MEANS OF SUBSISTENCE IN THE BUSH.

One of the most important occupations of every man in this present state of things, is the pursuit of food and necessary sustenance for himself and those belonging to him. But this occupation, being in some respects more difficult, or at least, more uncertain and engrossing, stands more forward in savage life, and appears more important than ever; while, at the same time, the contrast upon this subject between the rude child of nature and the civilized inhabitants of the earth, becomes even stronger than usual. In glancing over the condition of the native of the Bush in Australia, with respect to his supply of needful support, and his means of obtaining it, several truths are to be borne in remembrance, obvious indeed when pointed out, and yet not unlikely to escape a casual observer. First, the vast extent of country, compared with the thin and scattered population it maintains; next, the very different sort of food required by a savage and a European; and lastly, the various kinds of food which are used by the inhabitants of the wilderness—are all matters which must be recollected, if we would form a fair judgment upon the subject, and do justice to the humble, and apparently scanty, bill of fare which Nature has provided for those that dwell among her wildest scenes and in her most secret, recesses. In these spots it is but rarely, of course, from the mere absence of sufficient provisions, that any large body of natives can assemble together; but, occasionally, a feast is prepared for a considerable number, either when some particular article of food abounds at a certain place and is in full season, or, especially, when a whale (a fish very common on the coasts of New Holland) is thrown ashore. In the latter case, it is impossible for us entirely to enter into the feelings of the savage, for we have never, unexpectedly, had so large a quantity of what is considered the greatest delicacy placed at once before us. Hence, when the Australian finds a whale thrown ashore in his own district, his heart warms and opens with kind feelings of hospitality; he longs to see all his friends about him, and large fires are immediately kindled to announce the fortunate and joyful event. Notice of the feast having been thus given, and a due invitation forwarded, he rubs himself all over with the blubber, and his favourite wives are served in the same manner, after which, he begins to cut his way into the flesh of the whale, the grain of which is about the firmness of a goose-quill; of this he chooses the nicest morsels, and either broils them on the fire, or cooks them by cutting them into small pieces, and spitting them on a pointed stick. Other natives, attracted by the flaming signal of revelry, soon assemble in gay companies from all quarters: by night they dance and sing, and by day they eat and sleep, and the feast continues unchecked until they at last fairly eat their way into the whale, and may be seen climbing in and about the carcase choosing their favourite pieces. The fish, in a few days, becomes more disagreeable than ever, but still they will not leave it, until they have been completely gorged with it,—out of temper from indigestion, and therefore engaged in frequent quarrels. And, even when they are, at length, obliged to quit the feast, they carry off with them as much as they can stagger under, to eat upon the way, and to take as a rarity to their distant friends. Such is a true picture of a native Australian feast, and the polished sons and daughters of Europe will turn away from it with feelings of unmingled disgust. But, with how many of these is life itself a perpetual series of feasting, less gross and disgusting indeed, but not less really sensual than this! How many inhabitants of civilised countries live continually as though the saying, “Let us eat and drink, for to-morrow we die” were the whole sum and substance of practical wisdom! Yet if it were so, who would be more happy, who more blessed in his situation, than the savage devouring, day after day, the food his heart delights in?

But a whale-feast is an event of no ordinary kind in the life of an inhabitant of the Bush, and, if we would know how the common sustenance of life is procured by him, we must follow him through a variety of scenes and pursuits, of which, by no means the least important or interesting, is the chase of the kangaroo.[47] This singular and harmless creature is now so well known to Europeans, from specimens that have been brought over and placed in our public collections of animals, and also from numberless pictures, that it would be waste of time to stop to describe it. In truth, being one of the productions peculiar to Australia, it may be said, from the figures of it to be seen upon the back of every book relating to that country, to have become almost the kobong or crest of that southern region. In many portions of New Holland, particularly where the country is wooded and the soil tolerably fertile, kangaroos are very abundant; but so great havoc is made among these defenceless creatures by their various enemies, especially by man, that their numbers appear to be upon the decrease.[48]

A day’s hunting is often the cause of no small excitement, even in England, among men who care nothing for the object of their chase, and are certain of a good dinner at the end of their day’s sport; but we may suppose this to be a matter of more serious interest to the Australian, who depends upon his skill and patience in hunting for his daily food. His whole manner and appearance, accordingly, are changed on these occasions; his eyes brighten up, his motion becomes quick though silent, and every token of his eagerness and anxiety is discoverable in his behaviour. Earth, water, trees, sky, are all in turn the subjects of his keenest search, and his whole soul appears to be engaged in his two senses of sight and hearing. His wives, and even his children, become perfectly silent, until, perhaps, a suppressed whistle is given by one of the women, denoting that she sees a kangaroo near her husband, after which all is again quiet, and an unpractised stranger might ride within a few yards of the group, and not perceive a living thing. The devoted animal, meanwhile, after listening two or three times without being able to perceive any further cause of alarm, returns to its food or other occupation in complete security, while the watchful savage poises his spear, and lifts up his arm ready for throwing it, and then advances slowly and with stealth towards his prey, no part moving but his legs. Whenever the kangaroo looks round, its enemy stands still in the same position he is in when it first raises its head, until the animal, again assured of safety, gives a skip or two, and goes on feeding: again the native advances, and the same scene occurs, until the whizzing spear penetrates the unfortunate creature, upon which the whole wood rings with sudden shouts; women and children all join in the chase, and, at last, the kangaroo, weakened from loss of blood and encumbered by the spear, places its back against a tree, and appears to attack its pursuer with the fury of despair. Though naturally a timid animal, it will, when it is hard pressed for life, make a bold stand; and, if hunted by Europeans, will sometimes wait for the dogs and tear them with its hind claws, or squeeze them with its fore arms, until the blood gushes out of the hound’s nostrils; and sometimes the poor creature will take to the water, and drown every dog that comes near it.[49] But by the natives the poor beast is generally soon dispatched with spears thrown from a distance, and its body is carried off by its conqueror and his wives to some convenient resting-place where they may enjoy their meal.

There is likewise another mode of hunting the same animal, in which many persons join together, and which, though more lively and noisy, is not so characteristical as the first. A herd of kangaroos are surprised either in a thick bushy place, to which they have retired during the heat of the day, or else in an open plain. In the first case, they are encircled by a party, each native giving a low whistle, as he takes up his place, and when the blockade is finished, the bushes are set on fire, and the frightened animals fly from the flames towards the open plains; but no sooner do they approach the outskirts of the wood, than the bushes are fired in the direction in which they are running, while they are driven back by loud calls and tremendous cries, which increase their terror, and they run wildly about, until, at length, maddened by fear, they make a rush through their enemies, who allow but few of them to escape. When the kangaroos are surrounded upon a plain, the point generally chosen is an open bottom encircled by wood; each native has his place given him by some of the elder ones, and all possible means that art, or experience, or the nature of the ground, can furnish, are employed to ensure success in approaching as nearly as may be towards the animals without disturbing them. Thus the circle narrows round the unwary herd, till at last one of them becomes alarmed, and bounds away; but its flight is speedily stopped by a savage with fearful yells; and before the first moments of terror and surprise have passed by, the armed natives come running upon them from every side, brandishing their spears, and raising loud cries; nor does the slaughter, thus commenced, commonly finish before the greater number of them have fallen. These public hunts are conducted under certain rules; for example, the supposed owner of the land must be present, and must have invited the party, or a deadly fight between human beings is pretty sure to take place. The first spear that strikes a kangaroo settles whose property the dead animal is to be; however slight the wound, and even though inflicted by a boy only, this rule holds good; and if the creature killed is one which the boy may not yet lawfully eat,[50] then his right passes on to his father, or nearest male relative. The cries of the hunters are said to be very beautiful and expressive, and they vary at different periods of the chase, being readily understood and answered by all, so that they can thus explain their meaning to one another at a very great distance.

But, since the kangaroo is one of the principal articles of food in the wilds of New Holland, there are yet other modes of taking it, which are commonly practised.

Sometimes they use the ordinary methods of catching it in nets or pitfalls. Occasionally, also, in a dry district, where many animals assemble together from a great distance to drink at some solitary piece of water, the huntsman builds for himself a rude place of shelter, in which for hours he remains concealed and motionless, until the thirsty animals approach in sufficient numbers. Then kangaroos, cockatoos, pigeons, &c. are attacked and destroyed without mercy, and the patience of the hunter is commonly richly rewarded by the booty he obtains.

But the mode of tracking a kangaroo until it is wearied out, is the one which, beyond all others, commands the admiration of the Australians, for it calls forth the exercise of every quality most highly prized among savages, skill in following traces, endurance of hunger and thirst, unwearied bodily exertion, and lasting perseverance. To perform this task the hunter starts upon the track of the kangaroo, which he follows until he catches sight of the animal, as it flies timidly before him; again he pursues the track, and again the object of his pursuit bounds away from him; and this is repeated until nightfall, when the pursuer lights his fire and sleeps upon the track. With the first light of day the hunt is renewed, and, towards the close of the second day, or in the course of the third, the kangaroo, wearied and exhausted by the chase, will allow the hunter to approach near enough to spear it. None but a skilful hunter, in the pride of youth and strength can perform this feat, and one who has frequently practised it always enjoys great fame amongst his companions.

When the kangaroo has been obtained in some one or other of these various methods, the first operation is to take off the skin of the tail, the sinews of which are carefully preserved to sew cloaks or bags, or to make spears. The next thing to be thought of is the cooking of the flesh; and two modes of doing this are common. One of these is to make an oven by digging a hole in the sand, and lighting a fire in it; when the sand is well heated, and a large heap of ashes is collected, the hole is scraped out, and the kangaroo is placed in it, skin and all; it is then covered over with ashes, and a slow fire is kept up above it; when baked enough, it is taken out and laid upon its back, the intestines are then removed, and the whole of the gravy is left in the body of the animal, which is carefully taken out of the skin, and then cut up and eaten. Travellers in the Bush speak very highly of the delicious flavour of the meat thus curiously cooked. The other mode of dressing is merely to broil different portions of the kangaroo upon the fire, and it may be noticed that certain parts, as the blood, the entrails, and the marrow, are reckoned great dainties. Of these the young men are forbidden to partake. Of the blood a sort of long sausage is made, and this is afterwards eaten by the person of most consequence in the company.

Another abundant source of food is supplied to the native population of New Holland at certain seasons, in particular situations, by the various sorts of fish which abound on its coasts, and in its bays and inlets. From this, most probably, arises the fact observed by Captain Flinders, that the borders of bays, and entrances of rivers, are in New Holland always most thickly peopled. And Collins mentions a sort of fancied superiority, which these people pretend to, above those that dwell in the more inland parts. “The natives of the coast,” he says, “when speaking of those in the interior, constantly expressed themselves with contempt and marks of disapprobation.” So very similar are the airs and vanity of a savage, to those in which civilised man indulges. The three most common modes of catching fish are, by spearing them, taking them by means of a weir constructed across places which are left nearly dry at low water, or after a flood, and enclosing them in a net, prepared by the women out of grassy fibres, and one of their greatest efforts of ingenuity.[51] Nothing very remarkable is to be noticed in these modes of fishing, except it be the speed with which they run along the shore, and the certainty with which they aim their spears at the inhabitants of the shallow bays and open lakes. As surely as the natives disappear under the surface of the water, so surely will they reappear with a fish writhing upon the point of their short spears; and even under water their aim is always correct. One traveller, Sturt, is of opinion that they seldom eat the finny tribes when they can get anything else, but this idea seems scarcely to agree with the report of others. At all events, whether from choice or not, a large proportion of their subsistence is derived from the waters. With regard to the cookery of their fish, the Australian barbarians are said to have a most admirable method of dressing them, not unworthy of being copied by other nations. If the fish are not simply broiled upon the fire, they are laid in a piece of paper bark, which is wrapt round them, as paper is folded round a cutlet; strings of grass are then wound tightly about the bark and fish, which is slowly baked in heated sand, covered with hot ashes; when it is sufficiently cooked, the bark is opened, and answers the purpose of a dish; it is, of course, full of juice and gravy, not a drop of which has escaped. The flavour of many sorts of fish thus dressed is said to be delicious, and sometimes pieces of kangaroo and other meats are cooked in the same manner.

The seal is exceedingly abundant on many parts of the Australian coast, and is also useful to the natives for purposes of food, while the pursuit of this creature is an exciting sport for the inhabitants of the southern and western shores of New Holland. The animal must be surprised upon the beach, or in the surf, or among the rocks that lie at no great distance from the shore; and the natives delight in the pursuit, clambering about the wild crags that encircle their own land; sometimes leaping from one rock to another, spearing the fish that lie in the quiet pools between, in the next moment dashing into the surf to fight with a seal or turn a turtle; these are to them agreeable and joyous occupations. And when we remember that their steps are followed by a wife and children, as dear to them, probably, as ours are to us, who are witnesses of their skill and activity; and who, when the game is killed, will help to light the fire with which it is to be cooked, and to drag it to the resting-place, where the father romps with his little ones until the meal is made ready; when we recollect, likewise, that all this takes place in a climate so mild and genial, that a house is not necessary, we shall feel less surprise at the difficulty of persuading an inhabitant of the Bush to fall into European customs, and submit to the trammels of civilised life.

The turtle, must by no means be forgotten, in an account of the different articles of provision upon which an Australian has to depend for his supply. These useful creatures are to be found chiefly on the coast in the warmer portions of New Holland, and are in high season about December and January, the height of summer in Australia. The green turtles are surprised upon the beach when they come to lay their eggs; but the fresh-water turtle is found (as its name implies,) in fresh lakes and ponds, at the season when these are most dried up, and their margin is overgrown with reeds and rushes. Among these the natives wade with stealthy pace, so quietly indeed, that they even creep upon wild fowl and spear them. The turtles swim lazily along the surface of the water, biting and smelling the various aquatic plants they meet with, but as soon as they are alarmed, they sink to the bottom instantly. The pursuer puts out his foot, (the toes of which he uses to seize anything, almost as we use our fingers,) and gropes about with it among the weeds at the bottom of the water until he feels the turtle; and then, holding it to the ground, he plunges his hands and arms in and seizes his prey. In this manner two or three men have been known to take fourteen turtles in a very short time; but these are small, weighing from one to two or three pounds each. The fresh-water turtle is cooked, after the Australian fashion, by being baked, shell and all, in hot ashes; and when it is sufficiently dressed, the bottom shell is removed with ease, and the whole animal remains in the upper shell, which serves for a dish. They are generally very fat and delicious, so that the New Hollanders are extremely fond of them, and the turtle season, being an important part of the year, is looked forward to with pleasure. The green turtles, which are a much larger animal, found only by the sea-side, are taken when crawling on the beach. If they by accident get upon their backs, they are unable to right themselves, and perish miserably, so that nothing more is necessary to secure them, than to place them in that posture, and they may be taken away and devoured at leisure. Among Wellesley Islands, at the bottom of the Gulph of Carpentaria, in the north of New Holland, Captain Flinders obtained in one day, in this manner, no less than forty-six turtles, the least of them weighing 250lbs, and the average being about 300lbs; besides which, many that were not wanted, because there was no room to stow them away, were turned again, and suffered to make their escape.

Opossum hunting offers another means of supplying food to the Australians, and as these quadrupeds usually dwell in the hollows of decayed trees, and ascend the trees when they are at all alarmed, the mode of pursuing them is of a new and different character. The first thing to be done is to ascertain that the opossum has really concealed itself somewhere in the tree. To discover this the holes made by the nails of the animal in the bark as it climbed up, are sufficient; only, one of these footmarks having a little sand in it is anxiously sought for, and if this sand sticks together, when the hunter blows gently upon it, it is a proof, since it is not dry enough yet to blow away, that the opossum has gone up into the tree that very morning. The dextrous savage then pulls out his hatchet,[52] a rude stone hatchet—unless he has been fortunate enough to get a better one from some European, and cuts a notch in the bark of the tree sufficiently large and deep to receive the ball of his great toe. The first notch being thus made, about four feet from the ground, he places the toe of his right foot in it, throws his right arm round the tree, and with his left hand sticks the point of the handle of his hatchet into the bark, as high up as he can reach, and thus forms a stay to drag himself up with. This first step being made good, he cuts another for his left foot, and so on, always clinging with the left hand and cutting with the right, resting the whole weight of the body upon the toe of either foot, until the hole is reached where the opossum lies hidden, which is then compelled by smoke, or by being poked out, to quit its hiding place; when the conqueror, catching hold of his victim’s tail, dashes it down on the ground, and quietly descends after it. As the bite of the opossum is very painful and severe, due care is taken, in laying hold of it, to keep clear of all danger from its teeth. Occasionally trees of 130 feet in height have been observed, which had been notched by the natives up to at least eighty feet! and the old notches are never again used, but new ones are cut every time. Strange to tell, this very difficult operation of following the opossum is not uncommonly performed by moonlight, some persons moving onwards to detect the animal feeding, while others follow, creeping after them with fire-sticks; and it is curious to watch the dark body of the savage, climbing the tree, contrasted with the pale moonlight. The Australians are fond of these expeditions, the end of which is the same as of the others conducted in broad daylight—the poor opossum is reached, and knocked down with a stick, or shaken off the branch to which he had fled as a last retreat.

Birds form a considerable article of food in the wilds of New Holland, and there are many various sorts of them, as well as many different modes of killing and ensnaring them, which it would be tedious to dwell upon; but the emu, or cassowary, is too important and remarkable to be passed over. This bird is very large, and its covering resembles hair more than feathers; it is not able to fly, but it can run more swiftly than the fleetest dogs, and its kick is violent enough to break a man’s leg: it is however easily tamed. The instinctive dread which these animals in their wild state have of man is very remarkable. It was observed by Major Mitchell, on various occasions during his journeys, that the first appearance of large quadrupeds—bullocks and horses, did not scare the emu or kangaroo; but that, on the contrary, when they would have fled from the first approach of their enemy man, advancing singly, they would allow him to draw near when mounted, and even to dismount, fire from behind a horse, and load again, without attempting to run off. In hunting the emu, it matters not how much noise is made, for the natives say that bird is quite deaf, although its sight is keen in proportion. The kangaroo must be pursued as silently as possible.

Emus are killed in the same manner as kangaroos, but they are more prized by the natives, and the death of one of these birds awakens a greater excitement in the spectators; shout succeeds shout, and the distant sojourners take up the cry, until it is sometimes reechoed for miles; yet the feast which follows is very exclusive, the flesh of the emu, which, except in one part which tastes like beef, is very oily, being thought by far too delicious to be made a common article of food. Young men and unprivileged persons are forbidden to touch it, on pain of severe penalties, which are strictly enforced. The emus are generally found, like the kangaroos, in tolerably fertile spots, and like them, also, are fast disappearing from the neighbourhood of the haunts of Europeans. The destruction of cockatoos with the weapon, or throwing stick, called a kiley,[53] the hunting and snaring of different sorts of wild fowl, afford ample room for a display of that cunning, skill, and amazing patience, which distinguish the character of uncivilized man. One curious way of catching birds in Australia is certainly original, if it be but correctly reported. It is said that a native will, in the heat of the sun, lay down as if asleep, holding a bit of fish in his hand; the bird seeing the bait, seizes on the fish, and the native then catches it! But enough has now been stated respecting the various ways in which game is taken in the bush. And although, perhaps, enough has been said concerning Australian cookery, yet the mode in which they cook the birds in that country, similar indeed to the methods already mentioned, may briefly be noted. When the natives wish to dress a bird very nicely, the entrails are taken out and cooked separately, (being considered a great delicacy,) after the example of the admirers of woodcocks in England. A triangle is then formed round the bird by three red hot pieces of stick, against which ashes are placed, hot coals are also stuffed into the inside of the bird, and it is thus quickly cooked, and kept full of gravy. In the opinion of Captain Grey, wild fowl dressed in this manner, on a clean piece of bark, was as good a dish as he had ever eaten.

But there are many other kinds of food which custom, and perhaps necessity, have rendered palatable to the people of New Holland, but which we can regard only with disgust and aversion. Among these it may be scarcely just to reckon frogs, since they are an article of food in one of the most polished nations of Europe, and those who have tasted them properly dressed have usually no fault to find with their flavour. The season in Australia for catching frogs and fresh-water shell-fish, is when the swamps are nearly dried up by the heat; these animals then bury themselves in holes in the mud, and the native women, with their long sticks, and taper arms, which they plunge up to the shoulder in the slime, manage to drag them out. In summer a whole troop of females may be seen paddling about in a swamp, slapping themselves to kill the mosquitoes and sandflies, and every now and then plunging their arms down into the mud, and dragging forth their prey. Sometimes one of these women may be seen with ten or twelve pounds’ weight of frogs in her bag. Frogs are cooked on a slow fire of wood-ashes, and being held in one hand by the hind legs, a dexterous pinch with the finger and thumb of the other at once removes the lower portion of the intestines, and the remainder of the little animal is then taken at a mouthful. Muscles are also abundant in the rivers, and in the north-western parts of New Holland they form a principal article of food; but in the south-western districts the inhabitants will not touch them, for there is a tradition that some persons long ago ate them and died by means of sorcerers, who considered that fish to be their peculiar property. Grubs are a favourite food with some of the Australian natives, and, in order to procure them, they are at the pains of breaking off the top of the trees frequented by these grubs, since, until its top is dead, the trees do not afford a proper abode for them. Grubs are eaten either raw, or else roasted in much the same manner as the fish are. But taste is proverbially a subject concerning which there is no accounting by reason, as we must confess when we find snakes, lizards, rats, mice, and weasels among Australian dainties. The smaller quadrupeds are not skinned before they are cooked, but are dressed with the skin, the fur being only singed off; and hunger renders these not only palatable but digestible. Salt is rarely or never used by the natives, until they have been taught its use by Europeans; and even then they do not relish it at first, any more than other sauces or condiments; indeed, it is quite laughable to see their grimaces the first time that they taste mustard upon a piece of meat.

Among vegetable productions there are many roots, which are eaten by the natives. It is commonly the office of the women to dig for roots, for which purpose they carry a long pointed stick to loosen the earth, and that is afterwards scooped up by the fingers of the left hand. Their withered arms and hands, covered with earth by digging and scraping after food, resemble, as they advance in years, the limbs and claws of a quadruped more than those of a human being. In stiff soils, this operation of digging can only be performed when the earth is moist, but in loose sandy soils it may be always done, and, on this account, the visits of the natives to different spots are regulated by the season of the year; as, for example, the roots that grow in the clay are not in season, because not to be got at, in the parching and dry months of summer. No plant bearing seeds is allowed to be dug up after it has flowered, and the natives are very careful in observing this rule. A considerable portion of the time of the women and children is occupied in getting up the various eatable roots, which are either roasted, or else devoured in a raw state; some resembling onions and others potatoes in their flavour. One root, called the mene, has rather an acid taste, and when eaten alone, it is said to disorder the bowels; but the natives in the southern parts pound it between two stones, and sprinkle over it a few pinches of a kind of earth, which forms, together with the bruised root, a sort of paste, that is thought exceedingly good, and quite free from all injurious properties. A kind of paste, which is sometimes baked into a cake, is also formed of many other roots. All these grow wild, and are used exactly in their natural state, unless burning the leaves of one plant in dry seasons to improve the root, or similar trifling pains respecting their growth, can deserve the name of cultivation. The fungus is also greedily devoured by the unfastidious natives of Australia, and a kind of gum, resembling what is in England called gum-tragacanth, is very abundant and popular among them. One traveller, Captain Sturt, who was among the first to notice the use of this peculiar food, imagined that it was eaten only from dire necessity. Indeed, it is an amusing proof of the occasional errors into which hasty impressions will lead intelligent men, that he pities as “unfortunate creatures reduced to the last extremity” those who were, in reality, regaling themselves upon a favourite luxury. During summer the acacias, growing in swampy plains, are positively loaded with this gum, and the natives assemble in great numbers to feast upon it. On such occasions a sort of fair is held among those that frequent these yearly meetings, and fun, frolic, and quarrelling of every description prevail, as in similar meetings of our own countrymen.

The pulp of the nut of a species of palm is called by-yu, and it is a curious fact, that, although in its natural state this is a rank poison, the natives have, nevertheless, a method of depriving it of its mischievous qualities, and it becomes an agreeable and nourishing article of food. Europeans, ignorant of the mode of preparing this nut, are sure to pay for their rashness, if they venture to eat it in its unprepared state. The women collect these nuts from the palms in the month of March, (the beginning of autumn,) and leave them to soak for several days in some shallow pool; after the by-yu has been sufficiently soaked, they dig, in a dry sandy place, holes about one foot across and nearly two feet in depth: these holes are lined with rushes, and filled with nuts, over which last a little sand is sprinkled, and then all is covered nicely up with the tops of the grass-tree. And thus, in about a fortnight, the pulp which encloses the nut becomes quite dry, and it is then fit for use: but if eaten before, it produces the bad effects already mentioned. The pulp is eaten both raw and roasted; in the latter state, the taste is said to be equal to that of a chestnut; but this process has no effect whatever upon the kernels, which act still as a strong emetic and purgative. This subject of the sources whence the Australians derive their daily food from God, who, whether in the north or the south, in the east or the west, is still found “opening his hand,” and “filling all things living with plenteousness,” might easily be extended even yet more; for in so vast a tract of country as New Holland, the varieties of animal and vegetable food, and the different modes of obtaining it, must evidently be very numerous. Enough, however, has been stated to enable the reader to judge respecting the means of subsistence possessed by the inhabitants of the Bush; and it will be easily seen that this mode of living appears, at the first view, more precarious and less laborious than it really is. It is not so precarious a life as it seems to be, because the articles needful for support, of one kind or another, are perpetually at hand to those who can find them and use them, whilst Europeans, or even natives from a distant part, are often, for want of this power, in danger of starving in the midst of plenty.[54] At the same time, the savage, free from servile toil and daily labour though he may appear to be, does in truth earn his living quite as laboriously as others do; nor is he, of all men, the most exempt from the general curse which sin has brought down upon us: “In the sweat of thy face shalt thou eat bread.” Enough, likewise, has been stated respecting the supplies provided in the wilderness for its inhabitants to qualify us to perceive how very serious an injury is inflicted upon the original people of a district in Australia, when Europeans sit down, as they term it, (i.e. settle,) upon their lands. We might imagine (however Utopian may be the fancy) a body of able agriculturists settling in a country but poorly cultivated, and while they occupied a portion of the land belonging to the first inhabitants, rendering what remained to these more valuable by proper cultivation, than the whole had originally been. But nothing of the kind is possible with people accustomed from their infancy to habits of life and means of subsistence like those of the Australians. Occupy their land, and the wild animals must be destroyed or driven away; the wild plants and roots ploughed up or burnt; or, at all events, the wild owners of that land must (however rightful, however ancient, their claim of possession) be warned off from their own soil, and, as trespassers, made liable to punishment according to law,—to European law.

We are not to suppose from the wandering character of the life usually led by them, that these human beings have no notion of property in land. On the contrary, it is an opinion held by men best able to judge, and supported by sufficient proof, that, not only have the various tribes their fixed boundaries of hunting-ground, which they cannot cross without the risk of a quarrel with their neighbours, but that even individual persons possess property of this nature, which is handed down, according to certain laws, from father to son. A curious example of this strictness about property, exceeding even the ideas of Europeans upon the subject, was found upon the banks of the river Darling, where different tribes occupy different portions of the stream whence all equally derive the chief part of their subsistence. One of these tribes desired Major Mitchell’s men to pour out the water which they had taken, as if it had belonged to them, and at the same time they dug a hole in the ground to receive it, when poured out. Nay, so strongly are the river chiefs possessed with a notion of the water being their own, that they have been seen, on receiving a tomahawk, to point to the stream, signifying that the strangers were at liberty to take water from it. Indeed, the main difference between the property of the native and that of the colonist, consists in the very dissimilar uses to which the parties apply their possessions. The one holds his lands for a cattle-run or a farm, the other employs his in feeding kangaroos or in growing wild roots. But both agree in punishing intruders, both profess alike to esteem the rights of property to be sacred; and yet how questionable, how opposite to these professions must the conduct of Europeans seem, when they fix themselves upon certain spots, without taking any notice of the vested rights of the former inhabitants, and then threaten, or even shoot them, if they are found lingering among their old haunts, upon their own estates! Or, if no open violence is offered, “the sheep and cattle,” to borrow the words of a kind-hearted traveller, “fill the green pastures, where the kangaroo was accustomed to range until the stranger came from distant lands, and claimed the soil.” The first inhabitants, unless they remove beyond the limits of the colony, are hemmed in by the power of the white population, and deprived of the liberty of wandering at will through their native wilds, and compelled to seek shelter in close thickets and rocky fastnesses; where, however, if they can find a home, they have great difficulty in finding a subsistence, for their chief support, the kangaroo, is either destroyed or banished. In 1772, when the French discoverer, Monsieur Marion, was exploring Van Dieman’s Land, he found the coast well inhabited, as the fires by day and night bore witness, and on anchoring in Frederic Hendrick’s Bay, about thirty men assembled upon the shore. And now, only seventy years later, what has become of the grandchildren and descendants of those unfortunate natives? Let the reply to this inquiry be made in the very words given in evidence before a Committee of the House of Commons, in 1838.[55]—“There is not a native in Van Dieman’s Land. The last portion that was secured was sent to a small island called Gun Carriage Island, where they are maintained at the expense of government, and I believe some attempts at civilisation have been made.—There has been a lingering desire to come back again; but they have no means of getting back; the island is some distance from Van Dieman’s Land; they are pining away and dying very fast.—I believe more than one half of them have died, not from any positive disease, but from a disease which we know in medicine under the name of home-sickness, a disease which is very common to some Europeans, particularly the Swiss soldiers and the Swiss peasantry: they are known to die from a disease of the stomach, which comes on entirely from a desire to return to their country.”

It may be difficult for the christian moralist to condemn altogether the system of colonisation which has been practised; it cannot be denied that the occupation of these vast and favoured regions by civilised and christian nations is, in itself, a highly desirable object; yet the man of right principles will surely hesitate before he approves, for the sake of the good that is to follow, of the evil which has been done. In this instance, as in many other evils to be seen under the sun, it is more easy to perceive the mischief, than to point out the means of avoiding or of remedying it. But, at least, it may be said, let those who now hold the beautiful and frequently fertile lands, which once belonged to the poor and helpless native, beware of having their hearts lifted up with pride,—of forgetting themselves or their God. Past evils are not to be prevented, but future events are still in their power. The warning and reasoning of the great Apostle of the Gentiles, (Rom. xi. 17-24,) although upon quite another subject, are still not without application here. Nor should the British colonist ever forget, while he surveys the fruitful fields which he may now call his own, the emphatic words of St. Paul: “If God spared not the natural branches, take heed lest He also spare not thee.”