kangaroo bones called Goombert and a Murrawun. The quartz or broken glass is then supposed to find its way into the person who made the track, and he becomes crippled. It is also believed that by throwing quartz-powder towards a person he can be mutilated in a terrible manner."
A native of Gippsland has related the following story to Mr. A. W. Howitt, showing how a Mrart was outwitted by a blackfellow:—"A long time ago, before 'you and me father been dead boy,' a blackfellow went to pick Goor-nung (kangaroo apple) at a place near the Lakes, Gippsland, called Kin-tall-a Mrart (jumping devil). While he was busy picking off the fruit, a Mrart came by and popped him into his bag. Mrarts carry bags 'more big than house—like it woolpack.' He caried off the poor blackfellow a long way, and being tired, took him out of the bag to give him a drink. He scooped up some water from a hole in the ground, and offered it to the blackfellow, who refused it. He said, 'Den-bun-bo-buk,' which means, 'The water's no good.' That was the way 'old-man blackfellow' spoke long ago. "We now say, 'Din-din-yarn', only at that time they said 'Den-bun-bo-buk.' The Mrart being good tempered, threw out the water, and went to get some more. When he came back his prisoner said, 'Den-bun-bo-buk'—'The water's no good.' There was no water near, so the Mrart had to go down into a deep gully. This was what the blackfellow wanted, and he ran off and escaped. If anybody makes an excuse, we say to him 'Den-bun-bo-buk.'"
Aboriginal Legend of a Deluge.
"A long time ago, 'when father belonging to you and me been alive,' there was a very great flood; all the country was under water, and all the blackfellows were drowned except a man and two or three women, who took refuge
cutting out the earth or turf where the man who is to be destroyed has stood, and hanging it in the chimney, that he may perish as his foot-print dries and shrivels."—Researches into the Early History of Mankind, by Edward B. Tylor, 2nd edition, pp. 121–2, 1870.
The author of The Last of the Barons has told us how Friar Bungey made a waxen counterpart of the Earl of Warwick for the Duchess of Bedford, so that when her grace might be pleased to stick pins and needles into it the stout Earl would become affected in the parts punctured. It seems but yesterday that these and similar practices were common in a country whose people would be incredulous if they were told now that their progenitors were savages—having practices like those of existing rude nations, who, in the belief of some persons, are not inferior, but simply different. The Barrn—as described by Mr. Howitt—would have been useful to the Duchess of Bedford.
Those who are inclined to amuse themselves with what are generally regarded as the foolish superstitions of the Australian natives may find enjoyment also in perusing the histories of witchcraft in England. Our natives have strange beliefs, and are cruel; but none of their superstitions are so gross, or lead to such brutal murders, as those which have received the approval of the most eminent persons in England. From the time of Henry the Eighth, when a statute was enacted declaring all witchcraft and sorcery to be felony without benefit of clergy (33 Hen. VIII., 1541), up to the 4th September 1863, when a poor old paralyzed Frenchman was ducked as a wizard at Castle Hedingham, Essex, and died in consequence of the treatment he received, our civilized communities have boldly set examples that the Aboriginal natives of Australia would be too humane to imitate. Barrington estimates the judicial murders for witchcraft in England alone in two hundred years at 30,000.
The laws against witchcraft were repealed by 10 Geo. II., 1736; but the belief in witchcraft in England, and in English-speaking communities, if not as widely spread, is as strong as ever.
