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during the same period, commencing with 1768, and extending to 1793, the year of his decease. The accuracy and extent of his observations, their variety and detail, the liveliness of their manner, and the pleasant, unaffected style in which they are expressed, have deservedly contributed to make his Natural History of Selborne one of the most popular books in our language so that within the last five years, at least four new editions of it have been put out by different editors, entirely independent of each other. Few books, at the same time, let the reader so completely into the disposition, sentiments, habits, and character of the author, who may be there traced, step by step, wandering through the hanging woods, over the chalky downs, along the deep hollow lanes, and beside the living rills, of his own beautiful and delightful Selborne and finding in "each thing met," fresh occasion for curious remark and rational enjoyment.

We wish that the accompanying wood-cut gave a more satisfactory view of the beauty of the scenery, which will well repay the admirer of nature the trouble of a pilgrimage. In order to which, we would apprize our readers in the language of Mr. White, that,

The parish of Selborne lies in the extreme eastern corner of the county of Hampshire, bordering on the county of Sussex, and not far from the county of Surry; is about fifty miles south-west of London, in latitude 51, and near midway between the towns of Alton and Petersfield. The high part to the south-west consists of a vast hill of chalk, rising 300 feet above the village; and is divided into a sheep-down, the high wood, and a long

hanging wood, called The Hanger. The covert of this eminence is altogether beech, the most lovely of all forest trees, whether we consider its smooth rind or bark, its glossy foliage, or graceful pendulous boughs. The down, or sheep-walk, is a pleasing, park-like spot, of about one mile, by half that space, jutting out on the verge of the hill country, where it begins to break down into the plains, and commanding a very engaging view, being an assemblage of hill, dale, woodlands, heath, and water. The prospect is bounded on the south-east and east, by the vast range of mountains called the Sussex-downs, by Guilddown, near Guildford, and by the downs round Dorking and Ryegate in Surry, to the north-east; which, altogether, with the country beyond Alton and Farnham, form a noble and extensive outline. At the foot of this hill, one stage or step from the uplands, lies the village, which consists of one single straggling street, three-quarters of a mile in length, in a sheltered vale, and running parallel with the Hanger. At each end of the village, which runs from south-east and north west, arises a small rivulet: that at the north-west end frequently fails, but the other is a fine perennial spring, little influenced by drought or wet seasons, called Well-head. This breaks out of some high grounds, joining to Nore-Hill, a noble chalk promontory.

From this description may be formed a general idea of the scenery of Selborne. We would now beg the reader to look at the view, whilst we endeavour to particularise the objects.

Look towards the end of the piece, on your left hand, and you may perceive a passage, going up the hill, through the wood, crossed by a succession of lines advancing right and left alternately. This appears to be indicated in a little poem by Mr. White, entitled, Selborne Hanger, a Winter Piece; where he says,

When spouting rains descend in torrent tides, See the torn zigzag weep its channel'd sides. Look a little more to your right, near the top of the wooded hill, and you may perceive a small hut, with its gable towards you, and a round-headed door; and in front of it, what, if more distinctly traced, would appear to be a terrace: this hut is "a grotesque building, contrived by a young gentleman, who used

on occasion to appear in the character of a hermit," and as such represented in the frontispiece to the edition of 1802, and alluded to in the annexed poem. Still further to your right, about the centre of the view, and near midway up the Hanger, you may perceive, though not very conspicuous, another small building, a kind of arbour on the side of the hill, also alluded to in the annexed poem. Passing still to your right towards the church, the tall, white object in its neighbourhood,-a pole with a vane upon it, seems to point out "a square piece of ground, in the centre of the village, surrounded by houses, and vulgarly called the Plestor; in the midst of which spot stood, in old times, a vast oak, with a short, squat body, and huge, horizontal arms, extending about to the extremity of the area," the delight and resort of old and young, till it was overturned by an amazing tempest in 1703. The name Plestor is a corruption of the Saxon word Plegstow, or Pleystow, meaning a play-place.

Of the remaining objects, the most conspicuous is the church, which consists of three aisles with a transept, making it almost as broad as it is long. It is a plain and unadorned building, supposed by Mr. White to be of the beginning of Henry the Seventh's reign, but rebuilt upon the remnants of an older building; and with windows of that simple sort, called lancet, some single, some double, and some in triplets, as partly represented in our view. The verses quoted below would lead us to expect a "pointed spire" to this edifice: but the engraving represents only a low, flat, embattled tower, and rising from it

long, iron rod, surmounted by a weather-cock, which, however, being somewhat indistinct in the engraving, has been omitted in our wood-cut,

Close by the church, at the west end, stands the vicarage house,-an old, but roomy and convenient building. It faces agreeably to the morning sun, and is divided from the village by a neat and cheerful court. Behind the house is a garden, of an irregular shape, but well laid out; whose terrace, Mr. White adds, "commands so romantic and picturesque a prospect, that the first master in landscape might contemplate it with pleasure, and deem it an object well worthy of his pencil."

The reader is now sufliciently acquainted with the different features of Selborne, to understand the accompanying view: its Hanger and village, its rivulets, its beeches, its forest roads, its zigzag path, its hermitage and hill-side arbour, its rustic play-place, its church and parsonage house; not to mention the other appurtenances of meadows, hop-grounds, or chards, corn-fields, gardens, lanes, hedge-rows, and scattered trees and cottages, which it partakes in common with other rural scenes. The same objects

his native village, into a pleasing poem, which we for the most part, are introduced by the historian of subjoin as a companion to our view, in mutual illustration of each other, abridging it by the omission of some lines here and there, which are not to our present purpose. At the same time it should be which do not enter into our view, that in the neigh observed, with reference to two allusions in the poem : bourhood of Selborne are the ruins of a priory founded by Peter de Rupibus, Bishop of Winchester, in the thirteenth century, in a vale sequestered from the world, amidst woods and meadows, and watered by a stream or brook running down it, which vale is now called "the long Lithe or Lythe," a name of ancient date, and uncertain etymology and signification, but retained also in the name of the spot from which our view was taken, and which is called by contradistinction, "the short Lythe;" and that at

the distance of about two miles east of the church are the remains of a preceptory of the Knights Templars, at least a farm dependent on a preceptory of that order; the dwelling-house being still called "Temple," and placed in a very particular situation upon the immediate verge of a steep, abrupt hill.

THE INVITATION TO SELBORNE.

SEE, Selborne spreads her boldest beauties round
The varied valley, and the mountain-ground,
Wildly majestic! What is all the pride
Of flats, with loads of ornament supplied?
Unpleasing, tasteless, impotent expense,
Compared with Nature's rude magnificence.

Oft on some evening, sunny, soft, and still,
The Muse shall lead thee to the beech-grown hill,
To spend in tea the cool, refreshing hour,
Where nods in air the pensile, nest-like bower;
Or where the hermit hangs the straw-clad cell,
Emerging gently from the leafy dell,

By Fancy planned; as once the inventive maid
Met the hoar sage amid the secret shade.
Romantic spot! from whence in prospect lies
Whate'er of landscape charms our feasting eyes:
The pointed spire, the hall, the pasture-plain,
The russet fallow, or the golden grain,
The breezy lake that sheds a gleaming light,
Till all the fading picture fail the sight.

Hark! while below the village bells ring round,
Echo, sweet nymph, returns the softened sound;
But, if gusts rise, the rushing forests roar,
Like the tide tumbling on the pebbly shore.

Adown the vale, in lone, sequestered nook,
Where skirting woods imbrown the dimpling brook,
The ruined convent lies! Here wont to dwell
The lazy canon 'midst his cloistered cell,
While Papal darkness brooded o'er the land,
Ere Reformation made her glorious stand:
Still oft at eve belated shepherd swains
See the cowled spectre skim the folded plains.
To the high Temple would my stranger go,
The mountain-brow commands the woods below.
In Jewry first this order found a name,
When madding Croisades set the world in flame;
When western climes, urged on by pope and priest,
Poured forth their millions o'er the deluged cast:
Luxurious knights, ill suited to defy
To mortal fight, Turcestan chivalry.

Nor be the parsonage by the Muse forgot!
The partial bard admires his native spot;
Smit with its beauties, loved, as yet a child,
Unconscious why, its capes, grotesque and wild.
High on a mound the exalted gardens stand,
Beneath, deep valleys scooped by nature's hand.

Now climb the steep, drop now your eye below,
Where round the blooming village orchards grow;
There, like a picture, lies my lowly seat,
A rural, sheltered, unobserved retreat.

Me far above the rest Selbornian scenes, The pendent forests, and the mountain greens, Strike with delight: there spreads the distant view, That gradual fades till sunk in misty blue: Here Nature hangs her slopy woods to sight, Rills purl between, and dart a quivering light. P.S. The writer of the foregoing article had not access to the original edition of White's Selborne, and was not aware that the engraving, from which our wood-cut was taken, and which he has endeavoured to illustrate by reference to Mr. White's works, was, in fact, prefixed to the quarto edition of 1789. It has been just brought to his knowledge by his accidentally meeting with Sir William Jardine's edition, to which the view, reduced by Ewbank from Grimm's contemporary sketch, forms the frontispiece. Our wood-cut, we hope, will not be depreciated on a comparison.

THE Arabians have several proverbial sayings concerning pretended false friendships. Some are taken from a pool which is filled by sudden hasty showers, and is extremely grateful to a thirsty traveller, but so deceitful, that when he returns he finds it quite exhausted. In the same manner they compare a treacherous friend to a torrent, or land-flood, which is soon raised, and as soon disappears.CHAPPELOW.

SPIDERS. I.

EVERY one who examines the web of a common Spider, whether it is formed of concentric circles, or supported by diverging rays, or whether it imitates any finely-woven substance, will be convinced, that she must be furnished with a peculiar set of organs to effect these purposes; that she must have something like a hand to work with. Amongst the small things that are wise upon earth, Solomon mentions the Spider, and the way by which he tells us she shows her wisdom, is by her prehensory powers,-she takes hold with her hands. And truly what Arachne does with her hands and her spinning organs, is very wonderful.

Spiders are gifted with the faculty of walking against gravity, even upon glass, and in a prone position. According to the observations of Mr. Blackwall, this is not effected by producing atmospheric pressure by the adhesion of suckers, but by a brush formed of "slender bristles, fringed on each side with exceeding fine hairs, gradually diminishing in length as they approach its extremity, where they occur in such profusion as to form a thick brush on its inferior surface." These brushes he first discovered on a living specimen of the bird-spider, and the same structure, as far as his researches were carried, he found in those Spiders which can walk against gravity and up glass. This is one of the modes by which they take hold with their hands, and thus they' ascend walls, and set their snares in the palace as well as the cottage. Whoever examines the underside of the last joint or digit of the foot of this animal, with a common pocket-lens, will see that it is clothed with a very thick brush, the hairs of which, under a more powerful magnifier, appear somewhat hooked at the apex: in some species this brush is divided longitudinally, so as to form two.

Set

But the organs that are more particularly connected with the weaving and structure of the snares of the Spiders, are most worthy of attention. ting aside the hunters, and others that weave no snares to entrap their prey, I shall consider those I intend to notice, under the usual names of weavers, and retiaries.

Before Mr. Blackwall turned his attention to the proceedings of these ingenious and industrious animals, it had not been ascertained, in what respect their modes of spinning their webs, and the organs by which they formed their respective manufactures differed. But Mr. Blackwall, whose observations were principally made upon one of the weavers which frequents the holes and cavities of walls, and similar places, observes that it spins a kind of web of different kinds of silk, the surface of which has a flocky appearance, from the web being as it were ravelled.

This web, he observes, is produced by a double series of spines, opposed to each other, and planted on a prominent ridge of the upper-side of the metatarsal joint, or that usually regarded as the first joint, of the foot of the posterior legs on the side next the abdomen. These spines are employed by the animal as a carding apparatus, the low series combing, as it were, or extracting the ravelled web from the spinneret, and the upper series, by the insertion of its spines between those of the other, disengaging the web from them. By this curious operation, which it is not easy to describe clearly, the adhesive part of the snare is formed; thus large flies are easily caught and detained, which the animal, emerging from its concealment, soon despatches and devours.

The organs by which the retiary Spiders form their

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curious geometric snares have generally been described | Elms is used for many purposes, in which the wood as three claws, the two uppermost armed with parallel is exposed to the alternation of moisture and drought; teeth like a comb, and the lower one simple and it was almost the only wood used for the pipes of the often depressed; but Mr. Blackwall found, in a species water-companies, previous to the introduction of iron related to the common garden spider, eight claws, pipes. It is also consumed in great quantities in seven of which had their lower side toothed. The common turnery, but although tolerably close grained,> object of this complex apparatus of claws, simple and and working with considerable freedom; it is very pectinated, is to enable these animals to take hold of liable to warp. any thread; to guide it; to pull it; to draw it out; to ascertain the nature of anything insnared, whether it be animate or inanimate; and to suspend itself. In fact, the Creator has made their claws not only hands but eyes to these animals.

Besides these organs, scattered moveable spines, or spurs, are observable upon the legs, especially the three last joints, which I consider as forming the foot, but sometimes also upon the thighs of spiders, which, as they can be elevated and depressed at the will of the animal, probably are used as a kind of finger, when occasions require it.

In the multiform apparatus of these ingenious animals, as far as we understand its use, we see how they are fitted for their office, by contributing to deliver mankind from a plague of flies, which would otherwise annoy us beyond toleration, and corrupt our land.

[KIRBY'S Bridgewater Treatise.]

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THE British Elms are of two sorts, the fine-leaved Elm of England (Ulmus campestris), and the Wych Elm of Scotland (Ulmus montana). The Elm, when suffered to grow in its natural form, is a lofty and graceful tree; it is much planted in the neighbourhood of some of our palaces, at Hampton, Bushy Park, Windsor, &c., formed into avenues, and yielding a most agreeable shade; but as it is treated in many of the hedge-rows near London, it has a naked and awkward appearance. The timber of both the British

Mr. Gilpin, speaking of the appearance of the Elm, says,—

The Oak and the Ash have each a distinct character. The massy form of the one dividing into abrupt, twisting, irregular limbs, yet compact in its foliage, and the easy sweep of the other, the simplicity of its branches, and the looseness of its hanging leaves, characterize both these, the eye can distinguish the form, it may also distinguish trees with so much precision, that, at any distance at which the difference. The Elm has not so distinet a character. It partakes so much of the oak, that when it is rough and old, it may easily, at a little distance, be mistaken for one; though the oak, I mean such an oak as is strongly marked with its peculiar character, can never be mistaken for the Elm. This defect, however, appears chiefly in the skeleton of the Elm. In full foliage its character is better marked. No tree is better adapted to receive grand masses of light. In this respect it is superior both to the oak and the ash.

The Elm is the first tree that salutes the early Spring with its light and cheerful green, a tint which contrasts agreeably with the oak, whose early leaf has generally more of the olive cast. We see them sometimes in fine harmony together, about the end of April and the beginning of May.

The great variety of form assumed by the leaf of the Elm induced some authors to suppose that the species were tolerably numerous, but the intermediate distinctions between any two of the most stronglymarked varieties were so many, that it was impossible to draw a line of separation.

In most parts of the continent the Elm is pianted as with us in long avenues in the approaches to the mansions of the nobility and others, but in Italy it is applied to another use; it is the tree' of whose services they usually avail themselves for the purpose of training their grape-vines. The height of the stem of the elms intended for this purpose is limited to twelve or fifteen feet, and only as many branches are left as are necessary for the intended purpose. This employment of the Elm is extremely ancient. Virgil often refers to it.

The mode of propagation resorted to in the case of the English Elm is usually by means of suckers from the parent tree. The best description of suckers are those which are produced by trees that have been cut close to the ground two years previously; these are to be deprived of all the new shoots that have already sprung, and the following Summer they will produce a number of clean young shoots; plant these at about eight feet asunder in the quincunx order, thus, which will fill the ground more equally than by planting them in squares. The Elm is sometimes also propagated by layers of the young shoots produced by the old stumps.

The Wych Elm is usually propagated by seed, which it yields in considerable abundance. These middle of June, according to the season. seeds are generally ripe from the beginning to the must be attentively looked after as they approach to They maturity, for when they are fully ripe, a blast of wind, or heavy rain, will drive them all off the trees in a day's time, and as the seeds are very small, it will be difficult afterwards to collect any quantity. The best plan is, when they are nearly ripe, to spread mats on the ground and cause the tree to be gently shaken.

The seeds, when collected, are to be carefully dried

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in the open air, not in the sun, and being afterwards mixed with dry sand, preserved from moisture until the Spring. About the beginning or middle of February, the seed is to be sown in beds, about three feet and a half wide, of loose rich garden earth; they are to be spread in the same manner as onions or other garden herbs. In most cases they will be fit to transplant by the next Spring.

At Mongewell, Oxfordshire, there is a beautiful walk planted with Elms all of a great size, one measuring fourteen feet in girth at three feet from the ground; it is seventy-nine feet in height, and sixty-five in the extent of its boughs. Dr. Van Mildert, Bishop of Durham, in his ninetieth year, erected an urn in the midst of their shade, to the memory of two of his friends, on which the following lines were inscribed :

To the Memory

of my

Two highly valued friends, THOMAS TYRWHITT, Esq., and

The Rev. C. M. CRACHERODE, M.A

In this once-favoured walk, beneath these elms,
Where thicken'd foliage, to the solar ray
Impervious, sheds a venerable gloom.
Oft in instructivè converse we beguiled
The fervid time, which each returuing year
To friendship's call devoted. Such things were:
But are, alas! no more.

The Tutbury Wych Elm, at the height of five feet from the ground, measures sixteen feet nine inches in circumference; the trunk is twelve feet long, and the branches extend from forty to fifty feet in all directions.

At Pollock, in Renfrewshire, there are some very large Wych Elms; the largest is eighty-eight feet in height.

The Chipstead Elm is an English Elm, and stands on a rising ground in the pleasure-grounds of Chipstead Place, Kent; it is sixty feet in height, twenty feet in circumference at the root, and fifteen feet eight inches, at three and a half feet from the ground, and contains 268 feet of timber, although it has lost some of its most important branches. A hollow Wych Elm, by Stratton Church, measures twenty-nine feet six inches at four feet above the ground.

The largest Elm of Scotch growth is, or rather was, for it is now nearly destroyed, in the parish of Roxburghe, in Teviotdale; when measured in 1796 it was thirty feet in girth. It is called the trysting tree, from having been the place of rendezvous in 1547 of the lairds of Cessford and Fernyhirst, and other Scotch gentry, when they met the protector Somerset to swear allegiance to the king of England.

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ICE PALACE AT MOSCOW. THIS whimsical structure was one of the wonders of the last century. It was a waste of ingenuity, but served as an illustration of the power of cold, and the density and novel application of ice. Seven years previous to the erection of this palace, an icecastle and garrison had been built upon the river Neva, in Russia; but the ice broke under the weight, and that of the soldiers who guarded them. A better foundation was therefore selected for the ice-palace, on the bank of the river, and the structure, curious as it was, was completed, and exhibited to the Russian populace at the marriage of Prince Gallitzin.

The material of the palace consisted of blocks of ice cut out of the Winter covering of the Neva, which were from two to three feet in thickness. Being properly formed and adjusted to each other, water was poured between them, which soon froze, and acted as "ement; so that the whole edifice, with its furniture, may be said to have been one mass of ice. Its length was 56 feet; its breadth 174 feet; and its height 21 feet. It was constructed according to the strictest rules of art, and was adorned with a portico, columns, and statues. It consisted of a single story; the front was provided with a door and fourteen windows, the frames and panes of the latter being all formed of ice. The sides of the doors and windows were painted to imitate green marble. On each side of the principal door was a dolphin, from the mouth of which, by means of burning naphtha, volumes of flame were emitted at night. Next to the dolphins were two mortars, from which many bombs were thrown, a quarter of a pound of powder being used for each charge. On each side of the mortar stood three cannons, equal to threepounders, mounted upon carriages, and with wheels, which were often used. In the presence of a number of persons attached to the Russian court, a bullet was driven through a board two inches thick, at the distance of sixty paces, by one of these cannons; a quarter of a pound being used for the charge.

The palace had no ceiling: its interior consisted of a lobby and two large apartments, which were well furnished and elegantly painted, though merely formed of ice. Tables, chairs, statues, looking-glasses, candlesticks, watches, and other ornaments, besides teadishes, tumblers, wine-glasses, and even plates with provisions, were seen in one apartment, also formed of ice, and painted their natural colours: while in the other apartment was a state-bedstead with curtains, bed, pillows, and bed-clothes, two pairs of slippers and two night-caps, of the same cold material.

Behind the cannons, the mortars, and the dolphins, stretched a low balustrade. On each side of the building was a small entrance, with pots of flowers and orange-trees, partly formed of ice and partly natural, on which birds sat. Beyond these were two icy pyramids. On the right of one of them stood an elephant which was hollow, and so contrived as to throw out flaming naphtha, whilst a person within imitated the cries of the animal. On the left of the other pyramid was seen the never-failing appurtenance to all princely dwellings in Russia, a banga, or bath, 1 (apparently formed of balks,) which is said to have been sometimes heated, and even appropriated to use.

The appearance of the ice-palace, when illuminated, is said to have been remarkably splendid. Amusing transparencies were usually suspended in the windows, and the emission of flames by the dolphins and the elephant, tended to excite greater surprise, by flashing on the crystalline mass. Crowds of visiters were continually seen around this fantastical construction,

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which remained entire from the beginning of January nearly till the middle of March. At the end of the latter month, however, the fairy fabric began to thaw, and soon afterwards it was broken into pieces, and conveyed to the Imperial ice-cellar.

AUSTRALIAN GRAMMAR. III. THE following account of the strange fancies which are even now prevalent among the aboriginal Australians, is derived from the curious work which we have before noticed in the Saturday Magazine. The painful catalogue will serve to show how greatly the abject beings in that remote region require the exertions of Christians in their behalf; presenting, as it does, a lamentable spectacle of the weakness and wretchedness of human nature, when unblessed with a knowledge of the only true God, and of His reasonable service.

Ko-in, Tip-pa-kál, Pór-ráng,-Names of an imaginary male being, in appearance like a black; he is supposed to reside in thick brushes or jungles, and appears occasionally by day, but mostly at night. In general he precedes the coming of the natives from distant parts, when they assemble to celebrate certain mysteries, such as knocking out the tooth in a mystic ring, or performing some dance. He appears painted with pipe-clay, and carries a fire-stick in his hand; but, generally, it is the doctors (a kind of magicians,) who alone perceive him, and to whom he says, "Fear not, come and talk." At other times he comes when the blacks are asleep, and takes them up as an eagle his prey, and carries them away. The shouts of the surrounding party often occasion him to drop his burden; otherwise he conveys them to his fire-place in the bush, where, close to the fire, he deposits his load. The person carried tries to cry out but cannot, feeling almost choked; at daylight Ko-in disappears, and the black finds himself conveyed safely to his own fire-side!

Tip-pa-kal-lé-un, Mail-kun, Bim-póin,-Names of the wife of Koin. She is a much more terrific being than her husband, whom the blacks do not so much dread, because he does not kill them; but this female not only carries off the natives in a large bag-net beneath the earth, but spears the children through the temple, and no one ever sees again those whom she obtains!

Ko-yo-ró-wen,―The name of another imaginary being, whose trill in the bush frequently alarms the blacks in the night. When he overtakes a native, he commands him to exchange cudgels, giving his own, which is extremely large, and desiring the black to take a first blow at his head, which he holds down for that purpose; after which he smites and kills the person with one blow, skewers him with the cudgel, carries him off, roasts, and then eats him!

Kur-ri-wilbán,-The name of his wife; she has a long horn on each shoulder, growing upward, with which she pierces the Aborigines, and then shakes herself until they are impaled on her shoulders, when she carries them to the deep valley, roasts and eats her victims. Ya-ho, has by some means been given to the blacks as a name for this being.

Put-ti-kán,-Another imaginary being, like a horse, having a large mane, and a tail, sharp like a cutlass. Whenever he meets the blacks, they go towards him, and draw up their lips, to show that the tooth is knocked out, when he will not injure them; but should the tooth be left in, he runs after, kills, and eats them. He does not walk, but bounds like a kangaroo, the noise of which on the ground is as the report of a gun, calling out as he advances, Pir-ro-lóng, Pir-ro-lóng!

Pór-ro-bung,-The name of a mystic ring, in which they dance and fall down at certain periods; from Pór, to drop down.

Yu-lung-The name of the ring in which the tooth is knocked out. The trees are marked near the ring with rude representations of locusts, serpents, &c., chopped on the bark with an axe. They dance for several days, every morning and evening, continuing the whole of the night.

Ko-pur-ra-ba-The name of the place from which the blacks obtain the Ko-pur-ra, a yellowish earth, which they wet, mould up into balls, and then burn in a strong fire, when it changes into a brilliant red, something like red

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ochre, with which tne men and women paint themselves, mixing it with the kidney-fat of the kangaroo: it is always used at their dances.

nine feet high, springing upon the side of a bluff head on Mul-lung-bu-la,--The name of two upright rocks about the margin of the lake. The blacks affirm from tradition, that they are two women who were transformed into rocks, in consequence of their being beaten to death by a black man. Beneath the mountain on which the two pillars stand, a seam of common coal is seen many feet thick, from which Reid obtained a cargo of coals, when he mistook the entrance of this lake for Newcastle: a wharf, the remains of his building, still exists at this place, called from thence Reid's Mistake.

Mún-nu-kán,―The name of a point, under which is a seam of canal-coal; beneath, a thick seam of superior common coal joins it, and both jut into the sea between three and four fathoms of water. The Government mineral-surveyor found on examination, that the two veins were nearly nine feet in thickness, and the coal of excellent quality. Wau-wa-rán,-The name of a hole of fresh water in the vicinity of Lake Macquarrie, between it and the mountains westerly; said by the blacks to be bottomless and inhabited by a monster of a fish, much larger than a shark, called Wau-wai. It frequents the contiguous swamp, and kills the Aborigines! There is another resort for these fish near an island in Lake Macquarrie, named Bo-ro-yi-róng; from the cliffs of which, if stones be thrown down into the sea beneath, the tea-tree bark floats up, and then the monster is seen gradually rising from the deep; should any natives be at hand, he overturns the canoe, swallows alive the crew, and then swallows the canoe whole, after which he descends to his resort in the depths below!

Yi-rán-ná-lai,—The name of a place near Newcastle, on the sea-beach, beneath a high cliff, where, it is said, if any persons speak, the stones fall down from the high arched rocks above. The crumbling state of it is such as to render it extremely probable, that the concussion of air from the voice causes this effect; "which once occurred to myself," says Mr. Threlkeld, "in company with some blacks."

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Kur-rur-kur-rán,—The name of a place, in which there almost a forest of petrifactions of wood, of various sizes, extremely well defined; situated in a bay at the N. W. extremity of Lake Macquarrie. The tradition of the Aborigines is, that formerly it was one large rock which fell from the heavens and killed a number of blacks, who were assembled where it descended; this being, by command of an immense Guana, which came down from heaven for that purpose, in consequence of his anger at their having killed some vermin by roasting them in the fire. Those who had killed the vermin by cracking, were previously speared to death by him with a long reed from Heaven! At that remote period, the moon was supposed to be a man named Pón-to-bung: hence the moon is called he to the present day; and the sun being formerly a woman, retains the feminine pronoun, she.

Mur-ro-kun,-The name of a mysterious bone, which is obtained by the Ka-ra-kul, a doctor, or conjuror; three of whom sleep on the grave of a recently-interred corpse, where in the night, during their sleep, the dead person inserts a mysterious bone into each thigh of the three doctors, who feel the puncture not more severe than that of the sting of an ant! The bones remain in the flesh of the doctors, without any inconvenience to them, until they wish to kill any person, when, by unknown means, it is said, and in a supernatural manner they destroy their ill-fated victim by the mysterious bone, causing it to enter into their bodies, and so occasion their death!!

Múr-ra-mai,-The name of a round ball, about the size of a cricket-ball, which the Aborigines carry in a small net suspended from their girdles of opossum yarn; it is used as a talisman against sickness, and is sent from tribe to tribe for hundreds of miles on the sea-coast, and in the interior. Mr. T. says, "One is now here from Moreton Bay, the interior of which, a black showed me privately in my study, betraying considerable anxiety lest any female should see the contents, women being interdicted from viewing them. After unrolling many yards of woollen cord, made from the fur of the opossum, the contents proved to be a quartz-like substance of the size of a pigeon's egg! He allowed me to break it and retain a part. It is transparent like white sugar-candy. The people swallow the small crystalline particles which crumble off, as a preventive of sickness. It scratches glass, and does not effervesce with acids.

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