At other times they mingle tears with their wailings, tears extorted not by grief, but by habit, or, perhaps, by exhaustion. Most of them carry about some little gift or remembrance of the deceased, as emu feathers, glass-beads, a knife, or a dagger. I will now describe their method of lamenting by night. About evening, all the women that are invited assemble in a hut, one of the female jugglers presiding over the party, and regulating the chaunting and other rites. It is her business to strike two large drums alternately, and to sing the doleful funeral song, the rest observing the same measure of voice. This infernal elegy, accompanied with the rattling of gourds and bellowing of drums, lasts till morning. The same method is observed for eight days without variation; on the ninth night, if they be mourning for a woman, the pans are broken, not without proper ceremonies. The tragic howl, which they uttered on the preceding nights, now gives place to a more festive chaunt, which the old female drummeress interrupts at intervals with out-stretched jaws and a deep, and, as it were, threatening voice, seemingly to exhort her singing companions to hilarity and louder notes. These nocturnal lamentations, which continue nine days, are commenced at the setting and concluded at the rising of the sun. The patience displayed by the women in enduring so many sleepless nights is truly astonishing, but still more so is that of the men who can sleep soundly whilst the air is filled with confused shouts, and the noise of gourds and drums. Nor are funeral rites alone conducted in this manner. The sacred anniversaries to the memory of their ancestors are religiously celebrated with the same rites and ceremonies. Should the memory of her dead mother enter a woman's mind, she immediately loosens her hair, seizes a gourd, paces up and down the street with some women whom she calls to partake in her mourning, and fills the air with lamentation. Few nights pass that you do not hear women mourning. This they do upon their feet, with their bodies turned towards the spot where the deceased is buried, always accompanying their lamentations with the sound of gourds. Women find weeping easier than silence, and this is the reason why the nights are so seldom passed in quietness. The vociferation, however, always grows more violent as the day approaches; for when one begins to lament another follows her example, then a third comes, and then a fourth, till, by day-break, the number of mourners seems greater than that of sleepers. The men meantime are by no means idle. The grief which the women express with tears and shrieks, they testify by shedding the blood of enemies or their own. The nearest of kin to the deceased immediately assembles all the fellow-soldiers he can raise, and leads them against the foreign foes by whose hands his relation perished. It is his business to make the first attack against the author of the death, and not to return home till he