the effects of them. Mr. ——, knowing this, carefully finished each one of the groaning wretches who looked as if he might revive. Those that were evidently dying he left alone. And, as revolver cartridges cost money, he economically battered in their temples with one of the blacks' clubs that had been left on the field of battle (?).—Queenslander, May 15, 1880.
A Western squatter, taking his wife out to his station, had in his household two blacks, husband and wife. The wife, a young girl, came from New South Wales, and having been brought up from childhood among white people could speak no other language than English, and had in all respects the habits of an English girl of the lower classes. She was an excellent servant, could sew neatly and well, cooked fairly, and was neat and clean in her person and habits. Her "benjeman," Starlight, was also a civilised black, spoke English well and correctly, was a good stockman, and very handy with horses. The pair were hired at fair wages, and made as good use of their money as any of the white employés on the station. After serving the squatter who took them out west for a while, Starlight and his wife signed an agreement with one of his neighbors for, we believe, an advanced rate of wages. Their new employer was unmarried, and a number of young men were about the station. Polly, the black girl, was a source of great amusement to the whole crowd. She had no objection to flirtation, and probably enjoyed the evident jealousy of her "benjeman." For, strange as it must appear to some supporters of our present system of dealing with them, it is nevertheless a fact that the blacks are very much like the rest of us, and have the audacity to cherish similar sentiments. One evening Starlight returned home in the dusk from a hard day's work, and he heard cries coming from an outbuilding belonging to the head station. The cries were those of his wife—or "gin" we shall call her. He forgot that being a black he ought not to be a man, and hastened to the spot. There he saw one of the young overseers engaged in what, if she had been a white girl, would have been called a criminal assault on Polly. Still forgetting himself, he threw himself upon the white overseer and grappled with him. They struggled and fell. Starlight reaching his hand out seized a shear blade lying on the ground, and scored his antagonist's shoulder. It was a flesh wound, but the black, the moment he had inflicted it knew what his fate would be, and let go his grip of the overseer, who cried out, "I am stabbed," to the group of men who, attracted by the noise, hurried to the spot. Starlight slipped away from them in the gathering darkness, and escaped into the thick growing timber. A council of war at the head-station came to the conclusion that a black who had, under any provocation, raised his hand against a white ought not to live. They accordingly offered the half-wild blacks camped at the head station a reward for his capture. This the savages readily agreed to effect, for they knew he was unarmed: and being a stranger to them they had no pity for him. Accordingly they went away next day, and returned triumphantly. They did not bring Starlight, but they had caught him. Finding, however, some difficulty in bringing in their prisoner, they had hamstrung him, and be was then lying at the disposal of the whites, if they chose to go to the spot. However, the people of the station were spared the trouble of finishing their work. Sub-inspector ——— and his troopers arrived that afternoon, and on being informed of the circumstances he very obligingly sent a couple of the "boys" with their rifles, who, being led to the spot by the station blacks, ended Starlight's agony by blowing out his brains. The wounded overseer was well in a week.
It is wonderful what vitality the blacks possess. Mr. X., superintendent of ——— Downs, was riding with his storekeeper over an almost unused end of the run—poor country, with spinifex growing on it. Suddenly he espied the tracks of a blackfellow. There were some "myalls" in the ranges not far distant, but they had committed no outrage of any kind, and this was probably the track of one. Soon Mr. X's quick eyes espied a black in the long spinifex, endeavouring to pass himself off for a blackened stump—a manoeuvre often more successful than those who have not seen it practised would believe. "Ha, ha! there he is," he laughed, as he rode towards the object. It was an old grizzled black, bent with growing infirmity, and he had a nulla in his hand. The poor old creature held out his hands deprecatingly, and jabbered in his fear. Mr. X. motioned him to run, which, after a moment's hesitation, he did. The superintendent was a sportsman, and did not care about shooting his game sitting. As the old black ran, he followed, putting his horse into an easy canter, and tried a snap shot with his revolver. The ball evidently pierced the old man's back, as the bright red blood began to flow. He stopped and turned again, begging for life with beseeching gesture. Mr. X., who had reined up his horse, again mo-