LXVII. NUBIANS AND HAMRAN ARABS…

LXVII. NUBIANS AND HAMRAN ARABS

TINT OF THE NUBIAN SKIN -- DRESS AND WEAPONS OF THE MEN -- PECULIAR SWORD AND SHIELD -- DRESS OF THE WOMEN -- RÂHAT, OR THONG APRON -- AMULETS -- NUBIAN ARCHITECTURE -- THE HAMRAN ARABS -- WEAPONS OF THE MEN -- CARE TAKEN OF THE WEAPONS -- ELEPHANT HUNTING -- ADMIRABLE HORSEMANSHIP -- CATCHING BABOONS -- HUNTING THE LION -- CATCHING A BUFFALO BY THE TAIL -- HARPOONING THE HIPPOPOTAMUS.

Inasmuch as, in spite of the continual contact with civilization, caused by their locality on the Nile bank, the Nubians have preserved their ancient style of dress and much of their ancient manners, they deserve a place in this work.

In color the Nubians are mostly black, some being of quite a jetty hue, while others are of much lighter color. Even in the blackest Nubian, however, the tint of the skin is not that of the tropical negro, but there is a certain transparency about it, which, in the sunbeams, gives a sort of amber hue to the limbs. Besides being a fine and well-built race, the Nubians possess pleasing features, the only fault being that the lower part of the face is somewhat apt to project.

While young the boys wear no clothing whatever, but when adult they wear short trousers, a shirt, and a kind of large scarf which passes over the left shoulder, and is fastened by a girdle round the waist. Being Mahometans, they shave the hair except one tuft on the crown, and cover their bare heads with a white cotton cap.

The Nubian men mostly go armed according to their ability. The usual weapons are the sword, dagger, spear, and shield. The sword is shaped somewhat like that of the Abyssinian, but the curve is not so abrupt. The general style of the weapon, however, and the shape of the handle, proclaim a common origin. With some of the Nubians the favorite weapon is the straight sword, like that of the Hamran Arabs, which will be described in a future page.

Perhaps on account of the facility which the Nile affords for travelling into South Central Africa, they wear a dagger fastened to the left arm just above the elbow, exactly as do several of the tribes that are found near the sources of the Nile. This dagger is short and crooked, and is kept in a red leathern sheath, and, on account of its position on the arm, is covered by the garments. The spear is simply the ordinary wooden shaft with an iron head, and has nothing about it specially worthy of notice.

The shield, however, is remarkable for its structure. It is generally made of the hide of the hippopotamus or of crocodile skin, and is easily known by the projecting boss in the centre. The hide is stretched on a wooden framework, and the boss is made of a separate piece of skin. The Nubians value these shields very highly, and, in consequence, it is extremely difficult to procure them.

The women are dressed after the usual African manner. As girls they wear nothing but a little apron of leathern thongs called a râhat. This apron is about nine inches or a foot in width, and perhaps six or seven in depth, and in general appearance resembles that of the Kaffir girl. Instead of being cut from one piece of leather, each thong is a separate strip of hide, scarcely thicker than packthread, and knotted by the middle to the thong which passes round the waist. The apron is dyed of a brick-red color, and, after it has been in use for any time, becomes so saturated with the castor-oil which stands these primitive belles in lieu of clothing, that the smell is unendurable. Travellers often purchase them from the Nubian girls, who, as a rule, are perfectly willing to sell them; but the buyers are obliged to hang their purchases on the top of the mast for a month or so, before they can be taken into the cabin. One of these aprons in my collection has still the familiar castor-oil odor about it, though many years have passed since it was purchased from a Nubian girl.

Of course they wear as many ornaments as they can procure; and some of these, which are handed down from one generation to another, are of great value. Few characteristics are more striking to an observant traveller than the fact that a Nubian girl whose whole dress may perhaps be worth threepence, and who really could not afford to wear any clothing at all if it cost sixpence, will yet carry on her neck, her wrists, her ankles, and in her ears, a quantity of gold sufficient to purchase a handsome equipment.

It is rather a remarkable point that these aprons always become narrower toward the left side. The daughters of wealthy parents, though they wear no clothing except the apron, still contrive to satisfy the instinctive love of dress by covering the leathern thongs with beads, white shells, and pieces of silver twisted round them. When the girls marry, they retain the apron, but wear over it a loose garment, which passes over one shoulder, and hangs as low as the knee.

The ornaments with which they profusely decorate their persons are of various materials, according to the wealth of the woman who owns them. Those of the wealthy are of gold and silver, while those of the poorer class are of buffalo horn, brass, and similar materials. The metal amulets are of a crescent shape, and are open at one side, so as to be clasped on the arm or removed, according to the wearer’s pleasure.

The hair is dressed in a way that recalls the ancient Egyptian woman to the traveller. It is jetty black and tolerably long, and is twisted with hundreds of small and straight tresses, generally finished off at the tips with little knobs of yellow clay, which look at a distance as if they were little lumps of gold. Amulets of different kinds are woven into the locks, and the whole is so saturated with castor-oil that an experienced traveller who wishes to talk to a Nubian woman takes care to secure the windward side, and not to approach nearer than is absolutely needful. As a rule, the Nubian women are not so dark as the men, but approach nearly to a coffee tint.

“Two beautiful young Nubian women visited me in my boat, with hair in the little plaits finished off with lumps of yellow clay, burnished like golden tags, soft deep bronze skins, and lips and eyes fit for Iris and Athor. Their very dress and ornaments were the same as those represented in the tombs, and I felt inclined to ask them how many thousand years old they were.” (Lady Duff Gordon’s “Letters from Egypt.”)

The same writer well remarks that the whole country is a palimpsest, in which the Bible is written over Herodotus, and the Koran over the Bible. In the towns the Koran is most visible; in the country, Herodotus.

One of these graceful Nubian girls is represented in the frontispiece to this volume.

The amulets which have been just mentioned are worn by men and women alike, and are sewed up in red leather cases like those of the Bornuans. It is an essential part of their efficacy that their contents should not be known, and if once a case be opened, the enclosed amulet loses its power. The men often wear great numbers of them, tying them on their arms above the elbows.

The houses in which the Nubians live, or rather in which they sleep, are of very simple construction. Residing among the ruins of palaces, the Nubians have never learned to build anything better than a mud hut. These huts are of much the same shape as the old Egyptian buildings, being squared towers, large at the base, and decreasing toward the top, which is square, and in the better class of house answers as a terrace. The roof is covered with palm branches, and every good house possesses a sort of court-yard surrounded by walls, in which the women can pursue their different vocations while sheltered from the sun.

Granaries are seen near every village, and consist of shallow pits sunk in the ground and covered with a sort of white plaster. The villages also possess a shed for the reception of strangers, and each house has a jar of fresh water always kept ready for use.

Fortunately for themselves, the Nubians are both proud and fond of their country; and, although they are despised by the Arabs to such an extent that a Nubian always tries to pass himself off as an Arab whenever he has the opportunity, they are ever boasting of the many perfections of the land which they thus reject.

How long the Nubians may possess this land is doubtful. The Turk, “under whose foot no grass grows,” is doing his best to depopulate the country. The men are pressed for soldiers, as many as thirty per cent. having been carried off in one conscription, and they are always being seized for forced labor--i. e. a life somewhat worse than that of plantation slaves. Consequently, as soon as they take alarm, they leave their village and escape into the interior, abandoning their crops and allowing them to perish rather than serve under the hated rule of the Turk. The least resistance, or show of resistance, is punished by death, and several travellers have related incidents of cold-blooded cruelty which seem almost too horrible to tell, but which were taken quite as matters of ordinary occurrence. Taxation, too, is carried out to a simply ruinous extent, and the natural result is fast taking place, namely, the depopulation of the land, and the gradual lessening of the number of tax-payers.

THE HAMRAN ARABS.

To describe, however briefly, all the tribes which inhabit the vast district called Arabia would be a task far beyond the pretensions of this work. Some have advanced very far in civilization, while others have retained, with certain modifications, their pristine and almost savage mode of life. I shall therefore select these latter tribes as examples of the Arab life, and shall briefly describe one or two of the most characteristic examples.

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South of Cassala there is a remarkable tribe of Arabs known as the Hamrans, who are celebrated through all the country for their skill in hunting. They possess the well-cut features and other characteristics of the Arab race, and are only to be distinguished by the style of wearing the hair. They permit the hair to grow to a great length, part it down the middle, and carefully train it into long curls. Each man always carries the only two weapons he cares about, namely, the sword and shield. The latter is of no very great size, is circular in shape, and about two feet in diameter, with a boss in the centre much like that of the Nubian shield already described. It is made of the skin of the hippopotamus, and being meant for use and not for show, is never ornamented.

As to the sword, it is the chief friend of the Hamran Arab’s life, and he looks upon it with a sort of chivalric respect. It is straight, double-edged, and is furnished with a cross-handle, like that of the ancient Crusaders, from whom the fashion seems to have been borrowed. The blades are of European make, and the Arabs are excellent judges of steel, valuing a good blade above everything. They keep both edges literally as sharp as razors, and prove the fact by shaving with them. When a Hamran Arab is travelling and comes to a halt, the first thing he does after seating himself is to draw his sword and examine both edges with the keenest attention. He then sharpens the weapon upon his leathern shield, and when he can shave the hair on his own arm with both edges, he carefully returns the blade into the sheath.

The length of the blade is three feet, and the handle is about six inches long, so that the weapon is a very weighty one, and a fair blow from its keen edge will cut a man in two. Still, it is not serviceable in single combat, as, although its weight renders a successful blow fatal, it prevents the recovery of the sword after an unsuccessful blow. Sir S. Baker, to whom we are indebted for an account of this remarkable tribe, says that a Hamran Arab, with his sword and shield, would be at the mercy of an ordinary swordsman. He can cut and slash with wonderful energy, but knows nothing of using the point or parrying, so that, if a feint be made at his head, he will instinctively raise the shield, and lay his whole body open to the point of his adversary’s sword.

The scabbard in which the sword is carried is very ingeniously made of two strips of soft and elastic wood, slightly hollowed to receive the blade, and covered with leather. The absurd metal scabbards still in use in our army would be scorned by an Arab, who knows the value of a keen edge to his weapon. On the scabbard are fitted two projecting pieces of leather. When the Arab is on the march, he slings the sword on the pommel of his saddle, and passes his leg between these leather projections, so that the sword is held in its place, and does not jump and bang against the sides of the horse.

Armed with merely the sword, these mighty hunters attack all kinds of game, and match themselves with equal coolness against the elephant, the rhinoceros, the giraffe, the lion, or the antelope. Their mode of procedure is almost invariably the same. They single out some particular animal, and contrive to cut the tendon of the bind leg with a blow of the sword, thus rendering the unfortunate beast helpless.

When they chase the elephant, they proceed in the following manner. The elephant hunters, or aggageers, as they call themselves, convert their swords into two-handed weapons by wrapping thin cord very closely round the blade, for about nine inches from the handle. The guarded portion of the blade is held in the right hand, and the hilt in the left.

Two hunters generally set out in chase of the elephant. Having selected the bull with the largest tusks, they separate it from its fellows, and irritate it until it charges them. One of the aggageers takes on himself this duty, and draws the attention of the elephant upon himself. The irritated animal makes its furious onset, and goes off at full speed after the aggageer, who carefully accommodates his pace to that of the elephant, so that it always thinks it is going to catch him, and forgets that he has a companion.

Meanwhile, the other aggageer rides close to the side of the elephant, draws his sword, springs to the ground, bounds alongside of the elephant, delivers one tremendous cut on the ankle of the hind foot, and springs again on his horse. As soon as the elephant puts the injured foot on the ground, the joint becomes dislocated, and the foot turns up like an old shoe. The animal is now helpless, and, while its attention is still engaged by the aggageer whom it has been pursuing, the swordsman passes to its other side, slashes the ankle of the remaining leg, and brings the animal to a dead halt. The sword is carefully wiped, sharpened, and returned to the sheath, while the wounded elephant sinks to the ground, and in a short time dies from loss of blood. Thus one man will kill an elephant with two blows of a sword.

It is evident that such hunting as this requires the most perfect horsemanship, and it is accordingly found that the Hamran Arabs are among the best horsemen in the world. They and their steeds seem to be actuated by one spirit, and they sit as if the horse and his rider were but one animal. In his travels in Abyssinia Sir S. Baker gives a very graphic account of their mode of riding.

“Hardly were we mounted and fairly started, than the monkey-like agility of our aggageers was displayed in a variety of antics, that were far more suited to performance in a circus than to a party of steady and experienced hunters, who wished to reserve the strength of their horses for a trying journey.

“Abou Do was mounted on a beautiful Abyssinian horse, a gray; Suleiman rode a rough and inferior-looking beast; while little Jali, who was the pet of the party, rode a gray mare, not exceeding fourteen hands in height, which matched her rider exactly in fire, spirit, and speed. Never was there a more perfect picture of a wild Arab horseman than Jali on his mare. Hardly was he in the saddle, than away flew the mare over the loose shingles that formed the dry bed of the river, scattering the rounded pebbles in the air from her flinty hoofs, while her rider in the vigor of delight threw himself almost under her belly while at full speed, and picked up stones from the ground, which he flung, and again caught as they descended.

“Never were there more complete Centaurs than these Hamran Arabs; the horse and man appeared to be one animal, and that of the most elastic nature, that could twist and turn with the suppleness of a snake; the fact of their separate being was proved by the rider springing to the earth with his drawn sword while the horse was in full gallop over rough and difficult ground, and, clutching the mane, he again vaulted into the saddle with the agility of a monkey, without once checking the speed.

“The fact of being on horseback had suddenly altered the character of these Arabs; from a sedate and proud bearing they had become the wildest examples of the most savage disciples of Nimrod; excited by enthusiasm, they shook their naked blades aloft till the steel trembled in their grasp, and away they dashed, over rocks, through thorny bush, across ravines, up and down steep inclinations, engaging in a mimic hunt, and going through the various acts supposed to occur in the attack of a furious elephant.”

This capability of snatching up articles from the ground stands the hunters in good stead. If, for example, they should come across a flock of sheep, each man will dash through the flock, stoop from his saddle, pick up a lamb, and ride off with it. They can even catch far more active prey than the lamb or kid. On one occasion, as the party were travelling along, they came upon a large troop of baboons, who had been gathering gum arabic from the mimosas. “Would the lady like to have a baboon?” asked Jali, the smallest and most excitable of the party.

Three of the hunters dashed off in pursuit of the baboons, and in spite of the rough ground soon got among them. Stooping from their saddles, two of the aggageers snatched each a young baboon from its mother, placed it on the neck of the horse, and rode off with it. Strange to say, the captive did not attempt to escape, nor even to bite, but clung convulsively to the mane of the horse, screaming with fear. As soon as they halted, the hunters stripped some mimosa bark from the trees, bound the baboons, and with their heavy whips inflicted a severe flogging on the poor beasts. This was to make them humble, and prevent them from biting. However, in the course of the next halt, when the baboons were tied to trees, one of them contrived to strangle itself in its struggles to escape, and the other bit through its bonds and made off unseen.

For such work as this, the hunter must be able to stop his horse in a moment, and accordingly the bit must be a very severe one. The saddle is a very clumsy affair, made of wood and unstuffed, while the stirrups are only large enough to admit the great toe.

The rhinoceros gives far more trouble to the hunters than the elephant. It is much swifter, more active, and can turn more rapidly, spinning round as if on a pivot, and baffling their attempts to get at its hind leg. Unlike the elephant, it can charge on three legs, so that a single wound does not disable it. Still the Hamran Arabs always kill the rhinoceros when they can, as its skin will produce hide for seven shields, each piece being worth two dollars, and the horn is sold to the Abyssinians as material for sword hilts, the best horn fetching two dollars per pound.

Lion-hunting is not a favorite pursuit with the Hamrans, as they gain little if successful, and they seldom come out of the contest without having suffered severely. They always try to slash the animal across the loins, as a blow in that spot disables it instantly, and prevents it from leaping. Sometimes the lion springs on the crupper of the horse, and then a back-handed blow is delivered with the two-edged sword, mostly with fatal effect.

The buffalo, fierce and active as it is, they hunt with the sword. Nothing, perhaps, shows the splendid horsemanship and daring courage of the Hamrans better than a scene which was witnessed by Sir S. Baker.

A large herd of buffaloes was seen and instantly charged by the aggageers, and, while the buffaloes and hunters were mixed together in one mass, the irrepressible little Jali suddenly leaned forward, and seized the tail of a fine young buffalo, some twelve hands high. Two other hunters leaped from their horses, snatched off their belts, and actually succeeded in taking the animal alive. This was a great prize, as it would be sold for a considerable sum at Cassala. Now as Jali was barely five foot three inches in height, and very slightly made, such a feat as seizing and finally capturing a powerful animal like a buffalo bull was really a wonderful one.

They are as active on foot as on horseback. On one occasion, three of them, Jali of course being one, were so excited with the chase of a wounded elephant that they actually leaped from their horses and pursued the animal on foot. The elephant was mad with rage, but seemed instinctively to know that his enemies wanted to get behind him, and always turned in time to prevent them. Active as monkeys, the aggageers managed to save themselves from the charges of the elephant, in spite of deep sand, which impeded them, while it had no effect on the elephant. Time after time he was within a yard or so of one of the hunters, when the other two saved him by dashing upon either flank, and so diverting his attention.

They hunt the hippopotamus as successfully as they chase the elephant, and are as mighty hunters in the water as upon land. In this chase they exchange the sword and shield for the harpoon and lance. The former weapon is made on exactly the same principle as that which has already been described when treating of the hippopotamus hunters of South Central Africa, but it is much lighter. The shaft is a stout bamboo about ten feet in length, and the head is a piece of soft steel about a foot long, sharply pointed at one end and having a single stout barb. One end of a rope, about twenty feet in length, is firmly attached to the head, and to the other end is fastened a float made of a very light wood called ambatch, which is also used for making canoes and rafts.

When the hunter sees a hippopotamus, and means to attack it, he puts on his hunting dress, i. e. he braces a leathern belt round his waist, and takes off all his clothes. He then fixes the iron head on the bamboo shaft, winds the rope round the latter, and boldly enters the water, holding the harpoon in the right hand and the ambatch float in the left. As soon as he comes within striking distance of his victim, the harpoon is hurled, and the hunter tries to find a spot in which the infuriated animal cannot reach him. The wounded hippopotamus dashes about, first in the river, then on the bank, and then in the river again, always trailing after it the rope and float, and so weakening itself, and allowing its enemies to track it. Sooner or later they contrive to seize the end, drag the animal near the bank, and then with their lances put it to death.

Often, when they have brought the hippopotamus to the shore, it charges open-mouthed at its tormentors. Some of them receive it with spears, while others, though unarmed, boldly await its onset, and fling handfuls of sand into its eyes. The sand really seems to cause more pain and annoyance than the spears, and the animal never can withstand it, but retreats to the water to wash the sand out of its eyes. In the mean time, weapon after weapon is plunged into its body, until at last loss of blood begins to tell upon it, and by degrees it yields up its life.

Sir S. Baker gives a most animated description of one of these strange hunts.

One of the old Hamran hunters, named Abou Do--an abbreviated version of a very long string of names--was celebrated as a howarti, or hippopotamus hunter. This fine old man, some seventy years of age, was one of the finest conceivable specimens of humanity. In spite of his great age, his tall form, six feet two in height, was as straight as in early youth, his gray locks hung in thick curls over his shoulders, and his bronze features were those of an ancient statue. Despising all encumbrances of dress, he stepped from rock to rock as lightly as a goat, and, dripping with water, and bearing his spear in his hand, he looked a very Neptune. The hunters came upon a herd of hippopotami in a pool, but found that they were too much awake to be safely attacked.

“About half a mile below this spot, as we clambered over the intervening rocks through a gorge which formed a powerful rapid, I observed, in a small pool just below the rapid, an immense head of a hippopotamus close to a perpendicular rock that formed a wall to the river, about six feet above the surface. I pointed out the hippo to old Abou Do, who had not seen it.

“At once the gravity of the old Arab disappeared, and the energy of the hunter was exhibited as he motioned us to remain, while he ran nimbly behind the thick screen of bushes for about a hundred and fifty yards below the spot where the hippo was unconsciously basking, with his ugly head above the surface. Plunging into the rapid torrent, the veteran hunter was carried some distance down the stream, but, breasting the powerful current, he landed upon the rocks on the opposite side, and, retiring to some distance from the river, he quickly advanced toward the spot beneath which the hippopotamus was lying. I had a fine view of the scene, as I was lying concealed exactly opposite the hippo, who had disappeared beneath the water.

“Abou Do now stealthily approached the ledge of rock beneath which he had expected to see the head of the animal; his long, sinewy arm was raised, with the harpoon ready to strike as he carefully advanced. At length he reached the edge of the perpendicular rock, the hippo had vanished, but, far from exhibiting surprise, the old Arab remained standing on the sharp ledge, unchanged in attitude.

“No figure of bronze could have been more rigid than that of the old river-king, as he stood erect upon the rock with the left foot advanced, and the harpoon poised in his ready right hand above his head, while in the left he held the loose coils of rope attached to the ambatch buoy. For about three minutes he stood like a statue, gazing intently into the clear and deep water beneath his feet.

“I watched eagerly for the reappearance of the hippo; the surface of the water was still barren, when suddenly the right arm of the statue descended like lightning, and the harpoon shot perpendicularly into the pool with the speed of an arrow. What river-fiend answered to the summons? In an instant an enormous pair of open jaws appeared, followed by the ungainly head and form of the furious hippopotamus, who, springing half out of the water, lashed the river into foam, and, disdaining the concealment of the deep pool, he charged straight up the violent rapids. (See engraving No. 1, on the next page.) With extraordinary power he breasted the descending stream; gaining a footing in the rapids, about five feet deep, he ploughed his way against the broken waves, sending them in showers of spray upon all sides, and upon gaining broader shallows he tore along through the water, with the buoyant float hopping behind him along the surface, until he landed from the river, started at full gallop along the dry shingly bed, and at length disappeared in the thorny nabbuk jungle.”

During one of these flights, the hippopotamus took it into his head that the ambatch float was the enemy that was damaging him, and attacked it furiously. Taking advantage of his pre-occupation, two hunters swam across the river, carrying with them a very long and tough rope, and holding one end on each bank and “sweeping,” as the sailors say, they soon caught the float in the centre of the rope and brought it ashore. The hippopotamus then made a charge, and the slackened line was immediately coiled round a rock, while two hunters fixed additional harpoons in the animal; and though he made six charges at his foes, bit one of the ropes asunder, and crushed the lance-shafts between his teeth like straws, the hardy hunters got the better of him, and his death was a mere matter of time.

The hippopotamus is nearly as great a prize as the rhinoceros, as it affords an almost unlimited supply of food, and the hide is extremely valuable, being cut into strips two inches in width, which are used in the manufacture of the koorbash, or hide whip, so universally employed throughout Africa.

In the water, the crocodile is even a more dangerous antagonist than the hippopotamus, and yet the Hamrans attack it with their harpoons, boldly entering the water, and caring no more for crocodiles than for so many frogs.

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LXVIII. BEDOUINS, HASSANIYEHS, AND MALAGASY

SIGNIFICATION OF THE NAME -- GENERAL APPEARANCE OF THE BEDOUINS -- THEIR ROBBER NATURE -- HOSPITALITY AND ITS DUTIES -- LIFE AMONG THE BEDOUINS -- THE BEDOUIN WOMEN -- SIMPLE MODE OF GOVERNMENT -- CONSTANT FEUDS -- MODE OF COOKING -- THE DATE AND ITS USES -- THE HASSANIYEHS -- GENERAL APPEARANCE -- THEIR VILLAGES -- STRANGE MARRIAGE CUSTOMS -- A HASSANIYEH DANCE -- SUPERSTITIONS OF THE ARABS -- THE HAUNTED HOUSE -- NOTIONS OF THE MIRAGE -- THE INK MIRROR -- THE MALAGASY AND THEIR TRIBES -- THE FIRST BEEF-EATER -- THE HOVA TRIBE -- ARCHITECTURE -- THE TRAVELLER’S TREE AND ITS USES -- TREATMENT OF SLAVES -- NOTIONS OF RELIGION -- THE BLACKSMITH TRIBE.

Of all the many tribes which are designated by the common title of Arab, the typical tribes are those which are so well known by the name of BEDOUIN, or BEDAWEEN. The former is the more familiar mode of spelling the word, and it will therefore be employed. The name is a most appropriate one, being derived from an Arabic word which signifies the desert, and meaning, therefore, a man of the wilderness. The Bedouins are indeed men of the desert. True Ishmaelites, their hand is against every man, and every man’s hand against them. They build no houses, they cultivate no lands, they conduct no merchandise; but are nomad and predatory, trusting chiefly for their living to the milk of their camels, and looking upon their horses and dromedaries as means whereby they can plunder with greater security.

As Mr. Palgrave pithily remarks, while treating of the character of the Bedouin: “The Bedouin does not fight for his home, he has none; nor for his country, that is anywhere; nor for his honor, he has never heard of it: nor for his religion, he owns and cares for none. His only object in war is the temporary occupation of some bit of miserable pasture-land, or the use of a brackish well; perhaps the desire to get such a one’s horse or camel into his own possession.”

In person the Bedouins are fine specimens of the human race. They are tall, stately, with well-cut features, and have feet and hands that are proverbial for their beauty. Their demeanor in public is grave and haughty, and every man walks as if he were monarch of the world. While other Arab tribes have lost their distinctive manners by contact with civilization, the Bedouins alone have preserved them, and, even when they visit the cities which they hate so much, they can be at once distinguished by their demeanor. Lady Duff-Gordon was greatly struck with it. “To see a Bedawee and his wife walk through the streets of Cairo is superb. Her hand resting on his shoulder, and scarcely deigning to cover her haughty face, she looks down on the Egyptian veiled woman, who carries the heavy burden and walks behind her lord and master.”

The dress of the Bedouins is simple enough. The men wear a sort of a tunic or shirt, covered with a large thick mantle called the haik. Another cloth is disposed over the head, and falls on either side of the face so as to shield it from the sun, and is kept in its place by a cord of camel’s hair, that is wound several times across the brows. As for the women, they wear a blue shirt, much open at the bosom, and care for no other clothing.

Being a predatory race, the Bedouins are always armed, their chief weapon being the spear, which is of enormous length, and often so weighty that a powerful as well as a practised arm is required to wield it. At the present day those who can afford fire-arms carry guns of such length of barrel that they seem to have been made in emulation of the spear shafts. These weapons are of very indifferent quality, and the Bedouin is never a good marksman, his clumsy weapon taking a long time to load, and the owner taking a long time to aim, and then aiming very badly.

In consequence of the robber nature of the Bedouins, no one will venture to pass through their districts without being well armed, or protected by a sufficient escort. At the present day, Europeans can travel with comparative safety, as they have a way of fighting when attacked, and of generally hitting their mark when they fire, so that even the wandering Bedouins have conceived a respect for such incomprehensible beings, and would rather receive them as guests than fight them as enemies.

If, however, they come upon a solitary traveller, they pounce upon him, and rob him of everything, even of his clothes. Still, they are not brutal about it, except perhaps in enforcing haste by a menacing gesture with a spear. They seldom accompany robbery with murder, and have been known to take the traveller whom they have robbed into their tents, feed him, give him old clothes instead of the new which they have taken from him, keep him all night, and send him on his journey, even taking the trouble to accompany him for some distance, lest he should lose his way. The robber feels no enmity toward the man, and simply looks on him as a providential benefit cast in his way, and as such rather respects him than otherwise.

The reader will remember that the Bedouin takes the man to his tent after he has robbed him. Had he begun operations by allowing the traveller to enter his tent, and partake of his food, he could not have robbed his guest afterward. There is a chivalrous sort of feeling in the Arab mind that the person of a guest is sacred; and if the fiercest Bedouin had received a man under the shadow of his tent, he would be bound to protect that man as if he were his own son. So far is this feeling carried, that instances have been known where a strange Arab has taken refuge in a tent and received protection, though the owner discovered that his guest had killed one of his nearest relations.

The only habitations of the Bedouins are their tents. These tents, on which so much poetry has been lavished, are about as unpoetical as anything can be. Any one can make a Bedouin tent in five minutes. He has only to take a few sticks, some five feet in length, thrust one end into the ground, throw over them a piece of black and very dirty sackcloth, peg the edges to the ground, and there is the tent. Being only some four feet in height in the middle, no one can stand upright in it, and only in the middle can any one even sit upright. But as the tent is not regarded as we regard a house, and is only used as a sort of convenient shelter in which the Arabs can sleep, height is of no importance. The engraving No. 2, on page 670, illustrates a “Bedouin camp.”

These low, dark tents are almost invariably pitched in the form of a semicircle, the openings eastward, and just enough space left between each hut for the passage of their camels and horses. The area inclosed between the arms of the crescent is intended for the children, as a place wherein they may disport themselves while still under the mother’s eye. When new, the tents are mostly striped in broad bands of two or three feet in width, but the rough usage to which they are subjected soon destroys the color.

Such are the tents of the ordinary Bedouins. The sheikh, or chief of each clan, has a larger and better tent, which is divided into compartments by curtains, so disposed as to leave a set of rooms on the outside, and one or more rooms in the centre. Those on the outside are for the men, and those in the interior for the women belonging to the sheikh’s family. A certain amount of privacy is gained, which belongs, however, only to the eye and not to the ear, the partitions being nothing more than curtains, and the Arabs all speaking in the loudest of voices--a bawling nation, as a French traveller described them.

The furniture is suitable to the dwelling, and consists merely of a mat or two and a few pots. Some of the wealthier are very proud of possessing brass mortars in which they pound their coffee, and every morning is heard the musical tinkle of the coffee-maker. Even the men condescend to make coffee, and the sheikh himself may be seen at work in the morning, pounding away at the berries, and rejoicing equally in the musical sound of the pestle and the fragrant odor of the freshly-roasted coffee.

Thus bred entirely in the open air, the only shelter being the tattered sackcloth of the tent, the true Bedouin can endure no other life. He is as miserable within the walls of a town as a wolf in a trap. His eyes, accustomed to range over the vast expanse of desert, are affronted by the walls over which he cannot see. The streets oppress him, and within the atmosphere of a room he can scarcely breathe. Both he and his camel are equally out of their element when among civilized people, and they are ever looking forward to the happy moment when they may again breathe the free air of the desert.

Life among the Bedouins is not pleasant to a European, and is by no means the sort of paradisaical existence that we are often led to think. It is certainly a free life in its way, and has that peculiar charm which is felt by all civilized beings when first allowed to do as they like. But it has its drawbacks, not the least being that every one is equally free; and if a stronger man should choose to assert his freedom by plundering the traveller, he is at perfect liberty to do so.

Then the “Arab maids,” who look so picturesque--in a painting--are not quite so pleasant in reality. Dirt, evil odors, screaming voices and detestable manners are not seen in a picture, but in reality force themselves on more senses than one. Even in youth the Bedouin girls are not so handsome as is generally thought. They are tall, well made, and graceful, but are deficient in that gentleness and softness which we naturally associate with the feminine nature. They are fond of tattooing themselves, and cover their arms and chins with blue patterns, such as stars or arabesque figures. Some of them extend the tattoo over the breast nearly as low as the waist. The corners of the eyes are sometimes decorated with this cheap and indestructible ornament. They are fond of ornaments, especially of ear-rings, which can scarcely be too large for them.

Unlike the more civilized Mahometans, they care little about veiling their faces, and, in fact, pass a life nearly as free as that of the men. Even the women’s apartment of the tent is thrown open by day for the sake of air, and any one can see freely into it.

Feminine beauty differs as much among the Arabs as among other people. Mr. Palgrave says wittily that if any one could invent an instrument which could measure beauty--a kalometer, as he calls it--the Bedouin would be “represented by zero, or at most 1°. A degree higher would represent the female sex of Nejed; above them rank the women of Shomer, who are in their turn surmounted by those of Djowf. The fifth or sixth degree symbolizes the fair ones of Hasa; the seventh those of Katar; and lastly, by a sudden rise of ten degrees at least, the seventeenth or eighteenth would denote the pre-eminent beauties of Oman.

“Arab poets occasionally languish after the charmers of Hejaz; I never saw anyone to charm me, but then I only skirted the province. All bear witness to the absence of female loveliness in Yamen; and I should much doubt whether the mulatto races and dusky complexions of Hadramout have much to vaunt of. But in Hasa a decided improvement in this important point is agreeably evident to the traveller arriving from Nejed, and he will be yet further delighted on finding his Calypsos much more conversible, and having much more too in their conversation, than those he left behind him in Sedeys and Aared.”

It is popularly thought that Arab manners are like those of the Turk,--grave, polite, and majestic. The fact is far different. Though, like the American Indian, the Arab has a proud and stately walk, and knows well enough how to assume a regally indifferent demeanor on occasion, he is by nature lively and talkative, not caring very much what he talks about; and fond of singing Arab songs in that curious mixture of high screaming falsetto and guttural intonation which he is pleased to consider vocal music.

Then the general manners are by no means dignified, even when the Bedouins want to do special honor to a guest. Mr. Palgrave spent much time among them, and has drawn a vivid picture of life in a Bedouin encampment. It is no unfavorable one, the inmates being described as “ajaweed,” or gentlemen--though the author remarks rather wickedly that, if they were gentlemen, he very much wondered what the blackguards were like.

“The chief, his family (women excepted), his intimate followers, and some twenty others, young and old, boys and men, came up, and, after a kindly salutation Bedouin-wise, seated themselves in a semicircle before us. Every man held a short crooked stick for camel-driving in his hand, to gesticulate with in speaking, or to play with in the intervals of conversation; while the younger members of society, less prompt in discourse, politely employed their leisure in staring at us, or in pinching up dried pellets of dirt from the sand, and tossing them about.

“But how am I to describe their conversation, their questions and answers, their manners and jests? ‘A sensible person in this city is like a man tied up among a drove of mules in a stable,’ I once heard from a respectable stranger in the Syrian town of Homs, a locality proverbial for the utter stupidity of its denizens. But among Bedouins in the desert, where the advantages of the stable are wanting, the guest rather resembles a man in the middle of a field among untied mules, frisking and kicking their heels in all directions around him.

“Here you may see human nature at its lowest stage, or very nearly. One sprawls stretched out on the sand, another draws unmeaning lines with the end of his stick, a third grins, a fourth asks purposeless or impertinent questions, or cuts jokes meant for wit, but in fact only coarse in the extreme. Meanwhile the boys thrust themselves forward without restraint, and interrupt their elders (their betters I can hardly say) without the smallest respect or deference.

“And yet, in all this, there is no real intention of rudeness, no desire to annoy--quite the reverse. They sincerely wish to make themselves agreeable to the new comers, to put them at their ease, nay, to do them what good service they can, only they do not exactly know how to set about it. If they violate all laws of decorum or courtesy, it is out of sheer ignorance, not malice prepense. And, amid the aimlessness of an utterly uncultivated mind, they occasionally show indications of considerable tact and shrewdness; while, through all the fickleness proper to man accustomed to no moral or physical restraint, there appears the groundwork of a manly and generous character, such as a Persian, for instance, seldom offers.

“Their defects are inherent in their condition, their redeeming qualities are their own--they have them by inheritance from one of the noblest races of earth, from the Arabs of inhabited lands and organized governments. Indeed, after having travelled much and made pretty intimate acquaintance with many races, African, Asiatic, and European, I should hardly be inclined to give the preference to any over the genuine unmixed clans of Central and Eastern Africa. Now these last-mentioned populations are identical in blood and tongue with the myriads of the desert, yet how immeasurably inferior! The difference between a barbarous Highlander and an English gentleman, in ‘Rob Roy’ or ‘Waverley,’ is hardly less striking.”

The resemblance between the gipsy and the Bedouin is almost too evident to need mention, and the author of this passage has here drawn attention to the singular resemblance between the Bedouin and the Highlander, as described by Scott. There is, however, in the “Legend of Montrose,” a passage which is worthy of being quoted in this place, so strangely close is the parallel. It occurs in the scene where the wounded Mac-Eogh is dying in prison, and is giving his last commands to his grandson. “Keep thou unsoiled the freedom which I leave thee as a birthright. Barter it not, neither for the rich garment, nor for the stone roof, nor for the covered board, nor for the couch of down. Son of the Mist, be free as thy forefathers. Own no land--receive no law--take no hire--give no stipend--build no hut--inclose no pasture--sow no grain.... Begone--shake the dust from thy feet against the habitations of men, whether banded together for peace or war.” Shift the scene from Scotland to Arabia, and no more appropriate words could have been put into the mouth of a dying Bedouin chief.

With characters so impatient of control, it is evident that there can be no government worthy of the name. Like the Son of the Mist, they acknowledge no lord, and there is no one who bears even by courtesy the title of King of the Bedouins. Each clan is governed by its own sheikh, and occasionally a few clans unite for some raid under the presidency of the eldest or most important sheikh, and remain united for some time. But his rule only lasts as long as the others choose to obey him, and instead of being a sovereign, or even a commander-in-chief, he is but primus inter pares.

The clans themselves vary exceedingly in numbers, and, as a general rule, each clan consists of one family, gathered together after the patriarchal system. Then if one of the men should happen to excel his fellows he is sure to get together a band of followers, to separate in time from his family, and found a clan of his own.

In consequence of this insubordinate nature, war, as we understand it, is impossible, simply because discipline cannot be maintained. If, for example, several clans unite under the presidency of one of their number, should one of the confederated sheikhs feel dissatisfied with the commander, he will go off together with his people, and probably join another who is more to his mind.

Though war is unknown, the Bedouins live in a chronic state of feud, no one knowing whether his encampment may not be assailed by another clan, all his little property--dress included--torn from him, if he submits, and his throat very probably cut if he resists. No one ever thinks of giving notice of attack, or of fighting anything like equal numbers. Should they not be far superior in numbers, they contrive to project their assault secretly, and to take their victims by surprise, and the man who is most ingenious in planning such raids, and the most active and courageous in carrying them out, is sure to be the man who will rise to a sort of eminence in his own clan, and finish by founding one of his own. The only object of such a raid is the acquisition of property; and even a handsome horse, or a remarkably swift dromedary, will cause the destruction of a whole clan.

Living in the desert, and only travelling from one fertile spot to another, they cannot be expected to be very delicate in regard to provisions, nor to possess any great skill in cookery. Their greatest luxury is a feast on boiled mutton and the whole process of cooking and serving is almost ludicrously simple. The body of a sheep is cut up and thrown into a pot, together with a sufficiency of water. The pot is then placed on the fire, and in process of time it boils. When it is about two-thirds cooked, according to our ideas, the hungry Bedouins can wait no longer; it is all turned into a large wooden bowl, and the guests assemble round it. Their hands are plunged into the bowl, the scalding and half-raw meat is quickly torn to pieces, and in five minutes nothing is left but the cleanly picked bones. No vegetables are added to it, and no condiments are thought needful. Water is then passed round in another bowl or pail, a deep draught is taken, and the feast is over.

The bread of the Bedouin is as simple as the cookery. The baker pours a few handfuls of flour upon a circular piece of leather, pours a little water upon it, and kneads it into dough. Another man has in the mean time been preparing a fire, and, as soon as it burns up, the dough is patted into a thin circular cake, about one inch thick and six inches diameter. This is laid on the fire and covered with embers, and after being turned once or twice, and the ashes brushed off, it is taken from the fire, broken up, and eaten as it is--“half-kneaded, half-raw, half-roasted, and burnt all round.” Were it not eaten while still hot, it would become so tough and leathery that not even a Bedouin could eat it. In fact, it very much resembles the rough-and-ready bread of the Australian shepherds, which is so well known under the name of “damper.” One advantage of this style of bread is, that it can be readily cooked on a journey, and, on special occasions, a camel-rider can even bake his bread while on the back of his dromedary.

The date is, however, the chief resource of the Bedouin, and on that fruit alone he can exist for a long time, even through the many hardships which he has to endure in his journeying through the desert. In England we do not know what the date really is, nor can understand the rich lusciousness of the fruit before it is dried and preserved. In the latter state it is very heating to a European, and slightly so even to a native, whereas in its fresh state it has no such evil qualities. It contains a marvellous amount of nourishment, and when fresh does not cloy the palate, as is always the case when it is dried.

In consequence of this nourishing property of the fruit, the date tree is not only valued, but absolutely honored. The Arab addresses it as his mother, and treats it with as much reverence as if it were really his parent. A single date tree is a valuable property among all Arab tribes, and, although the genuine Bedouins own none, they reverence it as much as their more stationary brethren. Cutting down the date trees of an enemy is looked upon as the last extremity of cruelty, while planting the trees on a new piece of ground is a sign of peace and prosperity.

The date is eaten in various ways. It is usually preferred while fresh and full of its own sweet juices, but, as it cannot be kept fresh very long, it is dried, pressed together, and so stored for future use. When the dried date forms a portion of a feast, the fruit is served in a large wooden bowl, in the middle of which is a cup containing melted butter. Each guest then picks out the dates singly from the mass, and dips each slightly into the butter before eating it.

There are many qualities of dates, and the best, which grow at Kaseem, are in great estimation, and are largely imported to the non-producing parts of Arabia. At Kaseem, the date-palm is cultivated to a great extent, and probably owes its peculiar excellence to the constant presence of water six or seven feet below the surface of the ground. The ripening season corresponds with our autumn, extending through the latter part of August and the beginning of September.

Some connoisseurs, however, prefer the Khalas date. It grows only in Hasa, and fully deserves its name, which signifies quintessence. It is smaller than the Kaseem date, semi-transparent, and of a rich amber color. The sale of this particular date brings in a large income to Hasa, the fruit being exported as far as Bombay and Zanzibar.

Of religion, the genuine Bedouin has not the least idea. He is nominally a Mahometan, and will repeat certain formulæ with perfect accuracy. He will say his Bismillahs, and Mashallahs, and other pious ejaculations as well as any one, but he has not the least idea who Allah may be, neither does he care. As far as Mr. Palgrave could ascertain, their only idea of Allah was that of a very great sheikh, who would have about the same authority over them in the next world as their own sheikh in this sphere. That is to say, they consider that they will be quite as independent after death as before, and that they will acknowledge allegiance to this great sheikh as long as they choose, and no longer.

Like all men who are ignorant of religion, they are superstitious in proportion to their ignorance. Profoundly illiterate themselves, they have the greatest reverence for book-learning, and any one who can read a book is respected, while he who can write as well as read is regarded with a curious mixture of admiration, envy, and fear. The latter feeling is excited by his presumed ability of writing saphiès, or charms, which are mostly sentences from the Koran, and are supposed to possess every imaginable virtue.

Before leaving the Bedouin Arabs, a few words must be said about the Arab and his horse. Many tales are told of the love that exists between the animal and its master, of the attention which is lavished on a favorite mare, and how she and her colt inhabit the tent together with the children, and are all playfellows together. This certainly may be the case occasionally, but not invariably. That they are brought up in close contact is true enough, and that the animal thereby acquires an intelligence which it never could possess under less sociable treatment. But the Arab has no more real affection for his steed than has many an English gentleman for his favorite horse; and, if he be angered, he is capable of treating the animal with hasty cruelty.

THE HASSANIYEH.

We are come to a branch of the Arabs called the Hassaniyeh, who inhabit a large tract of land south of Khartoum. They are paler in complexion than those of whom we have already treated, having a decided tinge of yellow in their skins. They are slight, tall and straight-featured. The men part their hair in the middle, plait it into long braids, and fasten it at the back of the head, so that they have rather a feminine aspect.

The villages of the Hassaniyeh are mere assemblages of slight huts, circular in shape, and having conical roofs, with a hole in the centre by way of a chimney. The walls are made of sticks and reeds, and the roofs of straw, and at a little distance the huts look more like tents than houses. Each hut is surrounded with a fence of thorns.

As among other Arab tribes, the sheikh’s house is much larger and better than those of the commonalty, and is divided into several chambers. Sometimes a sort of second hut is placed in the interior, is made of fine yellow grass, and is inhabited by the women. Now and then a sheikh has his tent covered with camel’s-hair cloth, and one of them, seen by Mr. Bayard Taylor, was thirty feet in length, and contained two inner chambers. The walls were covered with skins, gourds, and similar articles; the principal chamber contained a large bedstead or angarep; and the cloth roof was decorated with great quantities of cowrie shells, sewed upon it in crosses, stars, and other patterns.

The people have some very strange customs, among which is one that is almost peculiar to themselves, though an analogous custom prevails in one or two parts of the world. A woman when she marries does not merge her identity entirely in that of her husband, but reserves to herself one-fourth of her life. Consequently, on every fourth day she is released from her marriage vows; and, if she happens to take a fancy to any man, the favored lover may live with her for four-and-twenty hours, during which time the husband may not enter the hut. With this curious exception, the Hassaniyeh women are not so immoral as those of many parts of the world. When a traveller passes through the country, they are bound to fulfil the rites of hospitality by assigning him a house during the time of his visit, and lending him a wife for the same period. Mr. Taylor suggests that if the Hassaniyeh would also lend him a family of children their generosity would be complete.

When a stranger of rank visits their domains, they perform a curious dance of welcome by way of salutation. Mr. Bayard Taylor has well described one of these dances which he witnessed on his voyage to Khartoum. He had won the hearts of the people by presenting them with a handful of tobacco and fourpence in copper. “In a short time I received word that the women of the village would come to perform a dance of welcome and salutation, if I would allow them. As the wind was blowing strongly against us and the sailors had not finished skinning the sheep, I had my carpet spread on the sand in the shade of a group of mimosas, and awaited their arrival.

“Presently we heard a sound of shrill singing and the clapping of hands in measured beat, and discerned the procession advancing slowly through the trees. They came two by two, nearly thirty in all, singing a shrill, piercing chorus, which sounded more like lamentation than greeting.

“When they had arrived in front of me, they ranged themselves into a semicircle, with their faces toward me, and, still clapping their hands to mark the rhythm of the song, she who stood in the centre stepped forth, with her breast heaved almost to a level with her face, which was thrown back, and advanced with a slow undulating motion, till she had reached the edge of my carpet. Then, with a quick jerk, she reversed the curve of her body, throwing her head forward and downward, so that the multitude of her long twists of black hair, shining with butter, brushed my cap. This was intended as a salutation and sign of welcome; I bowed my head at the same time, and she went back to her place in the ranks.

“After a pause the chorus was resumed and another advanced, and so in succession, till all had saluted me, a ceremony which occupied an hour. They were nearly all young, between the ages of fourteen and twenty, and some were strikingly beautiful. They had the dark-olive Arab complexion, with regular features, teeth of pearly whiteness, and black, brilliant eyes. The coarse cotton robe thrown over one shoulder left free the arms, neck, and breasts, which were exquisitely moulded. Their bare feet and ankles were as slender as those of the Venus of Cleomenes.”

All the women took their part successively in this curious dance, and by far the most beautiful and graceful of them was the wife of the sheikh, a young woman barely twenty years old, with features compared by Mr. Taylor to those of Guido’s Cleopatra, the broad round forehead, full oval face, and regal bearing all adding to the resemblance. Her hair was plaited into at least fifty braids, and was thickly plastered with butter, and upon her head was a diadem of white beads. She moved with a stately grace down the line, and so charmed were the guests with her mode of performing the curious salutation, that she repeated it several times for their gratification.

Even the men took part in the dance, and one of them, a splendid example of the purest Arab blood, possessed so perfect a form, and moved in the dance with such entire and absolute grace, that he even drew away the traveller’s attention from the women.

* * * * *

We now come to some of the manners and customs of the Arabs, which are not restricted to certain tribes, but are characteristic of the Arab nature. Some of them are remarkable for the fact that they have survived through many centuries, and have resisted the influence of a comparatively new religion, and the encroachments of a gradually advancing civilization.

As may be expected, their superstitions have undergone but little change, and the learned and most civilized Arab acknowledges their power in his heart as well as the ignorant and half-savage Arab who never saw a book or entered a house. He will not openly admit that he believes in these superstitions, but he does believe in them very firmly, and betrays his belief in a thousand ways. Educated though he be, he has a lingering faith in the efficacy of written charms; and if he should happen to see in the possession of another man a scrap of paper covered with characters he does not understand, he will feel uneasy as often as the mysterious writing occurs to him. Should he get such a piece of paper into his own possession, he cherishes it fondly, and takes care to conceal it from others.

In consequence of this widely-diffused superstition, travellers have passed safely through large tracts of country, meeting with various tribes of Arabs, all at variance with each other, in true Arab fashion, and yet have managed to propitiate them by the simple process of writing a sentence or two of any language on a scrap of paper. One favorite form of the “saphiès,” as these written charms are called, exhibits a curious mixture of medicine and literature. A man who is ill, or who wants a charm to prevent him from being ill, brings to the saphiè writer a smooth board, a pen and ink. The saphiè is written on the board, and the happy possessor takes it home, washes off every vestige of the writing, and then drinks the blackened water.

Even at the present day, the whole of the Arabian tribes have the full and implicit belief in the Jinns, Efreets, Ghouls, and other superhuman beings, that forms the chief element in the “Arabian Nights.” This belief is inbred with them, and no amount of education can drive it out of them. They do not parade this belief, nor try to conceal it, but accept the existence of these beings as an acknowledged fact which no one would dream of disputing.

According to their ideas, every well has its peculiar spirit, mostly an efreet or semi-evil genius, and every old tower is peopled with them, and there is scarcely a house that has not at least one spirit inmate. Many of the Arabs say that they have seen and conversed with the efreets, and relate very curious adventures. Generally, the efreet is harmless enough, if he be only let alone, but sometimes he becomes so troublesome that strong measures must be used. What was done in the way of exorcism before the discovery of fire-arms is not known, but in the present day, when an efreet can be seen, he can be destroyed by a bullet as if he were a human being.

Mr. Lane relates a most curious story of such an encounter. It is so interesting, and is so well told, that nothing but our very limited space prevents its insertion. The gist of it, however, is as follows:--

An European lady had been looking after a house in Cairo, and at last had found a very handsome one, with a large garden, for a very low rent--scarcely more than £12 per annum. She took the house, which pleased her well enough, though it did not have the same effect on the maid-servants, all of whom left it as soon as possible. At last the reason came out. The house was haunted by an efreet, which lived mostly in the bath, and at night used to go about the house, banging at the doors, knocking against the walls, and making such a perpetual riot that he had frightened tenant after tenant out of it, and kept the house to himself. The family had heard the noises, but attributed them to the festivities which had been going on for some time at the next house.

In spite of the change of servants, the noises continued, and rather increased than decreased in violence. “Very frequently the door of the room in which we were sitting, late in the evening within two or three hours of midnight, was violently knocked at many short intervals. At other times it seemed as if something very heavy fell upon the pavement, close under the windows of the same room or one adjoining; and, as these rooms were on the top of the house, we imagined at first that some stones or other things had been thrown by a neighbor, but we could find nothing outside after the noise I have mentioned. The usual sounds continued during the greater part of the night, and were generally varied with a heavy tramping, like the walking of a person in large clogs, varied by knocking at the doors of many of the apartments, and at the large water-jars, which are placed in recesses in the galleries.”

During the fast of Ramadhan the house was free from noises, as efreets are supposed to be imprisoned during that season, but as soon as it was over they recommenced with added violence. After a while, the efreet began to make himself visible, and a new door-keeper was greatly amazed by hearing and seeing the figure walking nightly round the gallery. He begged to be allowed to fire at it, and at last he was permitted to do so, provided that he only used blank cartridge. The man, however, not only put balls into his pistol, but loaded it with two bullets and a double charge of powder. Just about midnight the report of the pistol rang through the house, followed by the voice of the door-keeper, crying out, “There he lies, the accursed!” and accompanied by sounds as of a a wounded creature struggling and gasping for breath.

The man continued to call to his fellow-servants to come up, and the master of the house ran at once to the spot. The door-keeper said that the efreet had appeared in his usual shape, a tall white figure, and on being asked to leave the house, refused to do so. He then passed as usual down the passage, when the man fired at him and struck him down. “Here,” said he, “are the remains.” So saying, he picked up, under the spot where the bullets had entered the wall, a small mass of something that looked like scorched leather, perforated by fire in several places, and burnt to a cinder. This, it appears, is always the relic which is left when an efreet is destroyed. Ever afterward the house was free from disturbance.

The reader will notice the curious resemblance to the efreet stories in the “Arabian Nights,” more especially to the story of the Second Calender, in which the efreet and the princess who fought him were both reduced to ashes. The idea, too, of the wells being inhabited by efreets repeatedly occurs in those wonderful tales.

Another curious tale of the efreet was told to Mr. Taylor by an Arab of some rank. He was walking one night near Cairo, when he saw a donkey near him. The animal seemed to be without an owner, and, as he happened to be rather tired, he mounted, and rode on his way pleasantly. In a short time, however, he became startled by finding that the donkey was larger than it was when he mounted it, and no sooner had he made this discovery than the animal increased rapidly in size, and in a few minutes was as large as a camel. Of course he was horribly frightened, but he remembered that a disguised efreet could be detected by wounding him with a sharp instrument. Accordingly, he cautiously drew his dagger, and was about to plunge it into the animal’s back. The efreet, however, was too clever for him, and, as soon as he saw the dagger, suddenly shrunk to his former size, kicked off his rider, and vanished with a peal of laughter and the exclamation, “Oh, you want to ride, do you?”

According to the Arab belief, the spirit of man is bound to pass a certain time on earth, and a natural death is the token of reaching that time. Should he be killed by violence, his spirit haunts the spot where his body was buried, and remains there until the term on earth has been fulfilled. The same Arab told Mr. Taylor that for many years, whenever he passed by night over the place where Napoleon defeated the Mamelukes, the noise of battle was heard, the shouts of the soldiers, the cries of the wounded, and the groans of the dying. At first the sounds were loud, as of a multitude; but year by year they gradually decreased, as the time of earthly sojourn expired, and at the time when he told the story but few could be heard.

Among some of the tribes they have a rather odd superstition. A traveller was struck with the tastefulness of a young girl’s headdress, and wanted to buy it. She was willing enough to sell it for the liberal price which was offered, but her father prohibited the sale, on the ground that from the headdress could be made a charm which would force the girl to fly to the possessor, no matter in what part of the world he might be.

It is not wonderful that, saturated as they are with these ideas, many of the wonders of nature appear to them to be of supernatural origin. Chief among them is that extraordinary phenomenon, the mirage, in which a place far below the horizon is suddenly made visible, and appears to be close at hand. Even in our own country we have had examples of the mirage, though not in so striking a manner as is often seen among the sandy plains of Arabia. Water is a favorite subject of the mirage, and the traveller, as he passes over the burning plains, sees before him a rolling river or a vast lake, the palm trees waving on its edge and reflected on its surface, and the little wavelets rippling along as driven by the wind. Beasts as well as men see it, and it is hardly possible to restrain the thirsty camels from rushing to the seeming water.

The Arabs call the mirage, “Water of the Jinns,” and believe that it is an illusion caused by the jinns--our old friends the geni of “The Arabian Nights.” A very vivid account of this phenomenon is given in St. John’s “Egypt and Nubia:”--

“I had been riding along in a reverie, when, chancing to raise my head, I thought I perceived, desertward, a dark strip on the far horizon. What could it be? My companion, who had very keen sight, was riding in advance of me, and, with a sudden exclamation, he pulled up his dromedary and gazed in the same direction. I called to him, and asked him what he thought of yonder strip, and whether he could make out anything in it distinctly. He answered that water had all at once appeared there; that he saw the motion of the waves, and tall palms and other trees bending up and down over them, as if tossed by a strong wind. An Arab was at my side, with his face muffled up in his burnous; I roused his attention, and pointed to the object of our inquiry. ‘Mashallah!’ cried the old man, with a face as if he had seen a ghost, and stared with all his might across the desert.

“All the other Arabs of the party evinced no less emotion; and our interpreter called out to us, that what we saw was the evil spirit of the desert, that led travellers astray, luring them farther and farther into the heart of the waste, ever retreating before them as they pursued it, and not finally disappearing till its deluded victims had irrecoverably lost themselves in the pathless sands. This, then, was the mirage. My companion galloped toward it, and we followed him, though the Arabs tried to prevent us, and erelong I could with my own eyes discern something of this strange phenomenon. It was, as my friend reported, a broad sheet of water, with fresh green trees along its banks; and yet there was nothing actually before us but parched yellow sand. The apparition occasioned us all very uncomfortable feelings, and yet we congratulated ourselves in having seen for once the desert wonder.

“The phenomenon really deserves the name the Arabs give it, of Goblin of the Desert; an evil spirit that beguiles the wanderer from the safe path, and mocks him with a false show of what his heated brain paints in glowing colors. Whence comes it that this illusion at first fills with uneasiness--I might even say with dismay--those even who ascribe its existence to natural causes? On a spot where the bare sands spread out for hundreds of miles, where there is neither tree nor shrub, nor a trace of water, there suddenly appeared before us groups of tall trees, proudly girdling the running stream, on whose waves we saw the sunbeams dancing. Hills clad in pleasant green rose before us and vanished; small houses, and towns with high walls and ramparts, were visible among the trees, whose tall boles swayed to and fro in the wind like reeds.

“Far as we rode in the direction of the apparition, we never came any nearer to it; the whole seemed to recoil step by step with our advance. We halted, and remained long in contemplation of the magic scene, until whatever was unpleasant in its strangeness ceased by degrees to affect us. Never had I seen any landscape so vivid as this seeming one, never water so bright, or trees so softly green, so tall and stately. Everything seemed far more charming there than in the real world; and so strongly did we feel this attraction that, although we were not driven by thirst to seek for water where water there was none, still we would willingly have followed on and on after the phantom; and thus we could well perceive how the despairing wanderer, who with burning eyes thinks he gazes on water and human dwellings, will struggle onward to his last gasp to reach them, until his fearful, lonely doom befalls him.” This singular illusion and its effect upon travellers is well illustrated by the artist, on the 679th page.

“We returned slowly to our Arabs, who had not stirred from the spot where we left them. Looking back once more into the desert, we saw the apparition gradually becoming fainter, until at last it melted away into a dim land, not unlike a thin mist sweeping over the face of a field (Hochländer). It was probably this phenomenon, which is beheld as well in Hadramaut and Yemen as in the deserts of Egypt, which gave rise to the fable of the Garden of Irem, described in the story of the Phantom Camel, in the ‘Tales of the Ramad’han.’”

I cannot part from the Arab superstitions without mentioning one which is of very great antiquity, and which has spread itself widely over the world. I allude to the celebrated ink-mirror of the Arab magicians, in which they see, through the eyes of another, the events of the future and the forms of persons far distant.

The mirror is made as follows:--The magician calls a very young boy, not old enough, according to their ideas, to be tainted with sin, and makes him sit on the ground. The magician sits opposite him, holding the boy’s opened right hand in his, and after repeating prayers, and burning incense, he draws a crossed square on the palm of the hand--thus

-|-|- -|-|-

--writes cabalistic words in all the angles, and pours about a spoonful of ink into the centre. More prayers and suffumigations follow, and the boy is then directed to look closely into the ink. Should he be really pure, and a fit subject for the magic art, he sees a series of figures, always beginning with a man sweeping the ground, and ending with a camp, with the sultan’s tent and flag in the centre. These vanish, and the mirror is left clear for any figure which may be invoked.

All parties seem to have the most implicit belief in the proceeding; and though several boys in succession may fail to see anything but the reflection of their own faces, the failure is set down to their bad moral character, and others are tried until one is found who possesses the requisite vision. It is a curious fact that the magician himself never pretends to this inner sight, the sins which he has committed being an effectual hindrance. Educated Europeans have often witnessed this curious ceremony, and have given different accounts of it. With some it has been an utter failure, the boy evidently trying to deceive, and inventing, according to his ability, scenes which are supposed to be represented in the mirror. With others it has been as singular a success, European scenes and persons have been described accurately by the boy, though the greatest care was taken that no clue should be given either to the magician or the boy.

MADAGASCAR.

We complete the account of African tribes with a brief notice of some of the tribes which inhabit the island of Madagascar. For my information I am chiefly indebted to Ellis’s well-known work, and to a valuable paper read by Lieutenant Oliver, R. A., before the Anthropological Society of London. on March 3, 1868.

The name of Madagascar is entirely of European invention, the native name for this great island being Nosindambo, i. e. the island of wild hogs. The inhabitants are known by the general name of Malagasy, and they are divided into several tribes. These tribes differ from each other in their color, mode of dress, and other particulars, and may be roughly divided according to their color into the fair and the dark tribes, each consisting of four in number, and ranging through almost every shade of skin, from the light olive of the Hovas to the black tribes of the south. According to Ellis the entire population is only three millions, while Lieutenant Oliver, who gives the approximate numbers of each tribe, estimates them at five millions.

The origin of the Malagasy is rather obscure, and, although so close to the continent of Africa, they have scarcely anything in common with the African races. The hypothesis which has been generally accepted is that they are of Malay origin, their ancestors having been in all probability blown out to sea in their canoes, and eventually landed on the island. That they are not of African origin has been argued from several points, while they have many habits belonging to the oceanic race. For example, although they are so close to Africa, they have never adopted the skin dresses which are generally found throughout the savage races of the continent, but, on the contrary, make use of the hibiscus bark beaten out exactly after the fashion of the Polynesians.

“It is evident,” writes Lieutenant Oliver, “that the Malagasy have never deteriorated from any original condition of civilization, for there are no relics of primæval civilization to be found in the country. Yet the Malagasy seem to have considerably advanced themselves in the art of building houses, and originating elaborate fortifications, which they have themselves modified to suit their offensive and defensive weapons, previous to any known intercourse with civilized people. They had domesticated oxen, and pigs, and made advances in the cultivation of rice, yams, &c.; but whether by their own unaided intellect, or by external example, we cannot say.”

With regard to the domestication of cattle, they themselves refer it to a very recent date, and even state that the use of beef was accidentally discovered during the last century. A chief named Rabiby was superintending the planting of his rice, when he noticed that one of his men was remarkable for his increase in strength and corpulence, and interrogated him on the subject. The man told him that some time previously he happened to kill a bullock, and had the curiosity to cook some of the meat. Finding it to be remarkably good, he continued to kill and eat, and so improved his bodily condition. Rabiby very wisely tried the experiment for himself, and, finding it successful, had a bullock killed, and gave a feast to his companions. The general impression was so favorable that he gave orders for building folds in which the cattle might be collected, and he further extended the native diet by the flesh of the wild hog. The original folds built by his orders are still in existence.

Chief among the Malagasy are the HOVA tribe, who have gradually extended themselves over a considerable portion of the island, and are now virtually its masters. They are the lightest in color of all the tribes, and have more of the Spanish than the negro expression. The hair is black, long, and abundant, and is worn in several fashions. The men usually cut the hair rather short, and arrange it over the forehead and temples much after the style that was prevalent in the days of the Regency. The women spend much time over their hair, sometimes frizzing it out until they remind the spectator of the Fiji race, and sometimes plaiting it into an infinity of braids, and tying them in small knots or bunches all over the head.

Their dress has something of the Abyssinian type. Poor people wear little except a cloth twisted round their loins, while the more wealthy wear a shirt covered with a mantle called a lamba. This article of apparel is disposed as variously as the Abyssinian’s tobe. The Hovas are distinguished by having their lambas edged with a border of five broad stripes. Their houses, to which allusion has already been made, are formed exclusively of vegetable materials. The walls are formed by driving rows of posts into the ground at unequal distances, and filling in the spaces with the strong leaf-stalks of the “traveller’s tree.” Each leaf-stalk is about ten feet in length, and they are fixed in their places by flat laths. The roof is thatched with the broad leaves of the same tree, tied firmly on the very steep rafters. The eaves project well beyond the walls, so as to form a veranda round the house, under which the benches are placed. The floor is covered with a sort of boarding made of the traveller’s tree. The bark is stripped off and beaten flat, so as to form boards of twenty feet or so in length, and fifteen inches in width. These boards are laid on the floor, and, although they are not nailed, they keep their places firmly.

This traveller’s tree is one of the most useful plants in Madagascar. It is a sort of palm, and its broad leaves, besides supplying thatch and walls for the houses, furnish a copious supply of fresh water. The water is found in the hollow formed by the manner in which the base of the leaf-stem embraces the trunk from which it springs, and the liquid is obtained by piercing the leaf-stem with a spear. A full quart of water is obtained from each leaf, and it is so pure that the natives will rather walk a little distance to a traveller’s tree, than supply themselves with water from a stream at their feet.

The Malagasy have some knowledge of musical sounds, and have invented some instruments which are far superior to those of the African tribes. One of the best is the violin. It is played with a bow equally rude in character, and, although the sounds which it produces are not particularly harmonious to English ears, they are at all events quite as agreeable as those produced by the stringed instruments of China, Japan, or Turkey.

Slavery exists among the Malagasy, but is not of a very severe character, and may possibly, through the exertions of the missionaries, become extinguished altogether. The slaves do all the hard work of the place, which is really not very hard, and, as they take plenty of time over everything that they do, their work would be thought very light by an ordinary English laborer. Drawing water is perhaps the hardest labor the female slaves undergo, and it is not such very hard work after all. They draw the water by means of cows’ horns tied to ropes, and pour it into ingenious pails made of bamboo. The hardest work which the men do is acting as bearer to their master’s hammock or litter, and, as the roads often lie through uncleared forests, and are very rough and rocky, they have a fatiguing task. These litters are very convenient, and are covered with a roof to shield the occupant from the sun. They are rather unwieldy, and sometimes as many as twenty or thirty men are attached to each litter, some bearing the poles on their shoulders, and others dragging it by ropes, while the whole proceedings are directed by a superintendent. The engraving on the preceding page illustrates the mode of travelling in Madagascar.

Within the last few years, Christianity has made wonderful progress among the Malagasy, although at first missionaries were driven out, and the native converts put to death with frightful tortures. The old superstitions, however, still remain, but they are of a more harmless character than is generally the case with the superstitions of a people who are only beginning to emerge out of the savage state. All reptiles, especially snakes, are regarded with great veneration. Whether any of the serpents are poisonous is not clearly ascertained, though the natives deny that venomous snakes are found on the island. Be this as it may, they never kill a snake, and, even if a large serpent should come into their house, they merely guide it through the doorway with sticks, telling it to go away.

They do not appear to possess idols, though Mr. Ellis found certain objects to which a sort of worship was paid. These were simply “pieces of wood about nine feet high, not square and smooth at the base, but spreading into two or three branches at about five feet from the ground, and gradually tapering to a point.” Near them was a large basaltic stone, about five feet high, and of its natural prismatic form, and near it was another stone, smooth and rounded, and about as large as a man’s head. The natives said that blood was poured on one stone, and fat burned on the other, but they were very averse to any conversation on the subject, and very probably did not tell the truth.

Some of their domestic superstitions--if we may use such a term--are rather curious. Mr. Ellis had noticed that on several occasions a spot of white paint had been placed on the forehead, or a white circle drawn round the eye. One morning, he found these marks adorning nearly the whole of his bearers. On inquiring into the cause of this decoration, he found that it was a charm to avert the consequences of bad dreams. As, however, they had partaken copiously of beef on the preceding evening, the cause of the bad dreams was clearly more material than spiritual.

Partly connected with their superstitious ideas is the existence of a distinct class, the Zanakambony. They are hereditary blacksmiths, and are exempt from forced labor except in their own line, so that, as Lieutenant Oliver writes, they will make a spade, but cannot be compelled to use it. They have the right of carrying deceased kings to the grave, and building monuments over them. They are very proud, and behave most arrogantly to other clans, refusing to associate with them, to eat with them, or even to lend them any article to be defiled by the touch of plebeian hands. As they will not even condescend to the ordinary labor of their countrymen, and think that even to build a house is a degradation, they are very poor; as they refuse to associate with others, they are very ignorant, but they console themselves for their inferiority in wealth and learning by constantly dwelling on their enormous superiority in rank.

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LXIX. AUSTRALIA

THE NATIVE AUSTRALIANS -- THE GENERAL CONFORMATION OF THE HEAD AND FEATURES -- THEIR AVERAGE STATURE AND FORM -- THE WOMEN AND THEIR APPEARANCE -- CHARACTER OF THE NATIVES -- THEIR THIEVISH PROPENSITIES -- THEIR CUNNING, AND POWER OF DISSIMULATION -- A PAIR OF CLEVER THIEVES -- THE “GOOD NATIVE” -- A CLEVER OLD WOMAN -- INCENTIVES TO ROBBERY -- HIDEOUS ASPECT OF THE OLD WOMEN -- A REPULSIVE SUBJECT FOR AN ARTIST -- YOUNGER WOMEN OF SAME TRIBE -- THEIR STRANGE DRESS -- THE CIRCULAR MAT CLOAK AND ITS USES -- THE NATIVE BASKET -- TREACHEROUS CHARACTER OF THE NATIVES -- MR. BAINES’S NARRATIVE -- THE OUTRIGGER CANOE OF NORTH AUSTRALIA, AND ITS PROBABLE ORIGIN -- PIPE, AND MODE OF SMOKING -- THE MAMMALS OF AUSTRALIA, AND THEIR MARSUPIAL CHARACTER -- CONFUSION OF NOMENCLATURE -- EFFECT OF THE ANIMALS ON THE HUMAN INHABITANTS OF THE COUNTRY -- PRIMARY USE OF WEAPONS.

Following up the principle of taking the least civilized races in succession, we naturally pass to the great continent of Australia and its adjacent islands.

This wonderful country holds a sort of isolated position on the earth, owing to the curious contrast which reigns between it and all the lands with which we are familiar. It is situated, as my readers will see by reference to a map, just below the equator, and extends some forty degrees southward, thus having at its northern extremity a heat which is tropical, and at its southern point a climate as cold as our own. But there is perhaps no country where the temperature is so variable as Australia, and there is one instance recorded where the thermometer registered a change of fifty degrees in twenty-five minutes. This sudden change is owing to the winds, which if they blow from the sea are cool, but if they blow toward the coast, after passing over the heated sand-wastes of the interior, raise the temperature in the extraordinary manner which has been mentioned. Still, the climate, changeable though it be, is a pleasant one; and the colonists who visit England nearly always grumble at the damp climate of the mother country, and long to be back again in Australia. Both the animal and vegetable products of this country are strangely unlike those of other lands, but, as we shall have occasion to describe them in the course of the following pages, they will not be mentioned at present; and we will proceed at once to the human inhabitants of Australia.

* * * * *

It is exceedingly difficult, not to say impossible, to treat of the aborigines of Australia with much accuracy of system. Differing as do the tribes with which we are acquainted in many minor particulars, they all agree in general characteristics: and, whether a native be taken from the north or south of the vast Australian continent, there is a similitude of habits and a cast of features which point him out at once as an Australian.

The plan that will be adopted will therefore be to give a general sketch of the natives, together with an account of those habits in which they agree, and then to glance over as much of Australia as travellers have laid open to us, and to mention briefly the most interesting of the manners and customs which exist in the several tribes.

* * * * *

In color the Australians are quite black, as dark indeed as the negro, but with nothing of the negro character in the face. The forehead does not recede like that of the negro; and though the nose is wide, the mouth large, and the lips thick, there is none of that projection of jaw which renders the pure negro face so repulsive. The eye is small, dark, and, being deeply sunken, it gives to the brows a heavy, overhanging sort of look. The hair is by no means close and woolly, like that of the negro, but is plentiful, rather long, and disposed to curl, mostly undulating, and sometimes even taking the form of ringlets. In texture it is very coarse and harsh, but cannot be described as wool.

The beard and moustache are very thick and full, and the men take a pride in these ornaments, sometimes twisting the beard into curious shapes. Indeed, as a rule they are a hairy race. There is now before me a large collection of photographs of native Australians, in many of which the men are remarkable for the thickness of the beard, and some of them have their faces so heavily bearded that scarcely the nose is perceptible among the mass of hair that covers the cheeks nearly up to the eyes. Several of the elder men are very remarkable for the development of the hair, which covers the whole of the breast and arms with a thick coating of pile, and looks as if they were clothed with a tightly-fitting fur garment. The illustration No. 1, on the 698th page, will give a good idea of the features of the Australian. It is exactly copied from photographic portraits; and although the subjects have disfigured themselves by putting on European dress, and the woman has actually combed her hair, the general cast of the features is well preserved.

In stature the Australian is about equal to that of the average Englishman--say five feet eight inches, although individuals much below and above this height may be seen. The bodily form of the Australian savages is good, and their limbs well made. There are several well-known drawings of Australians, which have been widely circulated on account of their grotesqueness, and which have been accepted as the ordinary form of this curious people, and they have given the idea that the native Australian is distinguished by a very large head, a very small body, and very long and attenuated limbs; in fact, that he is to the European what the spider-monkey is to the baboon.

Such drawings are, however, only taken from exceptional cases, and give no idea of the real contour of the native Australian. Indeed, Mr. Pickering, who traversed the greater part of the world in search of anthropological knowledge, writes in very strong terms of the beautiful forms which can be seen among these natives. “The general form, though sometimes defective, seemed on the average better than that of the negro, and I did not find the undue slenderness of limb which has been commonly attributed to the Australians. Strange as it may appear, I would refer to an Australian as the finest model of human proportions I have ever met with, in muscular development combining perfect symmetry, activity, and strength; while his head might have compared with an antique bust of a philosopher.”

Those of my readers who happened to see the native Australians that came over to England as cricketers and athletes in general must have noticed the graceful forms for which some of the men were remarkable, while all were possessed of great elegance of limb.

The disadvantageous effect of European clothing on the dark races was well shown in these men, who seemed to undergo a positive transformation when they laid aside their ordinary clothes for a costume which represented, as far as possible, the light and airy apparel of the native Australian. Dressed in gray, or clad in the cricketer’s costume, there was nothing remarkable about them, and in fact they seemed to be very ordinary persons indeed. But with their clothes they threw off their commonplace look, and, attired only in tight “fleshings,” dyed as nearly as possible the color of their black skins, with a piece of fur wrapped round their loins and a sort of fur cap on their heads, they walked with a proud, elastic step that contrasted strangely with their former gait.

It may perhaps be said that this change of demeanor was only the natural result of removing the heavy clothing and giving freedom to the limbs. This was not the case, for several professional English athletes contended with the Australians, and, when they came to run or leap, wore the usual light attire of the professional acrobat. In them, however, no such improvement took place, and, if anything, they looked better in their ordinary dress.

The women are, as a rule, much inferior to the men in appearance. Even when young, although they possess symmetrical forms, their general appearance is not nearly so pleasing as that of the young African girl, and, when the woman becomes old, she is, if possible, even more hideous and hag-like than the African. This deterioration may partly be due to the exceedingly hard life led by the women, or “gins”--in which word, by the way, the g is pronounced hard as in “giddy.” That they have to do all the hard work, and to carry all the heavy weights, including the children, while their husbands sit or sleep, or, if on the march, burden themselves with nothing more weighty than their weapons, is to be expected, as it is the universal practice among natives. But it is not so much the hard work as the privation which tells upon the woman, who is treated with the same contemptuous neglect with which a savage treats his dog, and, while her husband, father, or brother, is feasting on the game which she has cooked, thinks herself fortunate if they now and then toss a nearly cleaned bone or a piece of scorched meat to her.

Like most savages, the Australian natives are adroit and daring thieves, displaying an amount of acuteness in carrying out their designs which would do honor to the most expert professional thief of London or Paris. In his interesting work entitled “Savage Life and Scenes,” Mr. G. F. Angas has related several anecdotes respecting this propensity.

“Leaving Rivoli Bay, we fell in with two very droll natives, the only ones who had made bold to approach our camp; both were in a state of nudity. One of these fellows was a perfect supplejack; he danced and capered about as though he were filled with quicksilver. We mounted them on horses, from which they were continually tumbling off, and they travelled with us all day.

“When we encamped at an old resting-place, near Lake Howden, they, by signs, requested permission to remain by our fires, which we allowed them to do, and gave them for supper the head and refuse of a sheep that was just killed and hung up to a tree near the tents. They showed great surprise on seeing our various utensils and articles of cookery. So modest and well-behaved did these artful gentlemen appear, that they would not touch the slightest article of food without first asking permission by signs; and they so far gained our confidence that one of them was adorned with a tin plate, suspended round his neck by a string, on which was inscribed ‘Good Native.’

“In the dead of the night we were all aroused by the unusual barking of the dogs. At first it was supposed that the wild dogs were ‘rushing’ the sheep; but as the tumult increased, the Sergeant-Major unwrapped his opossum rug, and looked around for his hat, to go and ascertain the cause of the disturbance. To his surprise, he found that his hat had vanished. The hat of his companion, who lay next him near the fire, was also nowhere to be found; and, casting his eyes to the spot where the sheep hung suspended from the tree, he saw in a moment that our fond hopes for to-morrow’s repast were blighted, for the sheep too had disappeared. The whole camp was roused, when it was ascertained that forks, spoons, and the contents of the Governor’s canteen, pannikins and other articles, were likewise missing, and that our two remarkably docile natives had left us under cover of the night.

“A council of war was held. Black Jimmy protested that it was useless to follow their tracks until the morning, and that from the nature of the country they had doubtless taken to the swamps, walking in the water, so that pursuit was in vain. We had been completely duped by these artful and clever fellows, who probably had a large party of their colleagues lying in ambush amid the surrounding swamps, ready to assist in carrying away the stolen property. Retaliation was useless; and we contented ourselves by giving utterance to our imprecations and commenting on the audacity and cunning of the rogues until daybreak.”

Another instance of theft--in this case single-handed--occurred not long before the robbery which has just been recorded. While the exploring party was on the march, they fell in with a number of natives who were cooking their food.

“At our approach, they flew down the descent, and hid among the bulrushes; but one old woman, unable to escape as speedily as the rest, finding flight useless, began to chatter very loud and fast, pointing to her blind eye, and her lean and withered arms, as objects of commiseration. Damper was given to her and she continued in terror to chew it very fast without swallowing any, until she was almost choked; when suddenly she got hold of Gisborne’s handkerchief and made off with it. With a vigorous leap she plunged into the mud and reeds beneath, effecting her escape by crawling into the swamp and joining her wild companions, to whom she doubtless recounted her adventures that night over a dish of fried tadpoles.”

The dish of fried tadpoles, to which allusion has been made, is quite a luxury among this wretched tribe, and, when the exploring party pushed on to the spot where the people had been cooking, it was found that they had been engaged in roasting a dish of water-beetles over a fire.

It is impossible to withhold admiration for the skill displayed by these sable thieves in stealing the property which they coveted, and, in excuse for them, it must be remembered that the articles which were stolen were to the blacks of inestimable value. Food and ornaments are coveted by the black man as much as wealth and titles by the white man, and both these articles were ready to hand. The temptation to which these poor people was exposed seems very trifling to us, but we must measure it, not from our own point of view, but from theirs.

The strange visitors who so suddenly appeared among them possessed abundance of the very things which were dearest to them. There was a whole sheep, which would enable them to enjoy the greatest luxury of which they could form any notion, i. e. eating meat to repletion; and there was store of glittering objects which could be worn as ornaments, and would dignify them forever in the eyes of their fellows. The happy possessor of a spoon, a fork, or a tin plate, which would be hung round the neck and kept highly polished, would be exalted above his companions like a newly ennobled man among ourselves, and it should not be expected that such an opportunity, which could never again be looked for, would be allowed to pass. The temptation to them was much as would be a title and a fortune among ourselves, and there are many civilized men who have done worse than the savage Australian when tempted by such a bait.

Reference has been made to the haggard appearance of the old woman who so ingeniously stole the handkerchief, the love of finery overcoming the dread of the white man in spite of her age and hideous aspect, which would only be made more repulsive by any attempt at ornament. It is scarcely possible to imagine the depths of ugliness into which an Australian woman descends after she has passed the prime of her life. As we have seen, the old woman of Africa is singularly hideous, but she is quite passable when compared with her aged sister of Australia.

The old Australian woman certainly does not possess the projecting jaws, the enormous mouth, and the sausage-like lips of the African, but she exhibits a type of hideousness peculiarly her own. Her face looks like a piece of black parchment strained tightly over a skull, and the mop-like, unkempt hair adds a grotesque element to the features which only makes them still more repulsive. The breasts reach to the waist, flat, pendent, and swinging about at every movement; her body is so shrunken that each rib stands out boldly, the skin being drawn deeply in between them, and the limbs shrivel up until they look like sticks, the elbows and knees projecting like knots in a gnarled branch.

Each succeeding year adds to the hideous look of these poor creatures, because the feebleness of increasing years renders them less and less useful; and accordingly they are neglected, ill-treated, and contemptuously pushed aside by those who are younger and stronger than themselves, suffering in their turn the evils which in their youth they carelessly inflicted on those who were older and feebler.

Mr. Angas has among his sketches one which represents a very old woman of the Port Fairy tribe. They had built their rude huts or miam-miams under some gum-trees, and very much disgusted the exploring party by their hideous appearance and neglected state. There was one old woman in particular, who exemplified strongly all the characteristics which have just been described; and so surpassingly hideous, filthy, and repulsive was she, that she looked more like one of the demoniacal forms that Callot was so fond of painting than a veritable human creature. Indeed, so very disgusting was her appearance, that one of the party was made as ill as if he had taken an emetic.

Not wishing to shock my readers by the portrait of this wretched creature, I have introduced on page preceding, two younger females of the same tribe.

The remarkable point about this and one or two other tribes of the same locality and the neighborhood, is the circular mat which is tied on their backs, and which is worn by both sexes. The mat is made of reeds twisted into ropes, coiled round, and fastened together very much as the archer’s targets of the present day are made. The fibres by which the reed ropes are bound together are obtained from the chewed roots of the bulrush. The native name for this mat is paingkoont. One of the women appears in her ordinary home dress, i. e. wearing the paingkoont and her baby, over whose little body she has thrown a piece of kangaroo skin. The mat makes a very good cradle for the child, which, when awake and disposed to be lively, puts its head over the mat and surveys the prospect, but when alarmed pops down and hides itself like a rabbit disappearing into its burrow. The old woman, whose portrait is withheld, was clothed in the paingkoont, and wore no other raiment, so that the full hideousness of her form was exposed to view.

The woman standing opposite is just starting upon a journey. She is better clad than her companion, having beside the paingkoont a rude sort of petticoat. On her back she has slung the net in which she places the roots which she is supposed to dig out of the ground, and, thrust through the end which ties it, she carries the digging-stick, or katta, which serves her for a spade. She has in her hand the invariable accompaniment of a journey,--namely, the fire-stick, smouldering amid dry grass between two pieces of bark, and always ready to be forced into a flame by whirling it round her head.

Behind them is seated an old man, also wearing the mat-cloak, and having by his side one of the beautifully constructed native baskets. These baskets are made, like the mat, of green rushes or reeds, and are plaited by the women. One of these baskets is illustrated in an engraving on the 722d page. The reader will doubtless observe that the mode of plaiting it is almost identical with that which is employed by the natives of Southern Africa, the rushes being twisted and coiled upon each other and bound firmly together at short intervals by strong fibrous threads. They are rather variable in shape; some, which are intended to stand alone, being flat-bottomed, and others, which are always suspended by a string, ending in a point.

In common with other savage races, the Australians are apt to behave treacherously to the white man when they find themselves able to do so with impunity. This behavior is not always the result of ferocity or cruelty, though an Australian can on occasion be as fierce and cruel as any savage. Oftentimes it is the result of fear, the black people standing in awe of the white stranger and his deadly weapons, and availing themselves of their native cunning to deprive him of his unfair advantages as soon as possible.

Ignorant of the object of travel, and having from infancy been accustomed to consider certain districts as the property of certain tribes, and any man who intruded into the district of another as an enemy, it is but natural that when they see, especially for the first time, a man of different color from themselves travelling through the country, such strangers must necessarily be enemies, come for the purpose of using against the aborigines the weapons which they possess. Again, a feeling of acquisitiveness has much to do with the treachery.

Add to their ideas of the inimical character of the strangers the cupidity that must be excited by the sight of the valuable property brought into their country by those whom they consider as enemies delivered into their hand, and there is no reason for wonder that they should take both the lives and the property of the strangers, and thus secure the valued trophies of war at the same time that they rid their country of strange and powerful enemies, and attain at one stroke an amount of wealth which they could not hope to gain through the labors of a life.

This phase of their character is well shown by Mr. T. Baines, in a letter which he has kindly allowed me to transfer to these pages. He was one of an exploring expedition, which had also undertaken to convey a number of sheep and horses. “While making the inner passage along the coast, we fell in with several canoes, some of very rude construction, being in fact mere logs capable of carrying a couple of men, who, perhaps in terror of the telescopes pointed at them, did not approach us.

“Others were of greater size and power, being large hollowed logs, very straight and narrow, and steadied on either side by other logs, pointed at the ends, and acting as outriggers, neatly enough attached by pegs driven into them through a framing of bamboo. Others again were strictly double canoes, two of the narrow vessels being connected by a bamboo platform so as to lie parallel to each other at some little distance apart.

“They were manned by crews of from six to twelve, or even more in number, all tolerably fine fellows, perfectly naked, with shock heads of woolly hair and scanty beards. They were ornamented with scars and raised cicatrices tastefully cut on their shoulder and elsewhere. They were armed with long spears, some of them tipped with wood, others with bone, and having from one to four points. They also had bows and arrows, as well as their curious paddles, the looms of which were barbed and pointed, so as to be useful as spears. When these weapons were thrown at a fish, the owner always plunged into the water after his weapon, so as to secure the fish the moment that it was struck.

“Their arrival caused various emotions among our party. One gentleman ruined his revolver by hurriedly trying to load it, while a little girl, so far from being afraid of them, traded with them for almost everything they had in their canoes. Just as they dropped astern after reaching us, the captain’s little daughters were being bathed in a tub on the main-hatch, and, naturally enough, jumped out of their bath, and ran aft wet and glistening in the sunlight, to hide themselves from the strange black fellows who were stretching themselves to look over our low bulwarks at the little naked white girls.

“We bought spears, bows, arrows, tortoise-shell, &c., for hats, handkerchiefs, and other things; and they were greatly interested in the white baby, which, at their express request, was held up for them to look at.”

Up to this point we find the natives mild and conciliatory, but we proceed with the letter, and find an unexpected change in their demeanor.

“We had here an instance of the capriciousness of the natives. We met about a dozen on shore, and endeavored by all friendly signs to induce them to come to terms with us. We showed them that we had no guns, but our attempts were useless. They fell into regular battle array, with their long spears ready shipped on the throwing sticks, six standing in front, and the rest acting as supports behind. As it was unsafe to parley longer, we mounted our horses, and again tried to make them understand that we wished to be on friendly terms. It was all useless, and the only thing that we could do was to ride straight at them. They ran like antelopes, and gained the thick bush where we could not follow them. B---- wanted to shoot one of them, but I would not allow it.

“The prospect of killing and eating our horses seemed to be their great temptation. They made constant war upon our stud for a fortnight or three weeks, in my camp at Depôt Creek, and I had to patrol the country with B---- daily, to keep them from ringing the horses round with fire.

“The character of the Australian canoe-men is variously spoken of, some reporting them as good-natured and peaceable, while others say that they are treacherous and savage. Both speak the truth from their own experience. A fellow artist, who generally landed from a man-of-war’s boat, with the ship in the offing, found them peaceable enough, but poor Mr. Strange, the naturalist, was murdered on one of the islands.

“While we were on board our vessels, they were quite friendly; and even during my boat’s voyage of 750 miles, while we had a dashing breeze and the boat well under command, we found the groups we met with civil enough. But when we were helplessly becalmed at the entrance of the Gulf of Carpentaria, and supposed by the natives to be the unarmed survivors of some vessel wrecked in Torres Straits, we were deliberately and treacherously attacked.

“We watched the preparations for nearly an hour through the telescope, and refrained from giving them the slightest ground even to suspect that we looked on them otherwise than as friends. As soon as they thought they had us in their power, they began to throw spears at us, so I put a rifle-bullet through the shoulder of the man who threw at us, to teach him the danger of interfering with supposed helpless boats, but did not fire again. The wounded man was led on shore by one of his mates, and we were not molested again.

“These people are very capricious. They have the cunning and the strong passions of men, but in reason they are only children. Life is not held sacred by them, and, when their thirst for blood is raised, they revel in cruelty.”

These Australian canoes, with outriggers attached, indicate a Polynesian origin, as indeed do the bows and arrows, which will be fully described on a future page. The tobacco pipes in use in that part of Australia are curious. One form consists of a hollow tube as thick as a man’s arm, stopped at the ends and having one hole near the bottom into which is introduced the stem of a pipe, and another hole near the top through which the smoke is imbibed. Their use of the pipe is rather singular. When a party desires to smoke, the chief man lights the pipe, places his mouth to the orifice, and continually inhales until the interior of the hollow stem is filled with smoke. The bowl is then removed, and the aperture stopped with a plug which is kept in readiness. The first smoker closes with his thumb the hole through which he has been imbibing the smoke, and passes the pipe to his neighbor, who applies his lips to the hole, fills his lungs with smoke, and then passes the pipe to the next man. In this way, the tobacco is made to last as long as possible, and the greatest possible amount of enjoyment is got out of the least possible amount of material. The exterior of the stem is generally carved into the simple patterns which are found on nearly all Australian weapons and implements.

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Before proceeding further with the character and habits of the natives, we will cast a glance at the country which they inhabit, and the peculiarities which have contributed toward forming that character.

It is a very strange country, as strange to us as England would be to a savage Australian. Its vegetable and animal productions are most remarkable, and are so strange that when the earlier voyagers brought back accounts of their travels they were not believed; and when they exhibited specimens of the flora and fauna, they were accused of manufacturing them for the purpose of deception.

In the first place, with a single exception, the mammalia are all marsupials, or edentates. The solitary exception is the dingo, or native dog, an animal which somewhat resembles the jackal, but is altogether a handsomer animal. Whether it be indigenous, or a mere variety of the dog modified by long residence in the country, is rather doubtful, though the best zoölogists incline to the latter opinion, and say that the marsupial type alone is indigenous to this strange country. Of course the reader is supposed to know that the young of a marsupial animal is born at a very early age, and attains its full development in a supplementary pouch attached to the mother, into which pouch the teats open.

The animal which is most characteristic of Australia is the kangaroo. Of this singular type some forty species are known, varying in size from that of a tall man to that of a mouse. Some of them are known as kangaroos, and others as kangaroo-rats, but the type is the same in all. As their form implies, they are made for leaping over the ground, their enormously long legs and massive development of the hind quarters giving them the requisite power, while their long tails serve to balance them as they pass through the air.

Nearly all the so-called “rats” of Australia belong to the kangaroo tribe, though some are members of other marsupial families. Here I may mention that the nomenclature of the colonists has caused great perplexity and labor to incipient zoölogists. They are told in some books that the dingo is the only Australian animal that is not a marsupial or an edentate, and yet they read in books of travel of the bear, the monkey, the badger, the wolf, the cat, the squirrel, the mole, and so forth. The fact is, that, with the natural looseness of diction common to colonists all over the world, the immigrants have transferred to their new country the nomenclature of the old. To the great trouble of index-searchers, there is scarcely a part of the world inhabited by our colonists where London, Oxford, Boston, and fifty other places are not multiplied. The first large river they meet they are sure to call the Thames, and it is therefore to be expected that natural history should suffer in the same way as geography.

Thus, should, in the course of this account of Australia, the reader come across a passage quoted from some traveller in which the monkey or bear is mentioned, he must remember that the so-called “monkey” and “bear” are identical, and that the animal in question is neither the one nor the other, but a marsupial, known to the natives by the name of koala, and, as if to add to the confusion of names, some travellers call it the sloth.

The so-called “badger” is the wombat, probably called a badger because it lives in holes which it burrows in the ground. The Australian “wolf” is another marsupial, belonging to the Dasyures and the “cat” belongs to the same group. The “squirrels” are all marsupials, and by rights are called phalangists, and it is to this group that the koala really belongs. As to the “hedgehog,” it is the spiny ant-eater or echidna, and the “mole” is the celebrated duck-bill or ornithorhynchus.

With few exceptions these animals are not easily captured, many of them being nocturnal, and hiding in burrows or hollow trees until the shades of night conceal their movements; while others are so shy, active, and watchful, that all the craft of the hunter must be tried before they can be captured. Much the same may be said of the birds, the chief of which, the emu, is nearly as large as an ostrich, and is much valued by the natives as food. It is evident, therefore, that the existence of these peculiar animals must exercise a strong influence on the character of the natives, and must make them more active, wary, and quicksighted than the creatures on which they live.

Possessing, as he does, the most minute acquaintance with every vegetable which can afford him food, and even knowing where to obtain a plentiful supply of food and water in a land where an European could not find a particle of anything eatable, nor discover a drop of moisture in the dry and parched expanse, the Australian native places his chief reliance on animal food, and supports himself almost entirely on the creatures which he kills. His appetite is very indiscriminate; and although he prefers the flesh of the kangaroo and the pigeon, he will devour any beast, bird, reptile, or fish, and will also eat a considerable number of insects. Consequently the life of the Australian savage is essentially one of warfare, not against his fellow-man, but against the lower animals, and, as the reader will see in the course of the following pages, the primary object of his weapons is the hunt, and war only a secondary use to which they are directed.

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LXX. AUSTRALIA--Continued

MANNERS AND CUSTOMS OF THE NATIVES -- DRESS AND ORNAMENTS OF NORTHERN AUSTRALIA -- MODE OF DRESSING THE HAIR -- THE “DIBBI-DIBBI” -- TATTOOING AND CICATRIZING -- PATTERN OF THE SCARS -- SIGNIFICATION OF THE VARIOUS PATTERNS -- POMP AND VANITY -- THE NOSE-BONE -- NECKLACES -- THE GIRDLE AND TASSEL -- TATTOOS AND SCARS AMONG THE WOMEN -- THE TURTLE SCAR -- HIGH SHOULDERS OF THE AUSTRALIANS -- INDIFFERENCE TO DRESS -- THEIR FUR MANTLES, AND THEIR USES -- THE SEA-GRASS MANTLE -- FOOD OF THE AUSTRALIANS -- VEGETABLE FOOD -- MODE OF PROCURING ROOTS -- THE BIYU -- THE NARDOO PLANT AND ITS USES -- THE “BURKE AND WILLS” EXPEDITION -- THE BULRUSH ROOT, ITS USE FOR FOOD AND ROPE MAKING -- SUBTERRANEAN WATER STORES -- MOLLUSCS, AND MODE OF COLLECTING THEM -- HARD WORK FOR THE WOMEN -- DIVING FROM THE RAFT -- RELAXATION WHEN THEY RETURN HOME -- COOKING THE MOLLUSCS AND CRUSTACEA -- FISH CATCHING WITH LINE, NET, AND SPEAR -- INSECT FOOD -- THE BEE CATCHERS -- TREE AND EARTH GRUBS, AND MODE OF CATCHING THEM -- THE PILEYAH -- THE DUGONG -- ITS LOCALITIES, AND MODES OF TAKING AND COOKING IT -- CAPTURING AND COOKING THE GREEN TURTLE -- CURIOUS USE OF THE SUCKING FISH -- TAMING THE TURTLE -- THE HAWKSBILL TURTLE, AND MODE OF CATCHING IT -- TURTLE OIL AND DRIED FLESH -- SALE OF TORTOISE-SHELL -- TWO FORMS OF AUSTRALIAN OVENS -- COOKING AND EATING SNAKES -- CATCHING THE SNAKE ALIVE -- THE CLOAK AND THE SHIELD -- THE DUGONG, AND ITS CAPTURE -- SMALL TENACITY OF LIFE -- A SAVORY FEAST.

We will now proceed to the various manners and customs of the Australians, not separating them into the arbitrary and fluctuating distinctions of tribes, but describing as briefly as is consistent with justice, the most interesting of their habits, and mentioning those cases where any particular custom seems to be confined to any one tribe or district.

We have in the illustration No. 1, on page 707, a good example of a native of North Western Australia. The sketch was kindly made by Mr. T. Baines. A profile of the man is given, in order to show the peculiar contour of the face, which, as the reader may see, has nothing of the negro character about it; the boldly prominent nose, the full beard, and the long hair fastened up in a top-knot being the distinguishing features. The man carries in his belt his provisions for the day, namely, a snake and one of the little kangaroo-rats, and having these he knows no care, though of course he would prefer larger game.

Round his neck may be seen a string. This supports an ornament which hangs upon his breast. Several forms of this ornament, which is called in the duplicative Australian language a “dibbi-dibbi,” are employed, and there are in my collection two beautiful specimens made from the shell of the pearl-oyster. The ordinary dibbi-dibbi is fan-shaped, and does not depart very much from the original outline of the shell. There is, however, one kind of dibbi-dibbi which is valued exceedingly, and which is shaped like a crescent. The specimen in my possession is almost as large as a cheese plate, and must have been cut from an enormous shell, economy, whether of material or time, not being understood by these savages. Owing to the shape of the shell, it is slightly convex, and was worn with the concave side next the body.

Not being satisfied with the natural smooth polish of the nacre, the native has ornamented the dibbi-dibbi with a simple but tolerably effective pattern. Along the margin of the scooped edge he has bored two parallel rows of small and shallow holes about half an inch apart, and on either side of each row he has cut a narrow line. From the outer line he has drawn a series of scalloped patterns made in a similar fashion; and, simple as this pattern is, its effect is really remarkable. The man has evidently begun a more elaborate pattern on the broad surface of the shell, but his mind seems to have misgiven him, and he has abandoned it. The cord by which it is suspended round the neck is nearly an inch wide, and is made of string and a sort of rattan plaited together.

On the shoulder of the man may be seen a number of raised marks. These are the scars of wounds with which the Australians are in the habit of adorning their bodies, and which they sometimes wear in great profusion. The marks are made by cutting deeply into the skin, and filling the wounds with clay and other substances, so that when the wound heals an elevated scar is made. These scars are made in patterns which partly differ according to the taste of the individual, and partly signifying the district to which the tattooed person belongs. For example, the scars as shown in the illustration are the mark of a Northern Australian; and, although he may have plenty other scars on his body and limbs, these will always appear on his shoulder as the distinguishing mark of his tribe.

In my photographs, which represent natives from various parts of the continent, these scars are very prominent, and there is not an individual who does not possess them. Some have them running longitudinally down the upper arm, while others have them alternately longitudinal and transverse. They occasionally appear on the breast, and an old man, remarkable for the quantity of hair which covered his breast and arms, has disposed them in a fan shape, spreading from the centre of the body to the arms. He has evidently spent a vast amount of time on this adornment, and suffered considerable pain, as scars, although not so large as in many other instances, are exceedingly numerous; the man has adorned his arms and shoulders with little scars of the same character arranged in regular lines.

In some parts of Australia the scars assume a much more formidable appearance, being long and heavy ridges. One chief, who was very proud of his adornments,--as well he might be, seeing that their possession must nearly have cost him his life,--was entirely covered from his neck to his knees with scars at least an inch broad, set closely together, and covering the whole of the body. The front of the chest and stomach was adorned with two rows of these scars, each scar being curved, and reaching from the side to the centre of the body, where they met. The man was so inordinately proud of this ornament that nothing could induce him to wear clothing of any kind, and he stalked about in his grandeur, wearing nothing but his weapons. The photograph of this man has a very singular aspect, the light falling on the polished ridge of the scars having an effect as if he were clad in a suit of some strange armor.

By way of adding to the beauty of their countenances, they are in the habit of perforating the septum of the nose, and of thrusting through it a piece of bone or stick, the former being preferred on account of its whiteness. It is almost impossible to describe the exceedingly grotesque appearance presented by an Australian dandy, who has his body covered with scars, and his face crossed by a wide piece of bone some six inches in length, making his naturally broad nose wider, and seeming as it were to cut his face in half. The hole through which this ornament is thrust is made when a child is a fortnight old.

As to other ornaments, they consist of the usual necklaces, bracelets, and anklets which are common to savage tribes in all parts of the world. Some of these necklaces which are in my collection are really pretty, and some skill is shown in their manufacture. One is made of pieces of yellow reed as thick as quills and almost an inch in length, strung alternately with scarlet reeds; another is made entirely of the same reeds, while a third is, in my opinion, the handsomest, though not the most striking of them. At first sight it appears to be made entirely of the reeds already mentioned, but on a closer examination it is seen to be composed entirely of the antennæ of lobsters, cut into short lengths and strung together. To the necklaces is attached a small mother-of-pearl dibbi-dibbi four inches long and one inch wide, and the pieces of lobster antennæ are so disposed that the thinner parts of the antennæ, taken from the extremities, come next to the dibbi-dibbi and hang on the breast, while the larger and thicker parts, taken from the base of the antennæ, come on the neck. The native basket in which these necklaces were kept is more than half filled with bright colored seeds of various hues, that are evidently intended for the manufacture of necklaces.

Girdles of finely twisted human hair are often worn by the men, and the native who is represented in the engraving No. 1, on page 707, is wearing one of these girdles. Sometimes, as in the present instance, a small tassel made of the hair of a phalangist or “flying-squirrel,” as it is wrongly termed, is hung to the front of the girdle, by no means as a covering, but as an ornament.

The scars are so highly valued that the women wear them nearly as profusely as the men. In my photographs, there are portraits of many women of all ages, not one of whom is without scars. They do not wear them so large as the men, but seem to be more careful in the regularity of the pattern.

Taking a series of three women, the first has three cuts on the shoulder showing her northern extraction, and a row of small horizontal and parallel scars along the front of the body from the breast-bone downward. The second, in addition to the shoulder cuts, has several rows of scars extending from the breast to the collar-bones, together with a central line as already described, and some similar rows of cuts on the ribs and sides. The third woman, a mere girl of fourteen or so, has been very careful in the arrangement of the scars, which descend in regular and parallel rows from the breast downward, and then radiate fan-wise in six rows from the breast upward to the collar bones.

Mr. M’Gillivray, who accompanied H. M. S. Rattlesnake in her voyage, writes as follows concerning the scar ornaments and their uses:--“The Torres Straits islanders are distinguished by a large complicated oval scar, only slightly raised, and of neat construction. This, which I have been told has some connection with a turtle, occupies the right shoulder, and is occasionally repeated on the left. (See engraving at foot of page 722.) At Cape York, however, the cicatrices were so varied that I could not connect any particular style with an individual tribe. At the same time, something like uniformity was noticed among the Katchialaigas, nearly all of whom had, in addition to the horned breast mark, two or three long transverse scars on the chest, which the other tribes did not possess.

“In the remaining people the variety of marking was such that it appeared fair to consider it as being regulated more by individual caprice than by any fixed custom. Many had a simple two-horned mark on each breast, and we sometimes saw upon them a clumsy imitation of the elaborate shoulder mark of the islanders.”

Well-shaped as are these women, they have one defect in form, namely, the high and square shoulder, which detracts so much from feminine beauty, and which is equally conspicuous in the child of six, the girl of thirteen or fourteen, and the old woman. The men also exhibit the same defective form.

The reader will have noticed the elaborate manner in which the hair of the Australian savage is sometimes dressed. The style of hair-dressing varies with the locality, and often with the time, fashion having as absolute a reign among the native Australians, and being quite as capricious, as among ourselves. Sometimes the hair is twisted up into long and narrow ringlets, and, if the savage should not happen to have enough hair for this fashion, he straightway makes a wig in imitation of it. Now and then the head is shaved, except a transverse crest of hair, and sometimes the natives will take a fashion of rubbing red ochre and turtle-fat into their heads until they are saturated with the compound, and will then twist up the hair into little strands.

The men of this part of Australia never wear any dress, and the women are often equally indifferent to costume. At Cape York, however, they mostly wear an apology for a petticoat, consisting of a tuft of long grass or split pandanus leaves suspended to the front of the girdle. On great occasions, and especially in their dances, they wear over this a second petticoat mostly made of some leaf, and having the ends woven into a sort of waistband. The material of the petticoat is generally pandanus leaf, but, whatever may be the material, the mode of plaiting it and the general form are the same among all the tribes of Torres Straits. From this useful leaf, the women also make the rude sails for their canoes, which serve the double purpose of sails and coverings under which the natives can sleep in wet weather.

The women have rather a curious mode of wearing one of their ornaments. This is a very long belt, composed of many strands of plaited or twisted fibre, and passed round the body in such a manner that it crosses on the breast like the now abolished cross-belts of the soldier. It is drawn rather tight, and may perhaps be of some service in supporting the bosom. In neither case does clothing seem to be worn as a mode of concealing any part of the body, but merely as a defence against the weather or as an ornament. Even when dress is worn it is of a very slight character, with one or two exceptions. These exceptions are the fur cloaks, with which the women sometimes clothe themselves, and a remarkable garment which presently will be described.

The fur cloaks are made almost universally from the skin of the opossum, and, as the animal is a small one, a considerable number are sewed together to make a single robe. The mode of manufacture is exactly similar to that which was described when treating of the kaross of the Kaffir tribes, the skins being cut to the proper shape, laid side by side, and sewed laboriously together with threads formed of the sinews of the kangaroo’s tail, or often with those which are drawn out of the tails of the very creatures which furnish the skin.

Sometimes a piece of kangaroo skin is used for the same purpose, but in neither case does it fulfil the office of a dress according to our ideas. The cloak is a very small one in proportion to the size of the women, and it is worn by being thrown over the back and tied across the chest by a couple of thongs, so as to leave the whole front of the body uncovered. If the garment in question be the skin of the kangaroo, it is slung over one shoulder, and allowed to fall much as it likes, the only object seeming to be that it shall cover the greater part of the back and one shoulder. Occasionally a man wears a fur cloak, but he seems to be very indifferent as to the manner in which it hangs upon his body, sometimes draping it about his shoulders, sometimes letting it fall to his waist and gathering it about his loins, and sometimes, especially if walking, holding two corners together with his left hand in front of his breast, while his right hand grasps his bundle of weapons.

Mr. Angas mentions one instance of a singularly perfect dress in use among the Australians--the only dress in fact that is really deserving of the name. It is a large cloak made from the zostera or sea grass, a plant that is remarkable for being the only true flowering plant that grows in the sea. It has very long grass-like blades, and is found in vast beds, that look in a clear sea like luxuriant hay-fields just before mowing.

The fibre of the zostera is long, and wonderfully tough, and indeed the fibre is so good, and the plant so abundant, that the uses to which it is now put, such as packing and stuffing, are far below its capabilities, and it ought to be brought into use for purposes for which a long and strong fibre are needed. Some time ago, when the supply of rags for paper seemed to be failing, there was an attempt made to substitute the zostera for rags; and, although it was not a perfectly successful experiment, it had at all events the elements of success in it.

With this long grass the Australian native occasionally makes a large cloak, which will cover the whole body. It is made by laying the fibres side by side, and lashing them together at regular intervals, much as the well-known New Zealand mantle is made from the phormium. Anxious to avoid trouble, the native only fastens together a sufficient quantity to make a covering for his body as low as the knees, the loose ends of the zostera being left as a kind of long fringe that edges the mantle all round, and really has a very graceful effect.

The illustration No. 2, on the next page, shows one of those curious mantles, which was sketched while on the body of the wearer. As the manufacture of such a mantle involves much trouble, and the Australian native has the full savage hatred of labor, very few of these cloaks are to be seen. Indeed, nothing but a rather long inclement season will induce a native to take the trouble of making a garment which he will only use for a comparatively short period, and which is rather troublesome to carry about when not wanted.

* * * * *

We now come to the food of the natives. As has already been stated, they eat almost anything, but there are certain kinds of food which they prefer, and which will be specially mentioned.

As to vegetable food, there are several kinds of yams which the more civilized tribes cultivate--the nearest approach to labor of which they can be accused. It is almost exclusively on the islands that cultivation is found, and Mr. M’Gillivray states that on the mainland he never saw an attempt at clearing the ground for a garden. In the islands, however, the natives manage after a fashion to raise crops of yams.

When they want to clear a piece of ground, they strew the surface with branches, which are allowed to wither and dry; as soon as they are thoroughly dried, fire is set to them, and thus the space is easily cleared from vegetation. The ground is then pecked up with a stick sharpened at the point and hardened by fire; the yams are cut up and planted, and by the side of each hole a stick is thrust into the ground, so as to form a support for the plant when it grows up. The natives plant just before the rainy season. They never trouble themselves to build a fence round the simple garden, neither do they look after the growth of the crops, knowing that the rains which are sure to fall will bring their crops to perfection.

There are also multitudes of vegetable products on which the natives feed. One of them, which is largely used, is called by them “biyu.” It is made from the young and tender shoots of the mangrove tree. The sprouts, when three or four inches in length, are laid upon heated stones, and covered with bark, wet leaves, and sand. After being thoroughly stewed, they are beaten between two stones, and the pulp is scraped away from the fibres. It then forms a slimy gray paste, and, although it is largely eaten, the natives do not seem to like it, and only resort to it on a necessity. They contrive, however, to improve its flavor by adding large quantities of wild yams and other vegetable products.

Perhaps the most celebrated wild food of the Australians is the “nardoo,” which has become so familiar to the British reader since the important expedition of Burke and Wills. The nardoo is the produce of a cryptogamous plant which grows in large quantities, but is rather local. The fruit is about as large as a pea, and is cleaned for use by being rubbed in small wooden troughs. It is then pounded into a paste, and made into cakes, like oatmeal.

The nardoo plant is one of the ferns, and those of my readers who are skilled in botany will find it in the genus Marsilea. Like many of the ferns, the plant presents a strangely unfernlike aspect, consisting of upright and slender stems, about twelve inches high, each having on its tips a small quadruple frond, closely resembling a flower. The fruit, or “sporocarp” of the nardoo is the part that is eaten; and it is remarkable for its powers of absorbing water, and so increasing its size. Indeed, when the fruit is soaked in water, it will in the course of a single hour swell until it is two hundred times its former size.

The nardoo is useful in its way, and, when mixed with more nutritious food, is a valuable article of diet. Taken alone, however, it has scarcely the slightest nutritive powers, and though it distends the stomach, and so keeps off the gnawing sense of hunger, it gives no strength to the system. Even when eaten with fish, it is of little use, and requires either fat or sugar to give it the due power of nourishment. With the wonderful brightness of spirit which Mr. Wills managed to keep up, even when suffering the severest hardships, and feeling himself gradually dying, he gives in his diary a curiously accurate picture of the effects of living for a length of time on an innutritious substance. He liked the nardoo, and consumed considerable quantities of it, but gradually wasted away, leaving a record in his diary that “starvation on nardoo is by no means unpleasant but for the weakness one feels, and the utter inability to rouse one’s self; for as far as appetite is concerned, it gives the greatest satisfaction.”

The death of this fine young man affords another proof of the disadvantage at which a stranger to the country is placed while traversing a new land. Many native tribes lived on the route along which the travellers passed, and, from their knowledge of the resources of the country, were able to support themselves; whereas the white travellers seem to have died of starvation in the midst of plenty.

The chief vegetable food, however, is furnished by the bulrush root, which is to the Australians who live near rivers the staff of life. As the task of procuring it is a very disagreeable one, it is handed over to the women, who have to wade among the reeds and half bury themselves in mud while procuring the root.

It is cooked after the usual Australian manner. A heap of limestones is raised, and heated by fire. The roots are then laid on the hot stones, and are covered with a layer of the same material. In order to produce a quantity of steam, a heap of wet grass is thrown on the upper layer of stones, and a mound of sand heaped over all.

As the root, however well cooked, is very fibrous, the natives do not swallow it, but, after chewing it and extracting all the soft parts, they reject the fibres, just as a sailor throws aside his exhausted quid; and great quantities of these little balls of fibre are to be found near every encampment. The same fibre is convertible into string, and is used in the manufacture of fishing lines and nets.

The singular knowledge of vegetable life possessed by the natives is never displayed with greater force than in the power which they have of procuring water. In an apparently desert place, where no signs of water are to be found, and where not even a pigeon can be seen to wing its way through the air, as the guide to the distant water toward which it is flying, the native will manage to supply himself with both water and food.

He looks out for certain eucalypti or gum-trees, which are visible from a very great distance, and makes his way toward them. Choosing a spot at three or four yards from the trunk, with his katta he digs away at the earth, so as to expose the roots, tears them out of the ground, and proceeds to prepare them. Cutting them into pieces of a foot or so in length, he stands them upright in the bark vessel which an Australian mostly carries with him, and waits patiently. Presently a few drops of water ooze from the lower ends of the roots, and in a short time water pours out freely, so that an abundant supply of liquid is obtained.

Should the native be very much parched, he takes one of the pieces of root, splits it lengthwise, and chews it, finding that it gives as much juice as a water-melon. The youngest and freshest-looking trees are always chosen for the purpose of obtaining water, and the softest-looking roots selected. After the water has all been drained from them, they are peeled, pounded between two stones, and then roasted; so that the eucalyptus supplies both food and drink.

As, however, has been stated, the chief reliance of the natives is upon animal food and fish, molluscs, crustacea, reptiles, and insects form a very considerable proportion of their food. Collecting the shell-fish is the duty of the women, chiefly because it is really hard work, and requires a great amount of diving. Throughout the whole of this vast continent this duty is given to the women; and whether in the Gulf of Carpentaria, on the extreme north, or in the island of Van Diemen’s Land, in the extreme south, the same custom prevails. During Labillardière’s voyage in search of La Perouse, the travellers came upon a party of the natives of Van Diemen’s Land while the women were collecting shell-fish, and the author gives a good description of the labors to which these poor creatures were subjected:--

“About noon we saw them prepare their repast. Hitherto we had but a faint idea of the pains the women take to procure the food requisite for the subsistence of their families. They took each a basket, and were followed by their daughters, who did the same. Getting on the rocks that projected into the sea, they plunged from them to the bottom in search of shell-fish. When they had been down some time, we became very uneasy on their account; for where they had dived were seaweeds of great length, among which we observed the fucus pyriferus, and we feared that they might have been entangled in these, so as to be unable to regain the surface.

“At length, however, they appeared, and convinced us that they were capable of remaining under water twice as long as our ablest divers. An instant was sufficient for them to take breath, and then they dived again. This they did repeatedly till their baskets were nearly full. Most of them were provided with a little bit of wood, cut into the shape of a spatula, and with these they separated from beneath the rocks, at great depths, very large sea-ears. Perhaps they chose the biggest, for all they brought were of a great size.

“On seeing the large lobsters which they had in their baskets, we were afraid that they must have wounded these poor women terribly with their large claws; but we soon found that they had taken the precaution to kill them as soon as they caught them. They quitted the water only to bring their husbands the fruits of their labor, and frequently returned almost immediately to their diving till they had procured a sufficient meal for their families. At other times they stayed a little while to warm themselves, with their faces toward the fire on which their fish was roasting, and other little fires burning behind them, that they might be warmed on all sides at once.

“It seemed as if they were unwilling to lose a moment’s time; for while they were warming themselves, they were employed in roasting fish, some of which they laid on the coals with the utmost caution, though they took little care of the lobsters, which they threw anywhere into the fire; and when they were ready they divided the claws among the men and the children, reserving the body for themselves, which they sometimes ate before returning into the water.

“It gave us great pain to see these poor women condemned to such severe toil; while, at the same time, they ran the hazard of being devoured by sharks, or entangled among the weeds that rise from the bottom of the sea. We often entreated their husbands to take a share in their labor at least, but always in vain. They remained constantly near the fire, feasting on the best bits, and eating broiled fucus, or fern-roots. Occasionally they took the trouble to break boughs of trees into short pieces to feed the fire, taking care to choose the dryest.

“From their manner of breaking them we found that their skulls must be very hard; for, taking hold of the sticks at each end with the hand, they broke them over their heads, as we do at the knee, till they broke. Their heads being constantly bare, and often exposed to all weathers in this high latitude, acquire a capacity for resisting such efforts: besides, their hair forms a cushion which diminishes the pressure, and renders it much less painful on the summit of the head than any other part of the body. Few of the women, however, could have done as much, for some had their hair cut pretty short, and wore a string several times round the head; others had only a simple crown of hair. We made the same observation with respect to several of the children, but none of the men. These had the back, breast, shoulders, and arms covered with downy hair.”

Sometimes a party of women will go out on a raft made of layers of reeds, pushing themselves along by means of very long poles. When they arrive at a bed of mussels, they will stay there nearly all day diving from the raft, with their nets tied round their necks, and, after remaining under water for a considerable time, come up with a heavy load of mussels in their nets.

They even manage to cook upon this fragile raft. They make a heap of wet sand upon the reeds, put a few stones on it, and build their fire on the stones, just as if they had been on shore. After remaining until they have procured a large stock of mussels, they pole themselves ashore, and in all probability have to spend several hours in cooking the mussels for the men. The mussels are usually eaten with the bulrush root.

There is a sort of crayfish which is found in the mud-flats of rivers and lakes. These are also caught by the women, who feel for them in the mud with their feet, and hold them down firmly until they can be seized by the hand. As soon as the creatures are taken, the claws are crushed to prevent them from biting, and they are afterward roasted, while still alive, on the embers of the fire. Tadpoles are favorite articles of diet with the Australians, who fry them on grass.

The ordinary limpet, mussel, and other molluscs, are largely eaten by the natives, who scoop them out by means of smaller shells, just as is done by boys along our own coasts--a plan which is very efficacious, as I can testify from personal experience. Sometimes they cook the molluscs by the simple process of throwing them on the embers, but as a general rule they eat them in a raw state, as we eat oysters.

Fish they catch in various ways. The usual method is by a hook and line; the former of which is ingeniously cut out of the shell of the hawksbill turtle. Two of these hooks are now before me, and raise a feeling of wonder as to the fish which could be induced to take such articles into its mouth. It is flat, very clumsily made, and there is no barb, the point being curved very much inward, so as to prevent the fish from slipping off the hook. In fact the whole shape of the hook is almost exactly identical with that of the hook which is found throughout Polynesia and extends to New Zealand.

The hook is fastened to a long and stout line, made by chewing reeds, stripping them into fibres, and rolling them on the thighs. Two of these strings are then twisted together, and the line is complete. My own specimen of a line is about as thick as the fishing lines used on our coasts, and it is very long, having a hook at either end. The hook is lashed to the line by a very firm but rather clumsy wrapping. Sometimes the line is made of scraped rattan fibres.

Another mode of fishing is by the net. This requires at least two men to manage it. The net is many feet in length, and about four feet in width. It is kept extended by a number of sticks placed a yard or so apart, and can then be rolled up in a cylindrical package and be taken to the water. One man then takes an end of the net, unrolls it, and with the assistance of his comrade drops it into the water. As soon as the lower edge of the net touches the bottom, the men wade toward the shore, drawing with them the two ends of the net and all the fish that happen to be within its range. As soon as they near the shore, they bring the two ends of the net to the land, fix them there, and are then able to pick up and throw ashore all the fish that are in the net. Some of the more active fish escape by leaping over the upper edge of the net, and some of the mud-loving and crafty wriggle their way under the lower edge; but there is always a sufficiency of fish to reward the natives for their labor.

Like the fishing line, the net is made of chewed reeds, and the labor of chewing and twisting the string belongs exclusively to the women.

A third mode of fishing is by employing certain traps or baskets, ingeniously woven of rattan, and made so that the fish can easily pass into them, but cannot by any possibility get out again. Sometimes fish are speared in the shallow water, the native wading in, and with unerring aim transfixing the fish with his spear. Even the children take part in this sport, and, though armed with nothing better than a short stick, sharpened at one end, contrive to secure their fish. With the same stick they dig molluscs out of the mud, and turn crustacea out of their holes; and when they can do this, they are supposed to be able to shift for themselves, and their parents take no more trouble about feeding them.

They are not more fastidious in the cooking of fish than of crustacea or molluscs, but just throw them on the fire, turn them once or twice with a stick, and when they are warmed through and the outside scorched, they pick them out of the fire, scrape off the burnt scales, and eat them without further ceremony.

Insect food is much used among the Australians. As might be expected, honey is greatly valued by them, and they display great ingenuity in procuring it. When a native sees a bee about the flowers, and wishes to find the honey, he repairs to the nearest pool, selects a spot where the bank shelves very gradually, lies on his face, fills his mouth with water, and patiently awaits the arrival of a bee. These insects require a considerable amount of moisture, as every one knows who has kept them, and the bee-hunter reckons on this fact to procure him the honey which he desires. After a while a bee is sure to come and drink, and the hunter, hearing the insect approaching him, retains his position and scarcely breathes, so fearful is he of alarming it. At last it alights, and instantly the native blows the water from his mouth over it, stunning it for the moment. Before it can recover itself, he seizes it, and by means of a little gum attaches to it a tuft of white down obtained from one of the trees.

As soon as it is released, the insect flies away toward its nest, the white tuft serving the double purpose of making it more conspicuous and retarding its flight. Away goes the hunter after it at full speed, running and leaping along in a wonderful manner, his eyes fixed on the guiding insect, and making very light of obstacles. (See illustration No. 1, on the 716th page.) Sometimes a fallen tree will be in his way, and if he can he jumps over it; but at all risks he must get over without delay, and so he dashes at the obstacle with reckless activity. Should he surmount it, well and good; but if, as often happens, he should fall, he keeps his eyes fixed, as well as he can, on the bee, and as soon as he springs to his feet he resumes the chase. Even if he should lose sight of it for a moment, he dashes on in the same direction, knowing that a bee always flies in a straight line for its home; and when he nears it, the angry hum of the hampered insect soon tells him that he has recovered the lost ground.

The reader will see that this mode of tracking the bee to its home is far inferior to that of the American bee-hunters, and is rather a business of the legs than of the head. The Australian bee-hunter waits until a bee happens to come to the spot where he lies; the American bee-hunter baits an attractive trap, and induces the insect to come to the spot which he selects. Then the Australian bee-hunter only runs after the single bee; whereas the American bee-hunter economizes his strength by employing two bees, and saving his legs.

He puts honey on a flat wooden slab, having drawn a circle of white paint round it. The bee alights on the honey, and, after filling its crop, crawls through the white paint and sets off homeward. The hunter follows the “bee-line” taken by the insect, and marks it by scoring or “blazing” a few trees. He then removes his honeyed trap to a spot at an angle with his former station and repeats the process. There is no need for him to race after the flying bee, and to run considerable risk of damaging himself more or less seriously; he simply follows out the lines which the two bees have taken, and, by fixing on the point at which they meet, walks leisurely up to the nest.

Having found his bee nest, the Australian loses no time in ascending to the spot, whether it be a cleft in a rock, or, as is usually the case, a hole in a tree. This latter spot is much favored by the bees, as well as by many of the arboreal mammals, of which there are so many in Australia. The sudden and violent tempests which rage in that part of the world tear off the branches of trees and hurl them to the ground. During succeeding rainy seasons, the wet lodges in the broken branch, and by degrees rots away the wood, which is instantly filled with the larvæ of beetles, moths, flies, and other insects that feed upon decaying wood. Thus, in a few years, the hollow extends itself until it burrows into the tree itself, and sometimes descends nearly from the top to the bottom, thus forming an admirable locality for the bees.

Taking with him a hatchet, a basket, and a quantity of dry grass or leaves, the native ascends, lights the grass, and under cover of the smoke chops away the wood until he can get at the combs, which he places in the basket, with which he descends. Should he be too poor to possess even a basket, he extemporizes one by cutting away the bark of the tree; and should the nest be a very large one, he is supplied by his friends from below with a number of vessels, and passes them down as fast as they are filled.

Perhaps some of my readers may remark that honey cannot be rightly considered as insect food, and that it ought to have been ranked among the vegetable productions. The Australian, however, does not content himself with extracting the honey from the comb, but eats it precisely in the state in which it is brought from the nest. As the bees are not forced, as amongst English bee-masters, to keep their honey-cells distinct from those which contain the hoard and the “bee-bread,” each comb contains indiscriminately bee-bread, young bee-grubs, and honey, and the Australian eats all three with equal satisfaction.

Another kind of insect food is a grub which inhabits the trunks of trees, and of which the natives are inordinately fond. They have a wonderful faculty of discovering the presence of this grub, and twist it out of its hole with an odd little instrument composed of a hook fastened to the end of a slender twig. This implement is carried in the hair so as to project over the ear, like a clerk’s pen, and for a long time puzzled travellers, who thought it to be merely an ornament, and could not understand its very peculiar shape.

The larva is the caterpillar of a moth which is closely allied to the goat-moth of our own country, and has the same habit of burrowing into the wood of living trees. The hooked instrument which is used for drawing them out of their holes is called the “pileyah,” and is employed also for hooking beetles, grubs, and other insects out of their holes in the ground. When the pileyah is used for extracting grubs from the earth, the ground is first loosened by means of a wooden scoop that looks something like a hollowed waddy. The pileyah is then tied to the end of a polygonum twig of sufficient length, and by such means can be introduced into the holes.

Perhaps the most celebrated of the various insect banquets in which the Australians delight is that which is furnished by the bugong moth, as the insect is popularly, but wrongly, called. Instead of belonging to the moth tribe, it is one of the butterflies, and belongs to the graceful family of the Heliconidæ. Its scientific name is Euplœa hamata. The bugong is remarkable for the fact that its body, instead of being slender like that of most butterflies, is very stout, and contains an astonishing amount of oily matter. The color of the insect is dark brown, with two black spots on the upper wings. It is a small insect, measuring only an inch and a half across the wings.

It is found in the New South Wales district, and inhabits a range of hills that are called from the insect the Bugong Mountains. The Australians eat the bugong butterflies just as locusts are eaten in many parts of the world, and, for the short time during which the insect makes its appearance, feast inordinately upon it, and get quite fat. The following account is given by Mr. G. Bennett:--

“After riding over the lower ranges, we arrived a short distance above the base of the Bugong Mountain, tethered the horses, and ascended on foot, by a steep and rugged path, which led us to the first summit of the mountain: at this place, called Ginandery by the natives, enormous masses of granite rock, piled one upon another, and situated on the verge of a wooded precipice, excited our attention. An extensive and romantic view was here obtained of a distant, wooded, mountainous country.

“This was the first place where, upon the smooth sides or crevices of the granite blocks, the bugong moths congregated in such incredible multitudes; but, from the blacks having recently been here, we found but few of the insects remaining. At one part of this group of granite rocks were two pools, apparently hollowed naturally from the solid stone, and filled with cool and clear water; so, lighting a fire, we enjoyed a cup of tea previous to recommencing our further ascent. On proceeding we found the rise more gradual, but unpleasant, from the number of loose stones and branches of trees strewed about; several of the deserted bark huts of the natives (which they had temporarily erected when engaged in collecting and preparing the bugong) were scattered around. Shrubs and plants were numerous as we proceeded, but, with few exceptions, did not differ from those seen in other parts of the colony.

“Near a small limpid stream a species of Lycopodium grew so dense as to form a carpet over which we were able to walk. The timber trees towered to so great an elevation that the prospect of the country we had anticipated was impeded. At last we arrived at another peculiar group of granite rocks in enormous masses and of various forms; this place, similar to the last, formed the locality where the bugong moths congregate, and is called ‘Warrogong’ by the natives. The remains of recent fires apprised us that the aborigines had only recently left the place for another of similar character a few miles further distant.

“Our native guides wished us to proceed and join the tribe, but the day had so far advanced that it was thought more advisable to return, because it was doubtful, as the blacks removed from a place as soon as they had cleared it of the insects, whether we should find them at the next group, or removed to others still further distant.

“From the result of my observations it appears that the insects are only found in such multitudes on these insulated and peculiar masses of granite, for about the other solitary granite rocks, so profusely scattered over the range, I did not observe a single moth, or even the remains of one. Why they should be confined only to these particular places, or for what purpose they thus collect together, is not a less curious than interesting subject of inquiry. Whether it be for the purpose of emigrating, or any other cause, our present knowledge cannot satisfactorily answer.

“The bugong moths, as I have before observed, collect on the surfaces, and also in the crevices, of the masses of granite in incredible quantities. To procure them with greater facility, the natives make smothered fires underneath these rocks about which they are collected, and suffocate them with smoke, at the same time sweeping them off frequently in bushelfuls at a time. After they have collected a large quantity, they proceed to prepare them, which is done in the following manner.

“A circular space is cleared upon the ground, of a size proportioned to the number of insects to be prepared; on it a fire is lighted and kept burning until the ground is considered to be sufficiently heated, when, the fire being removed, and the ashes cleared away, the moths are placed upon the heated ground, and stirred about until the down and wings are removed from them; they are then placed on pieces of bark, and winnowed to separate the dust and wings mixed with the bodies; they are then eaten, or placed into a wooden vessel called ‘walbum,’ or ‘calibum,’ and pounded by a piece of wood into masses or cakes resembling lumps of fat, and may be compared in color and consistence to dough made from smutty wheat mixed with fat.

“The bodies of the moths are large and filled with a yellowish oil, resembling in taste a sweet nut. These masses (with which the ‘netbuls,’ or ‘talabats,’ of the native tribes are loaded during the season of feasting upon the bugong) will not keep more than a week, and seldom even for that time; but by smoking they are able to preserve them for a much longer period. The first time this diet is used by the native tribes, violent vomiting and other debilitating effects are produced, but after a few days they become accustomed to its use, and then thrive and fatten exceedingly upon it.

“These insects are held in such estimation among the aborigines, that they assemble from all parts of the country to collect them from these mountains. It is not only the native blacks that resort to the bugong, but crows also congregate for the same purpose. The blacks (that is, the crows and the aborigines) do not agree about their respective shares: so the stronger decides the point; for, when the crows (called ‘arabul’ by the natives) enter the hollows of the rocks to feed upon the insects, the natives stand at the entrance and kill them as they fly out; and they afford them an excellent meal, being fat from feeding upon the rich bugong. So eager are the feathered blacks or arabuls after this food that they attack it even when it is preparing by the natives; but as the aborigines never consider any increase of food a misfortune, they lay in wait for the arabuls with waddies or clubs, kill them in great numbers, and use them as food.”

* * * * *

Reptiles form a very considerable part of an Australian’s diet, and he displays equal aptitude in capturing and cooking them. Turtle is an especial favorite with him, not only on account of its size, and of the quantity of meat which it furnishes, but on account of the oil which is obtained from it.

On the coast of Australia several kinds of turtle are found, the most useful of which are the ordinary green turtle and the hawksbill. They are caught either in the water, or by watching for them when they come on shore for the purpose of laying their eggs, and then turning them on their backs before they can reach the sea. As, however, comparatively few venture on the shore, the greater number are taken in the water. Along the shore the natives have regular watchtowers or cairns made of stones and the bones of turtles, dugongs, and other creatures. When the sentinel sees a turtle drifting along with the tide, he gives the alarm, and a boat puts out after it. The canoe approaches from behind, and paddles very cautiously so that the reptile may not hear it. As soon as they come close to it, the chief hunter, who holds in his hand one end of a slight but tough rope, leaps on the turtle’s back, and clings to it with both hands on its shoulders. The startled reptile dashes off, but before it has got very far the hunter contrives to upset it, and while it is struggling he slips the noose of the rope over one of its flippers. The creature is then comparatively helpless, and is towed ashore by the canoe.

In some districts the turtle is taken by means of a harpoon, which is identical in principle with that which is used by the hippopotamus hunters of Africa. There is a long shaft, into the end of which is loosely slipped a movable head. A rope is attached to the head, and a buoy to the other end of the rope. As soon as the reptile is struck, the shaft is disengaged, and is picked up by the thrower; while the float serves as an indication of the turtle’s whereabouts, and enables the hunters to tow it toward the shore.

One of the natives, named Gi’ôm, told Mr. M’Gillivray that they sometimes caught the turtle by means of the remora, or sucking-fish. One of these fish, round whose tail a line has been previously made fast, is kept in a vessel of water on board the boat, and, when a small turtle is seen, the remora is dropped into the sea. Instinctively it makes its way to the turtle, and fastens itself so firmly to the reptile’s back that they are both hauled to the boat’s side and lifted in by the fishermen. Only small turtles can be thus taken, and there is one species which never attains any great size which is generally captured in this curious manner.

The hawksbill turtle is too dangerous an antagonist to be chased in the water. The sharp-edged scales which project from its sides would cut deeply into the hands of any man who tried to turn it; and even the green turtle, with its comparatively blunt-edged shell, has been known to inflict a severe wound upon the leg of the man who was clinging to its back. The native, therefore, is content to watch it ashore, and by means of long, stout poles, which he introduces leverwise under its body, turns it over without danger to himself.

When the Australians have succeeded in turning a turtle, there are great rejoicings, as the very acme of human felicity consists, according to native ideas, in gorging until the feasters can neither stand nor sit. They may be seen absolutely rolling on the ground in agony from the inordinate distension of their stomachs, and yet, as soon as the pain has abated, they renew their feastings. Mostly they assemble round the turtle, cook it rudely, and devour it on the spot; but in Torres Straits they are more provident, and dry the flesh in order to supply themselves with food during their voyages. They cut up the meat into thin slices, boil the slices, and then dry them in the sun.

During the process of cooking, a considerable amount of oil rises to the surface, and is skimmed off and kept in vessels made of bamboo and turtles’ bladders. The cook, however, has to exercise some vigilance while performing his task, as the natives are so fond of the oil that, unless they are closely watched, they will skim it off and drink it while in an almost boiling state. The boiling and subsequent drying render the flesh very hard, so that it will keep for several weeks; but it cannot be eaten without a second boiling.

The shell of the hawksbill turtle is doubly valuable to the natives, who reserve a little for the manufacture of hooks, and sell the rest to shippers or traders, who bring it to Europe, where it is converted into the “tortoise-shell” with which we are so familiar. There is in my collection a beautiful specimen of one of these scales of tortoise-shell as it was purchased from the natives. It is about eleven inches in length and seven in width, and has a hole at one end by which they string the scales together. There are the scars of eight large limpet shells upon it, showing the singular appearance which the animal must have presented when alive.

The cooking of turtle is a far more important process than that of boiling fish, and a sort of oven is required in order to dress it properly. In principle the oven resembles that which is in use in so many parts of the world, and which has been already described when shewing how the hunters of South Africa cook the elephant’s foot. Instead, however, of digging a hole and burning wood in it, the Australian takes a number of stones, each about the size of a man’s fist, and puts them into the fire. When they are heated, they are laid closely together, and the meat placed upon them. A second layer of heated stones is arranged upon the meat, and a rim or bank of tea-tree bush, backed up with sand or earth, is built round this primitive oven. Grass and leaves are then strewn plentifully over the stones, and are held in their places by the circular bank. The steam is thus retained, and so the meat is cooked in a very effectual manner.

In some parts of the country, however, a more elaborate oven is used. It consists of a hole some three feet in diameter and two feet in depth, and is heated in the following manner:--It is filled to within six inches of the top with round and hard stones, similar to those which have already been described, and upon them a fire is built and maintained for some time. When the stones are thought to be sufficiently heated, the embers are swept away, and the food is simply laid upon the stones and allowed to remain there until thoroughly cooked.

This kind of oven is found over a large range of country, and Mr. M’Gillivray has seen it throughout the shores of Torres Straits, and extending as far southward as Sandy Cape on the eastern side.

Although the idea of snake eating is so repugnant to our ideas that many persons cannot eat eels because they look like snakes, the Australian knows better, and considers a snake as one of the greatest delicacies which the earth produces. And there is certainly no reason why we should repudiate the snake as disgusting while we accept the turtle and so many of the tortoise kind as delicacies, no matter whether their food be animal or vegetable. The Australian knows that a snake in good condition ought to have plenty of fat, and to be well flavored, and is always easy in his mind so long as he can catch one.

The process of cooking (see page 716) is exactly like that which is employed with fish, except that more pains are taken about it, as is consistent with the superior character of the food. The fire being lighted, the native squats in front of it and waits until the flame and smoke have partly died away, and then carefully coils the snake on the embers, turning it and recoiling it until all the scales are so scorched that they can be rubbed off. He then allows it to remain until it is cooked according to his ideas, and eats it deliberately, as becomes such a dainty, picking out the best parts for himself, and, if he be in a good humor, tossing the rest to his wives.

Snake hunting is carried on in rather a curious manner. Killing a snake at once, unless it should be wanted for immediate consumption, would be extremely foolish, as it would be unfit for food before the night had passed away. Taking it alive, therefore, is the plan which is adopted by the skilful hunter, and this he manages in a very ingenious way.

Should he come upon one of the venomous serpents, he cuts off its retreat, and with his spear or with a forked stick he irritates it with one hand, while in his other he holds the narrow wooden shield. By repeated blows he induces the reptile to attack him, and dexterously receives the stroke on the shield, flinging the snake back by the sudden repulse. Time after time the snake renews the attack, and is as often foiled; and at last it yields the battle, and lies on the ground completely beaten. The hunter then presses his forked stick on the reptile’s neck, seizes it firmly, and holds it while a net is thrown over it and it is bound securely to his spear. It is then carried off, and reserved for the next day’s banquet.

Sometimes the opossum-skin cloak takes the place of the shield, and the snake is allowed to bite it.

The carpet snake, which sometimes attains the length of ten or twelve feet, is favorite game with the Australian native, as its large size furnishes him with an abundant supply of meat, as well as the fat in which his soul delights. This snake mostly lives in holes at the foot of the curious grass-tree, of which we shall see several figures in the course of the following pages, and in many places it is so plentiful that there is scarcely a grass-tree without its snake.

As it would be a waste of time to probe each hole in succession, the natives easily ascertain those holes which are inhabited by smearing the earth around them with a kind of white clay mixed with water, which is as soft as putty. On the following day they can easily see, by the appearance of the clay, when a snake has entered or left its hole, and at once proceed to induce the reptile to leave its stronghold. This is done by putting on the trunk of the tree immediately over the hole a bait, which the natives state to be honey, and waiting patiently, often for many hours, until the serpent is attracted by the bait and climbs the tree. As soon as it is clear of the hole, its retreat is cut off, and the result of the ensuing combat is a certainty. The forked spear which the native employs is called a bo-bo.

All the tribes which live along the eastern coast, especially those which inhabit the northern part of the country, are in the habit of capturing the dugong. This animal is very fond of a green, branchless, marine alga, and ventures to the shore in order to feed upon it. The natives are on the watch for it, and, as soon as a dugong is seen, a canoe puts off after it.

Each canoe is furnished with paddles and a harpooner, who is armed with a weapon very similar to that which is used by the turtle catchers, except that no buoy is required. It is composed of a shaft some twelve or fifteen feet in length, light at one end, and heavy at the other. A hole is made at the heavy end, and into the hole is loosely fitted a kind of spear head made of bone, about four inches in length, and covered with barbs. One end of a stout and long rope is made fast to this head, and the other is attached to the canoe.

As soon as he is within striking distance, the harpooner jumps out of the boat into the water, striking at the same time with his weapon, so as to add to the stroke the force of his own weight. Disengaging the shaft, he returns to the canoe, leaving the dugong attached to it by the rope. The wounded animal dives and tries to make its way seaward. Strange to say, although the dugong is a large animal, often eight feet in length, and very bulky in proportion to its length, it seldom requires to be struck a second time, but rises to the surface and dies in a few minutes from a wound occasioned by so apparently insignificant a weapon as a piece of bone struck some three inches into its body. When it is dead, it is towed ashore, and rolled up the bank to some level spot, where preparations are at once made for cooking and eating it.

Those who are acquainted with zoölogy are aware that the dugong is formed much after the manner of the whale, and that it is covered first with a tough skin and then with a layer of blubber over the muscles. This structure, by the way, renders its succumbing to the wound of the harpoon the more surprising. The natives always cut it up in the same manner. The tail is sliced much as we carve a round of beef, while the body is cut into thin slices as far as the ribs, each slice having its own proportion of meat, blubber, and skin. The blubber is esteemed higher than any other portion of the animal, though even the tough skin can be rendered tolerably palatable by careful cooking.

Of all Australian animals, the kangaroo is most in favor, both on account of the excellent quality of the flesh, and the quantity which a single kangaroo will furnish. It is hardly necessary to remind the reader that with the Australian, as with other savages, quantity is considered rather than quality. A full grown “boomah” kangaroo will, when standing upright, in its usual attitude of defence, measure nearly six feet in height, and is of very considerable weight. And, when an Australian kills a kangaroo, he performs feats of gluttony to which the rest of the world can scarcely find a parallel, and certainly not a superior. Give an Australian a kangaroo and he will eat until he is nearly dead from repletion; and he will go on eating, with short intervals of rest, until he has finished the entire kangaroo.

Like other savage creatures, whether human or otherwise, he is capable of bearing deprivation of food to a wonderful extent; and his patient endurance of starvation, when food is not to be obtained, is only to be excelled by his gluttony when it is plentiful. This curious capacity for alternate gluttony and starvation is fostered by the innately lazy disposition of the Australian savage, and his utter disregard for the future. The animal that ought to serve him and his family for a week is consumed in a few hours; and, as long as he does not feel the pain of absolute hunger, nothing can compel the man to leave his rude couch and go off on a hunting expedition. But when he does make up his mind to hunt, he has a bulldog sort of tenacity which forbids him to relinquish the chase until he has been successful in bringing down his game.

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LXXI. AUSTRALIA--Continued

WEAPONS OF THE AUSTRALIANS, THEIR FORMS AND USES -- THE CLUB OR WADDY, AND ITS VARIOUS FORMS -- USES OF THE WADDY -- A DOMESTIC PANACEA -- AN AUSTRALIAN DUEL -- THICK SKULLS OF THE NATIVES -- LOVE OF THE NATIVE FOR HIS WADDY -- THE BLACK POLICE FORCE -- THE MISSILE WADDY -- THE KATTA, OR DIGGING-STICK, AND ITS VARIED USES -- HOW AN AUSTRALIAN DIGS A HOLE -- THE STONE TOMAHAWK AND ITS USE -- THE ASCENT OF TREES -- HOW AN AUSTRALIAN KNOWS WHETHER AN ANIMAL IS IN A TREE -- SMOKING OUT THE PREY -- THE BLACK-BOY GUM -- THE GRASS-TREE OF AUSTRALIA -- THE AUSTRALIAN SAW.

As in the course of the following pages all the weapons of the Australian will have to be mentioned, we will take the opportunity of describing them at once, without troubling ourselves as to the peculiar locality in which each modification is found.

We will begin with the club, the simplest of all weapons. Several examples of the club are to be seen in the illustration entitled “Australian Clubs,” on the 722d page. All the figures are drawn from actual specimens, some belonging to my own collection, some being sketched from examples in the British Museum, and others being taken from the fine collection of Colonel Lane Fox.

The simplest form of Australian club is that which is known by the name of “waddy,” and which is the favorite weapon of an Australian savage, who never seems to be happy without a waddy in his hands, no matter what other weapons he may happen to carry. One of these waddies may be seen at fig. 4. and another at fig. 5. The latter is a specimen in my own collection, and affords a very good example of the true Australian waddy. It is made of the tough and heavy wood of the gum-tree, and is really a most effective weapon, well balanced, and bears marks of long usage. The length is two feet eight inches, and, as the reader may see from the illustration, it is sharpened at the point, so that in close combat it can be used for stabbing as well as for striking. It weighs exactly twenty-one ounces.

Four deep grooves run along the waddy, from the point to the spot where it is grasped, and seem to be intended as edges whereby a blow may cut through the skin as well as inflict a bruise. Besides these grooves, there are sundry carvings which the native evidently has thought to be ornamental. On two of the sides the pattern is merely the double-headed T seen in the illustration, but on the other two sides the pattern is varied. In every case the top figure is the double T; but on one side there is first a T, then a cross with curved arms, then a T, and then a pattern that looks something like a key, having a bow at each end. The fourth side is evidently unfinished, there being only two patterns on it; the second, evidently an attempt to imitate the letter B, showing that the maker had some acquaintance with civilization.

With this waddy the native is better armed than most men would be with the keenest sword that ever was forged, and with it he strikes and stabs with marvellous rapidity, seeming to be actuated, when in combat, by an uncontrollable fury. He can use it as a missile with deadly effect; and if, as is generally the case, he has several of these waddies in his hand, he will hurl one or two of them in rapid succession, and, while the antagonist is still attempting to avoid the flying weapon, precipitate himself upon the foe, and attack him with the waddy which he has reserved for hand-to-hand combat.

The waddy is the Australian panacea for domestic troubles, and if one of his wives should presume to have an opinion of her own, or otherwise to offend her dusky lord, a blow on the head from the ever-ready waddy settles the dispute at once by leaving her senseless on the ground. Sometimes the man strikes the offender on a limb, and breaks it; but he does not do this unless he should be too angry to calculate that, by breaking his slave’s arm or leg, he deprives himself of her services for a period.

With the Australian man of honor the waddy takes the place which the pistol once held in England and the United States, and is the weapon by which disputes are settled. In case two Australians of reputation should fall out, one of them challenges the other to single combat, sending him a derisive message to the effect that he had better bring his stoutest waddy with him, so that he may break it on the challenger’s head.

Thickness of skull--a reproach in some parts of the world--is among the Australians a matter of great boast, and one Australian can hardly insult another in more contemptuous words than by comparing his skull to an emu’s egg-shell. I have examined several skulls of Australian natives, and have been much surprised by two points: the first is the astonishing thickness and hardness of the bone, which seems capable of resisting almost any blow that could be dealt by an ordinary weapon; and the second is the amount of injury which an Australian skull can endure. Owing to the thickness of the skull, the Australian puts his head to strange uses, one of the oddest of which is his custom of breaking sticks on his head instead of snapping them across the knee.

In due time the combatants appear on the ground, each bearing his toughest and heaviest waddy, and attended by his friends. After going through the usual gesticulations and abuse which always precede a duel between savages, the men set definitely to work.

The challenged individual takes his waddy, and marches out into the middle of the space left by the spectators. His adversary confronts him, but unarmed, and stooping low, with his hands on his knees, he offers his head to the opponent. The adversary executes a short dance of delight at the blow which he is going to deal, and then, after taking careful aim, he raises his waddy high in the air, and brings it down with all his force on the head of his foe.

The blow would fell an ordinary ox; but the skull of an Australian is made of sterner stuff than that of a mere ox, and the man accordingly raises himself, rubs his head, and holds out his hand to his nearest friend, who gives him the waddy, which he is about to use in his turn. The challenged man now takes his turn at stooping, while the challenger does his best to smash the skull of the antagonist. Each man, however, knows from long experience the hardest part of his own skull, and takes care to present it to the enemy’s blow. In this way they continue to exchange blows until one of them falls to the ground, when the victory is decided to remain with his antagonist.

In consequence of the repeated injuries to which the head of a native Australian is subjected, the skull of a warrior presents, after death, a most extraordinary appearance, being covered with dents, fractures, and all kinds of injuries, any one of which would have killed an European immediately, but which seems to have only caused temporary inconvenience to the Australian.

So fond is the Australian of his waddy, that even in civilized life he cannot be induced to part with it. Some of my readers may be aware that a great number of captives are now enrolled among the police, and render invaluable service to the community, especially against the depredations of their fellow-blacks whom they persecute with a relentless vigor that seems rather surprising to those who do not know the singular antipathy which invariably exists between wild and tamed animals, whether human or otherwise. In fact, the Australian native policeman is to the colonist what the “Totty” of South Africa is to the Dutch and English colonists, what the Ghoorka or Sikh of India is to the English army, and what the tamed elephant of Ceylon or India is to the hunter.

These energetic “black fellows” are armed with the ordinary weapons of Europeans, and are fully acquainted with their use. But there is not one of them who thinks himself properly armed unless he has his waddy; and, when he enters the bush in search of native thieves, he will lay aside the whole of his clothing, except the cap which marks his office, will carry his gun with him, buckle his cartouch-pouch round his naked waist, and will take his waddy as a weapon, without which even the gun would seem to him an insufficient weapon.

This form of waddy (fig. 4), although it is often used as a missile, is not the one which the native prefers for that purpose. His throwing waddy or “wadna,” is much shorter and heavier, and very much resembles the short missile club used so effectively by the Polynesians. Two other forms of waddy are shown at figs. 3 and 5, the latter of which is generally known by the name of “piccaninny waddy,” because it is generally smaller and lighter than the others, and can be used by a child.

Nos. 1 and 2 are also clubs, but are made in a different form, and used in a different manner. If the reader will refer to the account of the Abyssinian curved sword, or shotel, he will see that in general form it much resembles this club, the long pointed head of each being equally useful in striking downward over a shield. This weapon is not only used in combat, but is employed in the native dances to beat time by repeated strokes on the shield.

The reader will notice that many of these clubs have the ends of the handles pointed. This formation is partly for the purpose of increasing their efficiency as offensive weapons, and partly for another object. As was the case with the warriors of the Iliad, both combatants will occasionally rest, and give each other time to breathe, before renewing the fight. During these intervals the Australian combatants squat down, dig up the earth with the handle of the club, and rub their hands with the dusty soil, in order to prevent the weapons from slipping out of their grasp.

This club is made in a very ingenious way, the artificer taking advantage of some gnarled branch, and cutting it so that the grain of the wood follows the curve, or rather the angle of the head, which adds greatly to its strength. A club of almost the same shape, and cut similarly from the angle of a branch, is used in New Caledonia, and, but for the great superiority of the workmanship, might easily be mistaken for the angular club of the Australian.

This particular form of club has a tolerably wide range, and among the tribes which inhabit the shores of Encounter Bay is called Marpangye.

In many parts of Australia the natives have a curious weapon which much resembles a sword. It is from three to four feet in length, is flat, about three inches in width, and has the outer edge somewhat sharpened. Being made of the close-grained wood of the gum-tree, it is very heavy in proportion to its size, and in practised hands is a most formidable weapon.

The Australian women carry an instrument which is sometimes thought to be a spear, and sometimes a club, but which in the hands of a woman is neither, though a man will sometimes employ it for either purpose. It is simply a stick of variable length, sharpened at one end and the point hardened by fire. It is called by the natives the “katta,” and is popularly known by the appropriate name of the digging-stick.

With this stick the natives contrive to dig up the ground in a most astonishing manner, and an English “navvy,” with his pick, spade, and barrow, would feel considerably surprised at the work which is done by the naked black, who has no tools except a pointed stick. Let, for example, a navvy be set to work at the task of digging out an echidna from its hole, and he would find his powers of digging baffled by the burrowing capabilities of the animal, which would make its way through the earth faster than could the navvy. In order to sink some six feet deep into the ground, the white man would be obliged to make a funnel-shaped hole of very large size, so as to allow him to work in it, and to give the pick and spade free play as he threw out the soil.

The black man, on the contrary, would have no such difficulty, but knows how to sink a hole without troubling himself to dig a foot of needless soil. This he does by handling the katta precisely as the Bosjesman handles his digging-stick, i. e. by holding it perpendicularly, jobbing the hardened point into the ground, and throwing out with his hands the loosened earth.

In digging out one of the burrowing animals, the black hunter pushes a long and flexible stick down the hole, draws it out, measures along the ground to the spot exactly above the end of the burrow, replaces the stick, and digs down upon it. By the time that he has reached it, the animal has gone on digging, and has sunk its burrow still further. The stick is then pushed into the lengthened burrow, and again dug down upon; and the process is repeated until the tired animal can dig no more, and is captured. The katta also takes the part of a weapon, and can be wielded very effectively by a practised hand, being used either for striking or thrusting.

We now come to a curious instrument which is often thought to be a weapon, but which, although it would answer such a purpose very well, is seldom used for it. This is the tomahawk, or hammer, as it is generally called. Three varieties of the tomahawk are given in the illustration “Tomahawks” on the 722d page. In all of them the cutting part is made of stone and the handle of wood, and the head and the handle are joined in several different ways, according to the fashion of the locality in which the instrument is made. The simplest plan is that which is shown in fig. 1. In this instrument, a conveniently shaped piece of stone has been selected for a head, and the handle is made of a flexible stick bent over it, and the two ends firmly lashed together, just as the English blacksmith makes handles for his punches and cold chisels. This weapon was made in New South Wales.

At fig. 3 is shown a tomahawk of a more elaborate construction. Here the stone head has been lashed to the shaft by a thong, which is wrapped over it in a way that exactly resembles the lashing employed by the New Zealander or the Dyak for the same purpose. The tomahawk at fig. 4 is, however, the best example of the instrument, and is taken from a specimen in the British Museum. The handle and head are shaped much like those of fig. 3, but the fastening is much more elaborate.

In the first place, the head is held to the handle by lashings of sinews, which are drawn from the tail of the kangaroo, and always kept in readiness by the Australian savage. The sinews are steeped in hot water, and pounded between two stones, in order to separate them into fibres; and, while still wet and tolerably elastic, they are wrapped round the stone and the handle. Of course, as they dry, they contract with great force, and bind the head and handle together far more securely than can be done with any other material. Even raw hide does not hold so firmly as sinew.

When the sinew lashing is perfectly dry, the native takes a quantity of the peculiar substance called “black-boy” wax, and kneads it over the head and the end of the handle, so as to bind everything firmly together.

Another instrument is shown at fig. 2, in which the combination of stone and vegetable is managed in another way. The blade is formed from a piece of quartz about as long as a man’s hand, which has been chipped into the form of a spear-head. The handle, instead of being a piece of wood, is simply a number of fibres made into a bundle. The base of the stone head has been pushed among the loose ends of the fibres, and then the whole has been bound firmly together by a lashing of string made of reeds. This is a sort of dagger; and another form of the same instrument is made by simply sharpening a stick about eighteen inches in length, and hardening the sharpened end in the fire. It is, in fact, a miniature katta, but is applied to a different purpose.

These axes and daggers have been mentioned together, because they are used for the same purpose, namely, the ascent of trees.

Active as a monkey, the Australian native can climb any tree that grows. Should they be of moderate size, he ascends them, not by clasping the trunk with his legs and arms (the mode which is generally used in England), and which is popularly called “swarming.” Instead of passing his legs and arms round the tree-trunk as far as they can go, he applies the soles of his feet to it in front, and presses a hand against it on either side, and thus ascends the tree with the rapidity of a squirrel. This mode of ascent is now taught at every good gymnasium in England, and is far superior to the old fashion, which has the disadvantage of slowness, added to the certainty of damaging the clothes.

Those who have seen our own acrobats performing the feat called La Perche, in which one man balances another on the top of a pole, or the extraordinary variations on it performed by the Japanese jugglers, who balance poles and ladders on the soles of their feet, will be familiar with the manner in which one of the performers runs up the pole which is balanced by his companion. It is by this method that the Australian ascends a tree of moderate dimensions, and, when he is well among the boughs, he traverses them with perfect certainty and quickness.

Trees which will permit the man to ascend after this fashion are, however, rather scarce in the Australian forests, and, moreover, there is comparatively little inducement to climb them, the hollows in which the bees make their nests and the beasts take up their diurnal abode being always in the branch or trunk of some old and decaying tree. Some of these trees are so large that their trunks are veritable towers of wood, and afford no hold to the hands; yet they are ascended by the natives as rapidly as if they were small trees.

By dint of constant practice, the Australian never passes a tree without casting a glance at the bark, and by that one glance he will know whether he will need to mount it. The various arboreal animals, especially the so called opossums, cannot ascend the tree without leaving marks of their claws in the bark. There is not an old tree that has not its bark covered with scratches, but the keen and practised eye of the native can in a moment distinguish between the ascending and descending marks of the animal, and can also determine the date at which they were made.

The difference between the marks of an ascending and descending animal is easy enough to see when it has once been pointed out. When an animal climbs a tree, the marks of its claws are little more than small holes, with a slight scratch above each, looking something like the conventional “tears” of heraldry. But, when it descends, it does so by a series of slippings and catchings, so that the claws leave long scratches behind them. Nearly all arboreal animals, with the exception of the monkey tribe, leave marks of a similar character, and the bear hunter of North America and the possum hunter of Australia are guided by similar marks.

Should the native hunter see an ascending mark of more recent date than the other scratches, he knows that somewhere in the tree lies his intended prey. Accordingly, he lays on the ground everything that may impede him, and, going to the tree-trunk, he begins to deliver a series of chopping blows with his axe. These blows are delivered in pairs, and to an Englishman present rather a ludicrous reminiscence of the postman’s double rap. By each of these double blows he chops a small hole in the tree, and manages so as to cut them alternately right and left, and at intervals of two feet or so.

Having cut these notches as high as he can reach, he places the great toe of his left foot in the lowermost hole, clasps the tree with his left arm, and strikes the head of the tomahawk into the tree as high as he can reach. Using the tomahawk as a handle by which he can pull himself up, he lodges the toe of his right foot in the second hole, and is then enabled to shift the toe of the left foot into the third hole. Here he waits for a moment, holding tightly by both his feet and the left hand and arm, while he cuts more notches; and, by continuing the process, he soon reaches the top of the tree.

When he reaches the first branch, he looks carefully to find the spot toward which the tell-tale scratches are directed, and, guided by them alone, he soon discovers the hole in which the animal lies hidden. He tests the dimensions of the hollow by tapping on the trunk with the axe, and, if it should be of moderate depth, sets at work to chop away the wood, and secure the inmate.

Should, however, the hollow be a deep one, he is obliged to have recourse to another plan. Descending the tree by the same notches as those by which he had climbed it, he takes from his bundle of belongings a fire-stick, i. e. a sort of tinderlike wood, which keeps up a smouldering fire, like that of the willow “touchwood” so dear to schoolboys. Wrapping up the fire-stick in a bundle of dry grass and leaves, he reascends the tree, and, when he has reached the entrance of the burrow, he whirls the bundle round his head until the fire spreads through the mass, and the grass bursts into flame.

As soon as it is well inflamed, he pushes some of the burning material into the burrow, so as to fall upon the enclosed animal, and to rouse it from the heavy sleep in which it passes the hours of daylight. He also holds the rest of the torch at the entrance of the burrow, and manages to direct the smoke into it. Did he not rouse the animal by the burning leaves, he would run a chance of suffocating it in its sleep. This may seem to be a very remote contingency, but in fact it is very likely to happen. I have known a cat to be baked alive in an oven, and yet not to have awaked from sleep, as was evident by the attitude in which the body of the animal was found curled up, with its chin on its paws, and its tail wrapped round its body. Yet the slumber of a domesticated cat, which can sleep as often as it likes in the day or night, is not nearly so deep as that which wraps in oblivion the senses of a wild animal that is abroad all night, and whose whole structure is intended for a nocturnal life.

The chopping holes, and getting the toes into them, seems in theory to be rather a tedious business, but in practice it is quite the contrary, the native ascending almost as quickly as if he were climbing a ladder. As the large trees are so capable of containing the animals on which the Australians feed, there is scarcely one which does not exhibit several series of the notches that denote the track of a native. Strange to say, the Australian hunters will not avail themselves of the notches that have been made by other persons, but each man chops a new series of holes for himself every time that he wants to ascend a tree.

Sometimes a man sees the track of an animal or the indication of a bee’s nest on a tree when he happens not to have an axe in hand. In such a case he is still able to ascend the tree, for he can make use of the dagger which has been already described, punching holes in the bark, and pulling himself up exactly as if he had a tomahawk, the only difference being that the holes are smaller and the work is harder.

When the hunter has once found the entrance of the burrow, the capture of the inmate is simply a matter of time, as the heat and smoke are sure to force it into the air, where it has the double disadvantage of being half-choked with smoke and being blind with the flame and the daylight, to which its eyes are unaccustomed. A blow on the head from the tomahawk, or a stab from the dagger, renders it senseless, when it is flung on the ground, and the successful hunter proceeds to traverse the tree in case some other animal may be hidden in it.

The skill of the natives in tree climbing is also exercised for another purpose besides hunting for bees and animals. The well-known cabbage-palm grows to a very great height, and, like other palms, never grows quite straight, but has always a bend in the trunk. After the manner of the palm-tribe, it grows by a succession of buds from the top, and this bud, popularly called the “cabbage,” is a favorite article of food. It has been called the prince of vegetables, and one enthusiastic traveller declares that it must have been the ambrosia of the Olympic gods. The removal of the bud causes the death of the tree, and for that reason the vegetable is forbidden in civilized regions under penalty of a heavy fine. The savage, however, who has no idea of care for the morrow, much less of looking forward to future years, takes the bud wherever he meets it, caring nothing for the death of the useful tree. He ascends by means of a little wooden dagger, or warpoo, or makes use of the tomahawk. The quartz dagger which was shown in a previous illustration would not be used for tree climbing, unless the owner could not procure a tomahawk or warpoo. Its chief use is as a weapon, and it can be also employed as a knife, by means of which the savage can mutilate a fallen enemy, after the manner which will be described when we come to treat of warfare in Australia.

The “black-boy” gum, which plays so large a part in the manufacture of Australian weapons and implements, is obtained from the grass-tree, popularly called the “black boy,” because at a distance it may easily be mistaken for a native, with his spear and cloak. It is very tenacious in its own country, but when brought to England it becomes brittle, and is apt to break away from the weapon in fragments, just as does a similar preparation called “kurumanni” gum, which is made by the natives of Guiana. It is quite black, and when dry is extremely hard.

The grass-tree is one of the characteristic plants of Australia, and partakes of the strange individuality of that curious country. The trunk is cylindrical, and looks like that of a palm, while an enormous tuft of long leaves starts from the top and droops in all directions, like a gigantic plume of feathers. The flower shoots up straight from the centre; and the long stalk becomes, when dried, so hard, tough, and light, that it is made into spear shafts.

There is in my collection an Australian saw (illustrated on page 722), in the manufacture of which the black-boy gum plays a considerable part. No one would take it for a saw who did not know the implement, and indeed it looks much more like a rude dagger than a saw. It is made from a piece of wood usually cut from a branch of the gum-tree, and about as thick as a man’s finger at the thickest part, whence it tapers gradually to a point. The average length of the saw is fourteen inches, though I have seen them nearly two feet long.

Along the thicker end is cut a groove, which is intended to receive the teeth of the saw. These teeth are made from chips of quartz or obsidian, the latter being preferred; and some makers, who have been brought in contact with civilization, have taken to using fragments of glass bottles. A number of flat and sharp-edged chips are selected as nearly as possible of the same size, and being on an average as large as a shilling. These the natives insert into the groove with their sharp edges uppermost. A quantity of black-boy wax is then warmed and applied to them, the entire wood of the saw being enveloped in it, as well as the teeth for half their depth, so as to hold them firmly in their places. As the chips of stone are placed so as to leave little spaces between them, the gaps are filled in with this useful cement.

For Australian work this simple tool seems to answer its purpose well enough. Of course it is very slow in its operation, and no great force can be applied to it, lest the teeth should be broken, or twisted out of the cement. The use of this saw entails great waste of material, time, and labor; but as the first two of these articles are not of the least value to the natives, and the third is of the lightest possible kind, the tool works well enough for its purpose. A perfect specimen of this saw is not often seen in this country, as the black-boy wax flakes off, and allows the teeth to drop out of their place. Even in my own specimen, which has been carefully tended, the wax has been chipped off here and there, while in instruments that have been knocked about carelessly scarcely a tooth is left in its place. Owing to the pointed end of the handle, the saw can be used after the fashion of a dagger, and can be employed, like the warpoo, for the ascent of trees.

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