The contemplation of the scene of carnage—even as given in The Gazette, which told but half of the tragic story—nearly a whole tribe, slaughtered indiscriminately while calling for mercy; and when they could find none, plunging into the river, tying in vain to conceal themselves under its waters from the unremitting fire of the merciless foe that lined is banks—would be heart rending. Male and female, old and young, were left in gory masses on the ensanguined earth and in the flood. Not a man that fell into the hands of the murderers escaped. Deeply was the British flag stained; and long will the affair of Pinjara cause Derhal to mourn.
Of the common murders, retaliations, skirmishes, and more serious contests which took place, from the commencement of the settlement down to this the tenth year of it's history, I make no mention. But I trust I have said enough—enough to render further evidence of the injustice and barbarous cruelty with which the Aboriginal inhabitants of Australia have been treated, unnecessary. Here therefore I drop the veil till the day of doom, when many will have a fearful account to render.
The following papers, which made their appearance amidst the scenes just described, will probably be perused with some interest.