The natives are doubtless attracted to the place partly by the reservoirs of water they find among the rocks after rain, partly that they may enjoy the pleasure of delineating the various objects that attract their attention, on the smooth surface of the rocks. This they do by removing the hard red outer coating, and baring to view the natural colour of the greenstone, according to the outline they have traced. Much ability is displayed in many of these representations, the subjects of which could be discovered at a glance. The number of specimens was immense, so that the natives must have been in the habit of amusing themselves in this innocent manner for a long period of time. I could not help reflecting, as I examined with interest the various objects represented*--the human figures, the animals, the birds, the weapons, the domestic implements, the scenes of savage life--on the curious frame of mind that could induce these uncultivated people to repair, perhaps at stated seasons of the year, to this lonely picture gallery, surrounded by the ocean-wave, to admire and add to the productions of their forefathers. No doubt they expended on their works of art as much patience and labour and enthusiasm as ever was exhibited by a Raphael or a Michael Angelo in adorning the walls of St. Peter or the Vatican; and perhaps the admiration and applause of their fellow countrymen imparted as much pleasure to their minds as the patronage of popes and princes, and the laudation of the civilized world, to the great masters of Italy. There is in the human mind an irresistible tendency to indulge in a sort of minor creation--to tread humbly in the footsteps of the Maker--to reproduce the images that revolve within it, and to form, from its own ideas, a mimic representation of the actual world. This is the source of all art and all poetry; of every thing, in fact, which tends to adorn and refine our nature. It is this uncontrollable desire to work on and fashion the rough materials that lie under our hands that gives the first impulse to civilization, and impels us onward in the progress of improvement. And wherever we discern the faintest indication that such a principle is at work, there we may securely hope that development will ultimately take place. Until we find a nation which has never attempted to emerge from the circle of its mere animal wants--which has never exhibited the least inclination to develop the most ordinary arts--which not only rejects clothing, but is absolutely indifferent to ornament--which leaves its weapons uncarved, its skin unpainted, free from tattoo, we must not despair of the general efficacy of civilization. These savages of Australia, as we call them, who have adorned the rocks of Depuch Island with their drawings, have in one thing proved themselves superior to the Egyptian and the Etruscan, whose works have elicited so much admiration and afforded food to so many speculations--namely, there is not in them