camps of his own tribe, is usually received in the following manner:—On ap- proaching the camp, the inmates close in with raised arms, as in defence; upon this, the person of note rushes at them, making a faint blow as if to strike them, they warding it off with their shields; immediately after, they embrace him and lead him into the camp, where the women shortly bring him food. Should any female relatives to him be present, they cry with joy. If he visits a neighbouring tribe, he is received in the same manner as by his own. A native of no influence or note, on returning after considerable absence, takes his seat near the camp without passing any remark. After remaining a few minutes as if dumb, the old men close round him, ask where he came from, and what befel him, when he tells them plenty of news, not forgetting to embellish. Then two old men stand up, one retailing it, and the other repeating the sentences in an excited manner. Upon this, as on all other occasions, the new-comer is hospitably received, plenty to eat being furnished him."[1]
The practice of these ceremonies, as here narrated, will cause surprise in the minds of those who have been accustomed to regard the Australian blacks as little above the beasts that perish.
The account given by the late Mr. Thomas of a great gathering of Aborigines at the Merri Creek, near its junction with the River Yarra Yarra, when a very old man appeared as a guest, is somewhat curious. More than one hundred and fifty Aborigines came from the country which lies to the north-west of Gippsland and north-east of the Delatite River, and assembled at the camp of the Yarra tribe, and they brought with them an aged head-man named Kul-ler-kul-lup. He was supposed to be more than eighty years of age. He was at least six feet in height, fat, and with a fine upright carriage. His forehead was corrugated; the fine horizontal wrinkles looked scarcely natural; it seemed as if a native artist had been at work on his countenance; and his cheeks too were finely and strangely wrinkled. His friends—indeed, all who saw him—paid respect to him. They embarrassed and encumbered him with their attentions. He could not stir without an effort being made by some one to divine his wishes. At sunrise, the adult Aborigines—strangers and guests—sat before him in semicircular rows, patiently waiting for the sound of his voice, or the indication by gesture of his inclinations. None presumed to speak but in a low whisper in his pre- sence. The old man, touched by so much fealty and respect, occasionally harangned the people—telling them, probably, something of their past history, and warning them, not unlikely, of the evils which would soon surround them. Whenever Mr. Thomas approached for the purpose of gathering some hints of the character of his discourse, the old man paused, and did not resume his argument until the white listener had departed. Mr. Thomas endeavoured through the chief-man—Billi-billari—of the Yarra tribe, to gain some informa- tion touching the nature and substance of these long speeches, but though he succeeded in gaining a seat amongst the adult Aborigines, Kul-ler-kul-lup would not deliver a speech in his presence. Whatever the old man suggested
as proper to be done was done; what he disliked was looked upon with disgust
- ↑ The Dieyerie Tribe, pp. 14-15.
