The Legend of Kupirri, or, The Red Kangaroo / An Aboriginal Tradition of the Port Lincoln Tribe
Date: 2018-01-02T00:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Aboriginal Australians -- Folklore -- Poetry

The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Legend of Kupirri, or, The Red Kangaroo

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Title: The Legend of Kupirri, or, The Red Kangaroo

Author: W. A. Cawthorne

Release date: January 1, 2018 [eBook #56284]
Most recently updated: January 24, 2021

Language: English

Credits: Produced by Chuck Greif & The Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was
produced from scans of public domain works at The National
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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LEGEND OF KUPIRRI, OR, THE RED KANGAROO ***

Preface.
The Legend
The Tale Of Purley.
Notes, &c.

PILLA AND INDA.

THE
LEGEND OF KUPIRRI,
OR
The Red Kangaroo.

AN ABORIGINAL TRADITION OF THE
PORT LINCOLN TRIBE.

BY
W. A. CAWTHORNE,
PRINCIPAL OF THE VICTORIA-SQUARE ACADEMY.

KUPIRRI.

ADELAIDE, SOUTH AUSTRALIA:
J. H. LEWIS, PRINTER,
MDCCCLVIII.

PREFACE.

The Natives of a certain district of Port Lincoln, when questioned as to the cause of the non-existence of that species of Kangaroo known to the Colonists as the great Red Kangaroo, have the following legend in reference to its extinction:—

“In former times, one of the species, inhabited Port Lincoln, his name was Kupirri, he was of stupendous size, and devoured all those who attempted to spear him. His very appearance inspired the natives with overwhelming terror, so that they lost all presence of mind, even flinging away their midlahs. At last, however, a match was found for the monster Kangaroo, in two renowned hunters, Pilla and Inda, who, falling upon its track near Port Lincoln, on the range stretching to the North, followed and overtook it on Mount Nilarro. Finding it asleep, they at once attacked it, but before they could quite kill it, their spears became blunt; they then quarrelled with each other, and Pilla stabbed his antagonist with one of the blunt spears, in many places, while he himself received a severe blow over his nose. Becoming reconciled, the friends again attacked and killed Kupirri and, on opening it, found, to their utter astonishment, the dead bodies of their comrades previously devoured by the monster. Being no less skilled in the medical art than in hunting, they succeeded in reviving and healing these unfortunate men. They all then betook themselves to roasting and devouring Kupirri in return. The feast over, and their bodies comfortably greased, they returned to their mourning families, who received them with every demonstration of joy at the happy termination of their adventures. The two heroes were afterwards metamorphosed into, and gave origin to, two species of animals—the Oppossum, and the Native Cat—retaining as such, not only their names, but also the scars of the wounds that they inflicted on each other—in the shape of a furrow down the former’s nose, and of a number of white spots sprinkled over the skin of the latter.[A]

[A] From a pamphlet by C. W. Schurmann, 1846.

Note 1.—In the Breccia caves of the Portland district, and elsewhere, huge bones of an extinct kangaroo have been found. It is possible, therefore, that this legend has some foundation in fact, which in the lapse of time has moulded itself in the present form.

Note 2.—“I cannot sit down without making an allusion to a cognate subject that for a very long time has occupied my attention. I allude to the legends and traditions of the aborigines of Australia. It is possible that the gentlemen present may doubt of their existence, but I beg to assure them that the tribes of Australia are not so barren in these particulars as may be imagined. There is scarcely a constellation in the heavens that has not its appropriate legend, and the animals of the land are invested with the supernatural. Capes, promontories, and islands of our shores are transformations, or are otherwise connected with legendary lore. The origin of their own species, and their various ceremonies, abound with singular and exotic ideas, and the wildest fancies. The Australian savage has his myths, legends, and poetry, like his brothers of other regions; and I mention it for the purpose of throwing out a suggestion to the members of the Philosophical Society, that it would be an interesting work, and worthy of the employment of some portion of their funds to collect and collate together these treasures, before the race disappears from off the face of the land. Sir George Grey has done as much for New Zealand, and I sincerely hope that ere long the same may be accomplished for Australia.”

[Extracted from the 4th Annual Report of the Adelaide Philosophical Society, from a paper on “The Song of Hiawatha,” by the Author.]

THE LEGEND
OF
THE RED KANGAROO.

The rippling waves of Boston Bay
Lay glimm’ring in the fading day
Growing shadows were length’ning o’er,
Dark’ning the distant islet’s shore.

Far away in the open sea,
Beyond the Cape Catastrophe,
The sun shot forth its golden ray,
And kiss’d each wave in parting play.

Gorg’ous colours o’erspread the sky,
From farthest verge that’s scann’d by eye,
To where the sun’s effulgent rays
Pour’d forth its last resplendent blaze.

Majestic clouds were pil’d and mass’d,
In form sublime and grand in rest,
In true perspective—line on line,
Till mix’d and lost in hues divine.

Splashing loud on the pebbly beach,
The dimpling waves were chasing each
Filling inlet, dent, and bay,
With murmurs soft, and sparkling spray.

The scrub wav’d gently to and fro,
A green irradiating bow;
The she-oak in the distant view,
Whisper’d a mournful, sad adieu.

The bold hills in a rounding line,
Glorious in a sunny clime,
Purpling when the bright eve declines,
Dark’ning as day its rule resigns.

The tribe was camp’d beside a hill,
Near a transparent gurgling rill;
On a bold bluff the wurleys stood,
Within a copse of wattle-wood.

The warriors were far away,
Creeping on their unwary prey—
Girdling them in a treach’rous ring,
With artful deep manoœuv’ring.

Some spearing fish upon the coast,
Where Koonta’s mystic stream is lost;
Some sneaking emu on the plain,
Searching Kupe, or snaring game.

Or, listless from a cool retreat,
Were watching Cowee’s great heart beat,
Its ebb and flow, its wondrous tide,
Marma’s wayward, beauteous bride.

The jocund laugh resounds along,
Tho lubras mark their little throng:
The scornful look and air they bore,
Engag’d in strife and mimic war.

Behold them on the open plain,
Naked as they from nature came
In fierce opposing bands they range,
Spears rattle, and dire words exchange.

In childish accents, “Death,” they cry,
And mockingly the foe defy;
With quiv’ring limbs, and glaring eye,
They rush to conquer or to die.

Their mimic spears hiss through the air,
And whirring waddies cause despair;
Their shields resound with awful blows—
The ground is strewn with friends and foes.

Now o’er the hills the lubras come,
In Indian file, by one and one;
Each bears the produce of the day,
Of roots, and herbs, and wallaby.

With weary step they hasten down,
And cast their burdens on the ground,
And cooey for their absent child,
And waiting—gossip ere the while:

“How at the last corrobboree,
Ngamma’s familiarity
With Yerku, shock’d all decency,
Hence Bultawilta’s jealousy.

“How saucy Tekartoo behav’d,
While her husband in palti play’d;
And caused the stranger’s sly advance,
And quarrelling, broke up the dance:

“What dreadful things the burkas said,
For Tau had ate the sacred leg;
How Kuinyo would at night appear,
With stomach vast, and snaky hair.

“And Paune’s wonderful escape
From cunning sorcerer’s deadly hate,
As in the reeds he hiding lay,
A bird by night, a bush by day.”

Murmurs confus’d sound o’er the hill.
Now near, then far, now loud, then shrill;
Soon seen are many hunters bold,
Like full of game and tales untold!

To the camp they are drawing near,
Very emulous to appear!
Each more famous than the other,
In the sight of wife and mother.

Did ever see such kangaroo,
As now borne past in grand review,
Besides the fattest of emu?—
Prais’d be the Manurapindoo!

All stare, and gloat, and feast their eyes,
As the game spread forth in glory lies;
The kuttas soon at work resound,
And women, joking, dig the ground.

Some a hole of just size prepare,
And leaves and stones arrange with care
Well heated these, and duly laid,
Thus the native oven is made.

The meal enjoy’d—their bodies greas’d
They chat and laugh, or loll at ease;
Hunting and warlike stories tell,
Of sorcery, magic, charm, or spell.

Of wondrous feats, and jerks, and jumps,
Of water-holes, and scrub and stumps;
Of narrow ’ scapes, and dreadful leaps,
Of swamps, and storms, and flooded creeks.

But there were none among the brave
So skill’d, so witty, or so grave,
Or could recite the tales of yore,
Which he knew by many a score.

Purley, the star—such was his name,
Through all the tribes had spread his fame
As hunter, warrior, burka wise,
In dance or song durst none despise.

Now him around, in circles sat—
The boys in front, the elders back;
With gaping mouths and wond’ring eyes,
They laugh and marvel with surprise!

The tribe enwrapp’d in shades of night,
While rows of fire are twinkling bright,
Loud wails the plaintive monotone,
To cure the pain, or soothe the gnome.

“Now behold the road before me,
How beautiful throughout Yerna,
Watteyernorlo Tappandē,
Miny-el-ity yarluke an-ambe.”

“Now to the water-hole we’ve come,
We two, together, at Tunte nung.”
Thus corrobories they sing,
How sweet the memories they bring.

But others, of more mournful frame,
Pierce the air in a tender strain,
Sing of the lost beloved one—
“O, why did you die! my son! my son!”

Cow’ring nearer, a young man asks,
“Tell us of the great First and Last?
Who was, and who is yet to come,
And why gaze we oft on setting sun?

“Why the burkas in silence meet,
Why in uncertain whispers speak.
In wild and lonely bushy creek,
And there enchanted words repeat?

For what the magic weapons use,
Why ourselves in warm blood suffuse,
Ord’ring women from th’ sacred place,
Tell us the myst’ries of our race?”

No! no! shouts the great Uwinda,
Rather tell us the tale of Inda,
And the famous hunter, Pilla,
And their deeds upon the Willa.

Crowding, then, around the wurley,
They listen to the tale of Purley,
Who in a measur’d tone begins,
Of the famous Kangarooing.

Carrying the fire-stick.

THE TALE OF PURLEY.

“In the long past, in days of yore,
Such days, alas! return no more!
Our tribe liv’d on the Wonga plain,
That stretches southward to the main.

“In all good things they richly shar’d,
Sumptuously on dainties far’d;
With bursting nets of game and fish,
In implements surpassing rich.

“We were, of all, the greatest tribe
That in the North or West reside;
Our dire enchantments never fail’d,
Northern sorcerers ’ fore them quail’d.

“Victors in ev’ry hunt and battle,
’Twas enough our spears to rattle;
Our enemies would fly apace,
Though rarely winners in the race.

“But though so powerful and great,
We dwindled at a rapid rate;
For hunting when the tribe would go,
There would be missing one or so.

“Suggest, could none of us a cause,
Whereby this sad mysterious loss
Could be explain’d, or could be trac’d,
For death had doom’d our noble race.

“It was resolv’d, before too late,
A gen’ral hunting match to make;
The scrub, and swamps, and plains to scour,
To find the foe, or magic power.

“Everywhere searching, left and right,
Till Nilarro appear’d in sight;
When lo! a monster on them springs,
Four men to ground he quickly brings.

“The unnatural creature, then,
Instead of grass ate up the men!
They lift no spear, they lift no wirri,
Powerless before Kupirri.

“Behold! like burnt sticks in a row,
By’s tail he fells them with a blow!
Enrag’d, he lashes it about,
And quickly puts them to the rout!

“Homeward they rush, nor look behind,
Frighten’d at e’en the rustling wind;
Frighten’d at the grass-tree stump,
Frighten’d at every stone and lump.

“Abandon’d all, both shield and spear,
Demented by their madd’ning fear,
Nought else they know, nought else repeat,
Than their sad loss—their dread retreat.

“Long and loud the death-wail rose,
They cut their arms—blood freely flows!
While tears run down the sadden’d cheek,
And on their breast they strike and beat.

“‘My son! my brother! O my friend!’
The women thus lament their end;
While burkas try all magic art,
To cause the monster to depart.

“Oh! then were long days of sadness,
Unavailing wrath, and madness!
But who, they ask, can kill Kupirri?
Can bold man, can charm or wirri?

“Then they arose in wild despair,
Invoke the gnomes of earth and air
Dread magic rites initiate,
All spirits bad propitiate.

“The warra warra now declare
Sure success to those who’d dare
Their monster-enemy to face,
The scourge of their devoted race.

“Murmurs of doubt run through the throng—
Who able was, or who was strong?
With what weapons could they fight
The monster on Nilarro’s height?

“But none among the young or old,
As hunters, were so brave or bold
As the noted fighter “Inda,”
And his far-famed brother “Pilla.”

“‘We go,’ they in one voice exclaim,
‘Though we should ne’er return again,
We’ll perish, or we’ll victors be
O’er this cursed beast, Kupirri.’

“Then with great skill, and with rare art,
They well anoint and paint each part
With mystic dots, with stripe and line,
From head to foot in karkoo shine.

“Aloft a witto nods and bends,
And grace to every motion lends;
A long white bone adorns the nose,
While on the forehead—teeth in rows.

“With a well-tried shield and spear,
Wirri, and other war-like gear,
Kyahs, wommeras, and kuttas,
And the mystic Paityowattas.

“Well versed in all ancient curses,
Which, when one properly rehearses.
Neither bird, beast, nor fish escape,
But, unresisting, yield to fate.

“Bright was the sun that shone that day,
As the daring brothers bent their way;
Sounds lamentable rise on high,
Mingl’d with shouts that rend the sky.

“Then solitary, on they go,
Their progress mark—firm, stealthy, slow;
Eyes, like their steps, most firmly bent,
Both on the one great aim intent.

“Through heat and scrub, all that long day,
Till the last sun-beam died away;
Then on a dreary, stony height,
Repeat their charms, and camp the night.

“Just where glimmers th’ early dawn,
Loom’d grandly in the ruddy morn,
Mount Nilarro, so vast and gaunt,
The abyss of Kupirri’s haunt.

“Bald were its hoary sides, and steep
Its gullies, precipitous and deep;
A silent stream, from a hidden source,
Pursued its dark meand’ring course.

“Little they ate, they little said,
But on their way they quickly sped;
With eagle-glances scan the land,
And closely watch on either hand.

“Another night they try to rest
In vain—with horrid fears opprest;
For they in fancy often see
The Red Kangaroo, Kupirri!

“Half valiant, yet half affrighted,
Arm’d with dark words recited,
March on they, eager for the fray,
Thirsting for their insatiate prey.

“O’er hill and dale they longing seek,
Through prickly scrub and winding creek;
Anxiously from the heights, review
The land of the Red Kangaroo.

“Suddenly, in a gulley deep,
Behold the creature fast asleep!
Each at each in mute wonder stare,
While sinking, almost, with despair.

“Kupirri moves his wondrous tail,
Their courage ’gan direct to fail!
His ears, immense, he wags about,
And opes, awide, his awful snout!

“He sleeps—shut are his dreadful eyes,
Nor heeds his daring enemies,
Who in right earnest now prepare,
To slaughter him as he lies there.

“Strike him with the blood of circumcision!
Strike him with the tuft of eagle feathers!
Strike him with the girdle—the paltando!
Strike him with the manga, the kundando!

“With mystic curse they imprecate!
More soundly sleeps the monster great!
Forth fly the deadly quiv’ring spears!
Kupirri only shakes his ears!

“Trying then the long uwinda:
Fearlessly the hunter, Inda,
Steps up, and gives a deadly thrust,
He sprawling, kicking, sends the dust!

“Now Pilla, bold, with strong wirri,
Batters, manfully, Kupirri,
Madden’d by pain he vainly tries
From his enchanted sleep to rise.

“Then they the blood-drench’d warpoo try,
Sneaking upon him, very sly;
Though standing by his panting side,
In vain they try to pierce his hide.

“But now! oh most unfortunate!
The magic of an adverse fate!
The hunters ’gan to disagree,
In the presence of Kupirri.

“Alas! for these two valiant brothers,
They fight, and almost kill each other,
Until at last, their fury spent,
They see their folly and relent.

“’Twas well, for lo! the earth did quake
With the monster’s efforts to awake;
They bravely rush, renew the strife,
Kupirri yields, with groans, his life!

“Terrible was his dying pain,
Agonising his pond’rous frame;
Terrible were his mortal throes,
Horror-struck stood by his foes.

“A blacken’d rent marks the dire place,
Where died the last of Kupirri’s race;
Rarely do men to it repair,
Very rarely go hunting there.

“They leap for joy, and jump, and shout,
And in steps mystic dance about;
Refreshed now from their late affray,
Proceed at once to divide their prey.

“But with incredible surprise
They see—doubting their own eyes,
Their dead companions he had ate
When Kupirri they last had met.

“But skilful they in magic art,
They lay the bodies wide apart,
Then conq’ring in spiritual strife,
They slowly raise the dead to life.

“Round their old foe themselves they seat,
Ready his choicest parts to eat.
And thus their just revenge appease,
And with his fat their bodies grease.

“Laden with prey they homeward bend,
Each talking with his late dead friend,
Chatting of surprise and greeting,
That ’wait their unexpected meeting.

“Soon the great Wonga plain appears,
They strike their shields, and raise their spears;
With hasty strides now onwards press,
Nor heed the place or time of rest.

“Ne’er was there such a day as that,
When the late-dead by the living sat;
Nor were such paltis ever sung,
As through the woods all that night rung.

“Very often they told the tale
How their courage began to fail,
How with kutta, spear, and wirri,
They at length did slay Kupirri.

“Time roll’d on, the hunters brave
Were fast descending to the grave,
The youths would oft recite, in play,
The heroic deeds of a former day.

“Years pass by, the period came
When to perpetuate their fame
Our tribe great mystic rites perform’d,
Pilla and Inda were transform’d.

“Behold ‘Pilla,’ the Native Cat!
Varied spots adorn his back,
For thus his cruel brother mark’d him,
When he in quarrel spear’d him,

“Behold the Oppossum, ‘Inda,’
His face streak’d by the uwinda,
Great Pilla’s unnatural deed,
When they in fight both disagreed.

“Henceforth our tribe did dwell in peace,
Nevermore hurt by monstrous beast;
They multiplied and grew apace,
And so arose our mighty race.”

The Emu.

Finish’d the tale, Purley arose,
The list’ners hasten to repose;
The camp is sunk in quiet sleep,
The moon-beams through the foliage peep.

The cricket chirps beneath the grass,
The wodlalla bends beneath the blast;
The fragrant wattle scents the air,
The yerké skips around his lair.

Heaven’s bridegroom, in all his pride,
Doth forth in silv’ry glory ride;
The evil spirits try in vain,
Their unholy hands with blood to stain.

Loudly wails the voice “kokunya,”
The native trembles in his gunya;
The lonely mawpawk softly coos,
As coyishly his mate he woos.

Upon the beach, the gentle roll
Speaks sweet words to the list’ning soul;
The wind sighs in the patta tree,
Like a mother’s softest lullaby.

Beauteous nature beams around,
Breathing many a pleasing sound!
We linger o’er the enchanted scene,
Sweet vision of a heavenly dream!

Grass Tree.

NOTES, &c.

“Artful, deep manœuvring.”—The natives have various methods to capture their prey, all indicitive of true huntsmen’s craft. Sneaking the emu, a wary bird, is an instance where, With a screen of boughs before him, the native gradually creeps within spear-range, and soon gains his prize.

“Ancient Curses.”—Such curses are used when hunting. The different kinds of game have different curses.

“Abandoned all.”—When a native throws away his spears, it is a sign of the greatest fear and distress.

“Boston Bay.”—The harbour of Port Lincoln. It is protected by Boston Island.

“Bultawilta.”—A man’s name.

“Burka.”—An aged man, the last stage through which men pass, and with whom the knowledge of all charms, ceremonies, &c., is deposited.

“Bodies greased.”—A luxury highly appreciated by the natives. Captain Sturt and Sir T. Mitchell bear testimony, that to a naked savage, in a hot climate, it is, and must be, a great luxury. It supples the skin, and prevents it chapping. The fat of all game is used for this purpose.

“Boys in front.”—Descriptive of the order in which, on all public occasions, the natives arrange themselves; the children are invariably placed in front.

“Cape Catastrophe.”—The South point of Port Lincoln district. Here Captain Flinders had the misfortune to lose a boat’s crew, hence its ominous name.

“Cooey.”—A loud call.

“Cut their arms.”—To this may be added, singing the hair off the head with live coals, putting a large mass of white clay on the head, and smearing the body over with the same, as signs of mourning for the dead.

“Corrobbories.”—Simply a play, and the highest, both in scope and character of all their amusements. It is generally performed at night, but occasionally in the day. The words sung are frequently meaningless, or handed down from so remote a period as to have lost all meaning. The corrobbory in the text is literally translated. Any incident, comic or grave, trivial or important, may form the words of a corrobbory. The song rarely exceeds two lines.

“Cowee.”—Water—the sea.

“Gunya.”—Hut—the same as wurley.

“Heaven’s bridegroom.”—In the native mythology, the sun is a woman, and the moon a man. The former beats the latter till he dies; but dying, he revives, and this goes on for ever hence the phases of the moon.

“Kyahs.”—Implements of war.

“Kokunya.”—The curlew, said at times to be inhabited with the spirit of death. If a native dreams of his visitation, he dies.

“Kuttas.”—Implements for digging.

“Kupe.”—A grub inhabiting gum-trees, grass-sticks, &c. Though the softest of creatures, it penetrates the hardest of woods. Its natural history is little known. When once eaten by Europeans it is so relished as never after to be despised. The difficulty lies in the first attempt.

“Kuinyo.”—A fabulous being—death.

“Kupirri.”—The proper name for the red kangaroo.

“Lubras.”—It is singular, that whilst the language is replete with terms of relationship, there should be found no distinction in the terms for husband and wife. The word lubra is used indifferently for either.

“Paityowattas.”—Small instruments used in incantations.

Page 7. “Behold them on the open plain,” &c.—Illustrative of children’s games, to which may be added the ball, and what is known to Europeans as the scratch-cradle.

Page 15. “Cowering nearer,” &c.—The current belief of the tribe.

Page 17. “In all good things,” &c.—Describes what, in native estimation, a man or a tribe’s welfare consists.

Page 20. “Then with great skill,” &c.—Descriptive of a warrior’s dress.

Page 21. “Repeat their charms,” &c.—No native retires to rest without some such precaution; their belief is, that evil spirits are busy, in the darkness, to kill them. Fire is a sure guardian. The writer once met a native, many miles from his camp, benighted; he carried a large fire-stick for protection.

“Paune.”—The name given to the ninth child. Sorcerers can change themselves into any shape or substance, instantaneously. Each tribe regards the other as peculiar adepts in sorcery. This belief in witchcraft exercises a most baneful influence on the native mind. It is the source of nearly all their quarrels and violent deaths.

“Patta tree.”—A kind of gum tree.

“Manurapindoo.”—A mystic curse, used in hunting.

“North.”—The North is regarded by the natives as the great seat of diabolical agency, witchcraft, &c.

“Ngamma.”—A man’s name.

“Nillaro.”—A mountain in the Port Lincoln district.

“O why did you die,” &c.—A literal translation of a lament for the dead.

“Spearing fish.”—On the Onkaparinga, the Murray, the Lake, &c., fish are speared. All the spears are jagged, and vary in length according to the fish to be taken, from six feet to twelve or fourteen feet; the latter are for the Murray cod.

“Strike him,” &c.—Literal translations of the curses used on such occasions.

“Strike their shields.”—Mode of salutation in war, as well as in peace, and before a battle very striking and picturesque.

“Spirits bad.”—The aborigines have no good spirits.

“Sacred leg.”—Women and children are not allowed to eat the hind leg of a kangaroo—it is sacred.

“Tau.”—A woman’s name.

“Tunte nung.”—Mid-day.

“Tears run down.”—The expression of sorrow, by the native man, is intense; tears will stream down the face, whilst the most sorrowful lamentations pierce the air, at the same time the women cut themselves, and the men spear each other in the arm; this occurs particularly at funeral solemnities.

“Wurleys.”—Native huts, made from the boughs of trees, and in winter strongly constructed, of a dome shape, and capable of holding from six to a dozen persons. Near whaling stations, the ribs of whales are employed as the frame-work, and the divisions filled up with boughs and sea-weed.

“Warpoo.”—A kind of dagger; it is always dedicated, by being drenched in human blood.

“Warra warra.”—Sorcerers.

“Wodlalla.”—A reed.

“Wife, and mother.”—Natives highly esteem the opinion of their mother; this regard is a pleasing trait in their character.

“Winda, or uwinda.”—The largest spear, and generally jagged, from ten to fourteen feet long.

“Yerke.”—A kangaroo rat.

“Yerku.”—A woman’s name.

Ornament.—Kangaroo Teeth.

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Table of Contents

- THE LEGEND OF KUPIRRI, OR The Red Kangaroo.

- PREFACE.

- THE LEGEND OF THE RED KANGAROO.

- THE TALE OF PURLEY.

- NOTES, &c.

- THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE