'It would be alike to me, were this volume
decried as unworthy, or lauded as meritorious.
I am not to be affected by the voices of humankind.
I value nothing in life, and being but
an atom of animated dust myself [he might
have added, 'and not very animated either,'].
I look with the preacher upon all earthly
aspirations as vanity.' Why surely this
would be mistaken for Mr. Stiggins, the
shepherd, inspired by an Emigrating Muse in
the other hemisphere, if any sort of music,
whether of the spheres or the hemispheres,
could be detected in his effusions. When a
bishop elect says, Nolo 'Episcopari: when a
newspaper is proclaimed to be started for
the advocacy of a principle (generally 'an
eternal principle'), and not for pecuniary
remuneration: when an author doesn't care
whether his book is praised or blamed, the
more charitable of mankind content
themselves with a smile, or a wink, or a soft and
prolonged whistle. Words, in such a case, are
useless. 'I have ranged the world,
'continues our friend,' and held converse with
the people of its many climes, from the tribe
of Werta Werta, to the Esquimaux of Labrador;
hunted the snorting buffalo across the
prairie, and laid prostrate assailing beasts of
prey; [this last experience, after that of the
'snorting buffalo,' is vague in the extreme];
and bivouacked beneath the sheltering
shadow of a gum–tree in the primeval forest
of Australia, remote from human aid.' This,
then, must be surely the same hero

Who himself in far Timbuctoo leopard's blood did
    daily quaff,
Rode a tiger–hunting mounted en a thorough–bred
    giraffe,
Whistled to the cockatoos, and mock'd the hairy–faced
    baboon,
And worshipped mighty Mumbo Jumbo in the Mountains
    of the Moon.

Besides these milder phases of existence,
our poet has ' revelled amidst the civilised
disorder of Europe; but all these associations
have only tended to increase his scorn of
mankind, and his contempt for their institutions.'

Here, most certainly, we have the noble
savage, with a vengeance; the dignified, but
slightly dogmatical, chieftain of the late Mr.
Cooper's novels, shaking his fist at civilisation,
and enjoying a humble but independent
residence in the neighbourhood of the setting
sun. We regret to say, however, that in this
particular instance, the habit of reticence
peculiar to the barbarous warrior,—the
all–expressive 'Ugh,' to which he was wont to
confine himself—is thrown aside, and the
denizen of the primeval Shades is just as
verbose as though he were officially
connected with ' The Woods and Forests,' and
had to defend that department from some
is an example, where we have these people
parliamentary attack.

Yarra Yarra, it appears, was not only the
whose family circle there must have been
tremendous aborigine whose history these
thirteen books narrate, but an Australian
river as well, which was wont, so recently as
eighteen hundred and thirty–five, to flow
through a landscape 'undiscovered and
unknown, the scene of the loud corroborri,
the war–dance, and the fight! ]' We cannot
guess who the 'loud corroborri' may have
been; but, supposing that tliey had
something (as in our own language) of the nature
of witnesses, we do not see how Yarra Yarra
could have flowed 'undiscovered and
unknown' in their presence.

The whole of the book is devoted to vague
abuse of civilised manners, and praise of
those of the aborigines, whose customs are
detailed in very many places ad nauseam.
The amusements of Yarra Yarra—the man,
not the river—in his earlier years, before the
cold shadow of civilisation darkened them,
are thus described:

Then, with the dawn, the dusky light of day,
Sought out his gunya and reposed awhile,
'Gan up to rise, and o'er the landscape gay
Track out the kangaroo, and make rude spoil
Of wombat and opossum, and mayhap
Chase the swift emu to the bark–spun trap;
Or with his wattie chint the lofty trees
To gather honey, and, if fate decree?,
Fell wallabi and wallum; but again,
To snare the dipus and swift wallooroo,
The shy talpero, and, far o'er the plain,
Spear with unerring aim the n–borroo;
AVhile from his gaze the burrowing jerboa
Shrinks into earth, and utters his faint lo–a.

What in the name of the Zoological Society,
are Wallabi and Wallum, who sound so like a
good commercial firm? And how is the
dipus snared, and what is he like? And is
the 'swift wallooroo' a bird or a beast, or an
aborigine (he sounds like that) of a hostile
tribe? Mr. Kinahan Cornwallis can be
prolific of explanation enough when there is
less occasion for it, as when he speaks of
the departed Jaga Jaga, in these affecting
lines:

'Tis sad to tell
Of Jaga Jaga's tribe, the valiant brave;
But one is left to linger o'er his grave.

To which this copious foot–note is subjoined:

Meaning, that Yarra Yarra alone survives, and,
figuratively speaking, so long as life in him exists, he
can, in whatever part of the world he may be, at least,
in thought, linger o'er his [Jaga Jaga's] grave.

Either from the extreme supidity of the
aborigines, or from some habit of stuttering
peculiar to he race, everybody has his name
repeated like the would–be aristocratic
families of England.

Hail! Jaga Jaga, Jaga Jaga, ye
Three brothers, Jaga Jaga, bold and free,

is an example,where we can have these people
with but one name among them, and in
whose family circle there must have been
confusion and misappropriation enough. One