A CONTRAST. 117 fires, several of them beating time with the plongge, or native drum, while the men stood on the other side of the fire, beating time with the tartengkthat is, two waddies or kanakis. The scene was indescribably wild. The dark row of seated women, with rolling eyes and gleaming teeth, the play of light and shadow on the rough logs of the wurley, and the eager swaying forms of the men, some of them light and beautifully proportioned youths, and others stalwart and hairy savages. Then the chant rose higher and higher with beat of tartengk and plongge, then sank again to plaintive but rapid minor tones. Then the men’s hoarse voices broke in, shouting in time to the chant, and stamping and beating their brandished weapons in the wildest excitement. Then the shrillest treble of the women rose above the fierce warlike tones, sounding like an imploring supplication in reply; then the whole concluded with a loud chant in chorus, to the beat of tartengk and drum. The other song was to slower time, and the burden of it was, ’Shall I ever see my country again,’ a native utterance of love of birthplace and home. One of the men asked me if I could write what they sang in a letter." And now for the contrast. Great has been the effect produced by Christianity upon the natives. I do not mean to say that Christian Aborigines are faultlessfar from it. They have their inconsistencies, their failings, their falls. As yet religious life is a conflict with them, even as it is with us. But there exists amongst them much earnestness, and they have become more cleanly, more industrious, more moral, through the influence of the Gospel. The change is so great that I can scarcely believe that they are the same people. One Saturday night, a few weeks ago, I went, as I always do, to take away the lights at nine o’clock, see the children were comfortably in bed, and lock up the schoolroom. It was a soft, still night. When I got down there I stood a moment and listened to the sounds around me. Nobody knew I was there. From the young men’s sleeping-room came the sound of voices singing devoutly and with feeling Lyte’s beautiful hymn "Abide with me, fast falls the eventide."
