Uncivilised man is ever harsh in his treatment of woman. The natives of this country were less imperious than those of Port Jackson, where the blows of the waddy solemnised matrimony. Beside the burden of travel, they chiefly hunted the opossum, and mounted the lofty trees of the Tasmanian forest. When the man condescended to give part of his spoil, he handed over his shoulder the least delectable pieces to his wife, who sat at his back. Often, however, this indulgence was refused. Mr. Horton records an instance of unkindness, perhaps not general, nor very uncommon: it was noon; the mother, her infant, and little boy, had been without food all day: the father refused any part of that he had provided. Another of the tribe, however, was more generous: when he handed the woman a portion, at Mr. Horton's request, before she tasted any herself, she fed her child. They were often misunderstood; but they were sensible of domestic affections: the tribes were scattered by the last war--some were captives, others fugitives: eleven were already lodged at Richmond, when Mr. Gilbert Robertson brought up two others, a man and woman: they were recognised from afar by the party first taken; these raised the cry of welcome; it was a family meeting, and deeply moved the spectators. The parents embraced their children with rapture, and many tears. Under an engraving of a Van Diemen's Land woman and child, from a painting by J. Webber, the _Journal of Civilisation_ ventures the following:--"Contemplate the appalling picture! see her, in fact, without maternal affection! To such a mother, it would matter little to see her babe fall from her back and perish!" The woman of Van Diemen's Land, by the French artist, is most lively and maternal: her child is leaning over her head, its feet resting on her shoulders: she looks up towards it, with a strong expression of affection. Labillardiere repeatedly remarks the tenderness of the women to their children, as "very engaging." He also had a theory: but why suppose a black woman below a tigress, in the scale of maternity. The law of nature, deadened by circumstances, but which is even strong in the brute, was not inactive in their hearts. In every country, it is individually variable. There is a grave in a garden at Ben Lomond: Mr. Batman, the morning after its little tenant was deposited, walked up to the spot; but although he went at sunrise, one person was earlier: a Tasmanian woman; who sat by the grave, and wept. It was the mother.