children were collected as spectators; the Cockatoo and King George's
men formed two distinct parties, and generally danced in answer to each
other. The dancing consisted in their running either sideways or in
Indian file into an open space, and stamping the ground with great
force as they marched together. Their heavy footsteps were accompanied
by a kind of grunt, by beating their clubs and spears together, and by
various other gesticulations, such as extending their arms and
wriggling their bodies. It was a most rude, barbarous scene, and, to
our ideas, without any sort of meaning; but we observed that the black
women and children watched it with the greatest pleasure. Perhaps
these dances originally represented actions, such as wars and
victories; there was one called the Emu dance, in which each man
extended his arm in a bent manner, like the neck of that bird. In
another dance, one man imitated the movements of a kangaroo grazing in
the woods, whilst a second crawled up, and pretended to spear him. When
both tribes mingled in the dance, the ground trembled with the
heaviness of their steps, and the air resounded with their wild cries.
Every one appeared in high spirits, and the group of nearly naked
figures, viewed by the light of the blazing fires, all moving in
hideous harmony, formed a perfect display of a festival amongst the
lowest barbarians. In Tierra del Fuego, we have beheld many curious
scenes in savage life, but never, I think, one where the natives were
in such high spirits, and so perfectly at their ease. After the
dancing was over, the whole party formed a great circle on the ground,
and the boiled rice and sugar was distributed, to the delight of all.
After several tedious delays from clouded weather, on the 14th of
March, we gladly stood out of King George's Sound on our course to
Keeling Island. Farewell, Australia! you are a rising child, and
doubtless some day will reign a great princess in the South: but you
are too great and ambitious for affection, yet not great enough for
respect. I leave your shores without sorrow or regret.
[1] It is remarkable how the same disease is modified in different
climates. At the little island of St. Helena the introduction of
scarlet fever is dreaded as a plague. In some countries, foreigners
and natives are as differently affected by certain contagious disorders
as if they had been different animals; of which fact some instances
have occurred in Chile; and, according to Humboldt, in Mexico (Polit.
Essay, New Spain, vol. iv.).
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