various kinds of meat which he must not eat; he cannot enter into any argument in camp; his opinion on any question is never asked, and he never thinks of giving it; he is not expected to engage in fights; and he is not supposed to fall in love with any of the young women. He is, in fact, a nonentity; but when he has gone through the initiatory process of being made a young man, he takes his proper place amongst the members of the tribe. He carries his war implements about with him, and has his share in Aboriginal politics. He may now look upon a woman with eyes of love, and, if he be brave enough, seek a wife for himself. But this is a very delicate and difficult matter. He may have a lover, and she may have declared that she will have him only. She may have given him a lock of her hair as a token of her affection, and in the case of an Aboriginal this is a mark of the greatest confidence. The blacks are very superstitious about such matters; they will always take care to destroy any hair they cut off. It would frighten a black very much if he or she knew that another black had some of his or her hair; but the young woman will forget these fears under such circumstances; she feels she is safe in the hands of the man she first falls in love with. But in spite of all the encouragement given by such tokens, the young man will find that he has a difficult work before him, as perhaps he may have to fight her father, or her mother, or her brothers, or her sisters—even the cousins may claim the right to do battle with him. Hence, if a young woman has numerous friends or relations, a young man will think twice before he commits himself to the task of winning her; but it must be done. Has not his lady-love said that she will have him, and him only? She must be won at all risks; so, to provoke the attack, he proposes an elopement; the frail one readily consents, and in the black night they take to the bush. Then follows a scene which baffles description. When the girl is found to be absent, there is hurrying to and fro, the women tearing their hair and scraping the skin off their cheeks with their finger-nails. Some, who are nearer relations of the missing girl, are chopping their heads with their tomahawks, while above all the noises made may be heard, now and then, the lamentations of the mother, whose grief is somewhat more real than the demonstrations of those not so nearly connected with the fugitive. "Lathi!" (my child) is uttered in such piteous tones that it would make any sensitive person sympathize with her. The women succeed in stirring up the men by their clamor; their language has not been select; the runaways have not been spared whatever peculiarities each may have presented to them in camp, and a lot of epithets are strung together and loudly uttered. They are called "long-legged," "thin-legged," "squint-eyed," or "big-headed." When the men are really roused, they get together a few war implements, as, for instance, a club, a boomerang, and a shield, and they go off in pursuit of the missing couple. They know in what direction to go, as the young man has confided (as a great secret) the proposed route. All is soon discovered, the pair caught, as they cannot travel without revealing a track, and the girl is brought back to the camp to receive the punishment which is supposed to be due to her crime. When she arrives, every female in the camp must lay a hand upon her; it matters not that they did the same thing when they were young—they must express their outraged feelings; that is the custom, and it
