Just as we were considering about how to effect a landing we observed a number of natives on the hills and behind the beach, evidently watching our motions. As we stood along the beach, looking for a landing-place, they followed and became more bold; they shouted and made gestures, which were certainly not like those of encouragement; but still as we pulled on, they followed, till we counted forty-nine men, but they appeared to have left their spears behind them. Finding this, we thought it well to parley with them, when we backed in close to the shore, holding up our hands making signs of peace, and calling out in the Swan River language that we were friends and would give them bread. I flung apiece of biscuit on the beach, and some waded into the water and threw in their fur belts and other ornaments, when we commenced a system of barter immediately. They had no spears and few throwing sticks; nor had they with them either cloaks, or hammers, or shields, or any other weapon that we could see. They seemed to like the bread very much, for they followed us for many miles, still making signs to land, but the surf was so high we could not venture in the face of so many of them. At last, having passed the opening of the second river, and having come to a smooth place, I jumped out upon the beach and was soon followed by the Captain. INTERVIEW WITH NATIVES. They evinced a considerable deal of uneasiness at first, and looked with much jealousy at the gun as something suspicious. They wished me to part with it, but I sat down and intimated that I would keep it on the ground beside me. I addressed them in the Swan River native language, and they spoke much in return, but I must say that our language seemed to be mutually unintelligible. At last, by watching their mode of intonation, and accommodating myself to their dialect, I managed to succeed a little better. In this way they understood my inquiries for water, and their answer at last was precisely in the Swan River language, "Gaipbi jeral," (water to the north.) Their great anxiety at first seemed to be to know whether we were women. In answer I pointed to our beards, when they pulled their beards and said, "Nanya patta," by which name I have heard it called at Swan River also. Then they pointed to some young lads in the boat and asked were they women. No; I said they were "golambiddy" (boys) which they seemed to understand. I saw them eating the fruit of the mesembryanthemum (the Hottentot fig) but they did not understand either of the names used for it at Swan River, golboys, or mejaruk. They called it by a different name. After a little they volunteered to take us to water, and we walked along the beach with them, clustering about us with a show of friendship that was even more familiar than agreeable. One of them repeatedly asked me were we dead? at least so I understood him. At length we approached the opening of the river, in which they indicated