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Rh she was removed to Flinders, and married to Augustus the magnificent.

This lady indulged me with full particulars of her courting days. "He," said she (meaning Augustus), "tell me plenty times he love me, then he make love, then he ask me be his wife. I tell him go ask Father (Mr.) Clark. Father and Mother say, 'You marry him.' So I did." She then confided to me some of her conjugal troubles. Like many more of his sex, he had relaxed in his attentions to his partner; though, having the youngest and most beautiful, he might be supposed out of the reach of more attractive influences. Anyhow, he was tired of home delights, and was seriously contemplating leaving her for a whaling cruise, as William Lanné the last man, had done. "And now," added she, "he want to leave me." Some of the old ladies near commenced in rude English to declaim upon the evil propensities of men in general, and Augustus in particular. Of course I expressed my sympathy, and declared that if he dared carry out his wicked intentions, I would come and take her back with me to Port Phillip. This caused shouts of laughter from the aboriginal ladies. Bessy wished to give me a parting gift. Not knowing what to bestow, I suggested it should be something of her own manufacture. After thinking a while, she darted off into the swamp near, and reappeared with a handful of native flax. Squatting down on the ground, she turned up her garment, exposed her thigh, and began diligently rubbing the fibres on her bared leg, until she had made a length of string for me. She spoke very feelingly of Mr. Clark, and repeatedly uttered, as if half to herself, "Very good man! All the Black fellows love him."

Laughing little Lalla Rookh, or Truganina, was my especial favourite of the party. She acted among the rest as if she were indeed the sultana. She was then much over fifty years of age, and preserved some of those graces which made her beauty a snare in olden days, and sadly tried the patience of respective husbands. Her coquetry reminded me of the faded loveliness of French courts; and, as she stood smirking and smiling beside me, I thought of the septuagenarian admirer of Voltaire. Her features, in spite of her bridgeless nose, were decidedly pleasing, when lighted up by her sparkling black eye in animated conversation. Her nose was of the genuine saucy retroussé order.