The Aborigines of Victoria/Volume 1/Chapter 20

by Robert Brough Smyth

Myths

Pund-jel.

Pund-jel or Bun-jil created all things, but he made no women. Pund-jel has a wife named Boi-boi, whose face he has never seen. Yet he has a son whose name is Bin-beal, and a brother named Pal-ly-yan. Though Pund-jel was the creator of all things, he had help from Bin-beal and Pal-ly-yan. Pund-jel always carries a large knife or sword (Bul-li-to kul-pen-kul-pen gye-up),^[1] and when he made the earth (Beek) he went all over it, cutting it in many places, and thereby formed creeks and rivers, and mountains and valleys. All these things are believed by the Boo-noo-rong or Coast tribe.

The Aborigines of the Yarra (the Wa-woo-rong tribe) say that Bun-jil made the earth (Beek-warreen) and all things besides. He had two wives, and he gave one of them to his brother Boo-err-go-en. He had two sons, Ta-jerr and Tarrn-nin, and these he sent very frequently to destroy bad men and bad women—wicked men and women who had killed and eaten blacks.

Boo-err-go-en, the brother of Bun-jil, was very wild, and though he had had given to him one wife, he was not satisfied. Bun-jil had a sword or knife (Warra-goop), and also an instrument named Ber-rang, with which he could open any place or any thing, and in such a way as to make it impossible for any one to know how or whether or not it had been opened. No one could see the opening he made.

The Aborigines of the northern parts of Victoria say that the world was created by beings whom they call Nooralie—beings that existed a very long time ago. They name a man who is very old Nooralpily.^[2] They believe that the beings who created all things had severally the form of the Crow and the Eagle. There was continual war between these two beings, but peace was made at length. They agreed that the Murray blacks should be divided into two classes—the Mak-quarra or Eaglehawk, and the Kil-parra or Crow. The conflict that was waged between the rival powers is thus preserved in song:—

Thinj-ami		balkee		mako;
Knee		strike		Crow;

Nato-panda		Kambe-ar		tona;
Spear		father		of him.

The meaning of which is: "Strike the Crow on the knee; I will spear his father."

The war was maintained with great vigor for a length of time. The Crow took every possible advantage of his nobler foe, the Eagle; but the latter generally had ample revenge for injuries and insults. Out of their enmities and final agreement arose the two classes, and thence a law governing marriages amongst these classes.

The First Men.

The Melbourne blacks say that Pund-jel made of clay two males. This was in long, long ages past; and the two first breathed in a country towards the north-west (Oodi-yul-yul wootunno per-reen N'gervein). Pund-jel made of clay two male blacks, in the following manner:—With his big knife he cut three large sheets of bark. On one of these he placed a quantity of clay, and worked it into a proper consistence with his knife. When the clay was soft, he carried a portion to one of the other pieces of bark, and he commenced to form the clay into a man, beginning at the feet; then he made the legs, then he formed the trunk and the arms and the head.^[3] He made a man on each of the two pieces of bark. He was well pleased with his work, and he looked at the men a long time, and he danced round about them. He next took stringybark from a tree (Eucalyptus obliqua), made hair of it, and placed it on their heads—on one straight hair and on the other curled hair. Pund-jel again looked at his work, much pleased (Bul-li-to monomeeth), and once more he danced round about them. To each he gave a name: the man with the straight hair he called Ber-rook-boorn; the man with the curled hair, Koo-kin Ber-rook. After again smoothing with his hands their bodies, from the feet upwards to their heads, he lay upon each of them, and blew his breath into their mouths, into their noses, and into their navels; and breathing very hard, they stirred. He danced round about them a third time. He then made them speak, and caused them to get up, and they rose up, and appeared as full-grown young men—not like children.^[4]

The story is thus told by another man of the Wa-woo-rong or Yarra tribe:—Bund-jel was the first man. He made everything, and the second man (Kar-ween) he made also, as well as two wives for Kar-ween. But Bund-jel made no wife for himself, and after the lapse of time he came to want Kar-ween's wives. Kar-ween watched his wives very jealously, and was careful that Bund-jel should not get near them. Bund-jel, however, was clever enough to steal both of the wives in the night, and he took them away. Kar-ween, taking some spears with him, pursued Bund-jel, but he could not find him, nor could he find his wives. But in a short time Bund-jel came back, bringing with him the two women. He asked Kar-ween to fight on the following day; and he proposed that if Kar-ween conquered he should have the women, and if Bund-jel conquered that they should be his. To this Kar-ween agreed. But Kar-ween had in his mind a different plan. And this was his plan: to make Ingargiull or corrobboree. Kar-ween spoke to Waung (the Crow), and asked him to make a corrobboree. And many crows came, and they made a great light in the air, and they sang—

Mene-Nar-in-gee,
Targo Barra Targo,
Burra mene long-go,
Wah!

Whilst they were thus singing, Bund-jel danced. Kar-ween took a spear and threw it at him, and wounded him a little in the leg, but not in such a manner as to hurt Bund-jel much. Bund-jel, however, was very angry, and he seized a spear and threw it at Kar-ween. It was so well thrown that it went through the joint of Kar-ween's thigh. And Kar-ween could walk about no more. Kar-ween became sick. He became as lean as a skeleton, and thereupon Bund-jel made Kar-ween a Crane, and that bird was thereafter called Kar-ween. Bund-jel was the conqueror. The two women became his wives, and he had many children.

After this, Ballen-ballen (the Jay), who at that time was a man, had a great many bags full of wind, and being angry, he one day opened the bags, and made such a great wind that Bund-jel and nearly all his family were carried up into the heavens.

The First Women.

Pal-ly-yan, who is described sometimes as a brother of Pund-jel, and sometimes as a son, has the control of the waters, great and small. He is supreme over rivers, creeks, and lagoons; and the sea obeys him likewise. All creatures that live in the deeps or shallows he can control. There is nothing in the deep waters of the rivers that can perplex him; and his chief pleasure is to paddle in the shallow waters, and to dive to great depths in the deep waters. One day he was playing in a deep, deep water-hole. He thumped and threshed the waters with his hands, in the same manner as the women beat the skins when men dance the corrobboree. The water became thick; it became very thick; it became as mud; and Pal-ly-yan could no longer see through it as before. But something he saw at length. And dividing the thick waters with a bough, so as to get a glimpse of things underneath, he beheld what appeared to be hands, such as Pund-jel had given to the men he had created. Pal-ly-yan took a strong twig, bent it into the form of a hook, and again divided the waters, and there appeared two heads (such as Pund-jel had given to the men), then bodies (similar to those made by Pund-jel), and finally two creatures like Mon-mon-deek (young women). Pal-ly-yan named one Kun-ner-warra, and the other Ku-ur-rook, and he brought them to Pund-jel, his brother, to show them to him. Pund-jel gave to each man whom he had created a woman. Pund-jel put into the hands of the men spears. To each man he gave a spear; and Pal-ly-yan gave to each woman and put into her hands a Kan-nan (digging-stick). Pal-ly-yan spake to the men and women, and told them to live together. He ordered that the men should use their spears for killing the kangaroo, and he told the women to use the Kan-nan to dig roots.

Pund-jel and Pal-ly-yan remained with the blacks for three days. They showed the men how they should spear the kangaroo and the emu, and they told the women where they could find roots.

On the third day, Pund-jel, Pal-ly-yan, and the four blacks sat down. A whirlwind (Pit-ker-ring or Wee-oong-koork) came, on the third day, when they had all sat down. On the third day, when they had all sat down, there came a storm (Koor-reen), a great storm (Borrn-geen-borrn-geen), and the whirlwind and the storm and the great storm carried Pund-jel and Pal-ly-yan upwards—far away—and the blacks saw Pund-jel and Pal-ly-yan no more.

The Dispersion of Mankind.

There was a time when men and women were numerous. In some parts of the earth they were very numerous, and they were wicked; and Pund-jel became angry. Pund-jel became very sulky (Nar-eit),^[5] when he saw that men and women were many and very bad. He caused storms to arise, and fierce winds to blow often. In the flat lands there arose suddenly whirlwinds^[6] of great force, and on the mountains the big trees were shaken with strong winds. Pund-jel came down to see the men and women. He spoke to no one. He carried with him his big knife. With his knife he went into the encampments, and he cut with his knife. He cut this way and that way; and men, women, and children he cut into very small pieces. But the pieces into which he had cut the men, women, and children did not die. Each piece moved as the worm (Tur-ror) moves. Bullito, bullito, koor-reen, pit-ker-reen (great, great storms and whirlwinds) came and carried away the pieces that moved like worms, and the pieces became like flakes of snow (Kabbing).^[7] They were carried into the clouds. The clouds carried the pieces hither and thither over all the earth; and Pund-jel caused the pieces to drop in such places as he pleased. Thus were men and women scattered over the earth. Of the good men and good women Pund-jel made stars. The stars are still in the heavens, and the sorcerers can tell which amongst the stars were once good men and good women.

Death.

The Aborigines of the Murray believe not in death—in annihilation. They believe that when the body becomes motionless—in our sense of the word, dead—it may rise again and appear perhaps in the form of a white. But they have a strange account of the occasion on which death—as the word is used in the ordinary sense—was first brought into the world.

The first created man and woman were told not to go near a certain tree in which a Bat (Bon-nel-ya) lived. The Bat was not to be disturbed. One day, however, the woman (Nonga) was gathering firewood, and she went near the tree in which the Bat lived. The Bat flew away, and after that came death. Many amongst the Aborigines died after that.^[8]

The Man with a Tail.

The Coranderrk blacks say that there is one man (Kooleen) under the ground (Beek) who has a long tail. He has a great many wives and many children. He is a very bad man, and always laughs at the blacks because they have no tails. The Yarra blacks believe also that when the kidney-fat is taken away by sorcery, and a person dies, the spirit goes to Bund-jel. The body will rise again if the deceased has drunk water belonging to Menyan (the Moon), but if the person has drunk water belonging to Mongabarra, (the Pigeon), the body will not rise again.

Origin of the Sea.

The doctors or priests say that the sea was created by Bund-jel. The sea—Bullarto warreen—has waters different from those that flow in the creeks and rivers, and very different from those that descend from the sky. Woo-too-no, Woo-too-no, Woo-too-no Per-reen Ngervein—many long ages past Bund-jel was very angry with the blacks. Bund-jel was very angry with all black people, because they had done evil and wicked things; and Bun-jel Bulgo-Lou-er-ner^[9] many days on the earth, and all the black people were drowned, except such as Bund-jel favored, and these were caught up by him and fixed in the sky as stars. One Koolin and one Baggarook—one man and one woman—who had climbed a high tree on a mountain, escaped the flood which Bund-jel had made, and they lived; and all the people now existing are descended from these two.

How Water was first Obtained.

The Aborigines of Lake Tyers say that at one time there was no water anywhere on the face of the earth. All the waters were contained in the body of a huge Frog, and men and women could get none of it. A council was held, and the wisest amongst all the animals enquired into the circumstances connected with this extraordinary drought. It was ascertained beyond doubt that the monster Frog had within himself all the waters that should have covered the waste places of the earth, and further, that if the Frog could be made to laugh, (Kramban), the waters would run out of his mouth, and there would be plenty in all parts. It was agreed that an effort should be made to cause the monster Frog to laugh. Several animals danced and capered before him, but he remained as solemn and as stupid as any ordinary Frog, even when their gestures were sufficient to make mirth anywhere. All the animals tried and failed. At length No-yang (the Eel) began to wriggle and distort himself, and the Frog's jaws opened. He laughed outright. When he laughed, all the waters came out of his mouth, and there was a flood (Koorpa). Great numbers were drowned in the flood. Many, very many, perished in the waters. The Pelican (Booran), who before the flood was a blackfellow, took upon himself to save the black people. He cut a very large canoe (Gre), and sailed among the islands which appeared here and there in the great waters, and he took the people into his canoe, and he kept them alive. By and by the Pelican had a quarrel with the people whom he had saved. He quarrelled with them about a woman, and the Pelican was turned into a stone.

The following is the tradition of the Aborigines of one part of the River Murray. Before the earth was inhabited by the existing race of black men, birds had possession of it. These birds had as much intelligence and wisdom as the blacks—nay, some say that they were altogether wiser and more skilful in all things. The Eaglehawk seems to have been a ruler—the chief amongst the birds—and next in authority was the Crow. On one occasion the Eaglehawk left his son in charge of the Crow. The young one became thirsty, and asked the Crow where he could get a drink. He was told to go to the river (Warn-dwan), and the Crow went with him. The Crow made the young one drink until he was swollen to an immense size. The Crow then threw something at him, and caused him to burst, and the waters that flowed from him overspread the country.

The Sun.

At the beginning the Sun did not set. It was at all times day, and the blacks grew weary. Nooralie considered and decided at length that the Sun should disappear at intervals. He addressed the Sun in these words:—

Yhuko warrie, Yhuko warrie,
Yarrarama wane dilya,
Yantha, Yanthoma wane dilya,
Tull Tull.

Which being interpreted means: "Sun, Sun, burn your wood, burn your internal substance, and go down."

The natives believe that because the Sun gives heat it needs fuel, and that when it descends below the horizon it reaches vast depths whence it procures fresh food for its fires.

The Moon.

The Moon was aberrant before her motions were regulated by Nooralie. Nooralie had much to remember and to consider before he could decide what should be the times of the appearance of the Moon, and how she should appear, but at length he addressed her in these words:—

Puk-a		Mal-imba		Penah-pethanba,
Die		you		bone whiten,
Penah		Bulga		Bulga.
bone		powder		powder.

In other words: "Die! your bones whiten—and your bones go to powder."

The Moon obeyed Nooralie. She dies at regular periods—and re-appears—and does her duty to the Aborigines as Nooralie in times long past commanded her to do.^[10]

The Sun, the Moon, and the Stars.

The progenitors of the existing tribes—whether birds or beasts or men—were set in the sky, and made to shine as stars if the deeds they had done were mighty, and such as to deserve commemoration.^[11] The Eagle (Quarnamero) is now the planet Mars, and justly so, because he was warlike, and much given to fighting. The Crow (Wāgara) is a star, and smaller stars are set about him, and those represent his wives.

The Moon, before he was set in the sky—(our Satellite is always regarded and spoken of as a male by the Aborigines of Victoria)—was very wicked, and went about doing as much harm as he could.^[12] The Gippsland blacks say that the first lot of men he met he turned into ducks, and left them in that condition. On one occasion he visited the Eagle. He set his miam near that of the Eagle. The Eagle had been out in the forest catching kangaroos, when the Moon camped near his abode, and having come home with two of these animals, he offered the Moon some of the flesh. The Moon swallowed joint after joint. He left nothing. He devoured the two carcasses. He then killed the Eagle and swallowed him. After performing these feats he went upon a journey. In going through the forest he met the two wives of the Eagle. They were alarmed when they saw him, and guessed suddenly that he had swallowed their husband. The Moon asked for water, and they pointed to a well. He went there to drink, and, as he was drinking, the women struck him with the stone tomahawk (Wallung-gwi-an). They cut open the Moon, and extracted from his capacious stomach the body of the Eagle, who thereupon came to life again.

The Aborigines are not without some knowledge of astronomy. Mr. W. E. Stanbridge, in his paper On the Aborigines of Victoria, states that "All the tribes have traditions, and particular families have the reputation in their respective tribes of possessing the most exact knowledge of them. A family having this character in the Boorong tribe, who inhabit the Mallee country in the neighbourhood of Lake Tyrril, and who take pride in saying that they know more of astronomy than any others, state that the earth is flat, and that it was in darkness until the Sun was made by Pupperimbul. This person was one of the race who then inhabited the earth, and who are now called Nurrum-bung-uttias, or old spirits. They possessed fire, and also the same characteristics as the present race, but were translated in various forms to the heavens before the present race came into existence. All the celestial bodies, as well as all appearances in space (tyrille) are supposed to have been made by them. They exercise all spiritual influences, whether for good or evil, upon the earth, where they are represented in a material form amongst other creatures by the Pupperimbul (Estrelda-Temporalis), to kill one of which would be avenged by a deluge of rain.

"Gnowee (Sun); an emu's egg, prepared and cast into space (tyrille) by Pupperimbul, before which the earth was in darkness.^[13]

"It is said by another tribe that the emu's egg was prepared by Berm-berm-gl, and carried into space by Penmen, a small bird which they do not destroy.

"Chargee Gnowee (Venus); sister of the Sun, and wife of Ginabong-bearp.

"Ginabong-bearp (Jupiter); Foot of Day, a chief of the Nurrumbung-uttias, and husband of Chargee Gnowee.

"Mityan (Moon); Native Cat (Dasyurus Geoffroyii) ; who fell in love with one of Unurgunite's wives, and while trying to induce her to run away with him, is discovered by Unurgunite, when a fight takes place; Mityan is beaten and runs away, and has been wandering ever since.

"Marpean-kurrk (Arcturus); mother of Djuit and Weet-kurrk. The discoverer of the bittur, and the instructor of the Aborigines where to find it. When it is coming into season with them, it is going out of season with her. The bittur is the pupa of the wood-ant, which is found in large communities, and of which the Aborigines are very fond. They subsist almost entirely upon it during part of the months of August and September. When she is in the north at evening, the bittur is coming into season; when she sets with the Sun, the bittur is gone, and {cotchi) summer begins.

"Djuit (Antares); son of Marpean-kurrk; the star on either side is his wife.

"Neilloan (Lyra); a Loan flying (Leipoa ocellata); the mother of Totyar-guil, and discoverer of the Loan eggs, which knowledge she imparted to the Aborigines. When the Loan eggs are coming into season on earth, they are going out of season with her. When she sets with the Sun, the Loan eggs are in season.

"Totyarguil (Aquila); the star on either side is his wife. He was the son of Neilloan, and was, while bathing, killed by a Bun-yip; his remains were afterwards rescued by his uncle (Collen-bitchick).

"Although the Bun-yip appears to be an imaginary creature, yet it is feared by every one, and is described as having a head and neck like an emu, and as inhabiting deep holes in rivers and lakes, where it kills persons who venture therein.

"Karick-karick (the two stars in the end of the tail of Scorpio); a male and female Falcon.

"Berm-berm-gl (two large stars in the fore-legs of Centaurus); two brothers, noted for their courage and destrnctiveness, who spear and kill Tchin-gal. The eastern stars of Crux are the points of the spears that have passed through him;—the one at the foot through his neck, and that in the arm through his back.

"Tchin-gal (the dark space between the fore-legs of Centaurus and Crux); Emu; who pursues Bunya until he takes refuge in a tree, and who is afterwards killed by Berm-berm-gl.

"Bunya (star in the head of Crux); Opossum; who is pursued by Tchin-gal, and who, in his fright, lays his spears at the foot of a tree, and runs up it for safety. For such cowardice he becomes an opossum.

"Tourt-chinboiong-gherra (Coma Berenices); a flock of small birds drinking rain-water, which has lodged in a fork of a tree.

"Kourt-chin (Magellan Clouds); the larger cloud a male, and the lesser cloud a female Native Companion (Grus Australasianus).

"War-ring (Galaxy); the smoke of the fires of the Nurrumbung-uttias. Another account is, that only a part of the Galaxy is the smoke of the fires of the Nurrumbung-uttias, and that the other part is two Mindii—enormous snakes—which made the Murray (Millee). The existing Mindii are about eighteen feet long.

"Kulkun-bulla (the stars in the belt and scabbard of Orion); a number of young men dancing. (A corrobboree.)

"Larnan-kurrk (Pleiades); a group of young women playing to Kulkun-bulla.

"Ghellar-lec (Aldebaran); Rose Cockatoo (Cacatue Leadbeateri); an old man chanting, and beating time to Kulkun-bulla and Larnan-kurrk.

"Warc-pil (Sirius); male Eagle; a chief of the Nurrumbung-uttias, and brother of War.

"Collow-gullouric Ware-pil (Rigel); female Eagle; wife of Ware-pil.

"Won (Corona); a boomerang thrown by Totyarguil.

"Weet-kurrk (Star in Boötes, west of Arcturus); daughter of Marpean-kurrk.

"War (Canopus); male Crow; the brother of Ware-pil, and the first to bring fire from space (tyrille), and give it to the Aborigines, before which they were without it.

"Collow-gullouric; War (a large red star in Rober Caroli, marked 966); female Crow, wife of War. All the small stars around her are her children.

"Yerrer-det-kurrk (Achernar); Nalwin-kurrk, or mother of Totyarguil's wives.

"Otchocut (Delphinus); Great Fish.

"Collen-bitchick (double star in the head of Capricornus); a large Ant, uncle to Totyarguil, and rescuer of his remains from the Bun-yip. The double star is his fingers feeling for the bank of the river.

"Yurree (Castor), Wanjel (Pollux); two young men that pursue Purra and kill him at the commencement of the great heat; and Coonar-toorung (Mirage) is the smoke of the fire by which they roast him. When their smoke is gone, weeit (autumn) begins.

"Purra (Capella); Kangaroo; who is pursued and killed by Yurree and Wanjel.

"Unurgunite (a small star, marked fifth magnitude 22, between two larger ones, in the body of Canis Major). He fights Mityan, and makes him run away, for having tried to induce one of Unurgunite's wives to elope with him. The star on either side of Unurgunite is his wife; that farthest from him is the object of Mityan's affections.

"The tribes inhabiting the country extending from Swan Hill to Mount Franklin have similar names and mythological representations for the stars to those here described."

The Bun-yip.

The earliest settlers in Victoria heard from time to time, and from natives far removed from each other, accounts of a creature dreadful in aspect and voracious in its appetite for human beings, which did much hurt to black people who strayed from their miams.^[14] This being was generally represented as resembling no known animal. It had a head and ears, and a huge body covered with fur or feathers. It always came suddenly upon the blacks when it meant to destroy them; but its groanings and bellowings were heard at certain times by all the people of a tribe when they encamped near a lagoon, or by deep water-holes, or by the sea-shore. The noises it made always terrified them very much. It was destructive. In the Life and Adventures of William Buckley,^[15] the narrator states that "in this lake [Modewarre], as well as in most of the others inland, and in the deep-water rivers, is a very extraordinary amphibious animal, which the natives call Bun-yip, of which I could never see any part except the back, which appeared to be covered with feathers of a dusky-grey color. It seemed to be about the size of a full-grown calf, and sometimes larger. The creatures only appear when the weather is very calm and the water smooth. I could never learn from any of the natives that they had seen either the head or tail, so that I could not form a correct idea of their size, or what they were like. . . . . Here [on the Barwon River] the Bun-yips, the extraordinary animals I have already mentioned, were often seen by the natives, who had a great dread of them, believing them to have some supernatural power over human beings, so as to occasion death, sickness, disease, and such like misfortunes. . . . . They told me a story of a woman having been killed by one of them, stating that it happened in this way:—A particular family one day was surprised at the great quantity of eels they caught; for as fast as the husband could carry them back to their hut, the woman pulled them out of the lagoon. This, they said, was a cunning manœuvre of a Bun-yip to lull her into security, so that in her husband's absence he might seize her for food. However this was, after the husband had stayed away some time, he returned, but his wife was gone, and she was never seen after. So great is the dread the natives have of these creatures, that on discovering one they throw themselves flat on their faces, muttering some gibberish, or flee away from the borders of the lake or river, as if pursued by a wild beast. … When alone, I several times attempted to spear a Bun-yip; but had the natives seen me do so it would have caused great displeasure. And again, had I succeeded in killing, or even wounding one, my own life would probably have paid the forfeit; they considering the animal, as I have already said, something supernatural."

FIG. 244.

The Western Port blacks call the Bun-yip Toor-roo-dun, and a picture of the animal, made by Kurruk many years ago, under the direction of a learned doctor, is that of a creature resembling the emu.^[16]—(Fig. 244.) On the Western Port plains there is a basin of water—never dry, even in the hottest summers—which is called Toor-roo-dun, because the Bun-yip lives in that water.^[17] Toor-roo-dun inhabits the deep waters, and the thick mud beneath the deep waters, and in this habit resembles the eel. The natives never bathe in the waters of this basin. A long time ago some of the people bathed in the lake, and they were all drowned, and eaten by Toor-roo-dun. The Goulburn blacks have the same dread of this terrible creature; but their doctors, priests, and wise men say that Toor-roo-dun does not eat the blacks, but contents himself with holding them in his embraces until they die. All the blacks believe in the existence of a huge seal-like animal, which lives in swamps and deep water-holes, and growls and bellows at night, and destroys, if he does not eat, all black people who venture near his haunts.

Fig. 245 is the picture of a Bun-yip as drawn by an Aboriginal of the Murray River, in 1848, in the presence of Mr. J. P. Main and Mr. John Clark, and which was given to the late Mr. A. F. A. Greeves by the artist. The wood-cut is a fac-simile of the drawing. The coating of the animal is either scales or feathers; but in truth little is known amongst the blacks respecting its form, or covering, or habits. They appear to have been in such dread of it as to have been unable to take note of its characteristics.

FIG. 245.

The doctors alone, says the Rev. Mr. Hagenauer, are able to point out where the Bun-yip has his dwelling. Sometimes they indicate a deep water-hole as the place of his abode, and sometimes a swamp surrounded by scrub and reeds.

What the Myndie was to the blacks of the North-Western district, so was the Bun-yip to those dwelling on the coast and near the swamps of the Western district. Both were terrible, and both have their types in existing creatures. The python (Morelia variegata) may be said to represent the fabulous Myndie, and Koor-man (the seal) the Bun-yip.

Whether the seal which the blacks have named the Bun-yip is the eared seal (Arctocephalus lobatus) or the large spotted sea-leopard {Stenorhynchus leptonyx), or some other animal unknown as yet to naturalists, is doubtful. That the blacks in former times ate the seals which frequented the coast is certain,^[18] and it is probable, therefore, that some other creature was the cause of the terror which afflicted them at nights when they heard growlings and bellowings on the margins of the swamps. Seals proceed inland often for a considerable distance; many during certain seasons may have frequented the samphire-bound inlets of Western Port, and by their bellowings at night frightened the natives; but there is reason to believe that the seals known to them and to the whites were not the same as Toor-roo-dun.

In deep water-holes of rivers and in swamps settlers have seen occasionally a creature much resembling the Bun-yip, as it is described by some of the Aborigines. The Advocate of 13th April 1872, quoting the Wagga Wagga Advertiser, says:—"A few days ago a Mr. A——, driving sheep, camped near Mr. W——'s station at the Midgeon Lagoon, and saw a very fast-swimming beast hastening towards his party. It came within thirty yards, and then stopped when it saw them. It was half as long again as a retriever-dog. The hair all over its body was jet-black, and shining, and very long, say five inches. Mr. A—— says he could not detect any tail. There was too much hair to see its eyes. Its ears were well developed. They had a splendid view of it, for it leisurely surveyed them for half an hour without showing alarm, about thirty yards off, and then turned quietly round and swam away."

In a subsequent issue of the same paper the subject is again referred to:—" The Wagga Wagga Express states that 'the Bun-yip' has again been seen twice within the last three months in the waters of Cowal Lake, in March last [1873], by a party of surveyors, whose account can be relied upon, who were out in a boat, and saw the animal about 150 yards off. They describe it to have a head something resembling a human being—or, in their own words, 'like an old man blackfellow, with long dark-colored hair.' When seen, it appeared to be going in a straight direction, rising out of the water so that they could see its shoulders, and then diving as if in the chase of fish, and rising again at intervals of about six or eight yards, and diving again. They tried to get closer to it, but could not for the pace it was going; consequently, could give no description of it lower than the shoulders. They say the animal did not appear to be afraid of them; but most likely it must have been so intent upon its occupation that it never noticed them. Again, a blackfellow and a white man, who were out in a canoe, say they saw it about a fortnight since. They agree in giving the same description of the head and hair as that given by the surveyors. The animal was swimming straight towards them, and, when it saw them, dived and disappeared."

Lake Cowal lies about 200 miles west of Botany Bay. It is rather a swamp or a lagoon than a lake, and is fed by the Manna and Yeo Yeo Creeks. It is about eighteen miles in length and six miles in breadth. It expands and contracts its water-surface with the varying seasons.

These statements by themselves might not be accounted of much value; but others have seen an animal of the same kind. Major Couchman, the Chief Mining Surveyor in the Mining Department, says that he and Mr. Lavender saw an animal resembling a water-dog swimming in the reservoir at Malmsbury. It was large, and of a very dark color. He watched the animal for some time, when it dived and disappeared. He saw it again when it was nearer, and then knew that it was not a dog. Its head resembled that of a seal. Both Mr. Lavender and he watched it for some time, and its form and the period during which it remained under water after it had dived satisfied them that it was not any animal known to them.^[19] Are there fresh-water seals in Victoria, and is the Bun-yip a fresh-water seal?

According to Mr. Stanbridge, Totyarguil, now in the heavens (Aquila), was, while bathing, killed by a Bun-yip. His remains were afterwards rescued by his uncle Collen-bitchick (double star in the head of Capricornus). The double star, the natives say, is his fingers feeling for the bank of the river.

Statements respecting the appearance in our lakes and swamps of any creature at all resembling the Bun-yip are invariably ridiculed. It seems to be assumed that all living animals are known to man and described and figured in his books. Scientific men, however, are willing to enquire, and they are ready to publish and investigate facts whenever the interests of science require them to do so. In this spirit Mr. Charles Gould, F.G.S., the son of the eminent naturalist, has made known much very interesting and valuable information respecting the existence of a seal-like animal in Tasmania. The following extracts are taken from a paper read before the members of the Royal Society of Tasmania in 1872:—

"Having heard rumours, ever since my arrival in this colony, of some large and unusual animals being occasionally observed in the lakes in the great central plateau, I had often projected a trip of exploration to them, which circumstances have continuously prevented. However, I always bore the point in mind, and, therefore, when passing the evening at Constable McPartland's hut at the Picton, while on an expedition to the Cracroft, knowing that he had been for a long time stationed at the Great Lake, I made enquiry whether he had seen any strange animals in the lake. He told me instantly that he never had himself, but his son, who was much more about the lake, had done so several times, and calling him, desired him to tell me at once all about them. I find from my notes that the date of our conversation was September 1870, and that young Francis McPartland, who was an extremely intelligent and apparently truthful youth, stated that 'two years previously he had several times seen water animals in the lake at different places; he had a good view of them off the shore at Swan Bay, going from the station towards Mr. Smith's Neck. They were within a stone's throw of the shore, and seemed to be three or four feet long; they were three or four in number, and seemed to be playing about; they did not jump out, but were splashing about, and sometimes threw the water seven or eight feet up in the air. They showed their backs above water; also their heads, which were round, round like a bull-dog. They were darkish in color; he had seen them several times—once one alone, but generally two together; they swam about, keeping the head above the water; you can also see the shoulders; they show the back when they are splashing.' These were always seen by McPartland in some part or other of Swan Bay; sometimes near the shore, sometimes in the middle. Immediately on my return I asked Mr. John Forster to favor me with a few lines to the chief constable of the Lake district, and through his hands I received the following statement:—

"'Steppes, 25th October 1870.

"'Sir,—With regard to your memo. of the 23rd of September last, relative to animals reported to have been seen in the Great Lake by young McPartland, and supposed to be seals, having made their way from the sea up the Derwent and Shannon Rivers, I now beg to inform you that I have made enquiries amongst the shepherds in the vicinity of the lake, and I find that several of them have seen an animal swimming in the lake very much resembling a black sheep-dog with only its head above the water. I cannot find that more than one has been seen at a time. I do not think it possible for seals to make their way from the sea to the Great Lake, in consequence of a very considerable waterfall being in the Shannon, near its junction with the Ouse, unless, being amphibious, they could escape the fall and reach the river above by land.

"'The people that have seen this animal in the lake maintain that it is not a platypus, but twice as large and much darker; but as it has never been very plainly seen, and considering the difficulty of any sea animal getting as far as the lake, I think it must undoubtedly be a very large platypus. Mr. Headlam's shepherd saw one at the very top of the lake, which he says was four or five feet long, with a very large black head. A shepherd of Kermode's also saw one. Ryan saw one at Swan Bay in the moonlight. Ridgers, the contractor, has also seen them; and I am told Mr. Kenrick Flexmore saw one at the sandbanks.

I am, Sir, your obedient servant,
James Wilson, Chief Constable.

John Forster, Esq., Hobart.'

"Mr. Morton Allport having informed me that Mr. Charles Headlam had seen such a beast in the lake, proceeded to correspond with that gentleman, from whom I furnish the society with the following note. I need hardly say the testimony of so well-known a gentleman as Mr. Charles Headlam is unimpeachable:—

"'Egleston, Macquarie River, Tasmania,
29th April 1872.

"'Dear Sir,—Yours of the 25th instant I have, asking for information in reference to an animal I saw in the Great Lake some years ago. I have looked over my journal, which I have kept for the last thirty-two years, and find that it was on Monday, 25th January 1863, that I saw the animal. My son Anthony was the only person with me at the time; the time of day was about eleven o'clock. The lake was very rough, and we were pulling our boat against a strong head sea, when my oar nearly came in contact with a large-looking beast, about the size of a fairly-developed sheep-dog. The animal immediately started off at great speed towards an island in the Great Lake known as Helen Island. It appeared to have two small flappers, or wings, which it made good use of, as I should think it went at the rate of thirty miles per hour. We watched it as far as the eye could reach, and it appeared to keep on the face of the water, never appearing to dive. I never remember seeing such an animal before or since. My sons have just returned from the Great Lake, and crossed over the lake twice in the boat, but saw nothing of our strange friend. It was in the middle of the lake where we saw the animal, and in deep water. Should I ever fall in with the beast again, I will not fail in securing him if I can, and you shall then see him in person.

I remain, yours sincerely,
Charles Headlam.

Morton Allport, Esq., Hobart Town.'

"Having arrived thus far, I was much gratified by seeing in the Mercury of the 26th of April 1872 an extract from the Wagga Advertiser, which I copy as follows:—[The substance of this is given in another place.] And I was still more interested by the spontaneous information received a few days back that several townsmen of this city had seen a remarkable beast in Lake Tiberias, while on a shooting expedition. My information is from Mr. Howe, market gardener, of Campbell street, a keen sportsman and a lover of natural history, evidently a good observer, and not likely to mistake a tadpole for a crocodile, who states that, in company with Messrs. Shadwick and Currie, of New Town, and five others, he was at the Lake Tiberias on the 17th July last, and that while on the shore at the north-east end he observed swans, and, creeping to the edge of the lake, fired at them. Immediately on the report of the shot a great splash was seen, and some large beast started off in the water from a point about 100 yards distant, dashing towards some rushes, and forming a great wave by his passage through the water. The rushes swayed about violently as he passed through them, and one of the party, who had the opportunity of seeing the beast more distinctly than the other, estimated the length at five or six feet, and the breadth of back at nearly two feet. About one hour afterwards the party saw what they believed to be the same beast behind the rushes and out in the lake, splashing up the water to a height of ten or twelve feet. This was noticed several times. Enquiries made by Mr. Howe of persons in the neighbourhood elicited no information beyond that loud roarings had been heard at night.

"Mr. John Butler, of Shene, Bagdad, informs me that when on a visit to Lake Echo, in company with the Rev. H. D. Atkinson, some years back, they several times saw water thrown eight or ten feet high in the air, without any obvious cause. This happened right out in the lake, and was considered by them unaccountable. The only other information is from Mr. Morton Allport, to the effect that some aquatic beast, as big as a calf, was reported several times last summer as being in the deep pools of the Jordan River.

"The evidence then shows that in the Great Lake, possibly in Lake Echo, certainly in Lake Tiberias, some unusual animals of large size have been seen at various times, answering in general description to a seal, but not corresponding with any species hitherto described.

"In regard to Mr. Headlam's estimate of the rate of speed of the animal seen by him, and which might be considered an exaggeration, I append an extract from a popular account of seals, contained in the Museum of Animated Nature, at page 222:—'The common seal can remain under water for about five minutes, and swims so rapidly that, if alarmed, it will proceed nearly half a mile during that period.'

"While the description of the ursine seal, 'lowing like a calf,' and of the sea elephant, 'in which the voice is deep, hoarse, and terrific,' may give the clue to the mysterious sounds said to have been heard at night issuing from many of the Victorian lakes, and notably, if my memory serves me correctly, from Lake Werribee [Modewarre].

"Now even should the animals, whose existence seems proved upon such good testimony, simply prove to be known seals, a good and substantial foundation for the Bun-yip story will have been arrived at. The mysterious appearance and horrible sounds will be fully accounted for, and a very interesting and novel page in the chapter of seals supplied to us. How much more interesting then will be the discovery should they prove to differ specifically or even generically from any hitherto described form, and to be some fresh-water-inhabiting mammal, analagous or allied to 'the otter-like or seal-like animal' whose existence in the rivers and lakes of the mountain districts of New Zealand has recently been established by Dr. Haast without doubt.—(See Hochstetter's New Zealand, page 161.) Dr. Haast writes, in June 1861:—'At a height of 3,500 feet above the level of the sea, I frequently saw its tracks on the Upper Ashburton River, in a region never before trodden by man. They resemble the tracks of our European otter, only a little smaller. The animal itself, however, was likewise seen by two gentlemen who have a sheep station at Lake Heron, not far from the Ashburton, 2,100 feet high. They describe the animal as dark-brown, of the size of a stout cony. On being struck at with the whip, it uttered a shrill yelping sound, and quickly disappeared in the water among the sea grass.'

"I may, in conclusion, mention that, while on a recent visit to Sydney, I saw in the Museum a young specimen of a species of seal entirely new to me, of which the color was black, like that of the Wagga individual, but concerning which Mr. Gerard Krefft was unable to give me further information than that it was caught near Newcastle, New South Wales. Mr. Krefft also tells me that one seal in that collection had lived on platypuses, and must have been a great distance from salt water."

The following letter, corroborative of the statements in Mr. Gould's paper, was read to the Royal Society at a meeting held in October 1872:—

" Black Brush, 6th September 1872.

"Sir,—I have to acknowledge receipt of a letter from Mr. Charles Gould, soliciting information from me of a strange animal seen in the pools of the Jordan. My reason for not complying with the request before was that I was not able to see the parties in consequence of the dreadful state of the weather and the flooded state of the River Jordan. I have since obtained the information required, and will now state what I know of the affair.

"It was first seen about two years ago in the large pool at Mr. Munday's farm, at the Black Brush, by Mr. Munday himself. He states that it was like a seal, with round head and two flippers, and plunged into the river. It was afterwards seen by the Messrs. Tonks further up the river; it was then seen by the Cox family near their house; and by several others afterwards in the large lagoon under the rocks opposite my house, and by Mrs. Chaplin on the bank of the river, close to the cows in the meadow. When approached, it bounded into the river. She describes it as having a round head and flippers; that it was about four feet long, of a dark-grey color, and made a noise like 'hu,' 'hu.' I have myself seen the water thrown up, but could not account for it. Others have seen the same—Mr. Gunn and the Messrs. McLaren. It was afterwards seen farther up the Jordan by Mr. Collis's shepherd, who states that it was lying by a log, and when disturbed it went into the river. It has not been seen lately; my impression is that it has made its way np the Jordan, perhaps as far as Lake Tiberias. At night was the time it was heard to make a noise. It very much alarmed one of Mr. Cox's sons when watering his horses at the Jordan. He thought it was one of the cattle which had fallen in the river; he has seen nothing of it since. Should I hear anything further, I will communicate with you.

Your obedient servant,
Edward Chaplin.

Morton Allport, Esq.

"P.S.— Tuesday morning, 10th September.—Mr. Fane Cox was at my house this morning, and informs me that going home a few nights since, when passing by the rocks opposite the lagoon by my land, some large animal went down the rocks into the river, making a loud noise and throwing up the water. He waited some time, thinking it would make its appearance again; it did not, and he could not tell anything about its description. He thought it was a beast of some kind; it made, he says, a loud gurgling noise, like that a horse would make.—E. C."

These statements show that the natives have grounds for the alarm they exhibit when necessity compels them to camp near deep water-holes or lagoons at night, and for the stories they tell respecting the Bun-yip. It is scarcely creditable to us that we have not correctly ascertained the facts; but surely, sooner or later, the minds of naturalists will be set at rest as regards the creature which has given rise to so much speculation.

Myndie.

The natives of the Melbourne district say that Myndie is a great snake—very long, very thick in the body, and very powerful. He is under the dominion of Pund-jel. When Pund-jel commands him, Myndie will destroy black people—young or old. He can do nothing of himself. Pund-jel must first order him. He is known to all tribes, and all tribes are known to him; and when any tribe is very wicked, or when any tribe fails to overtake and kill wild blackfellows, then Pund-jel makes Myndie give them diseases, or kills them, as he thinks fit. Myndie is not quite like a snake. He has a large head, and when he hisses and ejects poison, his tongue appears, which has three points. Myndie inhabits a country named Lill-go-ner, which lies to the north-north-west of Melbourne—a long, long way from Melbourne. He lives near a mountain which is called Bu-ker-bun-nel,^[20] and drinks only from one creek named Neel-cun-nun. The ground for a great distance around the place where Myndie lives is very hard; no rain can penetrate it. It is hard ground (Kul-ke-beek). No wood but Mullin can grow near it. The ground is covered with hard substances, small and white, like hail. Death or disease is given to blacks who venture near this ground. Myndie can extend or contract his dimensions when ordered by Pund-jel. Myndie can ascend the highest trees, and hold on to a branch like a ring-tail opossum, and stretch his body across a great forest a great length, so as to reach any tribe.

Myndie has several little creatures of his own kind, which he sends out from time to time to carry diseases and afflictions into tribes which have not acted well in war or in peace. These little ones are very troublesome, but their visits are not so much dreaded as the visits of Myndie himself, who is very large, very powerful, and from whom no one can escape. All plagues are caused by Myndie or his little ones. When Myndie is known to be in any district, all the blacks run for their lives. They stop not to seize their weapons or bags or rugs. They stop not to bury their dead. They set the bush on fire, and run as fast as they can. Some, as they run, are afflicted by Myndie, and become sick, and lie down, and some die. Some, when they are made sick, attempt to rise, but they fall down again. Those that run swiftly and escape are always quite well and never suffer from sickness. Mun-nie Brum-brum can arrest and put back the Myndie with a wave of his hand or a movement of his finger; but no one knows his secret. No one can arrest Myndie but Mun-nie Brum-brum.^[21]

This is (Fig. 246) is a picture of Myndie as drawn by an Aboriginal, and it tallies with pictures made by men of other tribes:—

FIG. 246.

All the evils that have ever afflicted the blacks of the southern and south-eastern tribes have come, they believe, from the north-north-west.

Kur-bo-roo.

The Native Bear, Kur-bo-roo, is the sage counsellor of the Aborigines in all their difficulties. When bent on a dangerous expedition, the men will seek help from this clumsy creature, but in what way his opinions are made known is nowhere recorded. He is revered, if not held sacred. The Aborigines may eat him, but they may not skin him as they skin the kangaroo and the opossum. A long time ago Kur-bo-roo stole all the drinking vessels (Tarnuk) belonging to the Aborigines, and he drained the creeks, and made such a scarcity of water that all the women and young children cried aloud. The men, women, and children had no water to drink; Kur-bo-roo had taken it all. Much distressed and perplexed, the Aborigines gave way at length to extreme despair, for no help came to them. Kur-ruk-ar-ook seeing all these things, came down from the sky, and enquired into the causes of this sorrow. Kur-ruk-ar-ook called all the bears to her and heard their complaints, and she heard also all that the Aborigines had to say, and she settled the quarrel thus: The blacks might eat the flesh of the bear, because it was good, but they might not skin it as they skinned common animals; and the bears were commanded not to steal the Tarnuk, the No-bean tarno, or the waters of the creeks; and all of them, blacks and bears, became friends by means of the counsel given by Kur-ruk-ar-ook. Thenceforth the bear became well disposed towards the blacks, and ever ready to give advice and help to them.^[22]

Another version of this story is given by the men of the Upper Yarra. The bear by them is called Koob-boor or Koob-borr, and they say that Koob-borr's father and mother died when he was about four years old. The tribe that he was left with were not kind to him. At one time water was very scarce everywhere, and poor little Koob-borr could not get any. No person would give him any water. Oh a certain day all the tribe went out to hunt, and they forgot to take little Koob-borr with them. All the people left the camp, some on one errand and some on another, and Koob-borr was left alone. The people had forgotten to hang up their tarnuks—they were full of water—and for once Koob-borr had more than SIC|euough|enough}} to drink. But that he might have always plenty, and also avenge the wrongs which had been done to him, he took all the tarnuks and hung them up on the boughs of a little tree. Having done this, he next brought all the water of the creek and put it into the tarnuks, and finally he climbed the tree and seated himself beside the tarnuks. The tree suddenly became very large—as large as a great many trees—and Koob-borr sat in the tree until evening; and evening brought back the blacks. The blacks were very thirsty; the day had been hot; and they had not found any water in the places where they had been. The first man that reached the camp cried out, "My tarnuk is gone!"—(Tarnoeek koonga-tool); and another came and said, "My tarnuk is gone!" And they all came, and they found that all the tarnuks had been taken away. They searched for them. Some went to the creek, thinking that they might have been left there, but they could not find them. Worse than the loss of the tarnuks was the discovery that the creek was dry. Presently one of the men saw the big tree. "Ky!" said he, "what is that?"—(Ky! Anging-je-kobbee?); and they all looked, and they saw their tarnuks hanging on the high boughs, and little Koob-borr sitting in the midst of them. "Wah!" says one, "is that you?"—(Wah! ke noogarra?). Have you any water there?"—(Nga boona paun kolen-noo?). "Yes," replied Koob-borr, "here am I, and I have plenty of water; but I will not give you one drop, because you would not give me any when I was nearly dying for the want of water." Some now proposed to ascend the tree, but they were afraid to attempt it, because it was so high. They were all very thirsty; something they determined to do; and two of the men at length commenced to climb the big tree. Koob-borr laughed at them, and let fall a little water on them, and they loosened their hold of the tree, and fell to the ground and were killed. Two men again attempted to climb to the bough on which Koob-borr was seated, but he treated them in the same way, and they too fell down and were killed. Two more attempted to climb, and again they fell down and were killed, and two more, until nearly all the men of the tribe were killed. Then men of other tribes came, and two by two they attempted to ascend, and Koob-borr spilled water on them, and they fell down and were killed. At length Ta-jerr and Tarrn-nin (the sons of Pund-jel) came to the relief of the blacks. They proposed a plan of ascending the tree, which proved successful. They climbed round and round, just in the line which a creeping plant takes. Koob-borr laughed as he laughed at the others, until they had ascended to a great height, and then he took water and let it fall, but the men were no longer in the same place, but higher up, and it did not fall on them. Koob-borr ran and got more water, and poured it where he had last seen the men, but again it did not touch them; and finally Ta-jerr and Tarrn-nin reached the high boughs. Koob-borr now began to cry, but they heeded not his cries. They seized him and beat him until all his bones were quite soft. They then threw him down, and other blacks beat and tried to kill him. He did not die. He became in form and appearance what he is now, and he ran up another tree. Ta-jerr and Tarrn-nin cut down the big tree in which the tarnuks and all the water were; and the water came out of the tree, and flowed into the creek (Kala-derra),^[23] and there has been ever since plenty of water.

From this time Koob-borr became food for the people; but it is a law amongst the people that they must not break his bones when they kill him, neither take off his skin before they roast him. If the law were broken, Koob-borr would again become powerful, and he would dry up the waters of the creeks.

Koob-borr keeps always near the banks of the creeks, and near water-holes, so that if the law be broken he may at once carry away the water. No one has roasted Koob-borr without his skin or broken his bones in killing him since the law was made.

When any one ascends a tree in which Koob-borr is sitting, he cries always in the same manner as he cried when Ta-jerr and Tarrn-nin climbed the tree and threw him down.^[24]

Mirram and Warreen.

Mirram (the Kangaroo) and Warreen (the Wombat) were once men, and they dwelt in the same place; but Warreen had a good camp (willum) made of bark, but Mirram had none. Mirram lived day and night in the open air. This was very good for Mirram when the weather was fine, and very good for Warreen, too, who often slept in the open air with Mirram. They were very good friends. At length a great rain fell.^[25] Warreen went to his willum, made a good fire, and lay down comfortably in front of it, well sheltered by his covering of bark. The rain fell so heavily that Mirram's fire was put out, and he became wet and very cold. He sat a long time, the cold rain falling upon him, thinking that Warreen would ask him to go into the willum, but this Warreen did not do. At last, quite overcome with the wet and the cold, and when he could not any longer bear the suffering, he went to the willum, and asked Warreen to allow him to go in and sit down in a vacant corner. Warreen said, "I want that corner for my head;" and he turned over and laid his head there. Mirram said, "Never mind, this place (pointing to an unoccupied spot) will do." Warreen moved and laid his feet over that spot, and said, "I want that place for my feet." Mirram spoke again: "This place will do," pointing to the spot where Warreen's feet had been. Warreen answered, "I cannot give you that place; I want to lie this way," and he raised himself and lay down in front of the fire. Mirram grew very angry. He could bear such treatment no longer, and he went away and got a stone, and came back quietly and struck Warreen on the forehead with the stone, and made his forehead quite flat. Mirram, when he had done this, said, "Now, your forehead will always be flat, and you shall remain in a dark hole." Ever since poor Warreen has had to live in a dark hole in the ground; and his forehead is flat at this day, as it was made flat when Mirram struck his head with the stone. But Warreen was at length in a position to retaliate. One day he took his spear and threw it at Mirram. It hit him, and stuck fast at the lower end of his back-bone. "Now," says Warreen, "that will always stick there, and will be a tail (Moo-ee-bee) for you, and you will have to use it when you run, and never shall you have willum." This is how Mirram came to have Moo-ee-boo, and why he has always to use it when jumping and running, and why he has to sleep in the open air.

Boor-a-meel.

The fat of the emu—Boor-a-meel or Burri-mul—is sacred. When it is taken from the bird, it is not handled carelessly. Any one who might throw away the flesh or fat of the emu would be held accursed. It is believed that the fat of the emu was once the fat of the black man. If one black gives a piece of the fat of an emu to another, he hands it to him gently and reverently. The late Mr. Thomas observed on one occasion, at Nerre-nerre-Warreen, a remarkable exhibition of the effects of this superstition. An Aboriginal child—one attending the school—having eaten some part of the flesh of an emu, threw away the skin. The skin fell to the ground, and this being observed by his parents, they showed by their gestures every token of horror. They looked upon their child as one utterly lost. His desecration of the bird was regarded as a sin for which there was no atonement.

The Emu and the Crow.

The Crow one day went to seek for the eggs of the Emu, which he greatly desired to eat. He at length found the nest of an Emu, and he began forthwith to take the eggs. But at the very time when he was doing this the Emu returned to her nest. The Crow then commanded the Emu to go away. She refused to go away. The Crow then, very angry, took his spear and killed her. He carried away the eggs. His friends took the body of the dead Emu, and prepared to roast it for food. They cut the choicest pieces for the Crow, but he took only the head, which he carried up into a high tree, and there he talked to the head. He told the head all that was proper for an Emu to do in time of danger, when man threatened the Emu, and that an Emu could not save her eggs when any man wished to take them. All that was told by the Crow was heard by the Emu; and to this day the bird attempts not to defend its nest.

The Eagle, the Mopoke, and the Crow.

Many of the traditions of the Aborigines of the River Murray and of those of Gippsland are very similar in their outlines; but the Mopoke occupies a more prominent position in the stories of the Gippsland people than in the legends of the Murray tribes. The Murray blacks say that the Crow killed the son of the Eagle. This deed made the Eagle very angry; and, to be revenged, he dug a large hole, and made a trap, and carefully covered it up, so as, if possible, to catch his enemy. Attaching a string to his trap, he retired to a distance and waited. At length the Crow approached the trap, and entered it; the string was pulled, and he was caught. The Eagle killed the Crow. After a time the Crow came to life again and disappeared. The Gippsland people say that the Eagle left his son in charge of the Mopoke while he with his wives went to hunt kangaroos. The Mopoke put the young one in a bag, and sewed up the bag and left him. The Eagle during his hunting excursion became uneasy about his son, and finally returned to ascertain how he had been treated. When he came to know what had been done, he grew very angry. He at once made a search for the Mopoke, and found him, after some trouble, sitting in a tree. The Eagle, when he saw his enemy, used guile. He exhibited no anger. He spoke gently. He determined to kill him by subtlety. He slyly requested the Mopoke to go into a hole in the tree to look for an opossum. The Mopoke obeyed, but returned without any. He was told to go again, and he obeyed; and as soon as he was in the hole, the Eagle closed the hole, and made the Mopoke a prisoner. The Mopoke cried aloud when he found himself fastened up, and he used these words:—

Wun-no		nat		jel-lowen		gnong-ona		wok-uk,
When		I		cut		a hole		Mopoke,

which means, "When will the Mopoke cut a hole?" He was determined to get out, and, finding all means fail him, he at length, in great sorrow, broke his leg and took out one of the bones, and very patiently bored a hole sufficiently large to creep through. He got free. Again the Eagle met him, and they spoke together, and the Eagle and the Mopoke made a solemn agreement and a treaty of peace. The conditions were as follows:—The Eagle was to have the privilege of going up into the topmost boughs of the trees, so that he might from so great a height see better where kangaroos were feeding; and the Mopoke was to have the right to occupy the holes of trees. Thus ended the disputes between the Eagle and the Mopoke.

Mornmoot-Bullarto Mornmoot.

The first hurricanes and whirlwinds were caused by magpies.^[26] They were larger magpies than any seen now. They came from the north-west. The number was very great—so great as to darken the air—far exceeding in number the greatest number of cockatoos ever seen on the wing. The sun was hidden when the magpies were passing. Behind the magpies there was a rushing wind and a noise like thunder (Wan-du-bul).^[27] A number of bags were seen as the noise like thunder was heard. At first the bags were extended and empty, but they filled as they travelled through the air, and bag after bag burst high in the air, and the noise of the bursting bags was dreadful. Ever after, in certaiu seasons, there came great storms, hurricanes, whirlwinds,^[28] and squalls in all the lands where the blacks dwelt.

Loo-errn.

(A Myth relating to the country lying between the River Yarra and the River La Trobe.)

The name of the country is Marr-ne-beek. The country belonged to one called Loo-errn. Loo-errn is to some an evil spirit, and to others a good spirit. Loo-errn had his house at Wamoom (Wilson's Promontory). If any one not belonging to his country passed through it without his consent, he died as soon as he arrived at the end of his journey; and if any one of a strange tribe, or any one of a tribe an unauthorized stranger might visit, gave such a native anything to eat or to drink, he too died. Loo-errn was great and very powerful. Loo-errn's permission to enter his territory was granted in this way: If any blacks—say from Geelong—wished to visit the blacks at Western Port, they were to repair to some part of the mouth of the River Yarra, wait there for the Yarra blacks, and, having found them, tell them where they proposed to go. If their proposal was approved of, they were conducted over the river, but always with their backs towards the side to which they were going. When they had crossed over, they were made to sit down with their backs towards Wamoom. A large fire was kindled in front of them, and they had to sit there a whole day without moving, and without food or water.^[29] This was done to let them know in what manner Loo-errn would roast them if they offended in any way against the laws of his country. At sun-down, or perhaps a little before sun-down, one of Loo-errn's young men would bring some water in a tarnuk, holding in his hand a reed. The tarnuk full of water was placed near the lips of the first amongst the strangers, and just as the lips of the half-roasted and perspiring creature touched the woodeu vessel, the reed was passed between his lips and it, and the tarnuk was taken to the next man, and the same ceremony repeated. This was done to all the strangers; and then the tarnuk was taken away. After this some meat would be brought, and the smallest piece that could be cut was given to each. These things were done to show in what manner Loo-errn would treat them if they offended against the laws of his country in any way. After sun-down the travellers would be permitted to leave their places, and to eat and drink as much as they might think good for them. Next day each would have handed to him a piece of bark and also boughs to get a light from the fire at which they had been half-roasted. With this fire in their hands, they would be conducted to the place where they wished to go; but they were required to keep their eyes on the ground all the way. If a halt were made, each would have to sit with his back towards Wamoom. Thus they would be conducted, day after day, holding in their hands the bark or boughs lighted at Loo-errn's fire until they reached the tribe they desired to visit.

Loo-errn's country—that which was peculiarly his own—was that tract of heavily-timbered ranges lying between Hoddle's Creek and Wilson's Promontory. The higher parts and the flanks of these ranges are covered with dense scrubs, and in the rich alluviums bordering the creeks and rivers the trees are lofty, and the undergrowth luxuriant; indeed in some parts so dense as to be impenetrable without au axe and bill-hook. Any Aboriginal who dared to penetrate this country without the permission of Loo-errn died a death awful to contemplate, because the torments preceding death could never be described. Before any black could see Loo-errn it was necessary not only to undergo the roasting but to wash two or three times a day for several days, and then to paint the body. These things were usually done at some point about a day's journey from Wamoom.

When a company of strangers had been conducted by Loo-errn's young men to some resting-place at a proper distance from Wamoom, the whole party would retire to rest; but before the faintest color of morning was seen in the east, when the note of the earliest bird was heard, when the first cold breeze began to stir the mists of the swamps, and when the stars were glittering and melting in the steel-blue of the western sky, the conductors would awake the strangers and recommence the journey. All but the initiated keep their eyes on the ground. No unnecessary conversation interrupts the journey through the tall damp ferns, past the ghost-like forms of the grass-trees, through the deep mazes of the tangled reeds and tea-tree. When they gain a height, and when they are in sight of Wamoom, the strangers turn their backs towards it. The conductors gesticulate. They enquire whether Loo-errn will show himself. A joyful cry is heard. Loo-errn is pleased, and will show himself to the strangers! Yes, he will show himself, but at a great distance! One of the conductors takes his kur-ruk (throwing-stick), and orders the strangers to fix their eyes on the point of it. "Look well!" he cries, as he moves the kur-ruk slowly towards Wamoom, where Loo-errn is standing. Their impatient eyes follow the slow movement of the weapon, and in a moment they all see Loo-errn. Clothed in mist, and regarding with unnatural but human eyes these intruders on his domain, Loo-errn, awful and majestic, permits for a few seconds his form to be visible. It is over. The strangers depart. Loo-errn indicates through his young men that he is pleased with the strangers. They have been obedient to his laws. Ever after, by the power of Loo-errn, the strangers can kill all enemies except those belonging to Loo-errn's country.

Wi-won-der-rer.

There is a range with a well-marked culminating point lying to the north-east of Western Port, which, the Aborigines say, is inhabited by an animal resembling in form a human being, but his body is hard like stone. The mountain is called Narn, and the strange animal is named Wi-won-der-rer. Formerly this animal used to kill many blacks. So many indeed were killed by Wi-won-der-rer that at last it became necessary to consider in what way those remaining might be preserved. A council of aged and wise men was held, and much debate ensued, and many suggestions were made. Finally it was agreed that the most cunning doctor, with other learned doctors and priests, should visit Narn and ascertain the condition of Wi-won-der-rer, and, if possible, kill him and his people (of whom there were a good many). The wise men explored the mountain ranges very carefully. Armed with spears, stone hatchets, and waddies, they sought to find and slay the strange creatures with bodies like stones. And they found them at length; but their weapons, when they assaulted them, made no impression on them. It was reported, however, that these creatures were vulnerable in the eyes and the nostrils. One doctor said he had thrust his spear into the eye of a Wi-won-der-rer, and had killed him, and another said that he had killed one by thrusting his spear into his nostril.

The blacks will not visit this range. A settler was lost many years ago in the neighbourhood of Narn, and though every inducement was offered to the blacks to explore the range, and, if possible, track him, they would on no account go near it. They said the settler had been caught and killed by Wi-won-der-rer.

Buk-ker-til-lible.

About two miles east of Narneian or Brushy Creek (a tributary of the River Yarra), and adjacent to a small outlier of dense hard black basalt, there occurs in the Upper Silurian rocks a stratum of limestone rich in fossils. It crops out about half-way between the Brushy Creek and the Running Creek. Receiving the storm-waters which fall on the basaltic ridge, it has undergone decomposition, and the waters, percolating the limestone, have carried away some parts of the rock, and formed a cave or deep chasm about 120 feet or more in depth. The occurrence of limestone in the Silurian rocks of Victoria is not common, and still less common are caves or pits such as this near Narneian. The Aborigines have a legend relating to this natural opening. They call it Buk-ker-til-lible. They say that it has no bottom. They throw stones into it; the stones give forth a hollow, dull sound as they strike against and rebound from the sides of the chasm, and the blacks fail to catch the last dull thud as the stones fall on the bottom. If you tell them that the bottom can be found at a great depth, they say that there is a small hole not easily found which leads to greater depths—depths without end. Pund-jel, they say, made this deep hole. He was once very angry with the Yarra blacks. They had committed deeds not pleasing to him, and he caused a star to fall from the heavens and to strike a great many blacks, and to kill them; and the star fell deep into the earth, and made the chasm which is to be seen near Narneian.

The River Murray.

The River Murray was made by a Snake. He travelled from the head of the river to the mouth, and as he went along he formed the valley and the bed of the river. The Snake, however, in making this great excavation, disturbed the Crow. The Crow was sitting in a tree, and, disliking the business, at length became wrathful, and cut the Snake into small pieces.

Nrung-a-Narguna.

A mysterious creature, Nargun—a cave-dweller—inhabits various places in the bush. He haunts especially the valley of the Mitchell in Gippsland. He has many caves; and if any blackfellow incautiously approaches one of these, that blackfellow is dragged into the cave by Nargun, and he is seen no more. If a blackfellow throws a spear at Nargun, the spear returns to the thrower and wounds him. Nargun cannot be killed by any blackfellow. There is a cave at Lake Tyers where Nargundwells, and it is not safe for any black to go near it. Nargun would surely destroy him. A native woman once fought with Nargun at this cave, but nobody knows how the battle ended. Nargun is like a rock (Wallung), and is all of stone except the breast and the arms and the hands. No one knows exactly what he is like. Nargun is always on the lookout for blackfellows, and many have been dragged into his caves. He is a terror to the natives of Gippsland.^[30]

Kootchee.

The following account of the Evil Spirit that torments the natives of the Dieyerie tribe (Cooper's Creek) has been communicated to me by Senior Constable James. Kootchee has great power. The doctor (Koonkie), Gason says, is a native who, when a child, has seen the Devil, and the Devil is called Kootchee. Kootchee, strange to say, gives power to the doctors to heal all sick. The Dieyerie people live in dread of Kootchee notwithstanding. Mr. James's statement is as follows:—Nearly every sickness or death that results from natural causes is ascribed by these blacks to Kootchee, and the old men practice many rites and ceremonies to charm away the sinister influence exercised by Kootchee. I am not acquainted with the charms, but know that certain human bones, red-ochre, and clay form the principal ingredients used in working the charms. I may add that none but evil influence is ever assigned to Kootchee. When it thunders, "Kootchee growl" (i.e., is angry or fights), say the blacks; and if the thunder be loud and near, the whole camp rushes out in a body in the direction the thunder is heard, and, elevating the hands in front of the chest, fingers upward and palms outward, make sudden vigorous movements, as if pushing a physical opponent away, and cry, "Hoo, hoo,'' at each push. They say this is to drive Kootchee away. If they hear wild pigeons cooing in the night, they are dreadfully frightened, and ascribe it to Kootchee. I have often been called from my bed at night by the station blacks calling to me to come and kill Kootchee for them. They would call out, "Massa, come on, you shoot-um Kootchee; him big one growl along-a blackfellow. You hear um?" Listening, I would hear the cooing of the pigeons; and generally succeeded in pacifying them, and allaying their fears by telling them (what they knew, if not excited) that it was merely the pigeons. I noticed that such alarms would never arise if the camp of blacks was a strong one and contained many fighting-men. They also ascribe the whirlwinds to Kootchee; and as on the open plains of the interior they can be traced by the clouds of dust they raise, they have ample opportunities of seeing the course taken by the whirlwinds. Should one come near the camp, it is a bad omen; should one pass right over it, it is worse. In this case the whirlwind or Kootchee should be destroyed by throwing boomerangs at it; but to fight thus is, they think, highly dangerous.^[31] I once knew a young black, about twenty-two years of age, strong, active, and healthy, who started from the station, and ran in pursuit of a whirlwind to kill it with boomerangs. He was away about two or three hours, and on his return was very much exhausted. He said he had killed Kootchee, but that "Kootchee growl along-a me. Me tumble down by'm bye." He described where he had run to, a place about eight miles off. As the weather was very hot, and he had had no water until his return to the camp, he doubtless suffered much from his over-exertion; be that as it may, he was so firmly persuaded that he was supernaturally injured, that he got downhearted, gave up hunting, &c., and moped about the camp; finally lying up altogether, and dying about eleven months after his encounter with Kootchee. Of course he was looked on as a hero by the whole tribe, and his achievement was made the theme of a new corrobboree, as they invariably distinguish special services or events thus, and, as far as I can learn, hand them down from father to son by that means. They appear to ascribe many forms to Kootchee. Sometimes he is like a big blackfellow; then a whirlwind; at times he is Woma (a snake); but generally they ascribe no definite form to him, alleging he can take any; but they appear firmly persuaded that he is tangible, and can be SIC|fonght|fought}} with physical weapons equally well as with charms. I never heard good ascribed to Kootchee; the nearest approach to it was when they saw the "Aurora Australis" in 1869, they said then "Kootchee make old-man fire," i.e., big fire.

Fire.

The manner in which fire was first obtained is thus described by the Aborigines of Gippsland:—There was a time when the Aborigines had not fire. The people were in sad distress. They had no means of cooking their food, and there was no camp-fire at which they could warm themselves when the weather was cold. Tow-er-a—fire—was in the possession of two women who had no great love for the blacks. They guarded the fire very strictly. A man who was friendly to the blacks determined to get fire from the women; and, in order to accomplish this difficult feat, he feigned amity and affection, and accompanied the women on their journeys. One day, seizing a favorable opportunity, he stole a fire-stick, which he hid behind his back, and, making some slight excuse, he left the women, carrying with him the fire. He returned to the blacks, and gave them that which he had stolen. This man was ever afterwards regarded as a benefactor. He is now a little bird. The little bird has a red mark over his tail, which is the mark of the fire.

The story told by the Aborigines of the River Yarra is as follows:—Kar-ak-ar-ook, a female (now the Seven Stars), was the only one who could make fire (Weenth).^[32] She would not give any one any of it. She kept it in the end of her yam-stick. But Waung (the Crow) fell on a plan to get it from her. Kar-ak-ar-ook was very fond of ants' eggs, and Waung made a great many snakes, and put them under an ant-hill, and then invited Kar-ak-ar-ook to come to the nest to dig up the eggs. After she had dug a little, she turned up the snakes, and Waung told her to kill them with her yam-stick. She accordingly struck the snakes, and fire fell out of the yam-stick. Waung picked up the fire, and went off with it. Kar-ak-ar-ook was afterwards set in the heavens by Pund-jel (the Maker of Men). Waung, however, was nearly as selfish as Kar-ak-ar-ook. He would not give fire to any one, but he would cook food for the blacks—always keeping the best pieces of the meat for himself. Because of this, Pund-jel was very angry with Waung, and he gathered together all the blacks, and caused them to speak harshly to Waung, and Waung became afraid. To save himself and to burn them, he threw the fire amongst them, and every one picked up some of the fire, and left. Tchert-tchert and Trrar took some of the fire, and lighted the dry grass around Waung, and burnt him. Pund-jel said to Waung, "You shall be a crow to fly about, and shall be a man no more." Tchert-tchert and Trrar were lost or burnt in the fire. They are now two large stones at the foot of the Dan-den-ong mountain.

The Boon-oo-rong tribe, who inhabited the district lying to the south-east of Melbourne, give this legend:—Two women were cutting a tree for the purpose of getting ants' eggs, when they were attacked by several snakes. The women fought stoutly and for a long time, but they could not kill the snakes. At last one of the women broke her kan-nan (fighting-stick), and forthwith smoke came from it. Waung (the Crow) picked up the fire and flew away with it. Two young blacks, Toordt and Trrar, both very good young men, flew after the Crow and caught him. The Crow, much frightened, let fall the fire, and a great conflagration followed. The blacks generally were much afraid when they saw this. Toordt and Trrar disappeared. Pund-jel came down from the sky and said to the blacks—"Now you have fire, do not lose it." Pund-jel allowed them to see Toordt and Trrar for a moment, and then he took them away with him, and set them in the sky, where they now appear as stars. By-and-by the blacks lost the fire. Winter came on. They were very cold. They had no place whereat they could cook their food. They had to eat their food raw and cold like the dogs. Snakes multiplied and everywhere abounded. At length Pal-yang, who had brought forth women from the water, sent down from the sky Kar-ak-ar-ook to guard the women. [She is represented as a sister of Pal-yang, and is held in respect unto this day by the black women.] This good Kar-ak-ar-ook, who was a very fine and very big woman, with nerrim-nerrim kan-nan (a very, very long stick), went about the country killing a multitude of snakes (Ood-yul-yul Kornmul), but leaving here and there a few. In striking one, her big stick broke, and therefrom came fire. Waung (the Crow) again flew away with it, and for a length of time the blacks were in great distress. One night, however, Toordt and Trrar came down from the sky, and mingled with the blacks. They told the blacks that Waung had hidden the fire on a mountain named Nun-ner-woon. Toordt and Trrar then flew upwards. Trrar returned safely with the fire, having, during his journey, pulled bark from off the trees to keep the fire alive, as is usually done by the Aborigines when they are travelling. Toordt returned to his home in the sky, and came back no more to the blacks. It is said that he was burnt to death on a mouutaiu named Mun-ni-o, where he had kindled a fire in order to keep alive the small quantity he had procured. He made a fire hard by a tree called Mello-an on that mountain.

Some of the sorcerers or priests affirm that he was not burnt to death on that mountain, but that Pund-jel, for his good deeds, changed him into a fiery star, and they now point to Mars as the good Toordt.

The good Kar-ak-ar-ook had told the women to examine well the stick she had broken, and from which came the smoke and fire, and never to lose the gift; but, as this was not enough, Trrar took the men to a mountain, whereon grows Djel-wuk (of the wood of which they could make weenth-kalk-kalk, i.e., fire-sticks), and he showed them how to form and use Boo-bo-bo and Bab-a-noo, so that they might always have the means at hand to light a fire. He left them no spark of fire at that time. He flew away upwards and was seen no more.

Mr. Stanbridge says that the Boorong tribe, who inhabit the Mallee country in the neighbourhood of Lake Tyrril, have preserved an account of the Nur-rum-bung-uttias, or old spirits, a people who formerly possessed their country, and who had a knowledge of fire. The star Canopus (War, i.e., Waung) he says is the male Crow, the brother of Ware-pil, and the first to bring fire from space (tyrille), and to give it to the Aborigines, before which they were without it.

Another account of the mode in which fire was first procured by the Aborigines of Australia is thus given by Mr. James Browne:—^[33]"A long, long time ago a little bandicoot was the sole owner of a fire-brand, which he cherished with the greatest jealousy, carrying it about with him wherever he went, and never allowing it out of his own special care; so selfish was he in the use of his prize, that he obstinately refused to share it with the other animals his neighbours; and so they held a general council, where it was decided that the fire must be obtained from the bandicoot either by force or strategy. The hawk and pigeon were deputed to carry out this resolution; and after vainly trying to induce the fire-owner to share its blessings with its neighbours, the pigeon, seizing as he thought an unguarded moment, made a dash to obtain the prize. The bandicoot saw that affairs had come to a crisis, and in desperation threw the fire towards the water, there to quench it for ever. But, fortunately for the black man, the sharp-eyed hawk was hovering near the river, and seeing the fire falling into the water, he made a dart towards it, and with a stroke of his wing knocked the brand far over the stream into the long dry grass of the opposite bank, which immediately ignited, and the flames spread over the face of the country. The black man then felt the fire, and said it was good."

Mr. Meyer states that the Aborigines of Encounter Bay were once, according to their own account, without fire. Their ancestors, they relate, were a long time ago assembled at Mootabaringar, and having no fire, they were compelled to perform their dances in the day-time. They sent messengers—Kuratje and Kanmari (fabulous beings, who subsequently became fishes)—towards the east, to Kondole, to invite him to the feast, as they knew that he possessed fire. Kondole, who was a large, powerful man, came, but hid his fire, on account of which alone he had been invited. The men, displeased at this, determined to obtain the fire by force; but no one ventured to approach him. At length one named Riballe determined to wound him with a spear, and then take the fire from him. He threw the spear, and wounded him in the neck. This caused a great laughing and shouting, and nearly all were transformed into different animals. Kondole ran to the sea, and became a whale, and ever after blew water out of the wound which he had received in his neck. Kuratje and Kanmari became small fish. The latter was dressed in a good kangaroo skin, and the former in a mat only, made of sea-weed, which is the reason, they say, that the Kanmari contains a good deal of oil under the skin, while the Kuratje is dry and without fat. Others became opossums, and went upon trees. The young men who were ornamented with tufts of feathers became cockatoos, the tuft of feathers being the crest. Rilballe took Kondole's fire and placed it in the grass-tree, where it still remains, and can be brought out by rubbing.

The following Legend of the Origin of Fire and of the Apotheosis of Two Heroes, by the Aborigines of Tasmania, as related bg a native of the Oyster Bay Tribe, is extracted from a paper by Joseph Milligan, Esq., F.L.S., in the Proceedings of the Royal Society of Tasmania:—

"My father, my grandfather, all of them lived a long time ago all over the country; they had no fire. Two blackfellows came; they slept at the foot of a hill—a hill in my own country. On the summit of a hill they were seen by my fathers, my countrymen—on the top of the hill they were seen standing; they threw fire like a star—it fell amongst the black men, my countrymen. They were frightened; they fled away, all of them; after a while they returned; they hastened and made a fire—a fire with wood; no more was fire lost in our land. The two blackfellows are in the clouds; in the clear nights you see them like two stars.^[34] These are they who brought fire to my fathers.

The two black men stayed awhile in the land of my fathers. Two women (Lowanna) were bathing; it was near a rocky shore, where mussels were plentiful. The women were sulky, they were sad; their husbands were faithless, they had gone with two girls. The women were lonely; they were swimming in the water, they were diving for cray-fish. A sting-ray lay concealed in the hollow of a rock—a large sting-ray! The sting-ray was large, he had a very long spear; from his hole he spied the women; he saw them dive: he pierced them with his spear—he killed them, he carried them away. Awhile they were gone out of sight. The sting-ray returned; he came close in shore, he lay in still water, near the sandy beach; with him were the women, they were fast on his spear—they were dead!

The two black men fought the sting-ray; they slew him with their spears; they killed him; the women were dead! The two black men made a fire—a fire of wood. On either side they laid a woman; the fire was between: the women were dead!

The black men sought some ants, some large blue ants (Pugganyeptietta); they placed them on the bosoms (Paruggapoingta) of the women. Severely, intensely were they bitten. The women revived—they lived once more.

Soon there came a fog (Maynentayana), a fog dark as night. The two black men went away; the women disappeared: they passed through the fog, the thick dark fog! Their place is in the clouds. Two stars you see in the clear cold night; the two black men are there—the women are with them: they are stars above!

How Fire was first obtained.

(According to the belief of the people of Lake Condah.)

A man threw up a spear—upwards, towards the clouds—and to the spear a string was attached. The man climbed up with the help of the string, and brought fire down to the earth from the sun.

A long time after this all the people went up to the other world by the same means, except one man, and from the one man that was left all the people on the earth came. The name of this man was Eun-newt. He is now the Bat. It was the Crow who sent the first rain.

Priests and Sorcerers—Wer-raap.

Wer-raap (a doctor) is made by the spirits (Len-ba-moorr) of deceased doctors.

The Len-ba-moorr meet the man whom they intend to make a doctor in the bush, and instruct him in all the arts and devices proper for him to know, in order that his influence in the tribe may be powerful; but from time to time they visit him subsequently, and give him aid and information. Sometimes they visit Wer-raap in the night, tell him that some one is sick, and furnish him with the means of cure. If the kidney-fat of any man has been taken away, Len-ba-moorr will communicate the fact, and take the doctor to the black who has possession of it. If the wicked man has not eaten it, Len-ba-moorr will give power to the doctor to get it and bring it back, and cure the sick man.

Wer-raap flies away with the Len-ba-moorr, who have given wings to Wer-raap; and sometimes Wer-raap does not return for two, three, or five days. When the people of the tribe see Wer-raap again, he is covered with feathers. He has had a long flight. He visits the sick man, and if after a time the sick man gets well, Wer-raap relates all the facts connected with the recovery of the kidney-fat; but if the man dies, Wer-raap tells them that the wicked black had eaten the kidney-fat before he could fly to him.

If any one has a pain in the chest, the doctor examines him. He probably finds that the Wer-raap of another tribe, instructed by other Len-ba-moorr, has put a piece of opossum rug in the body. The man is taken away from the camp by the doctor, who lays him upon the ground, puts his mouth to the part affected, and at intervals sings songs taught by his own Len-ba-moorr. In these songs he conjures the Len-ba-moorr to enter into the part, and put out whatever is causing the pain or sickness. This sometimes is continued for many hours. At length the doctor gets out something, which he shows to the sick man, and to others subsequently. If the doctor succeeds in extracting all the substances put into the body by the strange Wer-raap, the man gets well. Sometimes the strange Wer-raap, instructed by his own Len-ba-moorr, is too strong for the doctor, and in that case the man dies.

Some fifteen years ago, Wonga, a principal man of the Yarra tribe, was afflicted with ophthalmia, and he went into the Melbourne Hospital, where he remained for several weeks. When he came out he could see nothing. But Tall-boy, a celebrated Wer-raap belonging to the Goulburn tribe, which at that time was encamped on the Yarra, undertook to cure him. Tall-boy took out of Wonga's head behind his eyes several rotten straws (which Wonga carefully preserved for several years), and on the second morning after the operation Wonga could see the ships in the Bay, and on the third morning he could see the mountains at the head of the Yarra. No one doubts the power of a skilful Wer-raap.

The spirits (Len-ba-moorr) instruct the doctors as to the best mode of killing a man of a strange or hostile tribe. If it is desired to compass his death by slow degrees, that may be done in several ways. One method is thus described:—A piece of bark is taken in the hand, and hot ashes are thrown towards the point of the compass where the tribe is known to be encamped, and a song is sung, and all the birds of the air are required to carry the ashes, and to let them fall on the doomed man. The ashes cause the flesh to dry up, and the man withers and becomes as a dead tree. He is not able to move about, and at length he dies.

If it be wished by the tribe that any man of another tribe should be made sick and put in great pain, the Wer-raap makes a model in wood of that part of the body in which the pain is to be seated. The model is hung near a fire and made very hot, and the wild black a long way off by this means has that part made hot too, and he suffers accordingly. The singing of songs is never neglected in these practices.

And again there is another way of afflicting an enemy. Something belonging to the doomed man is secured. It may be a spear perhaps. It is broken or cut by a tomahawk into small pieces; the pieces are put into a bag, and the bag is hung near a fire. A song is sung; the Len-ba-moorr are implored to convey the heat to the wild thick (Waragal Cooleenth), so that he may wither and die. Hair from the head of an offender is treated in the same way, and with the same results.

The bag (Belang) in which Wer-raap carries his magic bones (bones of the emu, Kalk-barramill Mull-bang-goo-weet), and white stones (Warra-goop), is never out of sight. His treasures are sacred, and very valuable. As long as he keeps them he can never become sick; but sometimes his Len-ba-moorr become dissatisfied with him, and make his relics leave the bag and go into the bag of some other Wer-raap, and then, thus despoiled, he becomes sick and dies.

The doctor sometimes uses hot ashes and leaves of trees as a cure for pains. Sometimes he treads on the patient, and by strong pressure expels the noxious things that hurt him; but, as a rule, he can cure only by the help of his attendant spirits, Len-ba-moorr.

Some years ago a number of Aborigines encamped on the Yarra had amongst them some men who were in the habit of indulging in intoxicating liquors to excess. One of them, Barak, having indulged like the rest, became very sick. He could eat scarcely at all, and was indeed very ill. He attributed his illness, however, not to his bad habits, but to sorcery. Punty, a black from Gippsland, at this time visited the tribe, and Barak, on seeing him, requested him to go back to Gippsland and bring away his spears, which he said the Gippsland blacks were using in some way to his hurt. Punty said that he knew nothing of the spears, and would not go back. Barak immediately got behind Punty, and cut off some of his hair, and threatened that if he did not go back and fetch the spears he would kill him by treating the hair in the manner prescribed by the Wer-raap.^[35] Barak and Punty fought, and the disturbance caused Mr. Green to interfere. Mr. Green told Barak that he had been tipsy, and had lost his spears. He took Punty's hair from Barak, and offered some of his own, in order that Wer-raap might make him (Mr. Green) sick; but Barak would have none of it. He said that he could not manage to get a white man made sick. Mr. Green still retains the hair. Barak speedily got well, and reformed his life. Poor Punty died some years ago.

Even now the old people believe firmly in the efficacy of the remedies prescribed by the doctors, and in their powers to do injury to enemies. The doctors gain influence generally by much self-laudation, much talking, and some adroit depreciation of others; but sometimes by accident. On one occasion an old doctor told the Rev. Mr. Hagenauer that he had gained his influence by a misadventure. He was cutting a branch of a gum-tree at a great height from the ground, and was stupidly sitting on the part of the branch which he was severing from the trunk, when it broke, and he fell with it to the ground. He was not hurt, and he at once was made a doctor. Whether the doctor was telling a true story, or sarcastically illustrating the mode in which honors and titles are sometimes gained amongst the whites, cannot now be ascertained.

The Rev. Mr. Hagenauer says that the Aborigines of Gippsland believe in the existence of a good and superior Being, whom they name Mamengorook (Mamen, father, and gorook, our); but they seem to regard him but little, and are unwilling to say more than that he lives at a distance from them. He is described as being white, very clean, and in Keledia (great brightness or glory).

Of evil spirits they can speak fluently. One called Ngatya does harm to them continually, and of him they stand in dread. In all evils which befall them Ngatya has a part. Great fires and great floods, as well as sickness and death, have their origin in Ngatya. If a man dies, Ngatya is blamed: he has come underground in the depth of the night, and has caused their warrior to close his eyes.

It is generally believed that the corrobboree is held to satisfy Ngatya; but Mr. Hagenauer suggests that this dance is a mere bodily enjoyment, and is an imitation of the playing of young emus and the curious dances of the native companions (Grus Australasiensis) on the large plains.

Sorcery.

The blacks are very often attacked by the evil spirits, who are supposed to inflict injuries and give diseases by such simple means as the thrusting of twigs and small pieces of wood into the eye or the ear. The late Mr. Thomas was witness to some of the panics which from time to time overtake the tribes. He says that on the 12th December 1845, when several Aborigines were encamped near him, three young male blacks, belonging to the native police—severally named Quandine, Tom-boko, and Yeaptune— who were sleeping together in one miam, awoke suddenly in the early morning, and declared that they were seized with the disease called Tur-run. They stated that thin twigs of she-oak had been thrust into their eyes, and that this had been done by some sorcerers; and they despaired; and dismay spread amongst the people; and there was great confusion in the encampment. But presently nine female doctors approached. They led the young men to a large fire made wholly of bark, which they had prepared specially for them, and in a suitable place away from the main encampment. Each of the nine females held in one hand a piece of burning bark, and in the other a bunch of twigs gathered from the Pallee. Each female tapped the patients on the head with the twigs. The female doctors then walked round the fire, well warming the leaves of the twigs in the flames, and the hot leaves were rubbed on the breasts of the patients, and on the place where the Marm-bu-la is lodged, and on the navel. And they quickened their pace, and heated the leaves more and more, and they rubbed the leaves violently on the brows, heads, and hands of the patients, repeating all the time strange songs and wild notes of sorrow aud defiance. When this was done, each female threw her bunch of twigs into the fire. They next took Kun-nun-der (charcoal-powder), and each female doctor made a black streak from the navel to the breast of each patient, and again a black streak from each corner of the mouth to the ear. When all this was done, the patients were taken back to their miam apparently much exhausted; but so great was the faith of the patients in this method of cure, that they soon recovered, and followed shortly after their usual pursuits. During the trial, and when the female doctors were very busy, Quandine, the stoutest of the three blacks, fainted, and he was supported and tended by one of the female doctors.

Krum-ku-dart Buneit—evil spirits—take possession of the bodies of even aged and wise men. Tuart, an old black, was lying comfortably asleep one night in the encampment on the south bank of the River Yarra, when, about midnight, an evil spirit entered into him, and he became mad. Mr. Thomas was awakened by loud shouts—"Kom-ar-gee Marm-in-arta U-ree!—"Get up quickly, father!"—"an evil spirit has entered Tuart." Blazing fires were made, lights flitted and sprang up in all directions, and the encampment was a scene of fearful confusion. Mr. Thomas approached the aged Tuart, and found him dancing like a maniac, foaming at the mouth, and exhibiting every symptom of dangerous madness. Mr. Thomas was about to seize him, but was held back by the blacks, who declared that Tuart was possessed of an evil spirit, and would injure him. After capering wildly for about three-quarters of an hour, the old man fell down exhausted, and was carefully and tenderly carried to his miam by his friends. Quietness fell on the camp—all, including Tuart, fell asleep, and no more was heard of the evil spirit.

When a black is ill, or when a black dies, they believe that the sickness or the death is due to eminent powers of witchcraft. In the case of death, they blame some one—and they seek revenge. They say that some men have strange gifts: that they can make any black sick if they think fit. A black will bear the most excruciating pain if he knows the cause—as, for instance, if he has been wounded. But if sickness overtakes him—such as occurs frequently from over-eating, from hunger, from drinking cold bad water when heated by exertion—he grows alarmed. He fancies that some wizard has designs upon him; and this fear so deadens his faculties, makes him so helpless, that the disease—slight as it may be—does not infrequently terminate fatally.

The blacks, as has been stated, like the whites, have doctors. But their priests, sorcerers, seers, or doctors (Māk-ega)—all of them are impostors. They pretend to the knowledge of all things above the earth and under it. They pretend that they know, and they not seldom describe to the members of their tribe, everything that is being done by some distant tribe. They claim the power of causing diseases—and they say that they can cure any man, how much soever he may have been hurt in battle or brought down by sickness. They are very indolent. They seldom hunt or fish, or do work of any kind. They make strange noises in the night, wander about, and seek to terrify their people. They are willing to receive gifts, and indeed live on the superstitions and fears of their less profligate relations. The men are afraid of offending them, and the women regard them as beings altogether superior to the common order of the species. They believe that the sorcerers can wound them, take their kidney-fat, cause barrenness, or kill their children. The sorcerers pretend that they are unlike other men. They cultivate tastes different from those of their tribe; they eat differently and at strange times; they sleep when others are awake; and they pretend to make long journeys when all in the camp are slumbering. By their wits and their cunning, and also by the knowledge they gain of events by keeping watch during periods when others are asleep, they preserve an ascendency over the members of the tribe; and they contrive to live comfortably on the profits of their strange practices.

The doctor, who in most cases is the principal man of the tribe, takes part in dividing the country. When a male child is born, he is supposed to have the right to designate the part of the country which shall belong to him when he arrives at maturity. Whether this division of land amongst the persons composing a tribe results in their claiming exclusive rights to any portion is doubtful. This subject is dealt with elsewhere.

The Aborigines of Gippsland, like those of all other parts of Australia, have a firm belief in the influence and power of their doctors. In every tribe the doctor has the blacks entirely in his hands, and he can do what he likes with them. The Rev. Mr. Hagenauer informs me that their wanderings and their great gatherings are ordered by the doctors. If a black is sick, the doctor is sent for. After a tedious examination, the patient is ordered to paint his face white, and the doctor sits beside him until midnight, when, according to the statements of the blacks, the doctor pulls out the substance which has caused the sickness. If the patient gets well, the doctor is complimented and rewarded, just as amongst ourselves; but if he gets worse, then Ngatya is blamed, whose influence is great.

The doctors have great power. They can command the winds and direct the course of tempests. They can make the clouds descend in rain.^[36] They can designate the personal enemy of any man; but they never give more than a general description of the enemy when called upon to be explicit. The enemy is usually called Ngallin-yook.

Mr. Hagenauer says that he has had some three or four Ngallin-yooks in his school at one time. These would not sit near each other, nor look one another in the face. When questioned, each would say that "that one would do something to me." "What would he do to you?" asked Mr. Hagenauer. "Oh, I do not know, but he would do something to me."

In some parts the doctors forbid the burning of any old garments, skins, or baskets, or the burning of old camps and miams.

The doctors can extract the blood of any man, and thus destroy him. The most effectual means of causing death or giving diseases is known only to the priests or sorcerers, but some methods of inflicting pain and communicating fatal illnesses are known to most men. The late Mr. Thomas, many years ago, attended a female who was ill of a fever. He administered medicines, and gave her hopes of a favorable termination to her sickness. She listened to him, and was grateful to him for his kindness, and was willing to believe that all he said might prove true; but at the same time exhibited a deep melancholy. The secret of this depression of spirits she disclosed. She told Mr. Thomas that, "some moons back, when the Goulburn blacks were encamped near Melbourne, a young man named Gib-ber-ook came behind her and cut off a lock of her hair; that she was sure he had buried it, and that it was rotting somewhere." "Her hair," she said, "was rotting somewhere, and her Marm-bu-la (kidney-fat) was wasting away, and when her hair had completely rotted, she would die." She stated further that her name had been lately cut on a tree by some wild black, and that that was another token of death.

Murran,^[37] which signifies a leaf, was the name of the young woman; and Mr. Thomas says that he ascertained afterwards that the figures of leaves had been carved on a gum-tree, as described by the girl. She died. The sorcerers said that the spirit of a wild blackfellow had cut the figures of leaves on the gum-tree.^[38]

The blacks believe that the spirits of the dead (Yambo kane) go about the earth and visit the camps of the blacks. Mr. Bulmer gives a somewhat amusing account of the way in which the spirits may be made useful. An old woman—a widow—got up one morning, and declared that her deceased husband had appeared to her in the night, and asked her when she was going to get married again. He told her that unless she got married to a certain man of the tribe whom he named he would visit her every night. She related her experiences at some length, but whether or not the sly old lady succeeded in obtaining the man she coveted is not recorded.

Marm-bu-la.

When an Aboriginal is alone and far distant from his encampments, he is liable to have his kidney-fat taken from him by the spirit of a wild black. The kidney-fat (Marm-bu-la) is taken away in some secret manner, and death is certain in the most of such cases, and scarcely to be avoided under the happiest circumstances.^[39]

The late Mr. Thomas^[40] has given an account of this strange malady and the effects of it as observed in the case of a Goulburn black, who was attacked by the spirit of a wild black while on a hunting expedition. The man said that he believed his kidney-fat had been taken away from him. He became, according to his own account, very weak, and was scarcely able to crawl back to the encampment where his friends were. He began to tell his story as soon as he had seated himself near his miam. All the men assembled and sat down beside him. His brother and a friend supported him in their arms, as he became rapidly very weak, and they kept his head raised. A dead silence fell on the assembly. The women took the dogs in charge, and muffled them in their rugs. When Mr. Thomas, at this stage, approached the encampment, he saw only a few glimmering lights on the ground. There was no sound to be heard, where, under ordinary circumstances, mirthful voices, the crackling of branches, the barking of dogs, and all the other sounds of a great encampment would have met his ear. An old black named Kollorlook having noticed the arrival of Mr. Thomas at a spot beyond the creek on which was the encampment, crossed it, and approached Mr. Thomas, and warned him against visiting the miams at a time when a man had had Marm-bu-la taken from him by a wild black. Mr. Thomas's own servants had been prevented from crossing the creek, and it was everywhere evident that a solemn and serious business was being transacted by the natives. When Mr. Thomas insisted on crossing the creek, Kollorlook told him that he must not speak, that he must tread lightly—that there must be no crackling of branches nor any unseemly noise made. Mr. Thomas complied with these injunctions, and, on reaching the camp, found the blacks seated in circles around the sick and, as they believed, dying man—the oldest men forming an inner circle, the next in age an outer circle, and the young men a third. A small fire, formed of smouldering bark, but at which no flame was permitted to rise, was made to the right of and about three yards from the sick man; and at a distance of about two hundred yards in the direction of the spot where he had lost his fat there were placed at short distances apart smouldering pieces of bark, which looked like huge fire-flies on the ground. One man attended to these pieces of bark, kept the fire alive, but at the same time prevented any of them from bursting into flame.

Malcolm, a wizard—a most learned doctor—who believed he could fly and cut the air as well as any eagle, now commenced his labors. He disappeared in the darkness; boughs cracked and rustled as he took his supposed flight through the trees towards the sky. Malcolm's voice was heard. "Goo-goo-goo" was the sound heard in the still night, and the men holding the body responded "Goo-goo-goo." Malcolm could not at once find the wild black who had taken the kidney-fat, and he was at last compelled to take what he made the blacks believe was a lengthened flight. He was absent about three-quarters of an hour. When, by the rustling of branches, Malcolm's return was announced, the old men seated near the sick person cried "Goo-goo wandududuk mo-thur ma-lar-voit marm-bu-la woo-re-mup"—each syllable being pronounced slowly, distinctly, and solemnly. They said in these words—"Come, bring back the kidney-fat—make haste." Malcolm appeared, and, without speaking a word, seized the dying man in a savage manner, and rubbed him violently; devoting his attentions mostly to the sides of the poor wretch, which he pushed and beat unmercifully. He then announced that the cure was complete. All the men jumped up. There was joy and noise in all parts of the camp, where previously there had been silence and mourning. The sick man arose, lighted his pipe, and smoked composedly in the midst of his friends.

The men told Mr. Thomas with triumph, and with much scorn of his unbelief in native remedies, how easily a doctor of their people could cure diseases which white doctors would regard as incurable; and they pointed to the patient with not unjustifiable pride, as a proof of the power of the Flying Doctor.

The blacks firmly believed that Malcolm had flown as the hawk flies, had stooped on the wild black who had stolen the kidney-fat, and had taken it from him, and had replaced it in the body of the patient—and nothing that Mr. Thomas said to them had the slightest effect on their minds.

They believe that if the wild black who has stolen kidney-fat eats any, even the smallest portion of it, the man whom he has deprived of it will surely die.

The following accounts of some beliefs and curious practices of the natives have been given to me by Mr. Alfred W. Howitt, the well-known explorer, and now a Police Magistrate in Gippsland. The existence of the Birra-arks and the Barrn is well known to old blacks. Mr. Howitt says he has endeavoured to find a Birra-ark, but without success. He thinks one may be found perhaps in other parts of Victoria. The belief in the existence of the Birraarks is universal; and that which he has written down, he says, is believed by all the Gippsland natives.^[41]

Mr. Howitt has written down also some of the myths of the natives, and has given a singularly interesting account of Bolgan, whose bones were found in the manner described in the native language in another part of this work.

Bowkan, Brewin, and Bullundoot.

"The Aboriginal natives of the neighbourhood of the Mitchell River, and of the Lakes in North Gippsland, believe in three spiritual beings—Bowkan, a beneficent spirit; Brewin,^[42] a malignant spirit; and with Brewin is associated Bullundoot—the term Bullun being 'two,' signifying a dual existence. Bowkan is also sometimes called Bullun-Bowkan. They are said to live in the clouds; and sudden attacks of illness are often attributed to Brewin. Bowkan is invoked to relieve from the influence of Brewin, who inflicts upon the blacks, as they believe, various forms of disorder, which are called, for instance, Toon-dung, seemingly a chest affection; violent pains in the abdomen, &c.; these may be caused by Brewin with the hooked part of the throwing-stick (Murrawun), or by actually passing down the afflicted person's throat. In the latter case it is attempted to drive out the intruder by shouting out abusive and threatening words to him.

One form of charm used is this:—

Toondunga Brewiuda
Nandu-unga Ugaringa
Mrew murrawunda
Toondunga, &c., &c.

It is sung to a monotonous chant, and may be rendered, 'Oh, Brewin! I expect you have given Toondung, or the eye (sharp hooked end) of the Murrawun (throwing-stick).'

Besides this belief in Bowkan, Bullundoot, and Brewin, there is also one in the Mrarts. The Mrarts are believed to be the spirits of departed blackfellows, and they are considered to live in the clouds. They are mostly well disposed towards the natives, but some do them injury, frightening them, and carrying off children and grown-up people to devour. These evil Mrarts wander about, particularly at night, carrying a net-bag, like the one used for catching small fish in swamps, into which they are supposed to thrust the children.

Brookgill, near Boul Boul, on the Lakes, seems to have been a place infested by these evil Mrarts, for several stories are current about them there. One is that when the blacks were camped there many years ago, the camp was roused at night by the shouts for help of a blackfellow, who was found by those who ran up lying on his back in his camp, with his wife holding him. He was 'shaking as if with cold,' and said that he 'was awoke by a Mrart pulling him out of his camp by the leg.' Another account is of a Mrart who was seen at that place in the day-time by a large number of blacks. He, they say, was running along the edge of the tea-tree, carrying the net-bag. One blackfellow who spoke of this said he was a little boy at the time, and remembers how his mother ran into the lake with him, and that the blackfellows fled in all directions with terror. He says the Mrart was like a very tall blackfellow, and that his eyes were flames.

Mrarts appear also to the blacks often when asleep. One blackfellow has told me that when he was camped on the Mitchell River, near Iguana Creek, a few years ago, assisting to gather wild cattle, two Mrarts appeared to him in the night as he slept. They were tall, and had long hands; they stood side by side at his fire, and were about to speak, when he awoke; then they were gone. But he saw on the spot where they stood a Bulk (one of the magical stones used by the Aborigines). He kept the Bulk as a potent charm.

Connected with the Mrarts are the Birra-arks. There are no Birra-arks now living. The last one, Dinna Birra-ark, was a blackfellow who was shot near the Lakes when the country was first settled. Dinna Birra-ark is rendered as meaning The Birra-ark. Many blacks now living remember these people, and the following particulars are condensed from the account given to me by several Aborigines:—A Birra-ark was a blackfellow who was in communication with the spirits of the dead—of the Bungil Wour-kunyey (the old blackfellows). Any blackfellow may be made a Birra-ark who is found by Mrarts in the bush; but he must at the time be wearing one of the small bones of the kangaroo's leg, called Goombert, through the hole pierced in his nose. The Mrarts carry him off, it is said, up a ladder, which swings up into the clouds. There he is instructed, and when he returns to his friends he is a Birra-ark. The Mrarts teach him the corrobboree songs and dances, and he in his turn instructs the blacks. He seems to be the poet and magician of the tribe. Many of the songs used here were composed by the Dinna Birra-ark I have spoken of—the last of the bards. He was also consulted about many things—for instance, of the whereabouts and well-being of some friend whom the questioner had not heard of for a long time; or as to whether any strange blacks (Borajerack) were coming down 'on the war path;' and, when the country was first being settled, as to where cattle were to be found in the mountains. The mode of procedure was this: On the evening fixed, a little after dark, the Birra-ark goes out of the camp into the bush. All the blacks in the camp keep quiet, very frightened; one only 'cooyes' very loud for a long time; then a noise is heard. (The narrator here struck a book against the table several times to describe it.) This is Bullun-Bowkan (the great spirit) coming first. Then a loud whistle is heard up in the air at one side of the camp, then another loud whistle in the air on the other side; then is heard the sound of Mrarts jumping down on the ground one after the other. They can be heard talking together, but they cannot talk plainly. Next you hear the Mrarts marching past the camp after each other, and a voice calls out, 'Do not make a bright fire, or we shall go back.' Questions are now put to them, which they answer, and the replies are always found to be true.

When the Mrarts go away, which they do when no more questions are put, saying 'Now we are going back,' the blackfellows go out and find the Birra-ark, sleeping on the ground where the Mrarts had been talking; but sometimes he is found left in the top of a tree; in one case on the top of a tree-stem where the head had been broken off high up; and in all such cases it is in some tree very difficult to climb, and up which there are no marks of any one having climbed. The blackfellows have had sometimes the greatest difficulty in getting the Birra-ark down again from the places where the Mrarts have left him.

A Murla-mullung is a doctor; a blackfellow becomes a Murla-mullung by being visited in the night by some departed relative—as a father, uncle, or brother. The vision shows him the causes of disease, such as Toondung, the inner bark of a variety of ironbark, which is supposed to get into the chest; Bulk, an egg-shaped quartz pebble; Groggin, quartz fragments, to which may be added Bottle, that is broken glass; Murrawun, the magical throwing-stick, made of ironbark wood.

For these and other ailments various charms and their appropriate tunes are taught, and the sleeper on awakening is a Murla-mullung. He can now charm out the Toondung by singing the appropriate remedy over the patient; and, placing his hand on the chest under the 'possum rug, draws out the offending Toondung in the shape of some of the inner bark of the ironbark called Yowut; it is said always to have blood on it. In the same way other cures are performed. If, for instance, the patient has had some quartz fragments or broken glass placed in his legs or arms by the enchantment of some enemy, the Murla-mullung straightens out the limb, smooths it down with his hands, and then, after singing his chant, sucks the quartz or glass out of the place, and removing it from his mouth, shows it to the patient, who is then cured.

As an example of what the Murla-mullung does, the following may serve:—One of the blackfellows had some magical substance called Kru-gullung in a bag; it was obtained from some Melbourne blacks. In the bag he kept a waddy, and by this means the strength of the Kru-gullung was supposed to pass into the waddy. One day, being drunk, he fancied to beat his gin, and running after her, brandishing the waddy, he struck himself such a blow on the side of the head that he inflicted a deep cut. The Kru-gullung passed out of the waddy into his head, and the wound defied the skill of the English doctors at Sale. A Murla-mullung at Bairnsdale, however, cured it. He sang his song and sucked the wound, and extracted the Kru-gullung, which resembled a glass marble.

Women may become Murla-mullungs as well as men; but if a Murla-mullung is stung by a bulldog-ant, or by a nettle, he feels his power gone from him, and can cure no more till again visited by the spirit of a deceased relative in his sleep.

Barrn is the name of the he-oak^[43] (forest oak), but it also means a certain kind of bewitchment by which the victim is killed. The mode of doing this is called 'making Barrn,' or 'to catch some one with Barrn.' There is a lesser and a greater process. The less is done by finding a place where the intended victim has sat on the ground—the place must be still 'warm.' The spot is then beaten with a Barrn, which is a piece of he-oak about an inch diameter and four inches long, cut to a blunt point at each end; an appropriate song is chanted at the same time. The Barrn thereupon goes mysteriously into the body of the victim, and unless got rid of by a Murla-mullung, kills him. One counter charm against Barrn is this:—

Noomba jellen Barrnda,

which means, 'The sharp Barrn is not to catch me,' and is sung over and over again. The other process is as follows:—A number of blackfellows join together to get rid of some person. They are called Bungil Dowa-gunney, and do as follows:—A place is found where a suitable he-oak grows, about six inches in diameter. The branches are cut off, so as to leave the stem smooth and pointed; the bark is chipped off smoothly; on the ground an extended figure of the victim is drawn, with the he-oak growing out of his head. Sometimes the outline is formed with he-oak branches, buried under the surface of the ground. A Murrawun is stuck into the figure. Three or four trees are then joined by lines marked on the ground from one to the other, and sometimes by stringybark cords, enclosing an area of perhaps eight or ten paces in the side; the surface, inside, is cleared up, and the grass and rubbish piled over the Yambo-ganey or 'double' of the victim, marked under the Barrn tree. This tree is also called Tschu-duck. Everything being thus prepared, the Bungil Dowa-gunney go to the place about two o'clock in the afternoon. They must be perfectly naked, rubbed with charcoal, and with their heads, bodies, and limbs wound round with stringybark cords. They hold the small Barrns I have spoken of in their hands. They then chant for several hours some song which is to have the effect of bringing the victim to the spot. It is believed that when the incantation has been strong enough, the victim finds himself impelled, by a power he cannot resist, to get up wherever he may be, and walk towards the Barrn. He is said to walk like a man asleep; he staggers from side to side, and his eyes goggle out of his head. One song describes them as being Woorburru-mrew-nurrundu, or a 'cranky eye like the moon.'

One of the songs used is this:—

Moon-aug ngi-ay [here comes the name];
Bee-ar lounganda-Barrnda;

which may be rendered thus:—

He is coming along [naming the person];
The Barrn is swinging him about.

So soon as he comes in sight of the Barrn, he walks straight to it, and on entering the marked space the Bungil Dowa-gunney throw their Barrns at him. He falls on his back; they then draw his tongue out of his mouth and separate it at each side from the throat. It is now put back, and he is roused. He stands stupidly looking about him. One of the Bungil Dowa-gunney says to him, 'You are only to live two days'—or whatever the time may be—to which he nods assent, not being able to speak. They then send him home, sometimes giving him a 'possum to eat on the road. At the end of the time he dies, as ordered.

Sometimes it is said they amuse themselves by throwing big 'sow-thistles,' which grow wild in places in the bush, at him; they go right through him, but are pulled out before he goes home, though the poison remains in him.

The last blackfellow reported to have been killed by Barrn was called Bruthen-mungie; but Barrn has been made for the purpose of 'catching' one of the Bony Point blackfellows during the past year. My informant says that Barrn trees have been several times found lately, but that the blackfellows finding them cut them up and throw them away.^[44]

The Murrawun is the magical throwing-stick, made of ironbark wood. The person who has learned to make these, and to render them, as the blackfellows describe it, 'big fellow poison,' is called a Bungil-Murrawun. He is said to make it 'carry poison' by rubbing kangaroo marrow on it, and by singing over it. The Murrawun is used to injure blackfellows by pointing at them, making a hissing noise at the same time; by tying a piece of some one's hair on it with some kangaroo fat and an eaglehawk's feather, and roasting the hair, &c., before the fire; in fact it is believed of potent effect in many ways.

I have spoken of a belief that quartz or broken glass can be put into a person's legs or arms. The mode is described as follows:—The track of the person is found; a cross is marked on it with a sharp quartz fragment or a piece of bottle glass; round the cross are stuck in the ground some of the 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 in a mud island near Port Albert. The water was all round them. The Pelican, sailing about in his bark canoe, saw these poor people, and went to help them. One of the women was so beautiful that he fell in love with her. When she wanted to get into the canoe, he said, 'Not now—next time;' so that, ferrying the others one by one to the mainland, she was left to the last. She became frightened, and being a cunning woman, she wrapped a log of wood up in her ''possum rug,' laid it by the fire to look like herself, and then swam ashore and escaped. When the Pelican came back, he said, 'Come on now.' Receiving no reply, he became angry, and, going to the supposed woman lying by the fire, he gave her a kick, when he at once found out the trick that had been played upon him. Then he was very angry, and began to paint himself white, 'to look out fight' with the blackfellows. When he was half-painted, another Pelican came by, and not knowing what such a queer black and white thing was, struck the first Pelican with his beak, and killed him. Before that, Pelicans were all black—now they are black and white, and that is the reason."

The Port Albert Frog.

"Once, long ago, there was a big Frog—Tidda-lick. He was sick, and got full of water. He could not get rid of all this water, and did not know what to do. One day he was walking near where Port Albert is now, when he saw a sand-eel dancing on his tail on a mud flat by the sea. It made him laugh so much that he burst, and all the water ran out. There was a great flood, and all the blackfellows were drowned except two or three men and a woman, who got on a mud island. While they were there, a Pelican came by in his canoe. He took off the men one at a time, but left the woman to the last. He wanted to get her for himself. She was frightened, and so put a log in her 'possum rug, like a person asleep, and swam to shore. When the Pelican returned, he called to her to come. No answer. Then he was angry, and kicked the 'possum rug. There was in it a log. Then he was very angry, and went off to paint himself with Marloo (pipeclay), to go and 'look out fight' with the blackfellows. Before that time, Pelicans were all black. When he was partly painted with Marloo, another Pelican came by, and not liking the looks of him, bit him with his beak, and killed him. That is the reason that Pelicans are partly black and partly white to this day."

How the Blackfellows Lost and Regained Fire.

"Once Bowkan was very angry with the blacks, and took their fire from them, but the Bimba Mrit (the fire-tail finch) went off and stole fire from Bowkan without his knowing it, and brought it to the blackfellows, and that is why his tail is red."

Another account is this:—"Once upon a time the blacks were down at the Lakes—a 'big lot of them;' they were 'driving fish with their net' (Lawn). The gins would not give any of the fish to Bowkan. He was very wild with them, and took all their fire. All the mob of black gins ran after him, but could not get the fire back. A crow was there, and caught up a black snake (Thoon-ya-rack), which he threw at Bowkan. Bowkan was so frightened that he dropped the fire, and the gins recovered it."

The Native Dog.

"Some blackfellows were once camped at the Lakes, near Shaving Point. They had been successful at fishing, and were sitting in their camp cooking and eating what they had caught. Just then a native dog came up and looked in. They took no notice of him, nor did they give him anything to eat. He became cross, and said, 'You blackfellows are no good—you have lots of fish, but give me none.' So he changed them all into a big rock; and this is quite true, for the big rock is there to this day, and I have seen it with my own eyes."

Another version of the dog and the natives at Shaving Point, as related and explained by Toolabar:—

"Near Shaving Point, at the Lakes, a big mob of blacks were fishing with the big grass-nets. They were fishing all night, and came to the camp in the morning where the women were. They said, 'Oh, we have got plenty of fish.' The women said Yacka-torn (very good). One of the dogs belonging to the women sang out Yacka-torn also. Then they were all made into Wallung (a rock). If a dog belonging to you or me were to talk like that, then we should be changed directly into stone. Once at Swan Reach I heard a dog sing out very loud. My father and I heard him. I was a very little boy. We ran away very fast. If he had been near to me we should have been 'like it Wallung (stone).' All the blackfellows sang out and ran away. I could only hear the dog say 'Bring' (bone). I think he was saying Bringu tarnu ginganunga."

The History of Bolgan.

"About the year 1861, 'Bolgan' was a young girl of perhaps fifteen years of age. She was the daughter of 'Bookur,' or, as the whitefellows called him, 'Edward.' At the time I speak of a number of the Murray River and Lake blacks had agreed to go up the coast as far as Twofold Bay, and they were to be guided by 'Jackey the Whaler,' who had been there years before 'spearing whales.' It was also determined that they should accept the invitation of a blackfellow, 'Tommy,' to visit him on the way. This Tommy was in the service of some whites who had a small cattle station in the middle of the great wilderness of country lying between the Snowy River and Cape Howe. It was to this station, to visit Tommy, that the party were to proceed, and of this party were Edward, his wife, his daughter Bolgan, and his little eight or nine years old son, Charley. How many blacks went I know not, but there were, so far as I can ascertain, some ten or a dozen—men, women, and children—all more or less related to or connected with each other. In due course they arrived at the station, having followed up a river from the coast until it became rocky, when they walked. They camped about a quarter of a mile from the station, at the edge of the dense jungle through which the river flows—a jungle about a quarter of a mile wide in places, and utterly impenetrable except on foot; dense masses of acmenia and other umbrageous trees being bound together with climbing vines and creepers.

Here the blacks remained for a few days, and some of the men took a job to strip bark for the owners of the place. These were two young men of from sixteen to eighteen, so far as their ages can be ascertained from the accounts given by the blacks. Tommy and these two whites were the only residents there; the nearest station was thirty to thirty-five miles distant, and the whole surrounding country, with the exception of the way to this station, is an almost impenetrable scrub.

One morning before noon, when the blacks were about their camp—some sitting by the fire, others preparing to go out to hunt for the day—Tommy came down in company with the two white men. He had a poncho over his shoulders, and his two companions were armed with guns. Edward was sitting by the fire with his brother 'Curlip Tom' on his left hand, and his little son Charley on his right.

From this point I more especially quote 'Curlip Tom,' the previous particulars being derived from several informants:—Curlip Tom, sitting by the side of Edward, heard a noise like the crack of a stockwhip, and Edward threw up his arms and fell back. Curlip Tom jumped up and saw Tommy just behind them with a small pistol with a square barrel in his hand; smoke was coming out of it. He seized his spears, and was in the act of fitting one to the Murrawun to spear Tommy, when the white men covered him with their guns. He let fall his spear and ran into the scrub. All the other blacks had already disappeared into the same shelter, and none remained but Edward (lying on the ground), Tommy, and the two white men. After a while these latter went off, and the blacks came out of the scrub. They found poor Edward not dead, but badly wounded; he had been shot in the back of the neck, and the bullet could be felt under the left ear 'like a stone.'

Hastily the wounded man was placed on a sheet of bark. The men of the party carried him along the edge of the scrub, while the women and children followed a parallel course in the thick river-scrub for safety. After some miles, they found carrying Edward on the sheet of bark became impossible, and his brother stripped a canoe, and, being accounted the best canoeman in the country, took charge of the wounded man down the river, while the others pursued their flight; the men skirting the edge of the jungle, and the women and children travelling in it as before.

In the afternoon the pedestrians had got ahead of the canoe on account of the difficulties attending the navigation of such a small stream from the constant occurrence of logs and large trees fallen across its course. The party, therefore, camped at a little open bend where the jungle was on only one side of the stream, and awaited the canoe bearing the wounded man.

Bolgan and her mother and Charley were sitting by a small fire, when all at once Tommy and the two white men came up on horseback armed as before. Tommy got off liis horse at a little distance, and his two comrades held it. He went up to the women. He said to Bolgan, 'You come with me.' On her not obeying, he presented the pistol at them. Her mother said, 'I would not let you have her if I were not afraid you would shoot me as you did her father, Edward.' Then Bolgan got up and went with him. He put her on his horse, tied her feet under its belly, and, holding the bridle, walked off in the direction of the station. The two white men with their guns came last.

Very soon after the canoe came down stream, and the flight was continued till dark. Then they had reached a part of the river where a ledge of rocks crossed it, and they camped. In the night the wounded man died. The following morning the body was placed in the canoe, and conveyed to the west side of the river. The canoe was then cut in two, the corpse rolled in it, and carried a short distance up the hill side. A grave was dug with their tomahawks by a big log where two small stringybark saplings were growing, one on each side at the head, and one other sapling at the feet. While they were burying poor Edward, some 'Bidwell' blacks—a man and woman and two boys—came up, who were related to some of the Snowy River men present, and they cried very much over poor 'Ned.'

The funeral being performed, the sad party plunged westward into the dense scrubs lying between them and their own country, and suffered great hardship, and were nearly starved from want of food before they reached the Snowy River. How long elapsed from this time I know not, till a party set out to revenge the death of Edward; I think it was not many months.

The brother of the murdered man, together with a number of the men of the tribe, made up a 'war party,' went up the coast, revisited the scene of the murder, and traced out the murderer to the Genoa River, where they found him camped with Bolgan as his 'gin,' not 200 yards from the station occupied by his white accomplices. When they first saw him he was looking for horses near the station. 'Wuck wuckun' (the Wonga pigeon) speared him, and he ran off towards the station. The blacks pursued. The white men came out armed, and threatened to shoot the blacks. These said, 'Never mind; if you shoot, we will shoot you,' for they had many guns. The white men were not 'game,' and Dairy Mungee shot Tommy in front of the station. Then they carried off Bolgan in triumph.

Of the two whites who are alleged to have been the participators in this murder, one is said to have committed suicide some years ago, the other, the younger one, still lives in the district.

When an enquiry was instituted—the story having become public after some years—the brother and son of the murdered man were unable to find the spot where he had been buried. Great fires had swept over the place and obliterated the land marks; the log—the young saplings—seemed to have disappeared. Nor could they identify the alleged murderer when placed face to face with him.

I have, however, no doubt that the main facts, as stated, are true. The tale told by all the blacks who were present, and some of whom I have questioned, agree circumstantially. And in following out in the locality itself, step by step, the course taken by the blacks before and immediately after the shooting of Edward, I found that the narrative given me quite accorded with the features of the country; and, what is more important, that the locality of the camp, the tree from which the canoe was stripped, the ledge of rocks at which they camped and where Edward died, could all be identified.

No doubt the usual accurate memory of the blacks for places would be disturbed by haste of the interment and dread of a possible re-appearance of their pursuers. The bush-fires of nine or ten years would, no doubt, have consumed the 'big log,' and the three saplings could no longer be identified as trees. The difference between a beardless youth and a bushy-bearded man might also account for the blacks not identifying the alleged murderer, whom they had before indicated by many concurrent minute circumstances.

What was Bolgan's history from the time when she was carried back to her tribe until I saw her as the wife of 'Paddy Policeman' I do not know. A few years ago—about 1869 or 1870—Bolgan, or, as she was known to the whites, 'Hopping Kitty,' and Paddy Policeman, were missing, and soon dark rumours became current among the blacks of foul-play. A search was made, but without result. At length, months afterwards, during the dry summer, when the lagoons about Boul Boul were drying up, a party of blacks were travelling along the coast, and one of the men, in crossing a lagoon, pushed his feet along in the mud, feeling with his toes for eels. He found a bone, and, lifting it out with his foot, saw that it was not, as he supposed, a kangaroo but a human bone. He called his companions, and they found the remains of a human being pegged down in the mud by three or four tea-tree stakes. This is a practice used by the Aborigines to secrete a body. The head was in this case bent under the breast.

At an enquiry which was held, medical evidence showed that the remains were those of an Aboriginal native—a woman—and that her right thigh had been broken and badly set. Further, that the head had been severed from the body by the cut of some sharp instrument, which had severed part of one of the vertebrae. There could be no doubt that it was the missing Hopping Kitty—poor Bolgan—whose life and whose death had been equally tragic.

Before long a rumour became current among all the blacks as to the manner of the death of Paddy Policeman and Kitty. It seems that the last that was known of their movements was that they, together with two brothers, Charley and William, had gone down the Lakes in a boat together, with a fisherman and his wife. Another addition to the party was a keg of spirits, which was on tap. The consequence was, that in crossing the Lakes all the party were more or less drunk, and that the keg was 'planted' in a reed-bed by the blacks, who soon returned and had a grand carouse. As is usual in such cases, there can be little doubt that in this instance the blacks, when drunk, were no better than mad savages.

Many years before, it seems that Paddy Policeman, when in the native police—whence his name—had been instrumental in shooting a brother of Charley and William. It is said by the blacks that this old feud broke out, and that they quarrelled with and killed Paddy. Kitty escaped, and was making her way through Boul Boul to the Lakes' entrance, and thence intending probably to go to the Mission Station, when she was overtaken by the murderers of Paddy, and cut down from behind by a blow of a tomahawk, and then secreted in the manner described.

Such is the story current among the blacks, and it seems to be highly probable. The two men, Charley and William, were certainly the last persons known to be with the deceased, and one, if not both, is capable of perpetrating the greatest atrocities.

No traces of Paddy were ever found. I expect he was too carefully pegged down in the Lakes ever to come to light before the conger eels disposed of him. But one of the blacks thought he had found Paddy's bones. It was thus: He had, he said, been down at the edge of the Lakes (on the opposite side to where Kitty was found), and had climbed up a tree to look in a hole, to ascertain if a 'possum were there. He heard a strange whistle. 'Hallo,' he said, 'name that?' The whistle was repeated. The blackfellow—Tanko-willun—looked all round about. At last he looked down on the ground, on the opposite side of the tree to that on which he had climbed up. The whistle was repeated again. 'Ko-ki! Bring' (Hallo! bones). The whistle was again heard. Tanko-willun climbed down the tree, and looked at the bones, 'Ko-ki! Bringa Kurni' (Hallo! blackfellow's bones). Then he know what it all meant—it was his brother (cousin) Paddy whistling to him to tell him where his bones were lying. He said it must be so, because 'He know 'em that one whistle belonging to Paddy.'

I believe he thought the whitefellows very stupid when a medical man who examined them said they were blackfellow's bones, but must have been lying exposed many years.

Whatever might have been the fate of Paddy Policeman, that of Kitty could scarcely be matter for doubt. Her life seems to have been a chain of tragical events. When a small child, her tribe were hunted by the whites in revenge of the murder of a stockman, 'Dan,' at the Murray River, and a bullet which passed through and wounded her mother also broke poor Bolgan's thigh. She was always afterwards lame, and hence her English name—Hopping Kitty. Her father was shot, and she herself carried off by Tommy. Her captor was shot when she was rescued by her relatives, and, finally, she fell a victim, there can be little doubt, in the revenging of an old blood feud."

END OF FIRST VOLUME.

1. The word for knife is the same in Bunce's Vocabulary, but the spelling is different.
2. Nooran-an-ya means "far off."

   "The Murray natives believe in a Being with supreme attributes, whom they call Nourelle; that he lives in the sky, and is surrounded by children born without the intervention of a mother; that Nourelle never dies, and that blackfellows go to him, and never die again. They also believe that Nourelle created a great serpent, and gave him power over all created things."—Aboriginal Natives of New South Wales. Pamphlet by a Colonial Magistrate, 1846.

3. "In company with some blacks, I was looking at a brickmaker at work, near the new bridge over the Yarra (Prince's bridge), when a Western Port black, named 'Billy Lonsdale,' seeing the brickmaker smoothing the clay in the mould, said 'Marminarta, like 'em that Pund-jel make 'em Koolin.'"—The late William Thomas's MS.
4. Some say that the first man was made at Koorra-boort, a place near Ballarat; others that he was made at Boo-err-go-en [this is the name of Pund-jel's brother], situate on the River Goulburn, about twelve miles above the town of Yea. He was formed, they say, of the gum of the wattle (Acacia mollissima), and he came out of the knot of a wattle-tree, and entered into the body of a young woman, when afterwards he appeared as a male child.

   The following is an account of the creation of Kainj-ani:—The stars were formerly men, and they leave their huts in the evening to go through the same employments which they did while on earth. Some are remarkable amongst them, as Pungngane, Waijungngari, and their Ningarope. The first was born naturally, and the others were made as follows:—Ningarope lætitiæ plena in latrina lutum amœne erubescens cernebat; hoc in hominis figuram formabat, quæ tactu divæ motum vitalem sumebat et tunc ridebat. He was thus a Kainj-ani at once from his color [red], and his mother took him into the bush and remained with him. Pungngane, his brother, had two wives, aud lived near the sea. Once when he remained out a long time, his two wives left the hut and went and found Waijungngari. As they approached, he was asleep, and the two women, placing themselves on each side of the hut, began making the noise of an emu. The noise awoke him, and he took his spear to kill them; but as soon as he ran out, the two women embraced him, and requested him to be their husband. His mother, enraged at the conduct of the women, went to Pungngane, and told him what had happened. Very much enraged, he left his hut to seek that of his brother, which he soon found; but there was no one there, as his wives and brother were out seeking for food. Very much vexed, he put some fire upon the hut, saying "Kundajan," meaning, let it remain, but not burn immediately. Waijungngari and the two women arrived in the evening, and lying down to sleep, the fire began to burn, and frequently to fall upon the skins with which they were covered. Awaking with fright, they threw away the skins and ran to the sea. Out of danger, and recovered a little from his fright, Waijungngari began to think how he could escape the wrath of his brother, and threw a spear up to the sky, which touched it and came down again. He then took a barbed spear, and throwing it upwards with all his force, it remained sticking in the sky. By this he climbed up and the two women after him. Pungngane seeing his brother and wives in the sky, followed with his mother, where they have remained ever since. To Pungngane and Waijungngari the natives attribute the abuudance of kangaroo and the fish called Ponde. Pungngane caught a Ponde, and dividing it into small pieces, and throwing them into the sea, each became a Ponde. Waijungngari multiplied kangaroos in the same manner. They have many similar histories of the stars. The milky way, they say, is a row of huts, amongst which they point out the heaps of ashes and the smoke ascending.—Aborigines of Encounter Bay Tribe, South Australia. H. E. A. Meyer, 1846.

   "In the beginning," say the Dieyerie, "the Moora-moora (good spirit) made a number of small black lizards (these are still to be met with under dry bark), and being pleased with them, he promised they should have power over all other creeping things. The Moora-moora then divided their feet into toes and fingers, and placing his forefinger on the centre of the face, created a nose, and so in like manner afterwards eyes, mouth, and ears. The spirit then placed one of them in a standing position, which it could not, however, retain, whereupon the Deity cut off the tail, and the lizard walked erect. They were then made male and female, so as to perpetuate the race. . . . Men, women, and children do not vary in the slightest degree in this account of their creation."

   There are many superstitions of the Dieyerie tribe and of the neighbouring tribes near Cooper's Creek (lat. 27° S.) which are interesting. Mr. Gason describes the ceremonies performed when the blacks desire the wild-fowl to lay eggs; and refers to those practised when they wish for a plentiful supply of wild dogs, an abundance of snakes, for more strength to their young men, and the like. These ceremonies are, however, not over-cleanly in their character. "When it is a bad season for iguanas (Koppirries), one of the principal articles of their food, some of the natives proceed to make them. This ceremony is not observed by the Dieyerie; but as they are invariably invited and attend, I think it proper to describe it. On a day appointed, they sit in a circle, when the old men take a few bones of the leg of the emu, about nine inches long, and sharpened at both ends. Each old man then sings a song, while doing so piercing his ears, first one and then the other, several times, regardless of the pain, if not insensible to it. I add the song, which is not in the Dieyerie dialect, and a translation of it:—

   Pa-pa-pa. Kirra-a. Lulpara-na.
   Mooloo Kurla parcha-ra. Willy oo lana
   Mathapootana murara Thidua-ra Mindieindie
   Kurtaworie-woriethiea-a.

   Translation—'With a boomerang we gather all the iguanas from the flats and plains, and drive them to the sandhills; then surround them, that all the male and female iguanas may come together and increase.' Should there be a few more iguanas after the ceremony than before, the natives boast of having produced them; but if they are as scarce as previously, they have their customary excuse, that some other tribe took away their power. The iguana is supposed to be a conductor of lightning, and during a thunderstorm all these reptiles are buried in the sand. And should auy natives become grey, or have much hair on the breast when young, it is supposed to be caused by eating the iguanas when children.

   "There are places covered by trees which are held very sacred—the larger ones being supposed to be the remains of their fathers metamorphosed. The natives never hew them, and should the settlers require to cut them down, they earnestly protest against it, asserting they would have no luck and themselves might be punished for not protecting their ancestors."—The Dieyerie Tribe, by Samuel Gason, 1874.

   The Maories give this account of the making of man:—"Of Tiki little is preserved; his great work was that of making man, which he is said to have done after his own image. One account states that he took red clay and kneaded it with his own blood, and so formed the eyes and limbs, and then gave the image breath. Another, that man was made of clay and the red-ochreous water of swamps, and that Tiki bestowed both his own form and name upon him, calling him Tiki-ahua, or Tiki's likeness. . . . . Some traditions say that Tiki is a woman; but the general idea is the contrary."—Te Ika A Maui, by the Rev. Richard Taylor, M.A., 1870, pp. 117-18.

5. Boo-ki-il (very sulky) is the word used by the men of the Yarra, according to Mr. John Green. The negative form is N'uther jum-buk, i.e., not in a mood to converse or confer with any one.
6. The men of the Yarra tribe say that Ngâr-ang, an evil spirit, causes the whirlwind (Wee-oong-koork) to arise.
7. "Flakes of snow." One unacquainted with the climate of Victoria might suppose that the Aborigiues could have little or no knowledge of snow, and that the simile is far-fetched. But snow falls on the mountains every year, and in winter the plains of the higher parts of the Great Dividing Rauge and the main spur are sometimes more than knee-deep in snow. The Aboriginals are well acquainted with snow-storms, are close observers, and have good memories; and it is probable that something more than is told in the story is meant to be conveyed by the words of the simile.
8. This story appears to bear too close a resemblance to the Biblical account of the Fall. Is it genuine or not? Mr. Bulmer admits that it may have been invented by the Aborigines after they had heard something of scripture history; but he says—"The blackfellow who told me the story was by no means sharp. I should not give him credit for inventing such a story. I believe it to be a genuine tradition of their own." Notwithstanding the similarity, I am inclined to agree with Mr. Bulmer. Some cause must have suggested itself to their minds; and why not this?
   
   Mr. Armstrong, interpreter to the natives of West Australia, has communicated the following curious tradition:—The natives state that they have been told, from age to age, that when man first began to exist there were two beings, male and female, named Wal-lyne-yup (the father), and Doronnop (the mother); that they had a son, named Bin-dir-woor, who received a deadly wound, which they carefully endeavoured to heal, but totally without success; whereupon it was declared by Wal-lyne-yup that all who came after him should also die in like manner as his son died. Could the wound but have been healed in this case, being the first, the natives think death would have had no power over them. The place where the scene occurred, and where Bin-dir-woor was buried, the natives imagine to have been on the southern plains, between Clarence and the Murray; and the instrument used is said to have been a spear, thrown by some unknown being, and directed by some supernatural power. The tradition goes on to state that Bin-dir-woor, the son, although deprived of life, and buried in his grave, did not remain there, but rose and went to the west, to the unknown land of spirits, across the sea. The parents followed after their son, but (as the natives suppose) were unable to prevail upon him to return, and they consequently have remained with him ever since. Mr. Armstrong says of this tradition that it is the nearest approach to truth and the most reasonable he has yet heard among the natives, and it is certainly highly curious, as showing their belief that man originally was not made subject to death, and as giving the first intimation we have heard of their ideas of the manner in which death was introduced into the world.
9. Bund-jel oceanum creavit minctione plures per dies in terrarum orbem. Bullarto Bulgo magnam lotii copiam indicat.
10. "Their traditions suppose that man and all other beings were created by the Moon, at the bidding of the Moora-moora. Finding the Emu pleasant to the sight, and judging it to be eatable (but unable, owing to its swiftness, to catch it during the cold that then prevailed), the Moora-moora was appealed to to cast some heat on the earth so as to enable them to run down the desired bird. The Moora-moora complying with their request, bade them perform certain ceremonies (yet observed, but not proper to be described), and then created the sun."—The Dieyerie Tribe (Cooper's Creek), by Samuel Gason.

    It is more reasonable to suppose that it was light and not heat that the blacks prayed for.

11. Nearly all animals they suppose anciently to have been men who performed great prodigies, and at last transformed themselves into different kinds of animals and stones. Thus the Kaminjerar point out several large stones or points of rock along the beach whose sex and name they distinguish. One rock, they say, is an old man named Lime, upon which women and children are not allowed to tread; but old people venture to do so from their long acquaintance with him. They point out his head, feet, hands, and also his hut and fire. For my part, I could see no resemblance to any of these things except the hut. The occasion upon which he transformed himself was as follows:—A friend of his Palpangye paid him a visit and brought him some tinwarrar (kind of fish). Lime enjoyed them very much, and regretted that there were no rivers in the neighbourhood, that he might catch them himself, as they are a river fish. Palpangye went into the bush and fetched a large tree, and thrusting it into the ground in different places, water immediately began to flow, and formed the Inman and Hindmarsh Rivers. Lime, out of gratitude, gave him some kanmari (small sea fish), and transformed himself into rock, the neighbourhood of which has ever since abounded in this kind of fish. Palpangye became a bird, and is frequently near the rivers.—Aborigines of Encounter Bay Tribe, South Australia. H. E. A. Meyer, 1846.
12. The Encounter Bay people say that the Moon is a woman, and not particularly chaste. She stays a long time with the men, and from the effects of her intercourse with them, she becomes very thin, and wastes away to a mere skeleton. When in this state Nurrunduri orders her to be driven away. She flies, and is secreted for some time, but is employed all the time in seeking roots, which are so nourishing that in a short time she appears again and fills out and becomes fat rapidly.—Aborigines of Encounter Bay Tribe, South Australia. H. E. A. Meyer, 1846.
13. The Sun, the Encounter Bay tribe believe to be a female, who, when she sets, passes the dwelling-places of the dead. As she approaches, the men assemble, and divide into two bodies, leaving a road for her to pass between them. They invite her to stay with them, which she can only do for a short time, as she must be ready for her jonrney of the next day. For favors granted to some one among them she receives a present of a red kangaroo skin, and therefore in the morning, when she rises, appears in a red dress.—Ibid.
14. As the Aboriginal tribes throughout Australia have their tales of the much-dreaded "Bun-yip"—au hypothetical monster that dwells in the swamps and rivers—so the New Zealanders have their legends and songs about the terrible "Tanniwha," and the slaying of three of these monsters by brave warriors of the olden time, the ancestors of the chiefs of Roturua. These traditions are handed down by the natives with extraordinary minuteness of detail, and bear a close resemblance in many points to our own legend of St. George and the Dragon. According to the native story, the "Tanniwha" devoured men, women, and children wholesale. It lived in caverns, or at the bottom of rivers and lakes, was shaped like an enormous lizard of the size of a whale, and had sharp teeth and a flaming tongue. It took three hundred and forty brave men to despatch one of these "Tanniwhas;" at length, after a severe conflict, they destroyed him, and he stretched himself out "like a dying grub," and expired. On cutting him open they found "his belly full of bodies of men, women, and children, together with garments of all sorts, and weapons of war innumerable."—Polynesia, by G. F. Angas, F.L.S., p. 76.

    The reader will remember that in England the peasants not long since believed in the stories of the Laidley Worm of Spindleston Heugh, and the Lambton Worm. Those were the Bun-yips and Tanniwhas of our ancestors.

15. Life and Adventures of William Buckley; thirty-two years a Wanderer amongst the Aborigines of the then unexplored country round Port Phillip, now the Province of Victoria, by John Morgan, Tasmania, 1852.
16. Mr. Stanbridge says the natives describe the Bun-yip as having a head and neck like an emu.
17. There is a place now called Toor-roo-dun on the northern shore of Western Port Bay. It is situate on Stawell's Creek, which discharges part of the overflow of the Koo-wee-rup Swamp into an inlet of the sea. The great swamp (Koo-wee-rup) has an area of 120 square miles; it receives the waters of the Bun-yip River and the Kardinia, Toomuc, and Ararat Creeks, and its overflow is conveyed to the sea by numerous creeks and channels. It is a place where one might expect to find the seal iu such a situation as to give rise to the wild stories told by the natives.
18. Life and Adventures of William Buckley, p. 99.
19. Speaking of Lake George, Lieut. Breton says "that no one seems to know what animals inhabit the lake, though it is pretended that a species of seal, or, as it was called, a devil, had been seen in it; but as Satan is made to personify all animals whatever, when of the nondescript or wonderful kind, it is not improbable that the creature in question may have been altogether imaginary."—Excursions in New South Wales, &c., during the years 1830, 1831, 1832, and 1833, by Lieut. Breton, R.N., p. 62.

    There is no outlet to the waters of Lake George; and in 1828, when Sir Thomas Mitchell saw it, it was a sheet of water seventeen miles in length and seven in breadth. It receives "no less than four mountain streams from the hills north of it—viz., Turallo Creek, whose highest source is fourteen miles from the lake; Butmaro Creek, which arises in a mountain sixteen miles from it; Taylor's Creek, from the range on the east, six miles distant; and Kenny's Creek, from hills five miles distant. The southern shore of the lake presents one continuous low ridge separating its waters from the head of the Yass River, which would otherwise receive them. The water was slightly brackish in 1828, but very good for use, and the lake was then surrounded by dead trees of eucalyptus, of about two feet in diameter, which also extended into it until wholly covered by the water. In that wide expanse we could find no fish; and an old native female said she remembered when the whole was a forest; a statement supported pro tanto by the dead trees in its bed, as well as by its preseut state, for the whole of the basin is now (October 1836) a grassy meadow, not unlike the plains of Breadalbane."—Three Expeditions into the Interior of Eastern Australia, by Major T. L. Mitchell, vol. II., p. 313.

    The Rev. Richard Taylor states that when he was living in New South Wales there had been a long-continued drought, and that Lake George was so completely dried up that the drays made a short cut through it, and the drivers dug holes by the road-side to obtain water. In these holes they frequently found large fish, encased in the dry soil, and doubtless numbers retained their vitality until the bed became again covered with water.—Te Ika A Maui, p. 652.

    This lake in its chief characteristics resembles some of those of Victoria, and it is somewhat remarkable that the strange animal referred to in these pages should be seen in drainage areas so completely isolated. If it had been heard of only in lakes and swamps connected with the sea, it might have been safely assumed that it was a known species of seal.

    The natives living near the mouth of the River Murray have a dread of a being that is said to live in the waters of the lakes. Their water-spirit is called Mulgewanke. "The booming sound which is heard frequently in Lake Alexandrina is ascribed to him, and they think it causes rheumatism to those who hear it. He is represented as a curious being, half man, half fish, and, instead of hair, a matted crop of reeds. I have wondered myself what the noise is really caused by which they ascribe to Mulgewanke. I have heard it dozens of times, and so have many other persons. It resembles the boom of a distant cannon, or the explosion of a blast. Sometimes, however, it is more like the sound made by the fall of a huge body into deep water. It cannot be the peculiar sound made by the Murray bittern, as I have often heard that too, and it is not at all like the noise in the lake. At first I ascribed it to people blasting wood on the opposite side, but since then I have been convinced that this cannot be the case. One peculiarity of the sound ascribed to the Mulgewanke is, that although it is sometimes louder than at others, yet it is never near, always distant."—The Narrinyeri, by the Rev. Geo. Taplin, p. 48.

    A correspondent, an old settler and one well acquainted with the natural history of the colony, tells me it is his belief that in most cases the noise that frightens the natives is caused by the movements in the water of the musk-duck.

    When on the banks of the River Wannon, I approached a dense growth of reeds, and one of these birds that had been hidden in the reeds made a dash into the water, and the noise and its appearance, I thought at the time, would create alarm in the dusk of evening; but it is scarcely credible that so many strange tales should arise from this source. The natives are good naturalists, and are probably better acquainted with the habits of this duck than we are.

    The Bun-yip is mentioned by Grey in his work on North-West and Western Australia. He says:—"The Wan-gul is an imaginary aquatic monster, residing in fresh water, and endowed with supernatural power, which enables it to consume the natives, although it generally attacks females. The person it selects for its victim pines away almost imperceptibly, and dies."

    The belief in the existence of some strange creature in the inland and shore waters is spread over the continent. Mr. Earl says that the natives of Port Essington speak of a monster inhabiting the waters, which is regarded by them much as the Bun-yip is by the natives of the south. The Port Essington Bun-yip is supposed by the whites to be the dugong.

20. Bu-ker-bun-nel, or Bukra-banyule, is a granitic mountain, situated about eighteen miles north-west of Wedderburn, and about twenty-four miles west of the Avoca River. It is but a small area of granite, and lies closely adjacent to the Murray Tertiaries which occupy the whole of the Mallee country. The Mullin in the text is probably but another name for the Mallee (Eucalyptus oleosa and E. dumosa). In describing this country, the Aborigines no doubt included the whole area occupied by them and their families, and that embraced plains called Kow. These plains are found in the sandy tracts of the north-west. They are clay-pans—dried-up basins of old lagoons or lakes—and on the surface of them are found crystals of sulphate of lime and broken and powdered gypsum and selenite. These fragments of sulphate of lime are "the hard substances, small and white, like hail." The nearest Kow is about twenty miles to the west of Bukra-bamjule.

    Mr. Skene, the Surveyor-General, informs me that a tribe inhabiting the country near Pitfield, northward of Lake Korangamite, told him, many years ago, that Myndie had his abode in a water-hole near the town now known as Pitfield. The blacks at that time were very much afraid of Myndie, and when Mr. Skene proposed to pitch his camp near the water-hole, they fled, and prophesied disasters to him and his party, who had approached so near the favored abode of this dreadful serpent.

21. A family named Mun-nie Brum-brum was the only one that ever set foot on the territory occupied by Myndie.

    A sorcerer, celebrated as a man possessing great power, a very old black, and a member of the same tribe as that to which Mun-nie Brum-brum belonged, was a prisoner in the Melbourne gaol many years ago. He had committed some depredations on the flocks of the settlers. The news of his arrest was carried to near and far-off tribes—to tribes more than 200 miles from Melbourne. The men were greatly distressed. Telegraph fires were lighted, and night after night these could be seen in all directions. Messengers from seven tribes were sent to my blacks. My blacks importuned me day after day to liberate the black stranger. Finding that I would not liberate him, they urged me and all the settlers with whom they were friendly to leave the district and go to Van Dieman's Land or Sydney. Some hundreds of blacks of many different tribes were in Melbourne when the man of the tribe of Mun-nie Brum-brum was imprisoned, and they all fled, exhibiting the greatest terror, as they expected that the captive would move Pund-jel to let Myndie loose. Myndie they believed would spare no one. None of the people returned until the prisoner was set at large, which was some months after the first gathering and flight.—The late Wm. Thomas's MS.

    Mr. E. S. Parker's pamphlet on the Aborigines of Australia contains a curious statement respecting the Myndie. He says:—"In the latter end of the year 1840, the Aborigines of all the neighbouring districts were in a fearful state of excitement in consequence of the forcible capture and temporary incarceration of some hundreds of their number by the military and police authorities. Two lives were sacrificed on the spot, and several sickly people subsequently died through the effects of the fright and excitement. On that occasion, several of the natives informed me confidentially that destruction was coming upon the white population, not even excepting those whom they knew to be their friends. It was known that they were practising secret incantations with this object. The effects were described graphically enough as producing dreadful sores, dysentery, blindness, and death. The Mindi was to come. I did not at the time regard the prediction as of much import. But, subsequently, ascertaining that the scars of the small-pox were termed lillipook Mindi, the scale of the Mindi, and the plague itself, which was to come in the dust, as monola Mindi, the dust of the Mindi, I was able to identify the threatened agent of destruction as the small-pox, of the ravages of which in former times there are traditions and traces among the natives of the interior. It is believed to be in the power of the large serpent Mindi, the supposed incarnation of the destroying spirit, to send this plague forth in answer to the appeals and incantations of those who seek the destruction of their foes."

22. "I can vouch for their superstition on this head. I sadly wanted a bear's skin to make a cap, but I could never get it. One day a black of the Yarra tribe, who had brought in a bear early, before the rest of the blacks had returned to the encampment, was importuned by me to skin it. He refused to skin it; but at length, by giving him presents, and showing him that no harm could come of the act, because all the sorcerers and all the blacks who could communicate with the sorcerers and other chief men were absent, he took off the skin and gave it to me. I took the skin to my tent, and meant to make it into a cap; but the young man became very restless. Remorse overtook him. He could not put the skin on again, nor indeed, had he wished to do so, would I have given it up. He said, 'Poor blacks lose 'em all water now,' and he became so much alarmed, and exhibited such contrition and terror, that the old doctors came to enquire into the cause. He told all. Much excitement followed. I said that the blacks had nothing to fear. I laughed at their terrors; but at length I was obliged to give them the skin. The skin and the bear were buried in the same manner in which a black man is buried. Though the bear was actually roasting, his body was taken away and buried with the skin. This ceremony they all believed would propitiate the bears, and avert the calamity of a loss of water."—The late Wm. Thomas's MS.
    
    "Kur-bo-roo, a well-known Western Port black, and held in high esteem as a sorcerer, a dreamer, and diviner, was named 'The Bear,' under the following circumstances. Kur-bo-roo was born at the foot of a tree, and during his mother's trouble a bear in the tree growled and grunted until Kur-bo-roo was born, when he ceased his noise. By this, it was said, the bear intended to show that the male child born at the foot of the tree should have the privilege of consulting the bears, and the child was called Kur-bo-roo. Kur-bo-roo attained to some excellence in his profession, and was regarded by all as a very wise man and doctor. When a black man dreams of bears, it is a sad omen. All the people are afraid when any one dreams of bears. One time, when there were about two hundred blacks at Nerre-nerre-Warreen (on the Yarra), including about eighteen children attending the school, Kur-bo-roo had a dream. He dreamt that he was surrounded by bears. He awoke in a great fright about one o'clock in the morning, and at once aroused the whole encampment. It was half an hour or more before I could discover the cause of the great excitement everywhere apparent. Fires were suddenly set ablaze. The young blacks climbed the trees, cut down boughs, and fed the fires. The men, women, and children rushed hither and thither, displaying the greatest terror. I reasoned with them, sought to soothe them, endeavoured to control them; but all my efforts were useless. They fled from the spot where they had so long lived in comfort. By eight o'clock in the morning the forest was a solitude—not a soul remained; and all because of a dream of Kur-bo-roo."—The late Wm. Thomas's MS.

    "The Laplanders will call the bear 'the old man with the fur coat,' but they do not like to mention his name."—Tylor, p. 145.

    The Father of the Stairs is made to say, in Episodes in an Obscure Life, that in Labrador "They're very frightened o' makin' bears angry, both whites and blacks; they think there's a deal of knowingness, like witches, in 'em. They're a queer lot, them Esqueemaws. . . . ."—P. 166.

    The curious reader may refer for further information respecting the bear and the fables connected with him to the anthropological treatises of Blumenbach (Anthropological Society's volume, 1865, p. 80), and to the various works there quoted. But our beast is not a bear, and the natives, of course, never heard him so called until the whites came.

23. A creek not always running—a creek that is dry in the summer—is called Koorr-nong.
24. The native bear moans and growls when any one molests him in his leafy retreats. I have often observed his habits in the forest. He is always found near water. At the present day the Aborigines carefully conform to the law as laid down by their forefathers. They will not skin a bear or break its bones until it is roasted. In what way the native bear comes to be connected with droughts it is impossible to say.
25. How rain first came to fall is thus told by H. E. A. Meyer (Encounter Bay tribe):—"Near the Goolwa lived an old man named Kortuwe, with his two friends, Munkari and Waingilbe. The latter, who were considerably younger than Kortuwe, went out fishing, and as they caught Kuratje and Kanmari, they put the Kuratje, which is not so good as the Kanmari, aside for Kortuwe. The old man, perceiving this, commenced a song—Annaitjeranangk rotjer tampatjeranangk (in the Encounter Bay dialect it would be Ngannangk Kuratje tampin)—"For me they put aside the Kuratje," upon which rain began to fall. Kortuwe then went into his hut, and closed it with bushes, and Munkari and Waingilbe were obliged to remain outside, and they got wet as a punishment. The three wore transformed into birds, and as often as Kortuwe makes a noise it is a sign that rain will follow.
26. Piping crow—Gymnorhina leuconota. The Australian magpie, as he is seen in the forest, hopping and half-flying, and now and again taking to flight, somewhat resembles the English magpie. His voice is most musical, and at early morning and at night he is active, and his rich notes are delightful. He is easily domesticated, and can be taught to say many words with distinctness. He is not shy. He seems to love companionship with man. He follows the farmer, and takes np his abode near his homestead. But he is pugnacious. In the breeding season the birds will attack any traveller who approaches near to the spot where they have made their nests. They will fly above him, and dart down and strike him on the face or the head with their bills, and unless he is provided with a stick or a whip, they will injure him. Even when domesticated they will fight when provoked. I could quote a number of statements in which the sagacity and courage of this bird are recorded.
27. Ngin-da-bil: Upper Yarra. Drum-bul-a-bul: Western Port.—(See "Language")
28. On a calm day, when the sky is cloudless, and the solar radiation effective, whirlwinds are seen sometimes in numbers. On a wide open plain, at such times, six or seven may be observed at one time. Near tbem yon see the wind carrying upwards all light things, such as dust, leaves, bark, feathers, and withered grass. At some distance away the thin column of dust looks scarcely thicker than a thick rope; it bends slightly to the breeze aloft, but rises steadily and slowly, and at a height of perhaps a thonsand feet the dust it carries is dispersed. A faint yellowish mist, at a great altitude, shows that the dust is being distributed. Whirlwinds of very great violence occur sometimes, but they are not very common in Victoria.
    
    A whirlwind of an unusual character is thus described in the Portland Guardian of the 20th June 1872:—"On Tuesday evening last, about half-past four o'clock, a whirlwind of extraordinary violence, tearing up immense trees by the roots and twisting and scattering branches about in a manner that created the greatest alarm in the district, occurred. A number of people at lunch in the Condah home-station of Mr. C. P. Cooke were first alarmed by a strange rushing roaring noise, and rushed out under the impression that the house was on fire. An eye-witness says:—In coming out of the house, at about two miles distance, I could see the storm coming in a straight line apparently for the house, and immediately the women and children were removed. Its conrse was marked by the falling and crashing of trees, which were torn up by the roots, the trunks in many cases being whirled for thirty or forty yards, and lying about in heaps, whilst the branches and débris were tossed into the air, and carried forward at a great height with singular rapidity. Fortunately, the storm, which kept in a straight line from the south-west, passed about 300 yards to the south of the Condah home-station, and passed directly over the Condah Lake, into which some of the tree limbs of immense size were carried a distance of 400 to 500 yards. But the passing over the lake was not the least remarkable part of the phenomenon. The water was raised in a sheet or column, and carried all the way across its surface at a height which was averaged by the terror-stricken onlookers at 300 or 400 yards. After passing the lake, the storm kept its course over the stones which separate Condah from the Eumeralla. From our informant we learn that no damage so far as he could ascertain, save the destruction of the trees, had occurred, and that in a thickly-populated district it was wonderful that the houses escaped. The rate at which the storm travelled is estimated at twelve miles an hour, and in its direct course for about fifty yards wide nothing was left standing. Language can but imperfectly convey an idea of the noise and confusion and the terror inspired by this singular visitation."

    I have seen the effects of a storm of this kind in the forests of the Western district. In a straight line some miles in length, and perhaps thirty or forty chains in width, huge trees were uprooted and torn limb from limb; and the stronger or better protected trees which had not been uprooted were stripped of their branches, and were standing naked and dead in a wilderness of broken boughs and withered shrubs. These giants, divested of their bark, bleached to a greyish-white, and standing far apart, were ghostly in their aspect when seen in the twilight. The Aborigines were no doubt strongly impressed with these phenomena when they were witnessed in past times and before the whites came amongst them with their more or less unintelligible explanations.

    Since this note was written I have found the following account of a great storm in the Western district in the Hampden Guardian (5th July 1872):—"The storm that passed over the district early last Monday morning has left ample proof of its power in the neighbourhood of Terang. Within half a mile east of that township, on the Camperdown main road, the wind appears to have passed along in a regular hurricane. For some miles in length by about fifteen chains in breadth the trees and everything else that stood in the way have been swept down before the fury of the blast; and for the space that we have mentioned the telegraph poles were snapped off close to the ground like so many twigs—the wires of course disarranged and the insulators broken. Large gum-trees were torn up by the roots, or where they were so firmly planted in the ground as to offer resistance, were twisted round, and the tops of the trees screwed off and carried some distance away from the trunks. At one point a very substantial three-rail fence enclosing Mr. Niel Black's paddock was actually blown out, and the heavy rails carried by the sheer force of the hurricane several yards across the road. A four-roomed wooden house just caught the end of the whirlwind, and was turued round (so says our informant) several inches from the square, and the family were thrown out of bed, expecting that nothing but an earthquake was upon them. The storm seems to have come down by way of the south end of Lake Keilambete, and crossing the main road at the point mentioned, passed on down to Black's River in the direction of the Big Bend. For a time all communication by telegraph was stopped, but by Monday evening the line was again got into working order."

    The extensive plains of the Western district, some eight thousand square miles in extent, and everywhere destitute of trees or shrubs, are no doubt the cause of the storms which so suddenly break over the adjacent districts. The atmosphere lying over these plains, which are exposed to the full power of the sun, must occasionally be subjected to changes of temperature sufficient to account for the whirlwinds and storms which devastate the forests on the margin of the plains. Whirlwinds are frequently mentioned in the Folk-lore of the Australian Tribes.

29. Other particulars are given which need not be recorded.
30. How Bungil Bottle behaved when he came in sight of a cave at Dead-cock Creek in Gippsland, and what kind of a being Nargun is, and where he dwells, and how he behaves, are well told by Mr. Alfred Howitt.—See Third Report of Progress, Geological Survey of Victoria, p. 220.
31. Shooting at the storm is practised by other savages.
    
    "During the terrible thunderstorms which occasionally pass over the country, the Namaquas are in great dread of the lightning, and shoot their poisoned arrows at the clouds, in order to drive it away. As may be imagined, there is no small danger in this performance, and a man has been killed by the lightning-flash, which was attracted by his pointed arrow. Other tribes have a similar custom, being in the habit of throwing stones or other objects at the clouds."—J. G. Wood, vol. I., p. 306.

    It would be interesting and valuable to put together all the practices of savage nations in some sort of order, classifying them, and thereby laying sure foundations for a science. At present our knowledge of primitive man, as represented by living races of savages, is found in paragraphs scattered through thousands of volumes and pamphlets. When shall arise a William Smith who will do as much for ethnology as he did for geology?

32. See Stanbridge, supra, Karick-karick.
33. Canadian Journal, vol. I., p. 509, quoted by Wilson.
34. Castor and Pollux.
35. Mr. F. M. Hughan, who has had much intercourse with the Aborigines, has favored me with the following interesting anecdote:—"On one occasion, whilst travelling with sheep from a back nm to the Murray frontage, I observed that the black boy Jimmy, who was driving the ration-cart, occupied himself in pulling single hairs from his head and burning them slowly in fire, which was ignited at the ends of two pieces of bark laid together. This was continnue for so long a time that I became more than curious as to the why and wherefore, particularly as Jimmy kept up a constant succession of moaning undertones—interesting, doubtless, to the performer, but anything but cheering to me. At last I looked at the boy and said, 'Jimmy, what for you do like it that?' upon which he replied, 'Bale you yabber! You think it no good. You see bine-bye.' I did not ask him anything further until we got into camp; but I must confess to having wondered more than ever as to what his object tended. After supper, and whilst drawing away at my pipe, I tackled Jimmy again, and, after a good deal of verbal sparring, the secret oozed out. It appeared that some time previously a relative—brother, if I do not forget—of Jimmy's died, his death being caused, as the members of his tribe implicitly believed, by some one connected with another, and, of course, a hostile one; and it was to compass the decease of the unknown slayer of his relative that Jimmy had laid himself out, for he assured me that as the hair he burnt was consumed, so did the secret destroyer gradually pine away, till at last he would 'tumble down'—the blacks' expression for 'die'—and to bring about this glorions end Jimmy had resorted to the plan alluded to; and as he went at it with uuabated perseverance the next day, I can only suppose that he was gloating over the speedy downfall of a hidden foe."—MS., llth Dec. 1871.
36. The making of rain is said to be one of the grandest ceremonies of the Cooper's Creek tribe. Mr. Samuel Gason says, "that when there is a drought or dry season, frequent in the Dieyerie country, the natives have a hard time of it. No fresh herbs, no roots, nothing but ardoo have they to subsist on. The parched earth yielding no grass, the emu, reptiles, &c., are so poor as to be nearly valueless for food; it is therefore easily perceived that to the natives rain is the supremest blessing. Believing they have the power of producing it, under the inspiration of Moora-moora, they proceed as follows:—Women, generally accompanied by their paramours (each married woman is permitted a paramour), are despatched to the various camps to assemble the natives together at a given place. After the tribe is gathered, they dig a hole, about two feet deep, twelve feet long, and from eight to ten feet broad. Over this they build a hut, by placing stiff logs about three feet apart, filling the spaces between with slighter logs, the building being of conical form, as the base of the erection is wider than its apex; then the stakes are covered with boughs. This hut is only sufficiently large to contain the old men; the young ones sit at the entrance or outside. This completed, the women are called to look at the hut, which they approach from the rear; then dividing, some one way and some the other, go round until they reach the entrance, each looking inside, but passing no remark. They then return to their camp, distant about five hundred yards. Two men, supposed to have received a special inspiration from the Moora-moora, are selected for lancing, their arms being bound tightly with string near the shoulders, to hinder too profuse an effusion of blood. When this is done, all the men huddle together, and an old man, generally the most influential of the tribe, takes a sharp flint, and bleeds the two men inside the arm below the elbow, on one of the leading arteries, the blood being made to flow on the men sitting around, during which the two men throw handfuls of down, some of which adheres to the blood, the rest floating in the air. This custom has in it a certain poetry, the blood being supposed to symbolise the rain, and the down the clouds. During the preceding acts, two large stones are placed in the centre of the hut; these stones representing gathering clouds, presaging rain. At this period the women are again called to visit the hut and its inmates, but shortly after return to the camp. The main part of the ceremony being now concluded, the men who were bled carry the stones away for about fifteen miles, and place them as high as they can in the largest tree about. In the meanwhile the men remaining gather gypsum, pound it fine, and throw it into a water-hole. This the Moora-moora is supposed to see, and immediately he causes the clouds to appear in the heavens. Should they not show so soon as anticipated, they account for it by saying that the Moora-moora is cross with them; and should there be no rain for weeks or months after the ceremony, they are ready with the usual explanation, that some other tribe has stopped their power. The ceremony considered finished, there yet remains one observance to be fulfilled. The men, young and old, encircle the hut, bend their bodies, and charge, like so many rams, with their heads, against it, forcing thus an entrance, re-appearing on the other side, repeating this act, and continuing at it, until nought remains of their handiwork but the heavy logs, too solid for even their thick heads to encounter. Their hands or arms must not be used at this stage of the performance, but afterwards they employ them by pulling simultaneously at the bottom of the logs, which, thus drawn outwards, causes the top of the hut to fall in, so making it a total wreck. The piercing of the hut with their heads symbolises the piercing of the clouds; the fall of the hut, the fall of rain."—The Dieyerie Tribe, by Samuel Gason.
37. Marron is the word for "leaf" in Bunce's vocabulary.
38. An Australian black is always very unwilling to tell his real name, and there is no doubt that this reluctance is due to the fear that through his name he may be injured by sorcerers. Backhouse observed that the Tasmanians also disliked their names to be mentioned. "How the name," says Tylor, "is held to be part of the very being of the man who bears it, so that by it his personality may be carried away, and, so to speak, grafted elsewhere, appears in the way in which the sorcerer uses it as a means of putting the life of his victim into the image upon which he practices. Thus King James, in his 'Dæmonology,' says that 'the devil teacheth how to make pictures of wax or clay, that by roasting thereof, the persons that they bear the name of may be continually melted or dried away by continual sickness. A mediæval sermon speaks of baptizing a 'wax' to bewitch with; and in the eleventh century, certain Jews, it was believed, made a waxen image of Bishop Eberhard, set about with tapers, bribed a clerk to baptize it, and set fire to it on the Sabbath, the which image burning away at the middle, the bishop fell grievously sick and died." Tylor refers also to the belief of the Moslems that the "great name" of God is known only to prophets and apostles, who by pronouncing it can work miracles; and to the concealment of the name of the tutelary deity of Rome, which was enjoined in order that an enemy might not be afforded the opportunity of summoning the god, and tempting him by offers of a greater place to withdraw his protection from the city.
39. The Idolatrous Nations of old offered the kidney-fat, and the fat that covered the loins, extracted from human victims, as a peculiarly acceptable gift to the gods; and the Jews used the same parts of animals typically.—(Leviticus, c. iii., verses 3 and 4.) The same custom prevailed with the ancient Greeks. Thus 'the fat of victims, which his friends bestow,' was indispensable.—(Virgil's Æneid, b. VI., lines 121, 122.)"—Remarks on the probable Origin and Antiquity of the Aboriginal Natives of New South Wales, by a Colonial Magistrate, 1846, p. 22.
40. The late Wm. Thomas, Esq., MS., 26th August 1840.
41. It is generally supposed that the blacks have no idea of religion; but it is pretty certain that they have strong superstitions of some sort. It is well known that they will often cower in the most abject terror in their mia-mias at the supposed entrance of some spirit; and they will not venture to eat without first casting some peace-offering to him over their shoulders; nor can the boldest of them be induced to venture out in the dark if he imagines that this spirit is anywhere about.—Mr. H. B. Lane, MS.,30th October 1862.
42. The native sorcerers, according to Grey, are named Boyl-yas in Western Australia, and they have a mighty influence on the minds and actions of the natives. "The Boyl-yas are natives who have the power of Boyl-ya; they sit down to the northward, the eastward, and southward. The Boyl-yas are very bad; they walk away there (pointing to the east). . . . . The Boyl-yas eat np a great many natives—they eat them up as fire would. . . . . The Boyl-yas move stealthily—you sleep and they steal on you; very stealthily the Boyl-yas move. These Boyl-yas are dreadfully revengeful. . . . . They come moving along in the sky. . . . . The natives cannot see them. The Boyl-yas do not bite, they feed stealthily ; they do not eat the bones, but consume the flesh. The Boyl-yas sit at the graves of natives in great numbers. If natives are ill, the Boyl-yas charm, charm, charm, charm, and charm, and by-and-by the natives recover."

    The Brewin of Mr. Howitt must have been a Boyl-ya.

    The name Boyl-ya calls to recollection at once the word Bulotu (Hades) in the Tonguese Mythology, and the boliauns, or boughe-lawns, mentioned in Irish Folk-lore. On one occasion, Lageniensis, the author of the work (as quoted in the Athenæum, No. 2236, 3rd September 1870, p. 299), assisted at the performance of some mysterious quackery practised by a noted Sheogue doctor, called Paddy the Dash, who was supposed to hold friendly communication with the "good people," for his cabin adjoined one of their raths. The wizard's assistance was invoked in the case of an old woman who had fallen into a decline. "We were but wee bit bodies at the time," says the author, "and have only an indistinct recollection of Paddy drawing out of his coatmore pocket a large black bottle, with two or three packages of brown paper, containing dried herbs and a bunch of boughe-lawns, or boliauns, on which the fairies are said to ride occasionally through the air. The blossoms and tops of these boughe-lawn weeds were put in a porringer, filled with water, that had been left simmering on the kitchen fire. Some unaccountable flourishes were made over the sick woman, then some strokes on her back and forehead, with three shakes—'in the name of Father, Son, and Holy Ghost'—when helped to an upright sitting posture by female friends assisting."

    A Gippsland Birra-ark could have done no more than the Sheogue doctor.

    It is pleasant to pass from south to north—from the blacks to the whites—in dealing with these superstitions.

43. Casuarina leptoclada: Miquel.
44. There are numerous strange practices in all parts of the world which have their origin in superstitions like those mentioned.

    Tylor states, in his Researches into the Early History of Mankind, that those as to hair and nails belong to Zoroastrian, Jewish, and Moslem lore; and that they are alive to this day in Europe, where, for instance, he who walks over nails hurts their former owner; and the Italian does not like to trust a lock of his hair in the hands of any one, lest he should be bewitched or enamoured against his will.

    "The Peruvian sorcerers are said still to make rag dolls and stick cactus-thorns into them, and to hide them in secret holes in houses, or in the wool of beds or cushions, thereby to cripple people, or turn them sick or mad. In Borneo, the familiar European practice still exists of making a wax figure of the enemy to be bewitched, whose body is to waste away as the image is gradually melted, as in the story of Margery Jordane's waxen image of Henry VI. The old Roman law punished by the extreme penalty the slaying of an absent person by means of a wax figure. The Hindoo arts are thus described by the Abbé Dubois:—'They knead earth taken from the sixty-four most unclean places, with hair, clippings of hair, bits of leather, &c., and with this they make little figures, on the breasts of which they write the name of the enemy; over these they pronounce magical words and mantrams, and consecrate them by sacrifices. No sooner is this done, than the grahas, or planets, seize the hated person, and inflict on him a thousand ills. They sometimes pierce these figures right through with an awl, or cripple them in different ways, with the intention of killing or crippling in reality the object of their vengeance.' Again, the Karens of Burmah model an image of a person from the earth of his foot-prints, and stick it over with cotton-seeds, intending thereby to strike the person represented with dumbness. Here we have the making of the figure combined with the ancient practice in Germany known as the 'earth cutting' (erdschnitt), 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.