As a general rule the aborigines do not erect their loondthals (huts) on these cooking mounds; an exception to this exists, however, on the extensive reedy plains of the lower rivers, which are annually inundated, remaining so for at least five months in the year.

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On these wide-spreading reed-beds, blackfellows' ovens much larger in size and vastly more numerous than they are in any other portion of the Colony, thus plainly denoting how dense the population in the locality must have been, as well as the abundance of food pertaining thereto, which was ready to hand for their sustenance. When the mild rains of spring dissolve the snows on the Alps and in their valleys, the liberated waters rush down the rivers and their innumerable tributaries, spreading themselves out in every direction, when they reach the reedy country, until many hundreds of square miles are submerged.

All over the submerged country, cooking mounds stand up out of the waters, perfect little islands, looking bright, green, and refreshing to the eye, by reason of the dense growth of giant saltbush with which they are prettily dressed.

These oven islands the aborigines utilise in the flood season, for camp sites, conveying their firewood and other requirements over miles of water in their canoes. An encampment will frequently remain on one of these tiny islands for a whole month, the inhabitants thereof feasting to the top of their bent, on the oleaginous codfish and his congeners, taking ample toll from the great river-lobster, as well as from his more delicate though pigmy brother, the crawfish. Aquatic birds too, of many varieties, together with their eggs, have to contribute their share of the general spoil to the savage larder. It will thus be seen that everything used by the dwellers in these island encampments has to be brought there from outside places, and that the daily refuse therefrom aids very materially in the growth of these mounds.* So long as the fish and game continue plentiful the natives never think of moving to fresh quarters, that is to say, unless the tiny spot becomes too offensive for even aboriginal olfactories to bear with any degree of comfort. When it does so they shift away to another mound, leaving natural agencies to purify the contaminated atmosphere round and about the abandoned islet.

Aboriginal skeletons are frequently found in the cooking mounds, which no doubt led to the notion of their being barrows; the reason for the position of these skeletons, however, can easily be explained-for example, a death takes place on one of these

* These mounds are usually near to a permanent water (lake or lagoon) on these submerged plains, and as a matter of course were raised above the flood-level by long continued use before they become useful for encampment sites when the plains are inundated.

isolated spots, when there chances to be but a small section of a tribe located thereon, and as grave-digging is very arduous when hands are few and the implements merely yam-sticks, the easiest method, therefore, of covering up the dead from their sight is at once adopted, and that is simply enough done by scraping a hole in the friable soil of the mound, wherein the defunct is placed and covered up. Immediately after one of these hurried burials the mound is vacated, and ere much time has passed the defunct subject is entirely forgotten. Be it understood, however, that this description of sepulture is only given to old worn-out women or invalids of long standing, and who had become troublesome and tiresome to their unwilling attendants.

I once had occasion to remove the whole of a blackfellow's oven; it was a fair-sized one, and contained quite 3,000 cubic yards of soil; during its removal twenty-eight skeletons were exhumed. This large number was a matter of considerable surprise to me, but on making due inquiry amongst the very old aborigines-the young people of the tribe did not know anything about them—I discovered that they were the remains of some of the small-pox victims who died during the earlier stages of the epidemic, whilst sepulture was yet being given to those who succumbed to the loathsome plague.

CANOES.

The aborigines make their unkooies (canoes) from the bark of the red gum tree; bark of other trees, notably box, is also used, but merely for temporary purposes, as no other bark but the former will stand the weather without curling up and splitting. In all cases each canoe is made from a single sheet of bark without tie or join. In making these vessels, trees with natural curves are chosen, as canoes so obtained precludes the necessity of using fire to soften the bark with the view to giving the required rise stem and stern.

When the bark for a canoe is cut, stretchers are immediately placed across it at intervals of 3 feet; this is done to prevent the bark from curling whilst the sap is in it; short props are also placed under the stem and stern to keep them from becoming too much depressed by reason of their own weight. If at this stage the canoe should not have the exact shape desired by the maker, he places heavy billets of wood inside at those parts which require pressing outwards, and the bark being full of sap the pressure effects the end aimed at. After this, and whilst the weights are still in the canoe and the props still in position outside, a coat of well puddled clay is plastered all over the interior, which effectually hinders sun-cracks; in this condition the canoe is left in the sun to season. After ten or fifteen days' exposure the bark has become so hard that it is able to retain the shape ever after, no matter how

roughly it may be handled. It is therefore launched without the slightest ceremony upon the waters where it is destined to float for the few brief years of its existence.

After the lapse of two years or a little more the canoe becomes heavy and sodden, therefore correspondingly unwieldy, so the owner in his many rambles keeps his eyes about him with the view of discovering a suitable tree from which he can take a canoe wherewith to replace his now frail craft.

According to the size of the canoe required, so is the tree selected from which to take the bark. Heads of families generally have vessels large enough to move their whole households at once from place to place; bachelors however, having less impedimenta, usually content themselves with canoes of much less capacity, finding such more suited for pursuing aquatic birds during the moulting season, thousands of which they capture in their then most helpless condition; in harpooning fish too, the small canoe is found most manageable. The aborigines of this lacustrine and riverine area hold their canoes in higher estimation than they do any other of their possessions, but this is only a matter of course, for without these vessels their food would be very much more scanty than it is, and of a much poorer quality; besides, in the flood-time they would be unable to get about by reason of the many waters.

The stick for propelling (it can hardly be termed a paddle) is about 12 feet long, and 2 inches and a half in diameter; it is round; at one end it has three grains affixed, the centre one being half an inch shorter than the outer ones; the latter have a barb each just above the points, the centre one is smooth; the outer grains are made of wood hardened by fire, the centre one being of kangaroo bone; the pole is made of pine; the aboriginal name for the implement is maroong, that being the native name for pine tree. This instrument has a twofold use, that of propelling the canoe being one, and transfixing fish with the grains being the other.

When bent upon harpooning fish with this grained canoe stick, they select a stretch of shallow water, full of reeds and other aquatic vegetation, over which the wary fisherman quietly propels his canoe, using the plain end of the stick for the purpose; every now and then he jobs the stick sharply to the bottom in front of the canoe, thereby disturbing the feeding fish; as a matter of course they rush away from the neighbourhood of the disturbance, shaking the plants in their hurry; the movement of the plants above the water show the keen-eyed fisherman at once the position of his prey. After the plants have ceased shaking the wily savage pushes his canoe up gently to within striking distance of the plants which he saw last in motion, knowing quite well that at the foot thereof his game is resting; poising his grained weapon for but a short space, he launches it with wonderful precision, and seldom fails tc bring his scaly victim quivering and glittering into the upper air.

When sailing over deep water both ends of the stick are used; it is held by the middle at those times, and each end is dipped into the water alternately; they are wonderfully expert in the management of their canoes, driving them along with amazing velocity, and a directness of bearing truly splendid.

FIBRE PLANTS AND THEIR MANIPULATION.

Of fibre plants there are three which the aborigines utilise in the manufacture of twine and cord. The Kampung (Typha mullora) root furnishes the fibre most commonly employed in making the thread which is used for netting browbands, waistbelts, and bags of all sorts and sizes. The largest mokoor mokoors (bags) are used for transporting their multifarious belongings from one camp to another, whilst the smaller ones take the place of the pockets of civilization. Each male is provided with one of the latter, which is carried over the point of the shoulder or round the neck, as the fancy of the wearer inclines. This fibre is prepared for use after a very simple though primitive fashion, thus: After the root is baked (it produces food as well as fibre), it is not cut up into short sections for convenience in eating, as doing so would render the material comparatively worthless, by reason of its shortness; therefore each root is taken separately, the skin peeled off, and the remainder, which consists of farina and fibre, is twisted up into a knot, oftentimes as large as a good-sized fist ; in this condition it is crammed into the mouths agape for its reception. Sometimes both hands are ludicrously employed in the performance of this feat. When one of these immense mouthfuls has been sufficiently masticated to extract all the farina, the residuum, which is the fibre, is ejected in the shape of a small knot of beautiful whitish tow. These knots of tow are carefully packed away in bags as they are formed, said bags being utilised for pillows until the time comes round for twine-making. When about to make twine, these tow knots are steeped in water for a night, which effectually softens any starchy matter they may contain. They are then teased out and well scraped with mussel shells, until they are perfectly cleansed; the clean flax is then tied up in small neat hanks, ready for the twine-maker's operations.

Considering that these aborigines do not possess any appliances other than those furnished by Dame Nature, it is truly wonderful how deft they are in the fabrication of cord and twine. They make these of sizes varying from those of a thickness equal to our clothes-lines down to the veriest tiny twine. Whatever the size may be, the cord or twine in all cases consists of two plies only, and the most singular thing about it is, that both strands or plies are twisted at one time, and as the hand is drawn back from twisting them, the retrograde action twines them together into the

finished cord. The work is done on the bare thigh, thus: Two flat hanks are loosened out, the ends of which are held by the left hand, the rest is laid straight across the thigh and kept apart by one of the fingers of the hand holding the ends; the palm of the right hand is now moistened and placed over the flax on the thigh, when it is rubbed sharply towards the knee. By this action, both of the flax hanks are twisted into firm threads, the finger which had kept the hanks apart is now withdrawn, and the right hand is pulled back with a sharp jerk, which results in the two threads being beautifully twined together into a neat cord. The end of the shortest hank (they always commence with a long and short hank) is now teased out, and the end of another hank is mixed with it, the two rubbing actions being again performed with a like result, so it continues, two rubs and a join alternately.

This process they will continue hour after hour, until the thigh becomes quite painful to the slightest touch; the thread-making is therefore thrown aside until the tender limb returns to its normal condition.

Boongoor, a fibre rush, is another plant from which they procure flax. This plant grows at the bases of sandhills, but not so low down as to impinge on the flooded ground on which the sandhills usually abut, but still near enough thereto to receive the benefit of the water by capillary attraction. As it grows, this rush is a rigid, harsh-looking plant, without the flexibility common to rushes which grow in moist situations.

In preparing fibre from this plant, they cut it as close to the ground as possible, so that the flax may be of a fairish length; it is then tied into bundles 6 inches in diameter, after which it is soaked in water for two days. When the soaking has been properly effected, it is placed in an oven and baked for four hours-it is then in a fit condition for the next process, which is scraping. The scraping is done with the view of removing the husk and pithy matter; the instruments used in this operation are mussel shells. Whilst the scraping is in progress the rushes are continually being dipped into water, the softening properties of which aid materially in the proper cleansing of the flax. When it is quite finished it is laid on the grass to dry, which it soon does, as it is spread out in small parcels, each parcel being merely sufficient to form one of the neat hanks of the correct size required in the manufacture of the cord or twine they may have in view. When dry, it is made up into the hanks and stored away until required, From this fibre, nets and fishing-lines are made, as also nets for taking ducks. It makes a most serviceable thread for either nets or fishing-lines, having the power to resist the rotting influence of water to a very great extent indeed.

The next and last of their cord-making plants is the giantmallow; the fibre from this plant is of a much coarser texture