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lungs, it is a bad case. It is astonishing how tenacious of life they are; any of the wounds would have killed a European child, yet this one speaks sensibly and moves itself. She got up and took the physic readily. At 10 o'clock the dogs began to bark, and I went out to see what was up. The soldier who escorted the native yesterday was on his return, and, being rather groggy, lost his way, so I escorted him a little. Here is a sentence as expressed by one of the natives to-day, as I was examining the wound of that child—"Walialak mangar uky addio tonga." The sound is not harsh. "The barb is still in the liver, I think."
Saturday.—Have been engaged for a great part of the day in conversation with one of the natives who was, I think concerned in the murder of the two men near York. He denied any knowledge of it at first, but, with some little management, I got him to give me the names of no less than 42, who were present. Of course we must not use this against him; indeed, according to the laws, we cannot make any use of it, for it is no evidence. He persists in saying that he was not actually present at the time; that he refused to go; that it was not his country,—he was only a visitor; that he was afraid to do it, or, as he expressed it in a singular manner "that his liver trembled." He says if we will give the women to the young men that they will go with us to point them out. It may not be a bad plan, for the parties out from York cannot fall in with them.
August 13th.—John Mackie spent the day here. The weather is delightful, and I bathed in the river. Old Gear came to show me the spears which he had prepared to go and spear the man who stole his wife. They were so prepared that the barb should break off short in the wound, that being the description of wound which he had received from the other.
August 13th.—Went to Perth on Monday last, and only returned this evening. Two whaling companies, which were
