Darling, of whose character the Spitting Tribe may serve for a specimen. "It seldom happened," he says, "that I was particularly engaged with a map, a drawing, or a calculation, but I was interrupted by them or respecting them. Our gifts seemed only to awaken on their part a desire to destroy us, and to take all we had. While sitting in the dust with them, according to their custom, often have they examined my cap, evidently with no other view than to ascertain whether it would resist the blow of a _waddy_, or short stick. Then they would feel the thickness of my dress, and whisper together, their eyes occasionally glancing at their spears and clubs. The expression of their countenances was sometimes so hideous, that, after such interviews, I have found comfort in contemplating the honest faces of the horses and sheep; and even in the scowl of 'the patient ox,' I have imagined an expression of dignity, when he may have pricked up his ears, and turned his horns towards these wild specimens of the 'lords of the creation.' Travellers in Australian deserts will find that such savages cannot remain at rest when near, but are ever anxious to strip them by all means in their power of every thing. It was not until we proceeded as conquerors, that we knew any thing like tranquillity on the Darling; and I am now of opinion, that to discourage at once the approach of such natives, would tend more to the safety of an exploring party than presenting them with gifts." _Mulligo's Death._--The following curious account of the death of a certain native of Western Australia is given by Captain Grey. Mulligo, for such was the name of the unfortunate man, had severely hurt his spine by a fall from a tree, and having lost the use of his lower limbs, he gradually wasted away, until, in about two months' time, he became a perfect skeleton, and was evidently dying. Soon after day-break, Captain Grey came to the hut of Mulligo, and found him alive indeed, but breathing so slightly that it was scarcely to be perceived. His head rested on his aged mother's knees, who leaned over him in tears, while other women were seated around, their heads all verging to a common centre, over the wasted frame of the dying man; they were crying bitterly, and scratching their cheeks, foreheads, and noses, with their nails, until the blood trickled slowly from the wounds. The men, meanwhile, were preparing their spears for the fight, which was expected to take place respecting the two wives of Mulligo, the title of his heir being disputed. Other native females soon began to arrive in small parties, each one carrying her long stick in her hand, and each party marching slowly after the eldest woman belonging to it. When they came within about thirty or forty yards of the hut of the dying man, they raised the most piteous cries, and hurrying their pace, moved rapidly to the place where the other women were seated, recalling to the mind of