loud cries; nor does the slaughter, thus commenced, commonly finish before the greater number of them have fallen. These public hunts are conducted under certain rules; for example, the supposed owner of the land must be present, and must have invited the party, or a deadly fight between human beings is pretty sure to take place. The first spear that strikes a kangaroo settles whose property the dead animal is to be; however slight the wound, and even though inflicted by a boy only, this rule holds good; and if the creature killed is one which the boy may not yet lawfully eat,[50] then his right passes on to his father, or nearest male relative. The cries of the hunters are said to be very beautiful and expressive, and they vary at different periods of the chase, being readily understood and answered by all, so that they can thus explain their meaning to one another at a very great distance.

But, since the kangaroo is one of the principal articles of food in the wilds of New Holland, there are yet other modes of taking it, which are commonly practised.

Sometimes they use the ordinary methods of catching it in nets or pitfalls. Occasionally, also, in a dry district, where many animals assemble together from a great distance to drink at some solitary piece of water, the huntsman builds for himself a rude place of shelter, in which for hours he remains concealed and motionless, until the thirsty animals approach in sufficient numbers. Then kangaroos, cockatoos, pigeons, &c. are attacked and destroyed without mercy, and the patience of the hunter is commonly richly rewarded by the booty he obtains.

But the mode of tracking a kangaroo until it is wearied out, is the one which, beyond all others, commands the admiration of the Australians, for it calls forth the exercise of every quality most highly prized among savages, skill in following traces, endurance of hunger and thirst, unwearied bodily exertion, and lasting perseverance. To perform this task the hunter starts upon the track of the kangaroo, which he follows until he catches sight of the animal, as it flies timidly before him; again he pursues the track, and again the object of his pursuit bounds away from him; and this is repeated until nightfall, when the pursuer lights his fire and sleeps upon the track. With the first light of day the hunt is renewed, and, towards the close of the second day, or in the course of the third, the kangaroo, wearied and exhausted by the chase, will allow the hunter to approach near enough to spear it. None but a skilful hunter, in the pride of youth and strength can perform this feat, and one who has frequently practised it always enjoys great fame amongst his companions.

When the kangaroo has been obtained in some one or other of these various methods, the first operation is to take off the skin of the tail, the sinews of which are carefully preserved to sew cloaks or bags, or to make spears. The next thing to be thought of is the cooking of the flesh; and two modes of doing this are common. One of these is to make an oven by digging a hole in the sand, and lighting a fire in it; when the sand is well heated, and a large heap of ashes is collected, the hole is scraped out, and the kangaroo is placed in it, skin and all; it is then covered over with ashes, and a slow fire is kept up above it; when baked enough, it is taken out and laid upon its back, the intestines are then removed, and the whole of the gravy is left in the body of the animal, which is carefully taken out of the skin, and then cut up and eaten. Travellers in the Bush speak very highly of the delicious flavour of the meat thus curiously cooked. The other mode of dressing is merely to broil different portions of the kangaroo upon the fire, and it may be noticed that certain parts, as the blood, the entrails, and the marrow, are reckoned great dainties. Of these the young men are forbidden to partake. Of the blood a sort of long sausage is made, and this is afterwards eaten by the person of most consequence in the company.

Another abundant source of food is supplied to the native population of New Holland at certain seasons, in particular situations, by the various sorts of fish which abound on its coasts, and in its bays and inlets. From this, most probably, arises the fact observed by Captain Flinders, that the borders of bays, and entrances of rivers, are in New Holland always most thickly peopled. And Collins mentions a sort of fancied superiority, which these people pretend to, above those that dwell in the more inland parts. “The natives of the coast,” he says, “when speaking of those in the interior, constantly expressed themselves with contempt and marks of disapprobation.” So very similar are the airs and vanity of a savage, to those in which civilised man indulges. The three most common modes of catching fish are, by spearing them, taking them by means of a weir constructed across places which are left nearly dry at low water, or after a flood, and enclosing them in a net, prepared by the women out of grassy fibres, and one of their greatest efforts of ingenuity.[51] Nothing very remarkable is to be noticed in these modes of fishing, except it be the speed with which they run along the shore, and the certainty with which they aim their spears at the inhabitants of the shallow bays and open lakes. As surely as the natives disappear under the surface of the water, so surely will they reappear with a fish writhing upon the point of their short spears; and even under water their aim is always correct. One traveller, Sturt, is of opinion that they seldom eat the finny tribes when they can get anything else, but this idea seems scarcely to agree with the report of others. At all events, whether from choice or not, a large proportion of their subsistence is derived from the waters. With regard to the cookery of their fish, the Australian barbarians are said to have a most admirable method of dressing them, not unworthy of being copied by other nations. If the fish are not simply broiled upon the fire, they are laid in a piece of paper bark, which is wrapt round them, as paper is folded round a cutlet; strings of grass are then wound tightly about the bark and fish, which is slowly baked in heated sand, covered with hot ashes; when it is sufficiently cooked, the bark is opened, and answers the purpose of a dish; it is, of course, full of juice and gravy, not a drop of which has escaped. The flavour of many sorts of fish thus dressed is said to be delicious, and sometimes pieces of kangaroo and other meats are cooked in the same manner.

The seal is exceedingly abundant on many parts of the Australian coast, and is also useful to the natives for purposes of food, while the pursuit of this creature is an exciting sport for the inhabitants of the southern and western shores of New Holland. The animal must be surprised upon the beach, or in the surf, or among the rocks that lie at no great distance from the shore; and the natives delight in the pursuit, clambering about the wild crags that encircle their own land; sometimes leaping from one rock to another, spearing the fish that lie in the quiet pools between, in the next moment dashing into the surf to fight with a seal or turn a turtle; these are to them agreeable and joyous occupations. And when we remember that their steps are followed by a wife and children, as dear to them, probably, as ours are to us, who are witnesses of their skill and activity; and who, when the game is killed, will help to light the fire with which it is to be cooked, and to drag it to the resting-place, where the father romps with his little ones until the meal is made ready; when we recollect, likewise, that all this takes place in a climate so mild and genial, that a house is not necessary, we shall feel less surprise at the difficulty of persuading an inhabitant of the Bush to fall into European customs, and submit to the trammels of civilised life.

The turtle, must by no means be forgotten, in an account of the different articles of provision upon which an Australian has to depend for his supply. These useful creatures are to be found chiefly on the coast in the warmer portions of New Holland, and are in high season about December and January, the height of summer in Australia. The green turtles are surprised upon the beach when they come to lay their eggs; but the fresh-water turtle is found (as its name implies,) in fresh lakes and ponds, at the season when these are most dried up, and their margin is overgrown with reeds and rushes. Among these the natives wade with stealthy pace, so quietly indeed, that they even creep upon wild fowl and spear them. The turtles swim lazily along the surface of the water, biting and smelling the various aquatic plants they meet with, but as soon as they are alarmed, they sink to the bottom instantly. The pursuer puts out his foot, (the toes of which he uses to seize anything, almost as we use our fingers,) and gropes about with it among the weeds at the bottom of the water until he feels the turtle; and then, holding it to the ground, he plunges his hands and arms in and seizes his prey. In this manner two or three men have been known to take fourteen turtles in a very short time; but these are small, weighing from one to two or three pounds each. The fresh-water turtle is cooked, after the Australian fashion, by being baked, shell and all, in hot ashes; and when it is sufficiently dressed, the bottom shell is removed with ease, and the whole animal remains in the upper shell, which serves for a dish. They are generally very fat and delicious, so that the New Hollanders are extremely fond of them, and the turtle season, being an important part of the year, is looked forward to with pleasure. The green turtles, which are a much larger animal, found only by the sea-side, are taken when crawling on the beach. If they by accident get upon their backs, they are unable to right themselves, and perish miserably, so that nothing more is necessary to secure them, than to place them in that posture, and they may be taken away and devoured at leisure. Among Wellesley Islands, at the bottom of the Gulph of Carpentaria, in the north of New Holland, Captain Flinders obtained in one day, in this manner, no less than forty-six turtles, the least of them weighing 250lbs, and the average being about 300lbs; besides which, many that were not wanted, because there was no room to stow them away, were turned again, and suffered to make their escape.

Opossum hunting offers another means of supplying food to the Australians, and as these quadrupeds usually dwell in the hollows of decayed trees, and ascend the trees when they are at all alarmed, the mode of pursuing them is of a new and different character. The first thing to be done is to ascertain that the opossum has really concealed itself somewhere in the tree. To discover this the holes made by the nails of the animal in the bark as it climbed up, are sufficient; only, one of these footmarks having a little sand in it is anxiously sought for, and if this sand sticks together, when the hunter blows gently upon it, it is a proof, since it is not dry enough yet to blow away, that the opossum has gone up into the tree that very morning. The dextrous savage then pulls out his hatchet,[52] a rude stone hatchet—unless he has been fortunate enough to get a better one from some European, and cuts a notch in the bark of the tree sufficiently large and deep to receive the ball of his great toe. The first notch being thus made, about four feet from the ground, he places the toe of his right foot in it, throws his right arm round the tree, and with his left hand sticks the point of the handle of his hatchet into the bark, as high up as he can reach, and thus forms a stay to drag himself up with. This first step being made good, he cuts another for his left foot, and so on, always clinging with the left hand and cutting with the right, resting the whole weight of the body upon the toe of either foot, until the hole is reached where the opossum lies hidden, which is then compelled by smoke, or by being poked out, to quit its hiding place; when the conqueror, catching hold of his victim’s tail, dashes it down on the ground, and quietly descends after it. As the bite of the opossum is very painful and severe, due care is taken, in laying hold of it, to keep clear of all danger from its teeth. Occasionally trees of 130 feet in height have been observed, which had been notched by the natives up to at least eighty feet! and the old notches are never again used, but new ones are cut every time. Strange to tell, this very difficult operation of following the opossum is not uncommonly performed by moonlight, some persons moving onwards to detect the animal feeding, while others follow, creeping after them with fire-sticks; and it is curious to watch the dark body of the savage, climbing the tree, contrasted with the pale moonlight. The Australians are fond of these expeditions, the end of which is the same as of the others conducted in broad daylight—the poor opossum is reached, and knocked down with a stick, or shaken off the branch to which he had fled as a last retreat.

Birds form a considerable article of food in the wilds of New Holland, and there are many various sorts of them, as well as many different modes of killing and ensnaring them, which it would be tedious to dwell upon; but the emu, or cassowary, is too important and remarkable to be passed over. This bird is very large, and its covering resembles hair more than feathers; it is not able to fly, but it can run more swiftly than the fleetest dogs, and its kick is violent enough to break a man’s leg: it is however easily tamed. The instinctive dread which these animals in their wild state have of man is very remarkable. It was observed by Major Mitchell, on various occasions during his journeys, that the first appearance of large quadrupeds—bullocks and horses, did not scare the emu or kangaroo; but that, on the contrary, when they would have fled from the first approach of their enemy man, advancing singly, they would allow him to draw near when mounted, and even to dismount, fire from behind a horse, and load again, without attempting to run off. In hunting the emu, it matters not how much noise is made, for the natives say that bird is quite deaf, although its sight is keen in proportion. The kangaroo must be pursued as silently as possible.

Emus are killed in the same manner as kangaroos, but they are more prized by the natives, and the death of one of these birds awakens a greater excitement in the spectators; shout succeeds shout, and the distant sojourners take up the cry, until it is sometimes reechoed for miles; yet the feast which follows is very exclusive, the flesh of the emu, which, except in one part which tastes like beef, is very oily, being thought by far too delicious to be made a common article of food. Young men and unprivileged persons are forbidden to touch it, on pain of severe penalties, which are strictly enforced. The emus are generally found, like the kangaroos, in tolerably fertile spots, and like them, also, are fast disappearing from the neighbourhood of the haunts of Europeans. The destruction of cockatoos with the weapon, or throwing stick, called a kiley,[53] the hunting and snaring of different sorts of wild fowl, afford ample room for a display of that cunning, skill, and amazing patience, which distinguish the character of uncivilized man. One curious way of catching birds in Australia is certainly original, if it be but correctly reported. It is said that a native will, in the heat of the sun, lay down as if asleep, holding a bit of fish in his hand; the bird seeing the bait, seizes on the fish, and the native then catches it! But enough has now been stated respecting the various ways in which game is taken in the bush. And although, perhaps, enough has been said concerning Australian cookery, yet the mode in which they cook the birds in that country, similar indeed to the methods already mentioned, may briefly be noted. When the natives wish to dress a bird very nicely, the entrails are taken out and cooked separately, (being considered a great delicacy,) after the example of the admirers of woodcocks in England. A triangle is then formed round the bird by three red hot pieces of stick, against which ashes are placed, hot coals are also stuffed into the inside of the bird, and it is thus quickly cooked, and kept full of gravy. In the opinion of Captain Grey, wild fowl dressed in this manner, on a clean piece of bark, was as good a dish as he had ever eaten.

But there are many other kinds of food which custom, and perhaps necessity, have rendered palatable to the people of New Holland, but which we can regard only with disgust and aversion. Among these it may be scarcely just to reckon frogs, since they are an article of food in one of the most polished nations of Europe, and those who have tasted them properly dressed have usually no fault to find with their flavour. The season in Australia for catching frogs and fresh-water shell-fish, is when the swamps are nearly dried up by the heat; these animals then bury themselves in holes in the mud, and the native women, with their long sticks, and taper arms, which they plunge up to the shoulder in the slime, manage to drag them out. In summer a whole troop of females may be seen paddling about in a swamp, slapping themselves to kill the mosquitoes and sandflies, and every now and then plunging their arms down into the mud, and dragging forth their prey. Sometimes one of these women may be seen with ten or twelve pounds’ weight of frogs in her bag. Frogs are cooked on a slow fire of wood-ashes, and being held in one hand by the hind legs, a dexterous pinch with the finger and thumb of the other at once removes the lower portion of the intestines, and the remainder of the little animal is then taken at a mouthful. Muscles are also abundant in the rivers, and in the north-western parts of New Holland they form a principal article of food; but in the south-western districts the inhabitants will not touch them, for there is a tradition that some persons long ago ate them and died by means of sorcerers, who considered that fish to be their peculiar property. Grubs are a favourite food with some of the Australian natives, and, in order to procure them, they are at the pains of breaking off the top of the trees frequented by these grubs, since, until its top is dead, the trees do not afford a proper abode for them. Grubs are eaten either raw, or else roasted in much the same manner as the fish are. But taste is proverbially a subject concerning which there is no accounting by reason, as we must confess when we find snakes, lizards, rats, mice, and weasels among Australian dainties. The smaller quadrupeds are not skinned before they are cooked, but are dressed with the skin, the fur being only singed off; and hunger renders these not only palatable but digestible. Salt is rarely or never used by the natives, until they have been taught its use by Europeans; and even then they do not relish it at first, any more than other sauces or condiments; indeed, it is quite laughable to see their grimaces the first time that they taste mustard upon a piece of meat.

Among vegetable productions there are many roots, which are eaten by the natives. It is commonly the office of the women to dig for roots, for which purpose they carry a long pointed stick to loosen the earth, and that is afterwards scooped up by the fingers of the left hand. Their withered arms and hands, covered with earth by digging and scraping after food, resemble, as they advance in years, the limbs and claws of a quadruped more than those of a human being. In stiff soils, this operation of digging can only be performed when the earth is moist, but in loose sandy soils it may be always done, and, on this account, the visits of the natives to different spots are regulated by the season of the year; as, for example, the roots that grow in the clay are not in season, because not to be got at, in the parching and dry months of summer. No plant bearing seeds is allowed to be dug up after it has flowered, and the natives are very careful in observing this rule. A considerable portion of the time of the women and children is occupied in getting up the various eatable roots, which are either roasted, or else devoured in a raw state; some resembling onions and others potatoes in their flavour. One root, called the mene, has rather an acid taste, and when eaten alone, it is said to disorder the bowels; but the natives in the southern parts pound it between two stones, and sprinkle over it a few pinches of a kind of earth, which forms, together with the bruised root, a sort of paste, that is thought exceedingly good, and quite free from all injurious properties. A kind of paste, which is sometimes baked into a cake, is also formed of many other roots. All these grow wild, and are used exactly in their natural state, unless burning the leaves of one plant in dry seasons to improve the root, or similar trifling pains respecting their growth, can deserve the name of cultivation. The fungus is also greedily devoured by the unfastidious natives of Australia, and a kind of gum, resembling what is in England called gum-tragacanth, is very abundant and popular among them. One traveller, Captain Sturt, who was among the first to notice the use of this peculiar food, imagined that it was eaten only from dire necessity. Indeed, it is an amusing proof of the occasional errors into which hasty impressions will lead intelligent men, that he pities as “unfortunate creatures reduced to the last extremity” those who were, in reality, regaling themselves upon a favourite luxury. During summer the acacias, growing in swampy plains, are positively loaded with this gum, and the natives assemble in great numbers to feast upon it. On such occasions a sort of fair is held among those that frequent these yearly meetings, and fun, frolic, and quarrelling of every description prevail, as in similar meetings of our own countrymen.

The pulp of the nut of a species of palm is called by-yu, and it is a curious fact, that, although in its natural state this is a rank poison, the natives have, nevertheless, a method of depriving it of its mischievous qualities, and it becomes an agreeable and nourishing article of food. Europeans, ignorant of the mode of preparing this nut, are sure to pay for their rashness, if they venture to eat it in its unprepared state. The women collect these nuts from the palms in the month of March, (the beginning of autumn,) and leave them to soak for several days in some shallow pool; after the by-yu has been sufficiently soaked, they dig, in a dry sandy place, holes about one foot across and nearly two feet in depth: these holes are lined with rushes, and filled with nuts, over which last a little sand is sprinkled, and then all is covered nicely up with the tops of the grass-tree. And thus, in about a fortnight, the pulp which encloses the nut becomes quite dry, and it is then fit for use: but if eaten before, it produces the bad effects already mentioned. The pulp is eaten both raw and roasted; in the latter state, the taste is said to be equal to that of a chestnut; but this process has no effect whatever upon the kernels, which act still as a strong emetic and purgative. This subject of the sources whence the Australians derive their daily food from God, who, whether in the north or the south, in the east or the west, is still found “opening his hand,” and “filling all things living with plenteousness,” might easily be extended even yet more; for in so vast a tract of country as New Holland, the varieties of animal and vegetable food, and the different modes of obtaining it, must evidently be very numerous. Enough, however, has been stated to enable the reader to judge respecting the means of subsistence possessed by the inhabitants of the Bush; and it will be easily seen that this mode of living appears, at the first view, more precarious and less laborious than it really is. It is not so precarious a life as it seems to be, because the articles needful for support, of one kind or another, are perpetually at hand to those who can find them and use them, whilst Europeans, or even natives from a distant part, are often, for want of this power, in danger of starving in the midst of plenty.[54] At the same time, the savage, free from servile toil and daily labour though he may appear to be, does in truth earn his living quite as laboriously as others do; nor is he, of all men, the most exempt from the general curse which sin has brought down upon us: “In the sweat of thy face shalt thou eat bread.” Enough, likewise, has been stated respecting the supplies provided in the wilderness for its inhabitants to qualify us to perceive how very serious an injury is inflicted upon the original people of a district in Australia, when Europeans sit down, as they term it, (i.e. settle,) upon their lands. We might imagine (however Utopian may be the fancy) a body of able agriculturists settling in a country but poorly cultivated, and while they occupied a portion of the land belonging to the first inhabitants, rendering what remained to these more valuable by proper cultivation, than the whole had originally been. But nothing of the kind is possible with people accustomed from their infancy to habits of life and means of subsistence like those of the Australians. Occupy their land, and the wild animals must be destroyed or driven away; the wild plants and roots ploughed up or burnt; or, at all events, the wild owners of that land must (however rightful, however ancient, their claim of possession) be warned off from their own soil, and, as trespassers, made liable to punishment according to law,—to European law.

We are not to suppose from the wandering character of the life usually led by them, that these human beings have no notion of property in land. On the contrary, it is an opinion held by men best able to judge, and supported by sufficient proof, that, not only have the various tribes their fixed boundaries of hunting-ground, which they cannot cross without the risk of a quarrel with their neighbours, but that even individual persons possess property of this nature, which is handed down, according to certain laws, from father to son. A curious example of this strictness about property, exceeding even the ideas of Europeans upon the subject, was found upon the banks of the river Darling, where different tribes occupy different portions of the stream whence all equally derive the chief part of their subsistence. One of these tribes desired Major Mitchell’s men to pour out the water which they had taken, as if it had belonged to them, and at the same time they dug a hole in the ground to receive it, when poured out. Nay, so strongly are the river chiefs possessed with a notion of the water being their own, that they have been seen, on receiving a tomahawk, to point to the stream, signifying that the strangers were at liberty to take water from it. Indeed, the main difference between the property of the native and that of the colonist, consists in the very dissimilar uses to which the parties apply their possessions. The one holds his lands for a cattle-run or a farm, the other employs his in feeding kangaroos or in growing wild roots. But both agree in punishing intruders, both profess alike to esteem the rights of property to be sacred; and yet how questionable, how opposite to these professions must the conduct of Europeans seem, when they fix themselves upon certain spots, without taking any notice of the vested rights of the former inhabitants, and then threaten, or even shoot them, if they are found lingering among their old haunts, upon their own estates! Or, if no open violence is offered, “the sheep and cattle,” to borrow the words of a kind-hearted traveller, “fill the green pastures, where the kangaroo was accustomed to range until the stranger came from distant lands, and claimed the soil.” The first inhabitants, unless they remove beyond the limits of the colony, are hemmed in by the power of the white population, and deprived of the liberty of wandering at will through their native wilds, and compelled to seek shelter in close thickets and rocky fastnesses; where, however, if they can find a home, they have great difficulty in finding a subsistence, for their chief support, the kangaroo, is either destroyed or banished. In 1772, when the French discoverer, Monsieur Marion, was exploring Van Dieman’s Land, he found the coast well inhabited, as the fires by day and night bore witness, and on anchoring in Frederic Hendrick’s Bay, about thirty men assembled upon the shore. And now, only seventy years later, what has become of the grandchildren and descendants of those unfortunate natives? Let the reply to this inquiry be made in the very words given in evidence before a Committee of the House of Commons, in 1838.[55]—“There is not a native in Van Dieman’s Land. The last portion that was secured was sent to a small island called Gun Carriage Island, where they are maintained at the expense of government, and I believe some attempts at civilisation have been made.—There has been a lingering desire to come back again; but they have no means of getting back; the island is some distance from Van Dieman’s Land; they are pining away and dying very fast.—I believe more than one half of them have died, not from any positive disease, but from a disease which we know in medicine under the name of home-sickness, a disease which is very common to some Europeans, particularly the Swiss soldiers and the Swiss peasantry: they are known to die from a disease of the stomach, which comes on entirely from a desire to return to their country.”

It may be difficult for the christian moralist to condemn altogether the system of colonisation which has been practised; it cannot be denied that the occupation of these vast and favoured regions by civilised and christian nations is, in itself, a highly desirable object; yet the man of right principles will surely hesitate before he approves, for the sake of the good that is to follow, of the evil which has been done. In this instance, as in many other evils to be seen under the sun, it is more easy to perceive the mischief, than to point out the means of avoiding or of remedying it. But, at least, it may be said, let those who now hold the beautiful and frequently fertile lands, which once belonged to the poor and helpless native, beware of having their hearts lifted up with pride,—of forgetting themselves or their God. Past evils are not to be prevented, but future events are still in their power. The warning and reasoning of the great Apostle of the Gentiles, (Rom. xi. 17-24,) although upon quite another subject, are still not without application here. Nor should the British colonist ever forget, while he surveys the fruitful fields which he may now call his own, the emphatic words of St. Paul: “If God spared not the natural branches, take heed lest He also spare not thee.”

natives of the murray islands in boats.

CHAPTER V.

MANNERS AND HABITS OF THE NATIVES.

The shyness which the savages of Australia frequently exhibit in their first intercourse with Europeans is not at all surprising; indeed, it is rather remarkable how soon they get over this feeling, if they are not interfered with, and no unpleasant occurrences take place. As Captain Flinders has very justly observed, “were we living in a state of nature, frequently at war with our neighbours, and ignorant of the existence of any other nation, on the first arrival of strangers, so different in complexion and appearance to ourselves, having power to transport themselves over, and even living upon an element which to us was impassable,[56] the first sensation would probably be terror, and the first movement flight.” We should watch these extraordinary people from our retreats, and if we found ourselves sought out or pursued by them, their designs would be suspected; otherwise, upon seeing them quietly engaged in their own occupations, curiosity would get the better of fear, and, after observing them more closely, we should ourselves seek to open a communication. This is precisely what takes place with the native tribes in New Holland, when the discoverers conduct themselves prudently, and no particular cause of offence or dislike occurs. But where all appears equally strange and suspicious to them, it cannot be wondered if they often mistake the meaning of European customs and actions. For example, when Major Mitchell was desirous of taking the portrait of a native in Eastern Australia, the terror and suspicion of the poor creature, at being required to stand steadily before the artist were such, that, notwithstanding the power of disguising fear, so remarkable in the savage race, the stout heart of Cambo was overcome, and beat visibly; the perspiration streamed from his breast, and he was about to sink to the ground, when he at length suddenly darted away; but he speedily returned, bearing in one hand his club, and in the other his boomerang or kiley, with which he seemed to gain just fortitude enough to be able to stand on his legs until the sketch was finished.

To the observer of human nature it is, indeed, a curious spectacle to watch the several contrary feelings and impulses by which the Australian savage is actuated in his intercourse with the more civilised portions of our race. Attachment, very strong attachment to his own customs, and wild roving mode of life,—admiration of the evident superiority, the luxury, abundance and comfort, enjoyed by Europeans,—doubt and alarm respecting the final issue of the changes which he sees taking place before his eyes,—an increasing taste for many of the useful or agreeable articles which are to be procured only from the hands of the strangers,—these and other similar feelings alternately sway the mind, and prompt the actions, of the native of the bush in Australia, so as to give an appearance of inconsistency, not merely to the varying conduct of different persons, but frequently to the behaviour of the very same person at different times. Sometimes the perplexed savage decidedly prefers his piece of whale to all the luxuries of English fare;[57] at another time he despises the common food of the bush—kangaroo flesh, or fish,—and presuming upon his usefulness as a guide, nothing but wheaten flour, at the rate of two pounds and a half a day, will satisfy his desires.[58] One day, fired with a wish to emulate his betters, the black man assumes the costume of an European, likes to be close-shaved, wears a white neck-cloth, and means to become entirely “a white fellow.” Another day, wearied with the heat and thraldom of dress, and tempted by the cool appearance, or stung by the severe taunts of his brethren in the bush, off he flings his encumbrances and civilisation, and gladly returns to a state of nature again.

The barber’s art appears, in several cases, to have caught the attention of these savages. The following ridiculous account of an operation of this kind, performed upon some natives of the country a little southward of Port Jackson, is given by Flinders. “A new employment arose up on our hands. We had clipped the hair and beards of the two Botany Bay natives, at Red Point; and they were showing themselves to the others, and persuading them to follow their example. While, therefore, the powder was drying, I began with a large pair of scissors to execute my new office upon the eldest of four or five chins presented to me; and as great nicety was not required, the shearing of a dozen of them did not occupy me long. Some of the more timid were alarmed at a formidable instrument coming so near to their noses, and would scarcely be persuaded by their shaven friends to allow the operation to be finished. But when their chins were held up a second time, their fear of the instrument, the wild stare of their eyes, and the smile which they forced, formed a compound upon the rough savage countenance, not unworthy the pencil of a Hogarth. I was almost tempted to try what effect a little snip would produce, but our situation was too critical to admit of such experiments.”[59]

It has been repeatedly stated, upon good authority, that the health of the natives of the bush has suffered greatly, and that their lives have been frequently shortened, by the habits and indulgences which they have learned from their more civilized neighbours. In their original state, although beyond question the average duration of life was considerably below that of European nations, yet an advanced age was not uncommonly attained among them. Numbers die during the period of infancy, for none except very strong children can possibly undergo the hardships, the privations, and the perpetual travelling, which most of the infants born in the bush must brave and endure. Besides which, there is the chance of a violent death in some of the frequent quarrels which arise and include in their consequences all the relatives of the contending parties. But, due allowance having been made for these causes by which the average duration of life in those wild regions is shortened, it does not appear that their inhabitants are a particularly short-lived race, although by some persons this has been thought to be the case. It is impossible exactly to ascertain the age of the Australian savages, who have no mode of keeping account of this themselves; but from instances of youths, their father, grandfather, and great uncle being alive, and in the enjoyment of tolerably good health, or from similar cases, it may be safely concluded that they frequently reach, or even pass beyond, the boundary term of life, three score years and ten. To one horrible mode of departing from life, which is strangely common in more polished nations, these barbarians are, happily, strangers. Captain Grey says, “I believe they have no idea that such a thing as a man’s putting an end to his own life could ever occur; whenever I have questioned them on this point, they have invariably laughed at me, and treated my question as a joke.” The period of old age must be as happy as any other time in the life of a savage, if not more so, since aged men are always treated with much respect, and rarely take an active part in any fray. They are allowed to marry young wives, and to watch them as jealously, and treat them as cruelly, as they please; and they appear to suffer less from weakness and disease than the aged amongst us usually endure. The old, too, are privileged to eat certain kinds of meat forbidden to the young. Thus Piper, a native, who accompanied Major Mitchell, would not eat the flesh of emu, even when food was scarce; but when he had undergone the ceremony of being rubbed over with the fat of that bird by an old man, he had thenceforth no objection to it. The threatened penalty was, that young men, after eating it, would be afflicted with sores all over the body; but the fact is, that it is too rich and oily for the old men to allow any but themselves to partake of it. So that, upon the whole, in New Holland, as in most other uncivilised countries, old age is a period of much dignity, and of considerable enjoyment of life.

But, whatever may be the troubles, or whatever the enjoyments, of old age, they are, in their very nature, even above our other troubles or enjoyments, brief and transitory. The aged warrior of Australia can plead no exemption from the common lot of mortality, and death draws a veil over the chequered existence,—the faults and follies, the talents and virtues, of every child of Adam. The various customs and superstitions, connected with the death and burial of their friends, are very numerous among the tribes of Australia, and some of them are curious and peculiar. It would be impossible to give a full account of them, but a few of the most remarkable may be selected. Throughout all the funeral solemnities of savage and heathen nations the same distinguishing mark is to be observed,—they are the vain devices, the miserable inventions of men who sorrow for their departed friends as those that have no hope. Nothing, it is asserted, can awake in the breast more melancholy feelings than the funeral chants of the Australians. They are sung by a whole chorus of females of all ages, and the effect produced upon the bystanders by this wild music surpasses belief. The following is a chant, which has been heard upon several such occasions, and which, simple though it be, fully expresses the feelings of a benighted heathen mourning over the grave of a friend whom he has lost (as he thinks) for ever:—

But previously to our entering upon the subject of the funeral rites practised in New Holland, it will be necessary to notice the superstitions respecting sorcerers, which in that country are so intimately connected with the very idea of death. When an individual life is taken away by open violence, then, as we have seen, it is avenged upon the supposed murderer, or his relatives. But when death occurs from accidental or natural causes, it is usually attributed to the influence of sorcery, and not unfrequently is it revenged upon some connexion of the parties believed to have practised that art. So that, generally speaking, the death of one human being involves that of another, which is no small check to population. In truth, it would almost seem that the natives have no idea of death occurring, except by violence or sorcery;[60] and these strange notions must not be dealt with too severely, in a country like England, where (within the last 200 years, and in no uncivilised state of society) persons have been burnt for witchcraft; and in which, even in the present day, every vile imposture and godless pretence of supernatural power is sure of finding eager listeners and astonished admirers. The Boyl-yas, or native sorcerers, are objects of mysterious dread, and are thought to have the power of becoming invisible to all eyes but those of their brethren in the same evil craft. As our northern witches were supposed to have the power of riding upon a broom-stick, so these southern sorcerers are said to be able to transport themselves at pleasure through the air. If they have a dislike to any one they can kill him, it is said, by stealing on him at night and consuming his flesh, into which they enter like pieces of quartz-stone, and the pain they occasion is always felt. Another sorcerer, however, can draw them out, and the pieces of stone pretended to be thus obtained are kept as great curiosities. Perhaps the clearest ideas of the imaginary powers of these sorcerers, and of the dread in which they are held, will be found from the following account, obtained from a native with the utmost difficulty, (for the subject is never willingly mentioned,) and reported verbatim by Captain Grey.

“‘The Boyl-yas,’ said the trembling Kaiber, ‘are natives who have the power of boyl-ya; they sit down to the northward, the eastward, and southward; the Boyl-yas are very bad, they walk away there’ (pointing to the east). ‘I shall be very ill presently. The Boyl-yas eat up a great many natives,—they eat them up as fire would; you and I will be very ill directly. The Boyl-yas have ears: by and by they will be greatly enraged. I’ll tell you no more.’

“‘The Boyl-yas move stealthily,—you sleep and they steal on you,—very stealthily the Boyl-yas move. These Boyl-yas are dreadfully revengeful; by and by we shall be very ill. I’ll not talk about them. They come moving along in the sky,—cannot you let them alone? I’ve already a terrible headache; by and by you and I will be two dead men.’

“‘The natives cannot see them. The Boyl-yas do not bite, they feed stealthily; they do not eat the bones, but consume the flesh. Just give me what you intend to give, and I’ll walk off.’

What secrets can the human breast contain,
When tempted by thy charms, curst love of gain!

“‘The Boyl-yas sit at the graves of natives in great numbers. If natives are ill, the Boyl-yas charm, charm, charm, charm, and charm, and, by and by, the natives recover.’”

Nothing further could be learned from this terrified and unwilling witness. The custom spoken of in the last part of his evidence, that of sitting at the graves of the dead, is found in nearly all the known portions of Australia, and the object of this practice is to discover by what person the death of the deceased individual has been caused, which is supposed to be declared by dreams or visions. A similar custom among the Jews is reproved by the prophet Isaiah, chap. lxv. 4, 5.

Once, when Major Mitchell had been harassed, and two of his party killed by the hostile natives, he reached a spot of security, where, while admiring the calm repose of the wild landscape, and the beauteous beams of the setting sun, he was anticipating a night free from disturbance. He was alone, waiting the arrival of his party, but his reveries were dissipated in the most soothing manner, by the soft sounds of a female voice, singing in a very different tone from that generally prevailing among the Australians. It sounded like the song of despair, and, indeed, it was the strain of a female mourning over some deceased relative; nor could the loud “hurra” of the men, when they came up, angry at the recent pillage and murder of some of the party, put to flight the melancholy songstress of the woods. On these occasions it is usual for the relatives of the deceased to continue their lamentations, appearing insensible of what people may be doing around them.

The rude verses, given below, and forming the substance of a chant, sung by an old woman to incite the men to avenge the death of a young person, may serve at once for a specimen of the poetry and superstition of the Australian wilderness:—

“The blear-eyed sorcerers of the north
Their vile enchantments sung and wove,
And in the night they sallied forth,
A fearful, man-devouring drove.

“Feasting on our own lov’d one
With sanguinary jaws and tongue,
The wretches sat, and gnaw’d, and kept
Devouring, while their victim slept.
Yho, yang, yho yang, yang yho.

“Yes, unconsciously he rested
In a slumber too profound;
While vile Boyl-yas sat and feasted
On the victim they had bound
In sleep:—Mooligo, dear young brother,
Where shall we find the like of thee?
Favourite of thy tender mother,
We again shall never see
Mooligo, our dear young brother.
Yho, yang yho, ho, ho.

“Men, who ever bold have been,
Are your long spears sharpened well?
Fix anew the quartz-stone keen,
Let each shaft upon them tell.
Poise your meer-ros, long and sure,
Let the kileys whiz and whirl
Strangely through the air so pure;
Heavy dow-uks at them hurl;
Shout the yell they dread to hear.
Let the young men leap on high,
To avoid the quivering spear;
Light of limb and quick of eye,
Who sees well has nought to fear.
Let them shift, and let them leap,
While the quick spear whistling flies,
Woe to him who cannot leap!
Woe to him who has bad eyes!”

When an old woman has commenced a chant of this kind, she will continue it until she becomes positively exhausted; and upon her ceasing, another takes up the song. The effect some of them have upon the assembled men is very great; indeed, it is said that these addresses of the old women are the cause of most of the disturbances which take place. Thus, even amid the forests of New Holland, the influence of woman will, in one way or another, make itself felt.

The ceremonies observed at the funeral of a native vary, as might be expected, in so great a space, but they are wild and impressive in every part of New Holland. According to Collins, the natives of the colony called New South Wales were in the habit of burning the bodies of those who had passed the middle age of life, but burial seems the more universal method of disposing of their dead among the Australians. Some very curious drawings and figures cut in the rock were discovered by Captain Grey, in North-Western Australia, but whether these were burying-places does not appear. For the account of these works of rude art, which is extremely interesting, but too long to transcribe, the reader is referred to the delightful work of the traveller just mentioned.

The shrieks and piercing cries uttered by the women over their dead relatives, are said to be truly fearful, and agreeably to the ancient custom of idolatrous eastern nations mentioned in 1 Kings xviii. 28, and in Jer. xlviii. 37,[61] they tear and lacerate themselves most frightfully, occasionally cutting off portions of their beards, and, having singed them, throwing them upon the dead body. With respect to their tombs, these are of various sorts in different districts. In the gulph of Carpentaria, on the Northern coast, Flinders found several skeletons of natives, standing upright in the hollow trunks of trees; the skulls and bones, being smeared or painted partly red and partly white, made a very strange appearance. On the banks of the river Darling, in the interior of Eastern Australia, Major Mitchell fell in with a tribe, which had evidently suffered greatly from small-pox,[62] or some similar disease, and in the same neighbourhood he met with some remarkable mounds or tombs, supposed to cover the remains of that portion of the tribe which had been swept off by the same disease that had left its marks upon the survivors. On a small hill, overlooking the river, were three large tombs, of an oval shape, and about twelve feet across in the longest diameter. Each stood in the centre of an artificial hollow, the mound in the middle being about five feet high; and on each of them were piled numerous withered branches and limbs of trees, forming no unsuitable emblems of mortality. There were no trees on this hill, save one quite dead, which seemed to point with its hoary arms, like a spectre, to the tombs. A melancholy waste, where a level country and boundless woods extended beyond the reach of vision, was in perfect harmony with the dreary foreground of the scene.

Indeed, to those who have been from infancy accustomed to the quiet consecrated burying places of our own land,—spots which, in rural districts, are usually retired, yet not quite removed from the reach of “the busy hum of men;” to those who have always looked upon a Christian temple,

“Whose taper spire points, finger-like, to heaven,”

as the almost necessary accompaniment of a burial-place, the appearance of the native tombs in the desolate wilds of a savage and uncultivated country, must be dreary in the extreme. Scenes of this character must appear to the eye of a Christian almost emblematical of the spiritual blank—the absence of any sure and certain hope—in the midst of which the natives, whose remains are there reposing, must have lived and died. How striking is Captain Grey’s description of another tomb, which was found in a totally different part of New Holland, near the western coast, and at no great distance from the Swan River settlement! The scenery, not, indeed, in the immediate vicinity, but very near to the newly-made grave, is thus described. Even at mid-day, the forest wore a sombre aspect, and a stillness and solitude reigned throughout it that were very striking. Occasionally, a timid kangaroo might be seen stealing off in the distance, or a kangaroo-rat might dart out from a tuft beneath your feet, but these were rare circumstances. The most usual disturbers of these wooded solitudes were the black cockatoos; “but I have never, in any part of the world,” adds the enterprising traveller, “seen so great a want of animal life as in these mountains.” It was not far from this lonely district, in a country nearly resembling it, only less wooded and more broken into deep valleys, that a recent grave was found, carefully constructed, with a hut built over it, to protect the now senseless slumberer beneath from the rains of winter. All that friendship could do to render his future state happy had been done. His throwing-stick was stuck in the ground at his head; his broken spears rested against the entrance of the hut; the grave was thickly strewed with wilgey, or red earth; and three trees in front of the hut, chopped with a variety of notches and uncouth figures, bore testimony that his death had been bloodily avenged. The native Kaiber, who acted as guide to the travellers, gazed upon this scene with concern and uneasiness. Being asked why the spears were broken, the trees notched, and the red earth strewed upon the grave, his reply was, “Neither you nor I know: our people have always done so, and we do so now,”—quite as good a reason as many who think themselves far more enlightened are able to give for their actions. When a proposal was made to stop for the night at this solitary spot, poor Kaiber resisted it; “I cannot rest here,” said he, “for there are many spirits in this place.”[63]

When Mr. Montgomery Martin was in Australia, he obtained with some difficulty the dead body of an old woman, who had long been known about Sydney. Hearing of her death and burial in the forest, about twenty-five miles from his residence, he went thither, and aided by some stock-keepers, found the grave,—a slightly elevated and nearly circular mound. The body was buried six feet deep, wrapped in several sheets of bark, the inner one being of a fine silvery texture. Several things which the deceased possessed in life, together with her favourite dog, were buried with her,—all apparently for use in another world. The skull of this poor creature was full of indentations, as if a tin vessel had been struck by a hammer; light might be seen through these hollows, which had been caused by blows of whaddies (hard sticks) when she was young, and some bold youths among the natives courted her after this strange fashion. It seemed scarcely possible that marks so extraordinary could have been made in the human skull without fracturing it.[64]

In a society of men so simple and so little advanced in refinement or civilisation as the inhabitants of New Holland, it is evident that their wants must be few and easily satisfied, their stock of earthly riches very small and humble. Indeed, these people nearly always carry the whole of their worldly property about with them, and the Australian hunter is thus equipped: round his middle is wound a belt spun from the fur of the opossum, in which are stuck his hatchet, his kiley or boomerang, and a short heavy stick to throw at the smaller animals. In his hand he carries his throwing-stick, and several spears, headed in two or three different manners, so that they are equally suitable to war or the chase. In the southern parts, a warm kangaroo-skin cloak, thrown over his shoulders, completes the hunter’s outfit; but this is seldom or never seen northwards of 29° south latitude. These, however, are not quite all the riches of the barbarian, a portion of which is carried by his wife, or wives, as the case may be; and each of these has a long thick stick, with its point hardened in the fire, a child or two fixed upon their shoulders, and in their bags, in which also they keep sundry other articles, reckoned valuable and important for the comfort of savage life. For example; a flat stone to pound roots with, and earth to mix with the pounded roots;[65] quartz, for making spears and knives; stones, for hatchets; gum, for making and mending weapons and tools; kangaroo sinews for thread, and the shin-bones of the same animal for needles;—these and many similar articles, together with whatever roots, &c. they may have collected during the day, form the total of the burden of a female Australian; and this, together with the husband’s goods, forms the sum and substance of the wealth of an inhabitant of the southern land. In Wellesley’s Islands, on the north coast of New Holland, the catalogue of a native’s riches appears somewhat different, from his maritime position.[66] A raft, made of several straight branches of mangrove lashed together, broader at one end than at the other;—a bunch of grass at the broad end where the man sits to paddle,—a short net to catch turtle, or probably a young shark,—and their spears and paddles seem to form the whole earthly riches of these rude fishermen.[67] But one essential thing must not be overlooked in the enumeration of a native’s possessions. Fire, of procuring which they have not very easy means, is usually carried about with them; and the women commonly have the charge of the lighted stick, in addition to their other cares.

It is no very easy matter for civilized man to realise the perfectly free and unencumbered way in which these natives roam from place to place, accordingly as seasons or provisions may serve, constantly carrying with them a home wherever they go; and (what is far more difficult in civilised society) leaving no cares of home behind them in the spot from which they may have recently removed. Certainly there must be something very delightful in this wild sort of life to every one, who has from his early infancy been accustomed to its pleasure and inured to its hardships, neither of which are by any means to be measured by the standard of the cold and changeable climate of England. The grand objects of the savage, in almost every part of the globe, are to baffle his human enemies, and to assert his dominion over the lower races of animals. For these purposes, the activity, secrecy, acuteness, and sagacity of man in an uncivilised state are almost incredible; nor could we have supposed, were not the truth shown in numberless instances, that the senses of human beings were capable of so great perfection, their bodies and limbs of such exertion and agility, as they gain by continual practice and early training in the forests of America or Australia. In these bodily excellencies, the inhabitants of the last-named continent might safely challenge the whole world to surpass them. The natives once approached Major Mitchell’s camp by night; and though nine fire-sticks were seen in motion, no noise was heard. At length when the lights had approached within 150 yards, every one suddenly disappeared; the bearers preserving, all the while, the most perfect silence. It was then thought advisable to scare these noiseless visitors away, and a rocket was sent up, at which signal the English party rushed forward with a shout; and this had the desired effect. It is said that the natives regard, as an important matter, the falling of a star, which would account for their alarm at the rocket. On another occasion, when an English exploring party had discovered a few traces of natives near their place of encampment, an active search after them immediately took place; and it appeared that they had crept up within about one hundred yards of the camp, after which they had been disturbed, and had made off. Their mode of approach was by a stream of water, so as to conceal their trail; after which they had turned out of the stream up its right bank, and had carefully trod in one another’s footmarks, so as to conceal their number, although traces of six or seven different men could be perceived as far as the spot where they had been disturbed. From this point these children of the Bush had disappeared, as it were, by magic: not a twig was broken, not a stone was turned, nor could it be observed that the heavy drops of rain had been shaken from a single blade of grass. All efforts to hit upon the direction in which they had fled were to no purpose, except to put the explorers more constantly on the watch against beings who were often near them when they least dreamed of their presence. Human wisdom would enforce this lesson from such circumstances; but how often does heavenly wisdom lift up its voice to us in vain, teaching us by what is passing around us to be upon our watch constantly over our own conduct, since we are never very far from the Almighty presence of God himself!

To the quick-sighted natives, the surface of the earth is, in fact, as legible as a newspaper, so accustomed are they to read in any traces left upon it the events of the day.[68] For once, Major Mitchell informs us, he was able to hide so that these people could not find; but then his buried treasure was only a collection of specimens of stones and minerals, of the use of which they could know nothing, and concerning which they were little likely to have any suspicions. The notes written by the traveller, and concealed in trees, seldom escaped notice;[69] nor did provisions, nor, in short, any article which they could either use or suspect pass unobserved.

In Western Australia, Captain Grey, having galloped after some wild cattle which he had met in his journey, found, upon wishing to ascertain the hour, that his watch had fallen from his pocket during the chase. He waited until the rest of his party came up, and then requested Kaiber, their native guide, to walk back and find the watch. This, Kaiber assured the traveller, was utterly impossible, nor could his assertion be gainsaid; nevertheless, the watch was too valuable to be given up without an effort for its recovery. “Well, Kaiber,” said the captain, “your people had told me you could see tracks well, but I find they are mistaken; you have but one eye,—something is the matter with the other,” (this was really the case)—“no young woman will have you, for if you cannot follow my tracks, and find a watch, how can you kill game for her?” This speech had the desired effect, and the promise of a shilling heightened his diligence, so they went back together in search of the lost article. The ground that had been passed over was badly suited for the purpose of tracking, and the scrub was thick; nevertheless, to his delight and surprise, the captain had his watch restored to his pocket in less than half an hour.

Even in the simple arts and rude habits of the people of New Holland there are different degrees of advancement and progress to be observed. On the west coast, a few degrees to the north of the British settlement at Swan River, a great difference was noticed by Captain Grey in the arrangements of the native population. The country near the Hutt River is exceedingly beautiful and fertile, and it supports a very numerous population, comparatively with other districts. The exploring party found a native path or road, wider, more used, and altogether better than any before seen in that region. Along the side of this path were seen frequent wells, some of them ten or twelve feet in depth, which were made in a superior manner. Across the dry bed of a stream they then came upon a light fruitful soil, which served the inhabitants as a warran ground. Warran is a sort of yam like the sweet potato, and its root is a favourite article of food with some of the native tribes. For three miles and a half the travellers passed over a fertile tract of land full of the holes made by the natives in digging this root; indeed, so thick were they, that it was not easy to walk, and this tract extended east and west, as far as they could see. The district must have been inhabited a great many years, for more had been done in it to secure a provision from the ground by hard manual labour than it would have appeared to be in the power of uncivilised man to accomplish.

It can be no subject of surprise that the various tribes of Australia, living in a wild country, and blessed with no clear nor adequate ideas of their Maker, should be exceedingly superstitious, as well as ignorant and simple. The strange aversion felt by some of them to a sort of muscle or oyster, found in fresh water, has already been mentioned; and the horror of the native population at the supposed effects of sorcery has also been detailed. Kaiber, Captain Grey’s guide, was bidden to gather a few of these muscles to make a meal for the party of hungry travellers in the Bush, but at first he would not move, declaring that if he touched these shell-fish, the Boyl-yas would be the death of him. Unable to bring any instance of mischief arising from them, he shrewdly answered, that this was because nobody had been “wooden-headed” enough to meddle with them, and that he intended to have nothing whatever to do with them. At last, with much difficulty he was prevailed to go, but whilst occupied in his task, he was heard most bitterly deploring his fate. It was his courage and strong sinews, he said, that had hitherto kept him from dying either of hunger or thirst, but what would these avail him against the power of sorcery? However, the muscles were brought, and Kaiber’s master made his meal upon them, but no persuasions could prevail upon him to partake of them. The same evening, the half-starved, half-clothed party of travellers were overtaken by a tremendous storm, which put out their fires, and they continued during the night in a most pitiable state from exposure to the cold and weather. All these misfortunes were set down by the sagacious native to the account of the muscles, nor was it till his master threatened him with a good beating, that Kaiber left off chattering to himself, while his mouth moved with the effect of the extreme cold:—

“Oh, wherefore did he eat the muscles?
Now the Boyl-yas storms and thunder make;
Oh, wherefore would he eat the muscles?”

Among the superstitions of Australia, that feeling of awe which revolts from mentioning even the name of a deceased person is very remarkable; and the custom of silence upon this subject is so strictly enforced, that it renders inquiry respecting the family or ancestors of a native extremely difficult.[70] The only circumstance enabling the inquirer to overcome this hindrance is the fact, that, the longer a person has been dead, the less unwilling do they appear to name him. Thus did Captain Grey obtain some curious information respecting their pedigrees and family customs; for he began with endeavouring to discover only the oldest names on record, and then, as opportunity served, he would contrive to fill up the blanks, sometimes, when they were assembled round their fires at night, encouraging little disputes among them concerning their forefathers, by means of which he was able to gain much of the information he wanted.

One very singular notion prevailing among the native population of Australia, and proving that the belief in a spiritual world and in a future state, is not quite extinct even among them, is the idea which they entertain of white people being the souls of departed blacks. This supposition may serve to explain the reason of the disagreeable process complained of by Sturt, who says, that every new tribe examined them, pulling them about, measuring the hands and feet of the strangers with their own, counting their fingers, feeling their faces, and besmearing them all over with dirt and grease. A more powerful feeling than curiosity even may have prompted this conduct, and they may have sought, impelled by superstition, to recognise in the foreigners their own kindred. But however that may have been, most travellers in Australia mention the peculiar idea alluded to. Captain Grey was once vehemently attacked by the caresses of an old, ugly, and dirty black woman, who recognised him as her son’s ghost, and was obliged to endure them. His real mother, the captain says, could scarcely have expressed more delight at his return, while his sable-coloured brothers and sister paid their respects to him, when the vehemence of a mother’s affection had somewhat subsided. He was convinced that the old woman really believed him to be her son, whose first thought, upon his return to earth, had been to revisit his old mother, and bring her a present!

The natives believe that the night-mare—a subject likely enough to give birth to superstition—is caused by some evil spirit, in order to get rid of which they jump up, seize a lighted brand from the fire, and, after whirling it round the head with a variety of imprecations, they throw the stick away in the direction where they suppose the evil spirit to be. They say the demon wants a light, and that when he gets it, he will go away. However, besides supplying this his need, they likewise take the precautions of changing their position, and of getting as near as they can into the middle of the group of their companions who are sleeping round the fire. If obliged to move away from the fire after dark, either to get water or for any other purpose, they carry a light with them, and set fire to dry bushes as they go along.

A profound respect, almost amounting to veneration, is paid in many districts of Australia to shining stones or pieces of crystal, which they call “Teyl.” These are carried in the girdles of men, especially of the sorcerers or corad-jes, and no woman is allowed to see the contents of the round balls made of woollen cord from the fur of the opossum in which these crystals are enclosed. They are employed as charms in sickness, and are sometimes sent from tribe to tribe for hundreds of miles on the sea-coast or in the interior. One of these stones, which was examined by an Englishman, to whom it was shown privately by a black, was of a substance like quartz, about the size of a pigeon’s egg, and transparent, like white sugar-candy. The small particles of crystal which crumble off are swallowed in order to prevent illness. Many other instances of the like superstitious folly might very easily be gathered from the writings of those who have had the best opportunities of becoming acquainted with the manners of the Australian tribes.

The following is from the pen of the Rev. G. King, a missionary of the Society for Propagating the Gospel, who speaks thus of the natives near Fremantle, in Western Australia: “The native children are intelligent and apt to learn, but the advanced men are so far removed from civilisation, and so thoroughly confirmed in roving habits, that all the exertions made in their behalf have found them totally inaccessible; but we have no reason to conclude that they have not a vague idea of a future state. They are exceedingly superstitious; they never venture out of their huts from sunset till sunrise, for fear of encountering goblins and evil spirits. When any of their tribe dies they say, ‘He’ll soon jump up, white man, and come back again in big ship;’ and when a stranger arrives, they examine his countenance minutely, to trace the lineaments of some deceased friend; and when they think they have discovered him they sometimes request him to expose his breast, that they may see where the spear entered which caused the life to fly away so long.”[71] Altogether, experience bears witness, in their case, of the same fact which is to be perceived in other parts of the globe, namely, that where there is little religion, there is often a great deal of superstition, and that those who do not “believe the truth,” almost always fall into the snares of falsehood, so as to “believe a lie.”

With all the disadvantages of having two races of men (one of which is thought inferior to the other) occupying the same territory; with the evils, likewise, unavoidably arising from the ease with which what is bad in Europeans may be learned and copied, and the difficulty of understanding or imitating what is good in us, the natives are placed in a very peculiar and unhappy situation. Their intercourse with the white men has hitherto, certainly, been productive of more injury, both moral and temporal, than benefit to them. Into the sad and disgusting details, affording a proof of this truth, which may be found in the evidence before the committees of the House of Commons upon the subject of transportation it will neither be suitable nor possible to enter. The fact is, indeed, acknowledged by men of all parties and opinions, while, by all right-minded men, it is deeply deplored.

Drunkenness and its attendant vices prevail to a fearful extent among the Europeans in New Holland, the lower orders especially; and what sins are more enticing than these to the ignorant, sensual savage? Tobacco and spirits, which the poor natives call “tumbledown,” are articles in constant request; and to purchase these of Europeans, the blacks will give almost anything they possess, even their wives.[72] Thus, a regular traffic in what is evil is carried on, and almost all that the heathen people of Australia learn from the so-called Christians with whom they associate, is to practise, with tenfold aggravation, sins which God abhors, and will not allow to go unpunished. Like children that have been always brought up in a family of foul-tongued transgressors, the very first words of English which the natives learn are words of wickedness and blasphemy; the only introduction to the name of their God and Saviour is in order that they may insult that holy Name, and blaspheme the Divine Majesty. And these lessons are taught them, let us remember, by men calling themselves, and perhaps even thinking themselves, civilised, enlightened, and Christian persons;—by men, certainly, belonging to a nation, which justly lays claim to these honourable epithets! But enough has been stated on this painful subject to fill every thoughtful mind with humiliation and fear, when it contemplates the “much” that “has been given” to civilised nations, and recalls the fixed rule of truth and justice, that so much the “more” will be required of them. Nor is this a matter concerning the British inhabitants of the colonies alone, and with which the nation at large has little or no concern. For if we inquire, who corrupt the natives? the answer is, our vile and worthless population, the very scum of mankind, whom we have cast out as evil from the bosom of their native land. But a further question naturally offers itself. Who were, in many instances, the passive, if not the active, corrupters of these very corrupters themselves? Who have neglected to provide means for their christian instruction, and so let them grow up to be worse than heathens, until they could be endured no longer in the land? What nation had within a single century more than doubled its population without having built or endowed a score of new churches? To whose neglect is it, partly, though not entirely, owing, that when heathens meet, in far distant countries, with our lower classes, or when their homes are visited in our great towns and cities, the very heathens are sometimes forced to yield the palm to them in wickedness and in sin? Such questions very nearly concern every Englishman, and they are, even now, only beginning to command the attention they deserve. High and low, rich and poor, clergy and laity, we are all alike implicated in those evils, which have arisen from national neglect and forgetfulness of God, and which are not unlikely to lead to national confusion and ruin. But we are still, thank God, blessed with a pure and apostolical Church in our native country, and this is a mighty instrument for good, if we will but support it, and render it as efficient as it ought to be. The children of our little sea-girt isle may almost be called the salt of the earth, so extensively is our naval and our moral power spread. If we can bring those children up in the right way, as dutiful children of God and faithful members of the Church of England, then, indeed, the blessings resulting from our efforts may make themselves felt in the very ends of the earth—in the solitary wilds of New Holland. But otherwise, if we continue to neglect our own people, and disgrace our profession of Christianity by encouraging tacitly the growth of heathenism around us, then we may judge by the moral and social evils which have already resulted from this course what the final consequences are likely to be. “If the salt have lost its savour wherewith shall it be salted: it is therefore good for nothing, but to be cast out and trodden under foot of men.” (Matt. v. 13.)

With savages resembling those that dwell in the Australian forests, having no means of religious instruction among themselves, the only hope of producing an improvement in their moral and social character, must arise from their intercourse with christian people. But it must be repeated, unhappily, the great majority of christian people (especially in that country and among those classes where the native is most likely to have intercourse) are by no means adorning by their lives the faith and doctrine of that Master whose name they bear. Hence arises the deplorable condition of the natives, who are brought into contact chiefly with the lowest and worst of the Europeans, and who, beside many other hindrances, have the great stumbling-block of bad examples, and evil lives, constantly before them in their intercourse with the Christians. And, as though that were not enough, as though fresh obstacles to the conversion of these nations to God’s truth were needed and required, our holy religion is presented to them, not as it came from the hands of its Founder and his Apostles, inculcating “one Lord, one faith, and one baptism,” but such as man’s weakness and wickedness delight in representing it,—a strange jumble of various “denominations.” And this unworthy course has been followed by government itself. Without any pleas arising from conscience, or the principle of toleration to excuse this, the British government, in what little they have done for converting to Christianity some of the natives, have afforded their help to bodies of Christians bearing different names. Nor can it be said that the Church of England and Ireland was without any zealous ministers ready to undertake this most difficult task, trusting in God’s strength for help to accomplish it, at least in some degree. It is the confession of Dr. Lang himself, who is no friend to the Church of England, that the only two missions[73] to the natives existing in 1837 were, as all ought to be, episcopalian; but one of these was stated, on the best authority, in 1841 to be “not in an encouraging state,”[74] although a third mission, to belong to the Presbyterians, was about to be commenced under the auspices of Government, among the natives in another station. It is fearlessly asserted that all missions to the heathen supported by Government ought to be subject to episcopal control; and the reasons for this may be briefly added. First, there is no tenderness of conscience, nor claim to toleration, which can stand in the way of an English government spreading among its native subjects the doctrine and discipline of the English Church; supposing these willing to become Christians at all, they cannot have a prior claim upon us to be brought up as dissenters from the Church. Secondly, since the Scotch discipline, though it prevails over a very small part of our population, is yet established by law in one portion of the island, it may put in (as it has done) its claim for help from Government; but, without entering into argument respecting this, might we not safely put it to every wise and rightly judging Presbyterian, whether it is not better to waive this claim of theirs, than to perplex the progress of Christianity, by offering to the heathen Australians, at the same time, and by the same temporal authority, the Bible, which speaks of one Church, and the choice between two churches? And lastly, whatever unhappy scruples and divisions among Christians have arisen respecting episcopacy, surely, if men had a truly christian spirit within them, they would quietly consent to the instruction of the natives being placed in the hands of a Church which they cannot deny to be scriptural, and of a ministry, which for 1500 years from Christ’s birth no sect of men ever thought of denying to be the only apostolical ministry. It is indeed a strange spectacle which our Christianity must offer to the eyes of those that are really desirous of becoming converts. Either we “bite and devour one another,” or else we quietly set aside our Lord’s commands and prayers for our union, and contentedly agree to divide ourselves into as many parties, sects, or denominations, as we please; and having done so, we go and inoculate our heathen converts with our own love of separation. St. Paul was shocked at hearing of divisions in the Church of Corinth, but enlightened statesmen of the nineteenth century appear to be shocked at the idea of allowing Christianity to be offered to the heathens without its unhappy divisions! What, it may be asked with all reverence, would have been the success of the Apostles in evangelizing the Gentile world, if the gospel of Christ had been offered to the heathens of that age, under the same disadvantages with which men of the present age prefer to clog and impede their missionary efforts? Can we wonder, under these circumstances, at the slow progress of the gospel? Is it not rather wonderful that it should make any progress at all? If the world is reluctant to believe in Christ’s mission, would not His own words, (John xvii. 21,) suggest to us our miserable divisions as a chief cause of this?

CHAPTER VI.

SKETCHES OF NATIVE CHARACTER.

Bennillong.—The first native who could be persuaded to live upon friendly terms of confidence with the British settlers in New South Wales was called Bennillong, and it was after no very long period, (within two years after the commencement of the colony,) that this intercourse with them began in the following manner:—In the spring of the second year the bodies of many of the natives were found in a lifeless or dying state upon different parts of the coast near Sydney, in consequence of the small-pox, which had been raging among them; and some of these having been brought up to the settlement, from motives of pity, the disease was taken by a native who had been captured shortly before, in hopes of opening through him a means of communication with the others. The intended interpreter died, but the governor, Captain Philip, still retained in his care two native children, whose lives had been saved from the small-pox, and succeeded, within a few months, in securing two other natives, both of them well known to the children, through whom they were assured of perfect safety. However, instead of remaining until they could become familiar with the English manners and language, so as to carry on an intercourse between the colonists and their own countrymen, these natives both made their escape, one of them very soon after he had been taken; the other, Bennillong, in about six months afterwards, when he had been treated with every kindness and indulgence, and had grown somewhat accustomed to the society of the English settlers. Bennillong made his escape in May 1790, and in the September following he saw some of the colonists, by whom he sent a present to the governor, namely, a piece of the whale which was then lying on the beach, and around which the natives were assembled at a feast. Wishing to see him again, the governor went immediately to the spot, where he found a number of natives, and both Bennillong, and the other one, Cole-be, who had first escaped. All went on amicably at first, and some wearing apparel, belonging to the men in the boat, was given to the savages, while Bennillong obtained a promise from his excellency that more should be brought in two days, and likewise some hatchets. The governor and his friends were retiring by degrees to their boat, having imprudently allowed the natives very nearly to surround them, when Bennillong, after presenting several of his friends by name, pointed out one, whom Captain Philip stepped forward to meet, holding out both his hands to him. The savage, not understanding this civility, and possibly thinking that he was going to seize him, threw his spear, and wounded the governor rather badly, but not mortally. Several other spears were thrown, and one musket fired, but no injury was done on either side. A few days after the accident Bennillong came with his wife and some companions very near to the settlement, and an interview between these and the British officers took place, in which it was agreed that the governor, as soon as he was able, should visit the same spot; Bennillong, meanwhile, assuring them that the man who had inflicted the wound had been severely beaten. On the tenth day his Excellency was so far recovered as to go to the place of the whale feast, together with several officers, all armed. Bennillong here repeated his assurances to the governor in person, that the offending party had been well beaten by him and Cole-be, and added that his throwing the spear was entirely the effect of his fears, and arose from an impulse of self-preservation. The day before this visit nearly 4000 fish had been taken by the colonists, and between 30 and 40 of these, weighing on an average about 5 lbs. each, were sent to Bennillong and his party on the north shore of Port Jackson. After this, tolerably friendly feelings continued, with some few interruptions, between the two nations, and Bennillong himself became very much attached to the governor, insomuch that he and another native resolved to accompany Captain Philip to England, when, towards the close of 1792, that excellent officer resigned his appointment, and embarked on board of the Atlantic transport-ship. The two Australians, fully bent upon the voyage, which they knew would be a very distant one, withstood resolutely, at the moment of their departure, the united distress of their wives and the dismal lamentations of their friends. No more was heard respecting these absentees until March 1794, when a message was brought from them in England, requesting that their wives might be told to expect them in the course of that year, since, though well, they had not so completely lost their love of liberty and of their native country, to prefer London, with its pleasures and abundance, to the woods of New South Wales. It was not, however, until August, 1795, that Bennillong reached his native shores, having become accustomed to the manners of civilized life, by his long sojourn among the English people. He declared to his old acquaintance, with an air and tone that seemed to expect compliance, that he should no longer suffer them to fight and cut each other’s throats, but should introduce peace among them, and make them love one another. When they visited him at Government House, he wished they would contrive to be somewhat more cleanly in their persons and less coarse in their manners; and he was quite offended at his sister, who came in such haste to see him, that she positively forgot to bring anything else upon her back, except a little nephew! Bennillong had been an attentive observer of manners, which he was not unsuccessful in copying; his dress was an object of no small concern to him, and every one was of opinion that he had cast off all love for savage life.

Upon his arrival, Bennillong made inquiries after his wife,[75] but having heard no very good account of her conduct, he at length tempted her by some rose-coloured clothes and a gipsy bonnet to leave her new lover and return to her former husband. Bennillong’s presents, however pretty, were of very little practical use, and he was soon afterwards missing, having gone into the Bush to give his rival a good beating with fists after the English method. However, all his valour was lost upon his wife, who deserted him,—an event which did not appear to give him great uneasiness, nor was it much to be wondered at, since she had been stolen by him. His absence from the governor’s house became now frequent, and when he went out, his clothes were usually left behind him, although he carefully resumed them on his return before he made his visit to the governor.

Within a year of his arrival from England this poor creature had a quarrel with his bosom-friend Cole-be, whose wife he had coveted, and from whom he received some severe wounds, together with the cutting inquiry, “Whether he meant that kind of conduct to be a specimen of English manners?” Thus Bennillong by degrees returned again to all the habits of savage life,—habits rendered rather worse than better by the experience he had gained respecting those of civilized men. He could not, however, keep on terms with his countrymen, and in 1796 he was obliged to call in the help of the governor’s soldiers to protect him from his own people. In the following year he was accused of having been the cause of a woman’s death, who had dreamed, when dying, that he had killed her; and by some it was said, that he actually had wounded her, so that it was demanded of him that he should undergo the ordeal of having some spears thrown at him. Although he denied the charge, yet it was not thought unlikely to be true, for he was now become so fond of drinking that he lost no opportunity of being intoxicated, and in that state was savage and violent enough to be capable of any mischief. On these occasions he amused himself with annoying and insulting all his acquaintance, who were afraid to punish him lest they should offend his white friends. But, however, his interest with the latter was fast declining, for in an affray between the natives, Bennillong chose to throw a spear among the soldiers, who interfered to prevent further mischief; and one of these was dreadfully wounded by him. He was, notwithstanding, set at liberty, but being offended at the blame his behaviour had brought down upon him he would sometimes walk about armed, and declare that he did so for the purpose of spearing the governor whenever he might see him! After repeated affrays and quarrels with his wife’s lover and other natives, Bennillong, who had almost entirely quitted the comforts and quiet of civilized life, was dangerously wounded twice within two or three months. And although no more is related concerning him, and it is true that he had recently recovered of several very severe wounds, yet the probability is, that this weak and violent savage was not long afterwards cut off in the midst of life by an untimely and cruel death.

Barangaroo’s Funeral.—When Barangaroo Daringha, Bennillong’s elder wife, who was above fifty at the time of her death, was to have the funeral rites performed over her body, it was resolved by her husband that she should be burned, and the governor, the judge-advocate, and the surgeon of the colony were invited to the ceremony, besides whom there were present Bennillong’s relatives and a few others, mostly females. The spot for the pile was prepared by digging out the ground with a stick, to the depth of a few inches, and in this a heap of wood was raised to the height of about three feet, the ends and sides being formed of dry pieces, and the middle of it consisting of small twigs and branches, broken off for the purpose, and thrown together. Some grass was then spread over the pile, and the corpse covered with an old blanket was placed upon it, with the head towards the north. A basket with sundry articles belonging to the deceased was placed by her side, and some large logs being laid over the body by Bennillong, the pile was lighted by one of the party, and was quickly all in a flame. Bennillong himself pointed out to his friends that the fire had reached the corpse, and the spot was left long before the pile was consumed, while the husband seemed more cheerful than had been expected, and spoke about finding a nurse among the white women for his infant and motherless child, Dil-boong.[76] The next day he invited the same party of Europeans to see him rake the ashes together, and none of his own people were present at this ceremony. He went before his companions in a sort of solemn silence, speaking to no one until he had paid the last duties to Barangaroo. In his hand was the spear, with which he meant to punish the car-rah-dy, or conjurer, for whom he had sent to attend her in her illness, but who either could not or would not obey the summons; and with the end of this spear he collected the funereal ashes into a heap. Over these he made, with a piece of bark, which served for a spade, a small mound of earth, on each side of which was placed a log of wood, and on the top the bark with which he had constructed it. All was done with the utmost care and neatness, and he seemed pleased, when, in reply to his inquiries, he was told by his friends that it was “good.” His behaviour throughout was solemn and manly, and he was perfectly silent during the whole of the ceremony, from which nothing was suffered to withdraw his attention. Nor did he seem desirous to get quickly through it, but paid these last rites of affection with a care that did honour to his feelings towards one, for whom, notwithstanding his barbarism, he appeared to feel a sincere and strong attachment. When his melancholy task was ended, he stood for a few moments, with his hands folded over his bosom, and his eye fixed upon his labours, in the attitude of a man in profound thought. What were his thoughts then it is impossible certainly to declare, but they may have been more nearly akin to those of the mere civilized worldling than we might at first imagine. Death brings all men to an equality, and throws down every distinction but one. That distinction, indeed, so far from overthrowing, death renders more marked and conspicuous than before, clearly making manifest the difference between the believer and the unbeliever, “between him that serveth God, and him that serveth him not.”

The Spitting Tribe.—This was the name given by Major Mitchell to one of the most troublesome and ferocious of the native tribes, the place of whose habitation is on the lonely banks of the Darling, in the interior of Eastern Australia. When these disagreeable people were first met with, the man who was taking care of the sheep belonging to the exploring party held out a green bough; but the savage, who had before pointed a spear at the Englishman, replied to his emblem of peace by taking a bough, spitting upon it, and then thrusting it into the fire. Upon Major Mitchell hastening to the spot, similar expressions of ill will were manifested, evidently with the purpose of telling the strangers that they must go back. The native and a boy who was with him then threw up dust at their enemies, in a clever way, with their toes. Their feelings of hostility and defiance were too plainly expressed to be mistaken. Every effort at conciliation was useless, until, at length, the enraged native of the Bush retired slowly along the river bank, singing a war-song as he went, and showing by his actions that he was going for his tribe. This happened in the morning; and during the afternoon of the same day, a party of the tribe made their appearance, holding out boughs indeed, but with a very different ceremonial from what had hitherto been observed.[77] Their violent and expressive gestures evidently were intended to drive back the intruders; and as these last could not but feel that they were not upon their own ground, they used every endeavour to conciliate the opposing party. The blacksmith belonging to the expedition was at work with his bellows and anvil near the river bank, and his labours seemed to awaken very much the curiosity of the natives, who, however, still refused to sit down, and continued to wave their branches in the faces of the white people, and to spit at them repeatedly, all which conduct was patiently endured in the hope of establishing afterwards a more agreeable and friendly intercourse. As a peace-offering, a tomahawk was presented to the leader, who, guessing immediately its use, turned round to a log, and chopped it. Two other stout fellows then rudely demanded the British officer’s pistols from his belt, whereupon he drew one, and, curious to see the effect, fired it at a tree. Immediately, as though they had previously suspected the intruders to be evil demons, and had at length a clear proof of it, they repeated their actions of defiance with tenfold fury, accompanying these with demoniac looks, hideous shouts, and a war-song,—crouching, jumping, spitting, springing with the spear, and throwing dust at them, as they slowly retired. In short, their hideous crouching postures, measured gestures, and low jumps, to the tune of a wild song, with the fiendish glare of their countenances, at times all black, but now all eyes and teeth, seemed a fitter spectacle for Pandemonium than for the light of the bounteous sun. Thus they retired, dancing in a circle, and leaving the strangers in expectation of their return, and perhaps an attack in the morning. Whatever was the cause of their hostility, any further attempt to quiet them appeared out of the question, and it was too likely that ere long the English party would be forced to prove their superiority by arms.[78]

These troublesome visitors did not, however, make their appearance again before the following afternoon, when their curiosity and desire to get more presents brought them forth from their hiding-places in the woods. By degrees, they seemed to gain a little more confidence; but signs of defiance were still made; and as their fears diminished, their love of pilfering appeared to increase. The blacksmith was at work this day also; and they moved towards him, commencing at the same time a kind of chant, and slowly waving their green boughs. There was evidently some superstition in the ceremony, and one of the parties concerned in it was a coradje, or priest, who occasionally turned his back upon the Europeans, and touched his eye-brows, nose, and breast; then pointing his arm to the sky, and with his hand afterwards laid upon his breast, pouring forth a most solemn chant. The blacksmith, with whose honest occupation all this formed a strange contrast, had been ordered not to laugh nor stop working, which orders he obeyed as long as it was practicable. But, gradually, the black visitors gathered round the forge, and began to pilfer whatever they could lay hand or foot upon, until the persecuted smith could no longer proceed with his work. The best part of this scene was, that they did not mind being observed by any one, except the blacksmith, supposing that they were robbing him only. His patience, however, being severely tried, he was at last tempted to give one of them a push, when a scene of chanting, spitting, and throwing dust commenced on the part of the thief, who was a stout fellow and carried a spear, which he seemed inclined to use. One or two articles were lost in spite of all efforts, but the explorers were glad to feel at peace with these people upon any terms, and both parties separated that night in a tolerably civil way.

On the following day, the travellers began to move onwards, but they did not leave behind (as they had hoped) their troublesome neighbours. The natives rushed forth from the woods in greater numbers than ever, being painted white, and many of them carrying spears, and shouting. A horse belonging to one of the party was so startled at this, that he galloped away, and was with some little difficulty recovered. The threats and defiance of the savages were again repeated; and when the party of explorers began to proceed onwards, the whole of the woods appeared to be in flames. Various annoyances and hindrances were experienced from these disagreeable inhabitants of the Bush, during the next ten or twelve days; after which an event happened, which, though sad and unfortunate in itself, was yet calculated to fill the minds of these impudent savages with some respect and awe for the power of the Europeans. Joseph Jones,—the man who attended the flock of sheep, which accompanied Major Mitchell’s party in their wanderings in the interior of New Holland,—had been sent for some water; and the tea-kettle he carried with him was the sole cause of the quarrel that ensued. As he was getting up the river bank with the water, another man being stationed (as usual) at the top to protect him with his pistol, one of the natives, with others in his company, met him half way up, and with a smile took hold of the pot which he was carrying, together with the kettle. This was done under pretence of helping Jones, but, on reaching the top of the bank, the savage, in the same jocose way, held it fast, until a woman said something to him; and then, letting the pot go, he seized the kettle with his left hand, and at the same time struck Jones senseless to the ground by a violent blow on the forehead, inflicted with a club which he held in his right. On seeing this the other man, who was stationed by way of protection, fired, and wounded the savage, who swam across the river, and made off as well as he could; but the rest of the tribe were now advancing. The Englishman fired twice at them, and the second time, unfortunately, he shot the woman already mentioned, who, with her child fastened to her back, slid down the bank, and lay, apparently dying, in the water. At this moment three other Englishmen arrived, who had been sent off from the camp when the noise of fire-arms was heard, and one man among the natives was shot in the breast, but little more mischief was done, for the tribe speedily dispersed, having dragged away the dead body of the woman; while Joseph Jones returned, wounded and bleeding, to the camp of the explorers. When night arrived, “a death-like silence,” says Major Mitchell, “prevailed along the banks of the river; no far-heard voices of natives at their fires broke, as before, the stillness of the night, while a painful sympathy for the child bereft of its parent, and anticipations of the probable consequences to us, cast a melancholy gloom over the scene. The waning moon at length arose, and I was anxiously occupied with the observations, which were most important at this point of my journey, when a mournful song, strongly expressive of the wailing of women, came from beyond the Darling, on the fitful breeze which still blew from the north-west.” The feelings of a brave but humane British officer, surrounded by difficulties, with very few except convicts under his command, annoyed by natives, yet anxious not to injure them, and just about to turn back from the journey of discovery which he had hitherto successfully pursued; the feelings of Major Mitchell under the circumstances so touchingly described by him can scarcely be imagined. The thoughts of a veteran who had served his country during many long years of war and strife, must have wandered back to past scenes and by-gone days, while he stood in that solitary wilderness; and when the wild shrill cry of savage grief came floating upon his ears, he must have felt most deeply those strange sensations which we experience

“When, musing o’er companions gone,
We doubly feel ourselves alone.”

These savages of the Darling have the power of doing with their toes many things most surprising to men who wear shoes, and have never been accustomed from infancy to climb trees after the Australian fashion. With their toes they gather the fresh-water muscles from the muddy bottoms of rivers or lakes, and these are one of their principal articles of food in the neighbourhood of the Darling. In the attempts of the Spitting Tribe to steal from the English party, their feet were much employed, and they would tread softly on any article, seize it with the toes, pass it up the back, or between the arm and side, and so conceal it in the arm-pit, or between the beard and throat. The hoary old priest of the Spitting Tribe, while intent upon tricks of this kind, chanted an extraordinary hymn to some deity or devil; the act was evidently superstitious and connected with no good principle. Arrangements were probably being made, and some of these strange ceremonies observed by them, for the purpose of destroying the strangers, intruders they might be called. “And no man,” observes Major Mitchell, “can witness the quickness and intelligence of the aborigines, as displayed in their instant comprehension of our numerous appliances, without feelings of sympathy. They cannot be so obtuse, as not to anticipate in the advance of such a powerful race as ours, the extirpation of their own, in a country which barely affords to them the means of subsistence.” Yet, melancholy though the reflection may appear, it is but too true, that scarcely any hope of improving and civilizing these barbarous people can be at present reasonably indulged. What a picture does the same humane traveller already quoted draw of the tribes about the lower part of the Darling, of whose character the Spitting Tribe may serve for a specimen. “It seldom happened,” he says, “that I was particularly engaged with a map, a drawing, or a calculation, but I was interrupted by them or respecting them. Our gifts seemed only to awaken on their part a desire to destroy us, and to take all we had. While sitting in the dust with them, according to their custom, often have they examined my cap, evidently with no other view than to ascertain whether it would resist the blow of a waddy, or short stick. Then they would feel the thickness of my dress, and whisper together, their eyes occasionally glancing at their spears and clubs. The expression of their countenances was sometimes so hideous, that, after such interviews, I have found comfort in contemplating the honest faces of the horses and sheep; and even in the scowl of ‘the patient ox,’ I have imagined an expression of dignity, when he may have pricked up his ears, and turned his horns towards these wild specimens of the ‘lords of the creation.’ Travellers in Australian deserts will find that such savages cannot remain at rest when near, but are ever anxious to strip them by all means in their power of every thing. It was not until we proceeded as conquerors, that we knew any thing like tranquillity on the Darling; and I am now of opinion, that to discourage at once the approach of such natives, would tend more to the safety of an exploring party than presenting them with gifts.”

Mulligo’s Death.—The following curious account of the death of a certain native of Western Australia is given by Captain Grey. Mulligo, for such was the name of the unfortunate man, had severely hurt his spine by a fall from a tree, and having lost the use of his lower limbs, he gradually wasted away, until, in about two months’ time, he became a perfect skeleton, and was evidently dying. Soon after day-break, Captain Grey came to the hut of Mulligo, and found him alive indeed, but breathing so slightly that it was scarcely to be perceived. His head rested on his aged mother’s knees, who leaned over him in tears, while other women were seated around, their heads all verging to a common centre, over the wasted frame of the dying man; they were crying bitterly, and scratching their cheeks, foreheads, and noses, with their nails, until the blood trickled slowly from the wounds. The men, meanwhile, were preparing their spears for the fight, which was expected to take place respecting the two wives of Mulligo, the title of his heir being disputed. Other native females soon began to arrive in small parties, each one carrying her long stick in her hand, and each party marching slowly after the eldest woman belonging to it. When they came within about thirty or forty yards of the hut of the dying man, they raised the most piteous cries, and hurrying their pace, moved rapidly to the place where the other women were seated, recalling to the mind of one acquainted with the Bible, that custom alluded to by Jeremiah (chap. ix. 17, 18). As they came up to the bark hut, many of them struck it violently with their sticks, producing by the blow a dull hollow sound, and then, after joining the assembled circle, chanting mournfully the usual songs on these occasions. Then, suddenly, one of the women in a frenzy would start up, and standing in front of the hut, while she waved her stick violently in the air, would chant forth curses against the sorcerers, who, as she believed, had been the cause of Mulligo’s sufferings. It was strange to watch the effect of these wild chants upon the savage countenances of the men; one while they sat in mournful silence; again they grasped firmly and quivered their spears; and by and by a general “Ee-Ee,” pronounced in their throat, with the lips closed, burst forth in token of approbation at some affecting part of the speech.

Time wore on; each withered beldame by turns addressed the party, while the poor creature, whose dying moments were thus disturbed, was gradually sinking. At last he ceased to live, and at that moment an old woman started up, and with grief and rage, poured forth her curses upon the Boyl-yas, and tore the hut in which Mulligo had been lying to pieces, saying, “This is now no good.” Her proceedings excited the feelings of the men, and at last Moon-dee, the most violent of them, was on the point of spearing one of the wives of the deceased, but he was withheld by some of the women. The cause of Moon-dee’s anger was afterwards thus explained. About two or three months before this time, a cloak belonging to Mulligo’s brother had been stolen, and, it was supposed, given to one of the sorcerers, who gained thereby some mysterious power over either of the two brothers, which he had exercised on Mulligo, when he caused him to fall and injure his back. Another sorcerer was called in, who applied fire to the injured part, but without any success; and since the poor fellow was daily wasting away, it was imagined that the unfriendly sorcerers came every night to feast upon the invalid during his hours of sleep. But Moon-dee chose to fancy that if his wife had been more watchful, the Boyl-yas might have been detected, and therefore he intended to spear her in the leg, in order to punish her supposed neglect. This outrage was, however, prevented; and the two trembling partners of the deceased, neither of whom was above fifteen years old, fled into Perth, to find among Europeans a refuge from the violence of their own countrymen. After vowing vengeance against a great many of the sorcerers, though they had no proof whatever against any of these in particular, the men followed the widows to Perth, to see that no one stole them away; and a few only were left with the women to superintend the funeral.

In about an hour’s time, the body was removed to a distance of nearly half a mile from the spot where the death had taken place, and the women were still leaning over it, uttering the words, yang, yang, yang, and occasionally chanting a few sentences. The grave was then dug, as usual, due east and west, with no better instruments than sticks and hands; but afterwards, when many Europeans had assembled at the spot, to the great annoyance of the natives, these last occasionally employed a spade, although, from the extreme narrowness of the grave, it was no easy matter to make use of this implement. During the digging an insect had been thrown up, whose motions were watched with the deepest interest, and since the animal crawled off in the direction of Guildford, this was thought an additional proof of the guilt of the sorcerers of that place, who had before been suspected, because the cloak had been stolen by a man living near this settlement.

When the grave was completed, they set fire to some dried leaves and twigs which they threw in, and old Weeban, the friendly sorcerer, knelt at the foot of the grave, with his back to the east, and his head bowed down to the earth in a posture of the deepest attention; his office being a very important one, namely, to discover in what direction the hostile Boyl-yas would take their flight, when drawn out of the earth by the heat. The fire roared for some time in the grave; and the hollow sound of the flames arising from the narrow opening evidently aroused the superstitious fears of the bystanders, until the old conjuror signified by his actions that the authors of the mischief were gone off in the direction of Guildford. The relatives of the deceased appeared satisfied at knowing upon whom to avenge the foul witchcraft, and at being assured of the cause of their friend’s death. The body of Mulligo was then taken from the females, his mother having, for the last time, fervently kissed its cold lips; and the corpse was lowered into the grave, and placed upon a bed of leaves, which had been laid there directly the fire was extinguished; the face being, according to custom, turned towards the east. The women continued their mournful songs, and the grave was filled up with small green boughs and earth, until the tomb was completed, presenting the appearance, owing to the heaps placed at the head and foot, of three graves nearly alike in size and form, lying in a due east and west direction. On the same evening, the old mother was found sitting at the place where her son’s remains were interred, and crying bitterly. She had caught the Boyl-yas, she said, in the very act of sitting round Mulligo’s grave, for the purpose of preying upon his miserable body, and she pointed out their tracks at the spot from which they sprung into the air, in the direction of Guildford, but European eyes were not keen enough to detect these mysterious traces of mischief.

The Corrobory.—The natives have a dance, called corrobory, of a very original character, and almost universally prevalent on the shores of Australia. The dance always takes place at night; and not only in this respect, but likewise in the preparation and excitement occasioned by it, a resemblance may be traced between the corrobory and the dances of more civilized nations. The curious evolutions and figures performed in these assemblies of savages, are regulated by time beaten upon stretched skins or drums,—the only musical instrument that is commonly seen among them; and while the light of blazing boughs is thrown upon the scene of festivity, the rude music is accompanied by a song. Darkness seems essential to the effect of the whole; and the painted figures coming forward from the obscurity of the background, while the singers and beaters of time are invisible, have a highly theatrical effect. Each dance appears most tastefully progressive; the movement being first slow, and introduced by two persons, displaying graceful motions, both of arms and legs; others, one by one, join in, each gradually warming into the truly savage attitude of the “corrobory” jump; the legs then stride to the utmost, the head is turned over one shoulder, the eyes glare, and are fixed with savage energy all in one direction; the arms also are raised, and inclined towards the head, the hands usually grasping some warlike weapons. The jump now keeps time with each beat; the dancers at every movement taking six inches to one side, all being in a connected line, led by the first, which line, however, is sometimes doubled or tripled, according to numbers; and thus great effect is added; for when the front line jumps to the left, the second jumps to the right; the third to the left again, and so on, until the action gains due intensity, when all suddenly stop at the same moment. The excitement which this dance produces in the savage is very remarkable. However listless the individual may be, lying perhaps, as usual, half asleep, set him to this, and he is fired with sudden energy, every nerve is strung to such a degree, that he is hardly to be known as the same person, while the corrobory continues.

Peerat and his Wives.—A garden belonging to a soldier at King George’s Sound had been robbed by the natives of nearly a hundred weight of potatoes. This was the first act of theft that had been committed during the five months of Governor Grey’s residence there, although there had often been as many as two hundred natives in the settlement, who had no means of subsistence beyond the natural productions of the country, and what little they derived from being occasionally employed by the colonists. And even in this theft of the potatoes, they had purposely left the large roots, and had taken away only the smaller ones, in the hope that by so doing they would lessen the crime. However, the governor resolved to act promptly and vigorously upon this first offence, and to avoid the common fault of Europeans, in confounding the guilty and the innocent together. By the help of an intelligent native, the tracks of three persons were found in the garden that had been robbed, and the footsteps were pronounced to be those of Peerat’s two wives, and his son Dal-bean. These had all walked off into the Bush, meaning, probably, to avoid suspicion, and to wait till the affair had passed quietly over. The governor determined to pursue them, but this required great secrecy, for Australians are no easy creatures to catch hold of; and it was not meant to adopt the popular system of shooting them when they ran away. Accompanied by four natives only, the governor pressed forward, following Peerat’s tracks for about nine miles in a direction where the Bush had been set on fire by the natives, until he met with some of these, who were solemnly informed of the theft and of the names of the criminals, whom he had come to take prisoners; if these were given up, it was promised that they should undergo only the regular punishment for petty robbery; otherwise, the usual allowance of flour, which was issued to all the natives every two months, was to be stopped; and it was threatened that a party of soldiers should be brought out to fire upon Peerat and his party wherever they might be found. These threats, uttered in a very decided tone, gave occasion to a consultation among the natives, by whom it was unanimously agreed:—

Imprimis. That stealing potatoes was a very heinous offence, more particularly in women.

Secondly. That women were notorious thieves, and altogether worse characters than men.

Thirdly. That beating women was an every day occurrence.

Fourthly. That losing flour was a great bore; and,

Fifthly. Upon these considerations, Peerat, his wives, and son, were to be given up.

These resolutions having been passed, the whole assembly came to the governor to inquire whether he told the truth, when he said that he was not personally angry with Peerat’s family, and that they should not be killed; and being satisfied upon this point, they all proceeded together in search of the offending parties.

Peerat waited quietly to receive them, indeed, he was not aware of the cause of his being honoured by a visit from the governor; when, however, he heard of this, he abused his wives, and promised to thrash them soundly, but absolutely refused to give either them or his son up as prisoners. The first man who might lay a finger upon him was threatened with a spear through the heart, and the governor was obliged to proclaim the sacredness of his own person, and to cock both barrels of his gun, with an assurance that he would shoot poor Peerat in case of resistance. All savage strife is noisy in the extreme; even the strife of civilized men in their public meetings and vestries is often tolerably boisterous,—and a great deal of running and leaping about, and quivering of spears accompanies the former kind of altercation. While things were in this confusion the governor went alone to Peerat’s fire, and seized his little boy, Dal-bean, but could see nothing of the wives, who were, most likely, busy digging roots for the family. The boy was told that if he moved he would be shot, a threat which kept him very quiet; but Peerat soon found out what had happened, and came running after them. These natives are always greatly attached to their children, and strong proofs of this were now given by the father, who first declared that the boy had been with him, and that it was the mother only that had stolen, producing about a dozen witnesses to prove this to be the truth. However, the reply to this was by asking the question, How came the child’s footmarks in the garden? It was answered that Peerat’s second wife had, indeed, been there, and that she was just the size of the boy; but that plea would not hold good, since her footsteps had been observed likewise.

The father now urged the tender years of the lad, and that he was under the influence of his mother; and then fairly wept upon his child’s neck, who was calling upon his parent and the other natives by name to save him. The governor’s own feelings and those of his followers urged him to let the little fellow go, but he wisely resolved to act with determination, and held fast by the prisoner. Spears were now given to Peerat—a sign of his quarrel being espoused by those who gave them, and that he was expected to use them; and, matters having taken a serious turn, the governor hastened away with his prisoner and two of his native companions, but not before he had explained to the others the advantage of an impartial inquiry and proper punishment of offenders, in preference to their being exposed to the indiscriminating fire of Europeans. Peerat was then threatened with a shot if he did not take himself off, and bring his wives into the settlement to be punished; and the matter ended, for the present, in the lodgment of the youthful Dal-bean safe in the British gaol. In a day or two afterwards, during which no tidings had been heard of Peerat and his wives, the little Dal-bean made an attempt to break out of his place of confinement, by taking up a loose stone from the floor, with which he had battered a hole in the door. This, however, he stoutly denied, asserting that, whilst he was asleep, sorcerers from the north, having a spite against him, had entered through some air-holes in the wall and done this; and, on his persisting in the story, he was told that, in future, he would be well whipped for neglect, if he did not give the alarm when these strange visitors came. Meanwhile, the governor was half inclined to whip him for telling a story, but he satisfied himself with giving him a lecture upon the crime of lying, to which the cunning little rogue replied, by arguing upon the general usefulness and prevalence of that vice in the world, entirely setting aside its evil nature and sinfulness.

The very same day Peerat made his appearance with a very pitiful tale. He had two wives, and to govern them both was no easy task, but, although they had been soundly beaten, they could not be induced to come into the settlement, until he had threatened to spear them. This threat had, at last, succeeded, and in recompense for his sufferings from the loss of his son, and from the obstinacy and bad temper of his wives, he begged to be allowed to beat the latter himself. They were ordered to the spot where the robbery was committed, and there the native women soon appeared, dreadfully cut and mangled from the beating they had already received. One was a nice looking girl, about fourteen, but an incorrigible thief. Peerat was going to hit her a tremendous blow upon the head, which must have laid it open. She stood with her back to her husband, trembling and crying bitterly. The governor caught Peerat’s arm, picked up a little switch from the ground, and told him to beat her on the shoulders with that, instead of with his meero. Two slight blows, or rather taps, were given her, in order to know where it was that the governor meant her to be struck, but the poor girl cried so bitterly from fear, that she was pardoned, and so likewise was the other woman, who had already been severely beaten, and had at that moment a little child sitting upon her shoulder, and crying piteously at the sight of its mother’s tears. Before the crowd dispersed a lecture was given them, and they were warned not to presume upon the governor’s clemency in the present instance.

In the afternoon, the governor, attended by Peerat, his wives, and a crowd of natives, walked up to the gaol to release little Dal-bean. The father and the governor alone entered the prison, and when the gaoler was told to hand Peerat the whip, the latter took it, and said, “Yes, yes, I will strike him; let not another beat him.” The door of the cell was then opened, and the little boy was led out: his father ran up to him, caught him in his arms, and began kissing him; having done this, he told him he was going to beat him. The little fellow did not answer a word, but standing as firm and erect as possible, presented his back to him. The father gave him one blow, and it was ended—justice was satisfied. The criminals had surrendered to salutary laws, of which they had but a vague and undefined knowledge; it was their first offence; the nature of the laws they had broken was explained to them; they were warned to be careful in their future conduct, and they were set free. Little Dal-bean, directly they got outside the gaol, walked up to the governor, took his hand, and squeezed it; then turning to his mother, he just looked at her; she cried, but did not dare to kiss him, or to show any other mark of emotion. The whole party then moved off, after showering many thanks upon the governor, and saying, “What a good fellow, what a good fellow,” or, to give a literal translation, “one good man, one good man!”

Woga’s Captivity.—In Caledon Bay, upon the northern coast of New Holland, the natives had behaved very well to the party under Captain Flinders, which had landed on their shores, until one of those who had been most kindly treated ran away with an axe, and from the thickness of the forest could not be overtaken. It was indeed here, as in other parts of Australia, no easy matter to hinder the people from stealing whatever came within their reach; and in order to check this, two men were seized by command of Captain Flinders, and after a little time one of these was set free, upon his promising by signs to restore the axe, and being made to understand that the other would be kept as a pledge of this engagement being fulfilled. Much confusion was noticed among the natives, and preparations were made for firing upon them in case of necessity, but after one of the prisoners had been released, they appeared to have less anxiety, and still no axe was forthcoming. The prisoner, a youth of about fourteen, whose name was Woga, was taken in a boat to a place much frequented by the savages, many of whom were seen behind the bushes, endeavouring to entice a native who accompanied the expedition on shore, no doubt intending to seize him by way of retaliation. The restoration of the axe was demanded, and the prisoner seemed to use all his powers to enforce it, but the constant answer was that the thief, Ye-han-ge-ree, had been beaten and was gone away; and since no axe was likely to be brought, Woga was carried on board the ship, after a great deal of crying, entreating, threatening, and struggling on his part. He there ate heartily, laughed, sometimes cried, and noticed every thing; frequently expressing admiration at what he saw, and especially at the sheep, hogs, and cats. The next morning he was taken ashore, and attempted to make a spring out of the boat, so that it was needful to bind him, notwithstanding his struggles; but after a while he became quiet, and enjoyed his meal of rice and fish, although he was made fast to a tree. A sort of attack was then made by the other natives upon a party of gentlemen who had landed to botanize, and who had been almost surrounded by the savages; but, however, a couple of shots dispersed their enemies, and two of the Australians were supposed to have been wounded. Since the prisoner was thus a cause of mischief to his fellow-countrymen, and his being carried off would be an act of injustice, as well as injurious to future visitors of that coast, at length Captain Flinders, who would otherwise willingly have taken Woga with him, resolved to release him. On that day, the third of his captivity, Woga appeared to be a little melancholy in his bondage, but upon the whole had not fared amiss, having been eating the greater part of the morning and afternoon. He begged hard to be released; promising, with tears in his eyes, to bring back the axe; and after having received some clothing and presents he was suffered to depart. As far as two hundred yards he walked away leisurely; but then, looking first behind him, took to his heels with all his might, leaving his British friends very reasonably doubtful of the fulfilment of his pathetic promises!

Bal-loo-der-ry and the Convicts.—In 1791, when the town of Paramatta, about fifteen miles from Sydney, was first settled, the natives soon began to bring in their fish and barter it for bread or salted meat; and this proving a great convenience to the settlers, the traffic was very much encouraged by them. There were, however, some among the convicts so unthinking or so depraved, as wantonly to destroy a canoe belonging to a fine young man, a native, who had left it at a little distance from the settlement, as he thought, out of the way of observation, while he went with some fish he had to sell. His rage at finding his canoe destroyed was very great: he threatened to take his revenge, and in his own way, upon all white people. Three of the offenders, however, having been seen and described, were taken and punished, and so were the remainder of them not very long afterwards. The instant effect of this outrage was, that the natives discontinued the bringing up of fish; and Bal-loo-der-ry, whose canoe had been destroyed, although he had been taught to believe[79] that one of the six convicts had been hanged for the offence, meeting a few days afterwards with an European who had strayed to some distance from Paramatta, he wounded him in two places with a spear. This act of Bal-loo-der-ry was followed by the governor’s strictly forbidding him to appear again in any of the settlements; and the other natives, his friends, being alarmed, Paramatta was seldom visited by any of them, and all commerce with them was (for the time) at an end. However, in about two months afterwards, before the person wounded by him had recovered, Bal-loo-der-ry ventured into the town with some of his friends, and one or two armed parties were sent to seize him. A spear having been thrown, it was said, by him, two muskets were fired, by which one of his companions was wounded in the leg, but Bal-loo-der-ry was not taken. On the following day it was ordered that he was to be seized whenever an opportunity should offer, and that any native attempting to throw a spear in his defence, (since they well knew why he was denounced,) was, if possible, to be prevented from escaping. Those who knew this savage regretted that it had been necessary to treat him thus harshly, for among his countrymen they had never seen a finer young man. We cannot finish this melancholy history with a more true reflection than that of Lieutenant Collins: "How much greater claim to the appellation of savages had the wretches (the convicts) who were the cause of this, than the natives who were termed so!"

Native Hospitality and Philosophy.—After a most distressing journey in Western Australia, Captain Grey and his party fell in with a number of natives, at no great distance from the settlement of Perth. So great had been the trials of the explorers that a disinclination to move pervaded the whole party, and their courageous leader had felt much the same desire to sink into the sleep of death, that one feels to take a second slumber in the morning after great fatigue. However they had aroused themselves, and had managed to walk about eight miles at the slow rate of a mile and a quarter an hour, when they came suddenly upon the tracks of the natives. Kaiber, their guide, announced that they were wild natives; and, after a second survey, he declared that they had “great bush fury” on them, i.e. were subject to wild untutored rage. It was proposed, however, to fire a gun as a signal, for since the distance from Perth was thought to be very trifling, it was hoped that these natives would understand its meaning. Kaiber threatened to run away, but the coward was, in fact, afraid to move five yards from the party, so, sitting down on his haunches under cover, he kept muttering to himself various terms of Australian scorn,—“The swan—the big-head—the stone forehead!”—while the Captain advanced towards the strangers, who no sooner heard the gun, and saw him approaching, than they came running to him. Presently, Kaiber accosted one of them by name, and at the sound of this name, Imbat, the strongest feeling was awakened; it was well known to the travellers, and they knew that their lives were safe, and the end of their journey at hand. Captain Grey was in good favour with most of the natives of those parts, to whom he had frequently made presents of flour, and hence his common appellation among them was “Wokeley brudder,” or Oakley’s brother, that being the name of a baker residing in Perth.

The women were soon called up, bark-baskets of frogs opened for the exhausted travellers, by-yu nuts roasted, and, for a special delicacy, the Captain obtained a small fresh-water tortoise. He was bidden to sleep while Imbat cooked, and though the delay which the willing native’s skill in cookery occasioned was a little trying to the patience of hungry men, yet it was not very long before they were all regaling on the welcome feast. In reply to the questions of the Englishmen, the natives all told them that they would see Perth the next morning, “while the sun was still small;” and upon finding that there was a kangaroo hunter with a hut, and a supply of provisions only seven miles off, Imbat and the Captain went thither together, to prepare for the comfortable reception of the rest of the party. However, they found the hut deserted, its owner having returned to Perth. A fire was lighted, notwithstanding, and the Englishman laid down to rest his weary limbs, while the Australian again began to cook, and in his chattering mood to philosophize also. “What for do you, who have plenty to eat, and much money, walk so far away in the Bush?” was his first inquiry. The Captain, fatigued and rather out of humour, made no reply. “You are thin,” continued the philosopher, “your shanks are long, your belly is small,—you had plenty to eat at home, why did you not stop there?” “Imbat, you comprehend nothing,—you know nothing,” was the traveller’s brief reply. “I know nothing!” answered the wise man of the woods, “I know how to keep myself fat; the young women look at me and say, Imbat is very handsome, he is fat;—they will look at you and say, He not good,—long legs;—what do you know? where is your fat? what for do you know so much, if you can’t keep fat? I know how to stay at home, and not walk too far in the Bush: where is your fat?” “You know how to talk, long tongue,” answered the Captain;—“And I know how to make you fat!” rejoined Imbat, forgetting his anger, and bursting into a roar of laughter, as he began stuffing his guest with frogs, by-yu nuts, &c. The rest of the party arrived just before nightfall, and, searching the hut, they found a paper of tea, and an old tin pot, in which they prepared the welcome beverage, after which, having had a good supper, they all laid down to sleep; and in the silence of the night, fervent thanks went up from that lonely hut in the wilderness to the Maker of all things, whose merciful guidance had again brought them so near “the haven where they would be.”

The Widow and her Child.—During the journey of Major Mitchell’s party, exploring the course of the river Lachlan down to its junction with the Murray, they had to cross several branches of the former stream, which gave them some trouble from the steepness of their banks, until they at length reached the main channel of the Lachlan, which stream, together with all its tributaries, was at that time perfectly dry. The welcome news was then heard that some ponds of water were near, but at the same time it was reported that natives were there; so the party approached cautiously, and having found two pools encamped beside them. The black people had all fled, except one child, about seven or eight years old, quite blind, who sat near a fire, and a poor little girl still younger, who, notwithstanding the strange appearance of the new visitors, and the terror exhibited in the flight of her own people, still lingered about the bushes, and at length took her seat beside the blind boy. A large supply of the balyan root lay near them, and a dog so lean that he was scarcely able to stand, drew his feeble body close up beside the two children, as though desirous of defending them. Afterwards an old man came up to the fire, and he directed the travellers to some of the water-holes in their proposed route, but could not be prevailed upon to become their guide. However, he persuaded a widow, with the little girl just mentioned, who might be about four years old, to accompany the party and act as guide.

The strangers soon began to learn the value of their new guide, Turàndurey; for within a fortnight they met with a number of the natives, approaching in a silent and submissive manner, each having a green bough twined round his waist or in his hand; and a parley was opened with them by means of the widow, as she was sitting on the opposite bank of a river to that on which they made their appearance. Some form or ceremony, it seems, always prevents the male natives, when strangers to each other, from speaking at first sight; no such restraint, however, is placed upon their wives or gins, as they are called. These, with the privilege of their sex, are ever ready to speak; and the strangers as readily replied to Turàndurey; so conversation was thus held across the river. This female guide, who had before scarcely ventured to look up, now stood boldly forward to address the strange tribe; and when her countenance was lighted up, displaying fine teeth, and great earnestness of manner, it was gratifying to the travellers to see what spirit their guide possessed. Being invited to swim over the stream, the children of the woods complied but on condition that the wild animals (the sheep and horses) should be driven away,—a stipulation at which the widow and other natives in the British party laughed heartily; nor was their laughter stopped when they watched the awkward attempts of these heroes to show off before the females, while they were unable entirely to conceal their fears of the silly sheep!

It was no very long time afterwards that an unfortunate accident happened to the little native child, Ballandella, who fell from a cart, and one of the wheels passing over, broke her thigh. On riding up to the spot, Major Mitchell found the widow, her mother, in great distress, lying in the dust, with her head under the limb of her unfortunate child. The doctor was ordered to set it immediately; but, from its being broken very near the socket, it was found difficult to bandage the limb so as to keep the bone in its place. Every possible care was taken of the child, and she bore the pain with admirable patience, though only four years old; while she gave a curious proof of her good sense at so early an age, by calling for “Majy” (the Major), as soon as she had met with the accident. Little Ballandella did very well, and was, after about two months’ time, fast recovering from her misfortune, when the widow, having been travelling all that time, and being now far distant from her own country, felt inclined to return; and was prepared to make nothing of swimming the broad waters of the Murray, the largest known river in New Holland, pushing the child before her floating upon a piece of bark, nor of any other difficulties which might oppose her in her journey homewards. No objections were offered to the woman’s departure, who appeared extremely attached to her daughter, and half afraid of being deprived of her. Indeed, it was a tempting opportunity of trying an experiment of the effect of education upon one of that race; for the little savage, who at first would prefer a snake or lizard to a piece of bread, had become so far civilised at length, as to prefer bread; and it began to cry bitterly on leaving its European friends. However, its absence from them was not to be a long one; for, on the third day, the widow returned again, carrying her child on her back, after the Australian fashion. She had seen, she stated, another tribe on the opposite side of the river, and they had inquired very angrily, who made the fires upon her side; after which, receiving no reply, (for she was afraid and had hid herself,) they danced a corrobory in a furious style, during which she and the child crept away, and had passed two nights without fire and in the rain.[80] The mother and her daughter received a kindly welcome, and were as well treated as before, notwithstanding the petty jealousy of some other natives, who, it was thought, had persuaded Turàndurey to go, hoping thus to get a greater share of food for themselves. After this, the widow and Ballandella continued with the exploring party during almost the whole of the remainder of their expedition, making themselves serviceable in various ways. Sometimes they would give notice of the approach of the Major, upon his return from an excursion, long before he had reached the camp; their quick ears seemed sensible of the sound of horses’ feet at an astonishing distance, for so only could it be accounted for that the widow and her infant daughter, seated at the fire, were always the first to give notice of the Major’s approach. Sometimes Turàndurey would employ herself in a less serious, though not less useful manner; for on such exploring expeditions the amusement of the men is a matter of the first importance. She would exercise her skill in mimicry or imitation, powers which the natives of New Holland possess to an amazing degree; and she thus occasionally amused the men by acting the part of their leader, taking angles, drawing from nature, and copying other occupations in which Major Mitchell was frequently engaged.

On the return of the expedition, it was found needful, from a scarcity of provisions, to divide into two parties, one of which was to proceed, under the leader, by forced marches home to Sydney, while the other was to remain behind until necessary supplies should be forwarded. The widow was among the party to be left; but on the morning of separation she was marked with white round the eyes,—the Australian token of mourning,—and the face of Ballandella was whitened also. This poor woman, who had cheerfully carried the child upon her back, when it was offered that both might be carried in the carts, and was as careful and affectionate as any mother could be, had at length determined to entrust to the Major the care of her daughter. He was pleased with this proof of confidence, and less unwilling to take the charge from the knowledge of the wretched state of slavery to which the native females are doomed. Besides, the poor child had suffered considerably by the accident that befel her while with the party of Englishmen, and she seemed to prefer their mode of living so much, that her mother at length despaired of being ever able to instruct her thoroughly in the mysteries of killing and eating snakes, lizards, rats, and similar food. The widow had been long enough with Europeans to learn how much more her sex was respected by civilised men than by savages; and it was with feelings of this nature, probably, that she entrusted her child to them, under the immediate care, however, of a native woman, the wife of Piper, the guide who had accompanied them through all the journey. A match was subsequently made between Turàndurey and king Joey, one of the native chiefs, by which the good woman gained a handsome and comfortable settlement for an Australian. The child Ballandella was a welcome stranger to the Major’s own children, among whom she remained, conforming most willingly to the habits of domestic life, and showing a very promising aptness of understanding, until she was transferred, at the removal of the family to England, to the care of a friend; and the last mention made of Ballandella is, that she was able to read as well as any white child of the same age.

Miago.—This last sketch of native character may serve to place in a striking, yet fair light, the perplexing situation of the half-civilised blacks, the strong inducements for them to relapse into barbarism again, and, consequently, the difficulty that stands in the way of their being thoroughly reclaimed. It is impossible to do this better than in the very words of Captain Grey.[81] “The officers of the Beagle took away with them a native of the name of Miago, who remained absent with them for several months. I saw him on the north-west coast, on board the Beagle, apparently perfectly civilised; he waited at the gun-room mess, was temperate, (never tasting spirits,) attentive, cheerful, and remarkably clean in his person. The next time I saw him was at Swan River, where he had been left on the return of the Beagle. He was then again a savage, almost naked, painted all over, and had been concerned in several murders. Several persons here told me,—‘You see the taste for a savage life was strong in him, and he took to the bush again directly.’ Let us pause for a moment and consider.

“Miago, when he was landed, had amongst the white people none who would be truly friends of his;—they would give him scraps from their table, but the very outcasts of the whites would not have treated him as an equal,—they had no sympathy with him,—he could not have married a white woman,—he had no certain means of subsistence open to him,—he never could have been either a husband or a father, if he had lived apart from his own people;—where, amongst the whites, was he to find one who would have filled for him the place of his black mother, whom he is much attached to? What white man would have been his brother? What white woman his sister? He had two courses left open to him,—he could either have renounced all natural ties, and have led a hopeless, joyless life among the whites, ever a servant, ever an inferior being; or he could renounce civilisation, and return to the friends of his childhood, and to the habits of his youth. He chose the latter course, and I think that I should have done the same.”

sydney in its infancy—view from the south.

CHAPTER VII.

FIRST YEARS OF THE COLONY OF NEW SOUTH WALES.