During my visit ashore I went through the town from beginning to end, and by invitation entered most of the houses. In the garden of one I was shown a young kangaroo, leaping and gambolling about in the most graceful and easy manner. I also saw several collections of birds: the cockatoo and whistling twenty-eight being the most noteworthy. The cockatoo varies from the East India variety in the color of its crest, which is white; and, after some tuition, they talk very fluently, as I was assured by one who, with great facility asked what my name was. Not seeing the bird at the time, I turned round to my companion to answer his inquiry, as I thought, when a repetition of the question from a different direction soon satisfied me as to its author. On my hesitating to answer, the bird curtly informed me that he would tell his mistress. As I did not wish to incur my fair hostess’ displeasure, she having furnished me with a most excellent repast, I hastened to satisfy him. The twenty-eight is a beautiful bird, resembling the parrot. What it derives its name from I cannot imagine, as there is, whether in a wild or domestic state, nothing in its note that to my ear resembles the sound of the words “twenty-eight.” The prevailing color of its plumage is green, elegantly variegated about the head and tail with yellow, red, and black feathers. These birds are easily taught to whistle a tune. Their natural note is pleasing, and somewhat resembling that of the cuckoo. They can be taught also to talk, and several in our possession far exceeded in this respect any parrot I ever saw. When taught they are highly valued by the settlers, and almost every family has one or more of them. They exist in great numbers in the bush of the vicinity, and are preferable to the cockatoo, because they are free from his tricks--he being as mischievous as a monkey, when allowed to traverse the house. A river runs from the town up into the interior. On following its windings, I found it too shallow for craft of the lightest draught. Thousands of fowls skim over its surface: the shag, the swan, gulls, and the monster pelican--all gathering their living from its waters. In the rainy season it becomes a formidable stream, rushing violently over its bed, and carrying away all loose objects that lie along its course. In this river, too, I saw the natives spearing fish, an art in which they displayed considerable skill. Wading in the water, and patiently watching until the prey swam near them, they would expertly strike in their spears and transfix it. I saw one of them thus encounter a shark, piercing him through and through, until he despatched the monster. During the whole conflict he displayed extreme adroitness and activity in keeping out of the way of the infuriated creature, when with gnashing jaws it turned upon its antagonist. Whenever they capture a shark they eat it.