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Rh whom I was adopted as a son, and brother, eight and thirty years ago, during the war with the United States.

The North American Indian is proverbial for his calm, quiet, contemplative habits—his philosophical endurance of pain and suffering; the Australian Aborigine on the contrary, except when meditating mischief, being all monkeyism—all effervescence—nothing escapes his momentary notice—his imitative efforts—whether it be sound, or action; occasionally also—but only occasionally—he is courageous.

These remarks lead me to relate an anecdote or two relative to the natives of Western Australia, which may not be out of place in this Narrative.

About three years after the establishment of the Swan River colony, her Majesty's ship Sulphur, Captain Dance, which was attached to it, was ordered to the Southward, to examine the line of coast between Freemantle and King George's Sound. Her first Lieutenant was the present Commander, William Preston, a man, whose heart and soul were not only in the service to which he belonged, but, in that of the new colony, into the interior of which he had led several exploring parties with great tact, talent, and untiring zeal. Captain Preston was, and doubtless still is, a man precisely adapted to perform such work, he being possessed of good temper, great kind-heartedness, and undaunted courage. He was somewhat remarkable amongst us for odd expressions,—made applicable by him, to all things, all times, and all circumstances. The one most general with him was, "Go it ye cripples." If the wine bottle was to be pushed about, the pass-word was, "Go it ye cripples;"—if at a rubber of whist, and the next player was a slow coach, it was "Go it ye cripples;"—if anything was to be said or done, the cry was the same, "Go it ye cripples."

When the Sulphur arrived off the Vasse, to the northward of Cape Lewen, it was determined to send a boat on shore to open up a friendly communication with the natives, many of whom were seen upon the beach, and with this view my friend Preston