{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_56284/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_56284","id":"gutenberg_56284","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/56284","summary":null,"tags":["Aboriginal Australians -- Folklore -- Poetry","Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore"],"text":"[Illustration: PILLA AND INDA.]\n\n\n\n\n                                  THE\n                          LEGEND OF KUPIRRI,\n                                  OR\n                           The Red Kangaroo.\n\n                    AN ABORIGINAL TRADITION OF THE\n                          PORT LINCOLN TRIBE.\n\n                                  BY\n\n                           W. A. CAWTHORNE,\n               PRINCIPAL OF THE VICTORIA-SQUARE ACADEMY.\n\n                       [Illustration: KUPIRRI.]\n\n                      ADELAIDE, SOUTH AUSTRALIA:\n                         J. H. LEWIS, PRINTER,\n                              MDCCCLVIII.\n\n\n\n\nPREFACE.\n\n\nThe Natives of a certain district of Port Lincoln, when questioned as to\nthe cause of the non-existence of that species of Kangaroo known to the\nColonists as the great _Red Kangaroo_, have the following legend in\nreference to its extinction:--\n\n     \u201cIn former times, one of the species, inhabited Port Lincoln, his\n     name was _Kupirri_, he was of stupendous size, and devoured all\n     those who attempted to spear him. His very appearance inspired the\n     natives with overwhelming terror, so that they lost all presence of\n     mind, even flinging away their _midlahs_. At last, however, a match\n     was found for the monster Kangaroo, in two renowned hunters, Pilla\n     and Inda, who, falling upon its track near Port Lincoln, on the\n     range stretching to the North, followed and overtook it on Mount\n     Nilarro. Finding it asleep, they at once attacked it, but before\n     they could quite kill it, their spears became blunt; they then\n     quarrelled with each other, and Pilla stabbed his antagonist with\n     one of the blunt spears, in many places, while he himself received\n     a severe blow over his nose. Becoming reconciled, the friends\n     again attacked and killed Kupirri and, on opening it, found, to\n     their utter astonishment, the dead bodies of their comrades\n     previously devoured by the monster. Being no less skilled in the\n     medical art than in hunting, they succeeded in reviving and healing\n     these unfortunate men. They all then betook themselves to roasting\n     and devouring Kupirri in return. The feast over, and their bodies\n     comfortably greased, they returned to their mourning families, who\n     received them with every demonstration of joy at the happy\n     termination of their adventures. The two heroes were afterwards\n     metamorphosed into, and gave origin to, two species of animals--the\n     _Oppossum_, and the _Native Cat_--retaining as such, not only their\n     names, but also the scars of the wounds that they inflicted on each\n     other--in the shape of a furrow down the former\u2019s nose, and of a\n     number of white spots sprinkled over the skin of the latter.[A]\n\n[A] From a pamphlet by C. W. Schurmann, 1846.\n\n     NOTE 1.--In the Breccia caves of the Portland district, and\n     elsewhere, huge bones of an extinct kangaroo have been found. It is\n     possible, therefore, that this legend has some foundation in fact,\n     which in the lapse of time has moulded itself in the present form.\n\n     NOTE 2.--\u201cI cannot sit down without making an allusion to a cognate\n     subject that for a very long time has occupied my attention. I\n     allude to the legends and traditions of the aborigines of\n     Australia. It is possible that the gentlemen present may doubt of\n     their existence, but I beg to assure them that the tribes of\n     Australia are not so barren in these particulars as may be\n     imagined. There is scarcely a constellation in the heavens that has\n     not its appropriate legend, and the animals of the land are\n     invested with the supernatural. Capes, promontories, and islands of\n     our shores are transformations, or are otherwise connected with\n     legendary lore. The origin of their own species, and their various\n     ceremonies, abound with singular and exotic ideas, and the wildest\n     fancies. The Australian savage has his myths, legends, and poetry,\n     like his brothers of other regions; and I mention it for the\n     purpose of throwing out a suggestion to the members of the\n     Philosophical Society, that it would be an interesting work, and\n     worthy of the employment of some portion of their funds to collect\n     and collate together these treasures, before the race disappears\n     from off the face of the land. Sir George Grey has done as much for\n     New Zealand, and I sincerely hope that ere long the same may be\n     accomplished for Australia.\u201d\n\n     [Extracted from the 4th Annual Report of the Adelaide Philosophical\n     Society, from a paper on \u201cThe Song of Hiawatha,\u201d by the Author.]\n\n\n\n\nTHE LEGEND\n\nOF\n\nTHE RED KANGAROO.\n\n\n    The rippling waves of Boston Bay\n    Lay glimm\u2019ring in the fading day\n    Growing shadows were length\u2019ning o\u2019er,\n    Dark\u2019ning the distant islet\u2019s shore.\n\n    Far away in the open sea,\n    Beyond the Cape Catastrophe,\n    The sun shot forth its golden ray,\n    And kiss\u2019d each wave in parting play.\n\n    Gorg\u2019ous colours o\u2019erspread the sky,\n    From farthest verge that\u2019s scann\u2019d by eye,\n    To where the sun\u2019s effulgent rays\n    Pour\u2019d forth its last resplendent blaze.\n\n    Majestic clouds were pil\u2019d and mass\u2019d,\n    In form sublime and grand in rest,\n    In true perspective--line on line,\n    Till mix\u2019d and lost in hues divine.\n\n    Splashing loud on the pebbly beach,\n    The dimpling waves were chasing each\n    Filling inlet, dent, and bay,\n    With murmurs soft, and sparkling spray.\n\n    The scrub wav\u2019d gently to and fro,\n    A green irradiating bow;\n    The she-oak in the distant view,\n    Whisper\u2019d a mournful, sad adieu.\n\n    The bold hills in a rounding line,\n    Glorious in a sunny clime,\n    Purpling when the bright eve declines,\n    Dark\u2019ning as day its rule resigns.\n\n    The tribe was camp\u2019d beside a hill,\n    Near a transparent gurgling rill;\n    On a bold bluff the _wurleys_ stood,\n    Within a copse of wattle-wood.\n\n    The warriors were far away,\n    Creeping on their unwary prey--\n    Girdling them in a treach\u2019rous ring,\n    With artful deep mano\u0153uv\u2019ring.\n\n    Some spearing fish upon the coast,\n    Where Koonta\u2019s mystic stream is lost;\n    Some sneaking emu on the plain,\n    Searching _Kupe_, or snaring game.\n\n    Or, listless from a cool retreat,\n    Were watching _Cowee\u2019s_ great heart beat,\n    Its ebb and flow, its wondrous tide,\n    _Marma\u2019s_ wayward, beauteous bride.\n\n    The jocund laugh resounds along,\n    Tho _lubras_ mark their little throng:\n    The scornful look and air they bore,\n    Engag\u2019d in strife and mimic war.\n\n    Behold them on the open plain,\n    Naked as they from nature came\n    In fierce opposing bands they range,\n    Spears rattle, and dire words exchange.\n\n    In childish accents, \u201cDeath,\u201d they cry,\n    And mockingly the foe defy;\n    With quiv\u2019ring limbs, and glaring eye,\n    They rush to conquer or to die.\n\n    Their mimic spears hiss through the air,\n    And whirring _waddies_ cause despair;\n    Their shields resound with awful blows--\n    The ground is strewn with friends and foes.\n\n    Now o\u2019er the hills the _lubras_ come,\n    In Indian file, by one and one;\n    Each bears the produce of the day,\n    Of roots, and herbs, and wallaby.\n\n    With weary step they hasten down,\n    And cast their burdens on the ground,\n    And _cooey_ for their absent child,\n    And waiting--gossip ere the while:\n\n    \u201cHow at the last _corrobboree_,\n    Ngamma\u2019s familiarity\n    With Yerku, shock\u2019d all decency,\n    Hence Bultawilta\u2019s jealousy.\n\n    \u201cHow saucy Tekartoo behav\u2019d,\n    While her husband in _palti_ play\u2019d;\n    And caused the stranger\u2019s sly advance,\n    And quarrelling, broke up the dance:\n\n    \u201cWhat dreadful things the _burkas_ said,\n    For Tau had ate the sacred leg;\n    How _Kuinyo_ would at night appear,\n    With stomach vast, and snaky hair.\n\n    \u201cAnd Paune\u2019s wonderful escape\n    From cunning sorcerer\u2019s deadly hate,\n    As in the reeds he hiding lay,\n    A bird by night, a bush by day.\u201d\n\n    Murmurs confus\u2019d sound o\u2019er the hill.\n    Now near, then far, now loud, then shrill;\n    Soon seen are many hunters bold,\n    Like full of game and tales untold!\n\n    To the camp they are drawing near,\n    Very emulous to appear!\n    Each more famous than the other,\n    In the sight of wife and mother.\n\n    Did ever see such kangaroo,\n    As now borne past in grand review,\n    Besides the fattest of emu?--\n    Prais\u2019d be the Manurapindoo!\n\n    All stare, and gloat, and feast their eyes,\n    As the game spread forth in glory lies;\n    The _kuttas_ soon at work resound,\n    And women, joking, dig the ground.\n\n    Some a hole of just size prepare,\n    And leaves and stones arrange with care\n    Well heated these, and duly laid,\n    Thus the native oven is made.\n\n    The meal enjoy\u2019d--their bodies greas\u2019d\n    They chat and laugh, or loll at ease;\n    Hunting and warlike stories tell,\n    Of sorcery, magic, charm, or spell.\n\n    Of wondrous feats, and jerks, and jumps,\n    Of water-holes, and scrub and stumps;\n    Of narrow \u2019\nscapes, and dreadful leaps,\n    Of swamps, and storms, and flooded creeks.\n\n    But there were none among the brave\n    So skill\u2019d, so witty, or so grave,\n    Or could recite the tales of yore,\n    Which he knew by many a score.\n\n    Purley, the star--such was his name,\n    Through all the tribes had spread his fame\n    As hunter, warrior, _burka_ wise,\n    In dance or song durst none despise.\n\n    Now him around, in circles sat--\n    The boys in front, the elders back;\n    With gaping mouths and wond\u2019ring eyes,\n    They laugh and marvel with surprise!\n\n    The tribe enwrapp\u2019d in shades of night,\n    While rows of fire are twinkling bright,\n    Loud wails the plaintive monotone,\n    To cure the pain, or soothe the gnome.\n\n    \u201cNow behold the road before me,\n    How beautiful throughout Yerna,\n    Watteyernorlo Tappand\u0113,\n    Miny-el-ity yarluke an-ambe.\u201d\n\n    \u201cNow to the water-hole we\u2019ve come,\n    We two, together, at Tunte nung.\u201d\n    Thus corrobories they sing,\n    How sweet the memories they bring.\n\n    But others, of more mournful frame,\n    Pierce the air in a tender strain,\n    Sing of the lost beloved one--\n    \u201cO, why did you die! my son! my son!\u201d\n\n    Cow\u2019ring nearer, a young man asks,\n    \u201cTell us of the great First and Last?\n    Who was, and who is yet to come,\n    And why gaze we oft on setting sun?\n\n    \u201cWhy the _burkas_ in silence meet,\n    Why in uncertain whispers speak.\n    In wild and lonely bushy creek,\n    And there enchanted words repeat?\n\n    For what the magic weapons use,\n    Why ourselves in warm blood suffuse,\n    Ord\u2019ring women from th\u2019 sacred place,\n    Tell us the myst\u2019ries of our race?\u201d\n\n    No! no! shouts the great _Uwinda_,\n    Rather tell us the tale of Inda,\n    And the famous hunter, Pilla,\n    And their deeds upon the Willa.\n\n    Crowding, then, around the _wurley_,\n    They listen to the tale of Purley,\n    Who in a measur\u2019d tone begins,\n    Of the famous Kangarooing.\n\n[Illustration: Carrying the fire-stick.]\n\n\n\n\nTHE TALE OF PURLEY.\n\n\n    \u201cIn the long past, in days of yore,\n    Such days, alas! return no more!\n    Our tribe liv\u2019d on the Wonga plain,\n    That stretches southward to the main.\n\n    \u201cIn all good things they richly shar\u2019d,\n    Sumptuously on dainties far\u2019d;\n    With bursting nets of game and fish,\n    In implements surpassing rich.\n\n    \u201cWe were, of all, the greatest tribe\n    That in the North or West reside;\n    Our dire enchantments never fail\u2019d,\n    Northern sorcerers \u2019\nfore them quail\u2019d.\n\n    \u201cVictors in ev\u2019ry hunt and battle,\n    \u2019Twas enough our spears to rattle;\n    Our enemies would fly apace,\n    Though rarely winners in the race.\n\n    \u201cBut though so powerful and great,\n    We dwindled at a rapid rate;\n    For hunting when the tribe would go,\n    There would be missing one or so.\n\n    \u201cSuggest, could none of us a cause,\n    Whereby this sad mysterious loss\n    Could be explain\u2019d, or could be trac\u2019d,\n    For death had doom\u2019d our noble race.\n\n    \u201cIt was resolv\u2019d, before too late,\n    A gen\u2019ral hunting match to make;\n    The scrub, and swamps, and plains to scour,\n    To find the foe, or magic power.\n\n    \u201cEverywhere searching, left and right,\n    Till Nilarro appear\u2019d in sight;\n    When lo! a monster on them springs,\n    Four men to ground he quickly brings.\n\n    \u201cThe unnatural creature, then,\n    _Instead of grass ate up the men!_\n    They lift no spear, they lift no _wirri_,\n    Powerless before Kupirri.\n\n    \u201cBehold! like burnt sticks in a row,\n    By\u2019s tail he fells them with a blow!\n    Enrag\u2019d, he lashes it about,\n    And quickly puts them to the rout!\n\n    \u201cHomeward they rush, nor look behind,\n    Frighten\u2019d at e\u2019en the rustling wind;\n    Frighten\u2019d at the grass-tree stump,\n    Frighten\u2019d at every stone and lump.\n\n    \u201cAbandon\u2019d all, both shield and spear,\n    Demented by their madd\u2019ning fear,\n    Nought else they know, nought else repeat,\n    Than their sad loss--their dread retreat.\n\n    \u201cLong and loud the death-wail rose,\n    They cut their arms--blood freely flows!\n    While tears run down the sadden\u2019d cheek,\n    And on their breast they strike and beat.\n\n    \u201c\u2018My son! my brother! O my friend!\u2019\n    The women thus lament their end;\n    While _burkas_ try all magic art,\n    To cause the monster to depart.\n\n    \u201cOh! then were long days of sadness,\n    Unavailing wrath, and madness!\n    But who, they ask, can kill Kupirri?\n    Can bold man, can charm or _wirri_?\n\n    \u201cThen they arose in wild despair,\n    Invoke the gnomes of earth and air\n    Dread magic rites initiate,\n    All spirits bad propitiate.\n\n    \u201cThe _warra warra_ now declare\n    Sure success to those who\u2019d dare\n    Their monster-enemy to face,\n    The scourge of their devoted race.\n\n    \u201cMurmurs of doubt run through the throng--\n    Who able was, or who was strong?\n    With what weapons could they fight\n    The monster on Nilarro\u2019s height?\n\n    \u201cBut none among the young or old,\n    As hunters, were so brave or bold\n    As the noted fighter \u201cInda,\u201d\n    And his far-famed brother \u201cPilla.\u201d\n\n    \u201c\u2018We go,\u2019 they in one voice exclaim,\n    \u2018Though we should ne\u2019er return again,\n    We\u2019ll perish, or we\u2019ll victors be\n    O\u2019er this cursed beast, Kupirri.\u2019\n\n    \u201cThen with great skill, and with rare art,\n    They well anoint and paint each part\n    With mystic dots, with stripe and line,\n    From head to foot in _karkoo_ shine.\n\n    \u201cAloft a _witto_ nods and bends,\n    And grace to every motion lends;\n    A long white bone adorns the nose,\n    While on the forehead--teeth in rows.\n\n    \u201cWith a well-tried shield and spear,\n    Wirri, and other war-like gear,\n    _Kyahs_, _wommeras_, and _kuttas_,\n    And the mystic _Paityowattas_.\n\n    \u201cWell versed in all ancient curses,\n    Which, when one properly rehearses.\n    Neither bird, beast, nor fish escape,\n    But, unresisting, yield to fate.\n\n    \u201cBright was the sun that shone that day,\n    As the daring brothers bent their way;\n    Sounds lamentable rise on high,\n    Mingl\u2019d with shouts that rend the sky.\n\n    \u201cThen solitary, on they go,\n    Their progress mark--firm, stealthy, slow;\n    Eyes, like their steps, most firmly bent,\n    Both on the one great aim intent.\n\n    \u201cThrough heat and scrub, all that long day,\n    Till the last sun-beam died away;\n    Then on a dreary, stony height,\n    Repeat their charms, and camp the night.\n\n    \u201cJust where glimmers th\u2019 early dawn,\n    Loom\u2019d grandly in the ruddy morn,\n    Mount Nilarro, so vast and gaunt,\n    The abyss of _Kupirri\u2019s_ haunt.\n\n    \u201cBald were its hoary sides, and steep\n    Its gullies, precipitous and deep;\n    A silent stream, from a hidden source,\n    Pursued its dark meand\u2019ring course.\n\n    \u201cLittle they ate, they little said,\n    But on their way they quickly sped;\n    With eagle-glances scan the land,\n    And closely watch on either hand.\n\n    \u201cAnother night they try to rest\n    In vain--with horrid fears opprest;\n    For they in fancy often see\n    The Red Kangaroo, _Kupirri_!\n\n    \u201cHalf valiant, yet half affrighted,\n    Arm\u2019d with dark words recited,\n    March on they, eager for the fray,\n    Thirsting for their insatiate prey.\n\n    \u201cO\u2019er hill and dale they longing seek,\n    Through prickly scrub and winding creek;\n    Anxiously from the heights, review\n    The land of the Red Kangaroo.\n\n    \u201cSuddenly, in a gulley deep,\n    Behold the creature fast asleep!\n    Each at each in mute wonder stare,\n    While sinking, almost, with despair.\n\n    \u201c_Kupirri_ moves his wondrous tail,\n    Their courage \u2019gan direct to fail!\n    His ears, immense, he wags about,\n    And opes, awide, his awful snout!\n\n    \u201cHe sleeps--shut are his dreadful eyes,\n    Nor heeds his daring enemies,\n    Who in right earnest now prepare,\n    To slaughter him as he lies there.\n\n    \u201cStrike him with the blood of circumcision!\n    Strike him with the tuft of eagle feathers!\n    Strike him with the girdle--the _paltando_!\n    Strike him with the _manga_, the _kundando_!\n\n    \u201cWith mystic curse they imprecate!\n    More soundly sleeps the monster great!\n    Forth fly the deadly quiv\u2019ring spears!\n    _Kupirri_ only shakes his ears!\n\n    \u201cTrying then the long _uwinda_:\n    Fearlessly the hunter, Inda,\n    Steps up, and gives a deadly thrust,\n    He sprawling, kicking, sends the dust!\n\n    \u201cNow Pilla, bold, with strong _wirri_,\n    Batters, manfully, _Kupirri_,\n    Madden\u2019d by pain he vainly tries\n    From his enchanted sleep to rise.\n\n    \u201cThen they the blood-drench\u2019d _warpoo_ try,\n    Sneaking upon him, very sly;\n    Though standing by his panting side,\n    In vain they try to pierce his hide.\n\n    \u201cBut now! oh most unfortunate!\n    The magic of an adverse fate!\n    The hunters \u2019gan to disagree,\n    In the presence of Kupirri.\n\n    \u201cAlas! for these two valiant brothers,\n    They fight, and almost kill each other,\n    Until at last, their fury spent,\n    They see their folly and relent.\n\n    \u201c\u2019Twas well, for lo! the earth did quake\n    With the monster\u2019s efforts to awake;\n    They bravely rush, renew the strife,\n    _Kupirri_ yields, with groans, his life!\n\n    \u201cTerrible was his dying pain,\n    Agonising his pond\u2019rous frame;\n    Terrible were his mortal throes,\n    Horror-struck stood by his foes.\n\n    \u201cA blacken\u2019d rent marks the dire place,\n    Where died the last of Kupirri\u2019s race;\n    Rarely do men to it repair,\n    Very rarely go hunting there.\n\n    \u201cThey leap for joy, and jump, and shout,\n    And in steps mystic dance about;\n    Refreshed now from their late affray,\n    Proceed at once to divide their prey.\n\n    \u201cBut with incredible surprise\n    They see--doubting their own eyes,\n    Their dead companions he had ate\n    When Kupirri they last had met.\n\n    \u201cBut skilful they in magic art,\n    They lay the bodies wide apart,\n    Then conq\u2019ring in spiritual strife,\n    They slowly raise the dead to life.\n\n    \u201cRound their old foe themselves they seat,\n    Ready his choicest parts to eat.\n    And thus their just revenge appease,\n    And with his fat their bodies grease.\n\n    \u201cLaden with prey they homeward bend,\n    Each talking with his late dead friend,\n    Chatting of surprise and greeting,\n    That \u2019wait their unexpected meeting.\n\n    \u201cSoon the great Wonga plain appears,\n    They strike their shields, and raise their spears;\n    With hasty strides now onwards press,\n    Nor heed the place or time of rest.\n\n    \u201cNe\u2019er was there such a day as that,\n    When the late-dead by the living sat;\n    Nor were such _paltis_ ever sung,\n    As through the woods all that night rung.\n\n    \u201cVery often they told the tale\n    How their courage began to fail,\n    How with _kutta_, spear, and _wirri_,\n    They at length did slay Kupirri.\n\n    \u201cTime roll\u2019d on, the hunters brave\n    Were fast descending to the grave,\n    The youths would oft recite, in play,\n    The heroic deeds of a former day.\n\n    \u201cYears pass by, the period came\n    When to perpetuate their fame\n    Our tribe great mystic rites perform\u2019d,\n    Pilla and Inda were transform\u2019d.\n\n    \u201cBehold \u2018Pilla,\u2019 the _Native Cat_!\n    Varied spots adorn his back,\n    For thus his cruel brother mark\u2019d him,\n    When he in quarrel spear\u2019d him,\n\n    \u201cBehold the _Oppossum_, \u2018Inda,\u2019\n    His face streak\u2019d by the _uwinda_,\n    Great Pilla\u2019s unnatural deed,\n    When they in fight both disagreed.\n\n    \u201cHenceforth our tribe did dwell in peace,\n    Nevermore hurt by monstrous beast;\n    They multiplied and grew apace,\n    And so arose our mighty race.\u201d\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration: The Emu.]\n\n\n    Finish\u2019d the tale, Purley arose,\n    The list\u2019ners hasten to repose;\n    The camp is sunk in quiet sleep,\n    The moon-beams through the foliage peep.\n\n    The cricket chirps beneath the grass,\n    The wodlalla bends beneath the blast;\n    The fragrant wattle scents the air,\n    The yerk\u00e9 skips around his lair.\n\n    Heaven\u2019s bridegroom, in all his pride,\n    Doth forth in silv\u2019ry glory ride;\n    The evil spirits try in vain,\n    Their unholy hands with blood to stain.\n\n    Loudly wails the voice \u201ckokunya,\u201d\n    The native trembles in his gunya;\n    The lonely mawpawk softly coos,\n    As coyishly his mate he woos.\n\n    Upon the beach, the gentle roll\n    Speaks sweet words to the list\u2019ning soul;\n    The wind sighs in the patta tree,\n    Like a mother\u2019s softest lullaby.\n\n    Beauteous nature beams around,\n    Breathing many a pleasing sound!\n    We linger o\u2019er the enchanted scene,\n    Sweet vision of a heavenly dream!\n\n[Illustration: Grass Tree.]\n\n\n\n\nNOTES, &c.\n\n\n\u201cArtful, deep man\u0153uvring.\u201d--The natives have various methods to\ncapture their prey, all indicitive of true huntsmen\u2019s craft. Sneaking\nthe emu, a wary bird, is an instance where, With a screen of boughs\nbefore him, the native gradually creeps within spear-range, and soon\ngains his prize.\n\n\u201cAncient Curses.\u201d--Such curses are used when hunting. The different\nkinds of game have different curses.\n\n\u201cAbandoned all.\u201d--When a native throws away his spears, it is a sign of\nthe greatest fear and distress.\n\n\u201cBoston Bay.\u201d--The harbour of Port Lincoln. It is protected by Boston\nIsland.\n\n\u201cBultawilta.\u201d--A man\u2019s name.\n\n\u201cBurka.\u201d--An aged man, the last stage through which men pass, and with\nwhom the knowledge of all charms, ceremonies, &c., is deposited.\n\n\u201cBodies greased.\u201d--A luxury highly appreciated by the natives. Captain\nSturt and Sir T. Mitchell bear testimony, that to a naked savage, in a\nhot climate, it is, and must be, a great luxury. It supples the skin,\nand prevents it chapping. The fat of all game is used for this purpose.\n\n\u201cBoys in front.\u201d--Descriptive of the order in which, on all public\noccasions, the natives arrange themselves; the children are invariably\nplaced in front.\n\n\u201cCape Catastrophe.\u201d--The South point of Port Lincoln district. Here\nCaptain Flinders had the misfortune to lose a boat\u2019s crew, hence its\nominous name.\n\n\u201cCooey.\u201d--A loud call.\n\n\u201cCut their arms.\u201d--To this may be added, singing the hair off the head\nwith live coals, putting a large mass of white clay on the head, and\nsmearing the body over with the same, as signs of mourning for the dead.\n\n\u201cCorrobbories.\u201d--Simply a play, and the highest, both in scope and\ncharacter of all their amusements. It is generally performed at night,\nbut occasionally in the day. The words sung are frequently meaningless,\nor handed down from so remote a period as to have lost all meaning. The\ncorrobbory in the text is literally translated. Any incident, comic or\ngrave, trivial or important, may form the words of a corrobbory. The\nsong rarely exceeds two lines.\n\n\u201cCowee.\u201d--Water--the sea.\n\n\u201cGunya.\u201d--Hut--the same as wurley.\n\n\u201cHeaven\u2019s bridegroom.\u201d--In the native mythology, the sun is a woman, and\nthe moon a man. The former beats the latter till he dies; but dying, he\nrevives, and this goes on for ever hence the phases of the moon.\n\n\u201cKyahs.\u201d--Implements of war.\n\n\u201cKokunya.\u201d--The curlew, said at times to be inhabited with the spirit of\ndeath. If a native dreams of his visitation, he dies.\n\n\u201cKuttas.\u201d--Implements for digging.\n\n\u201cKupe.\u201d--A grub inhabiting gum-trees, grass-sticks, &c. Though the\nsoftest of creatures, it penetrates the hardest of woods. Its natural\nhistory is little known. When _once_ eaten by Europeans it is so\nrelished as never after to be despised. The difficulty lies in the\n_first_ attempt.\n\n\u201cKuinyo.\u201d--A fabulous being--death.\n\n\u201cKupirri.\u201d--The proper name for the red kangaroo.\n\n\u201cLubras.\u201d--It is singular, that whilst the language is replete with\nterms of relationship, there should be found no distinction in the terms\nfor husband and wife. The word _lubra_ is used indifferently for either.\n\n\u201cPaityowattas.\u201d--Small instruments used in incantations.\n\nPage 7. \u201cBehold them on the open plain,\u201d &c.--Illustrative of children\u2019s\ngames, to which may be added the ball, and what is known to Europeans as\nthe scratch-cradle.\n\nPage 15. \u201cCowering nearer,\u201d &c.--The current belief of the tribe.\n\nPage 17. \u201cIn all good things,\u201d &c.--Describes what, in native\nestimation, a man or a tribe\u2019s welfare consists.\n\nPage 20. \u201cThen with great skill,\u201d &c.--Descriptive of a warrior\u2019s\ndress.\n\nPage 21. \u201cRepeat their charms,\u201d &c.--No native retires to rest without\nsome such precaution; their belief is, that evil spirits are busy, in\nthe darkness, to kill them. Fire is a sure guardian. The writer once met\na native, many miles from his camp, benighted; he carried a large\nfire-stick for protection.\n\n\u201cPaune.\u201d--The name given to the ninth child. Sorcerers can change\nthemselves into any shape or substance, instantaneously. Each tribe\nregards the other as peculiar adepts in sorcery. This belief in\nwitchcraft exercises a most baneful influence on the native mind. It is\nthe source of nearly all their quarrels and violent deaths.\n\n\u201cPatta tree.\u201d--A kind of gum tree.\n\n\u201cManurapindoo.\u201d--A mystic curse, used in hunting.\n\n\u201cNorth.\u201d--The North is regarded by the natives as the great seat of\ndiabolical agency, witchcraft, &c.\n\n\u201cNgamma.\u201d--A man\u2019s name.\n\n\u201cNillaro.\u201d--A mountain in the Port Lincoln district.\n\n\u201cO why did you die,\u201d &c.--A literal translation of a lament for the\ndead.\n\n\u201cSpearing fish.\u201d--On the Onkaparinga, the Murray, the Lake, &c., fish\nare speared. All the spears are jagged, and vary in length according to\nthe fish to be taken, from six feet to twelve or fourteen feet; the\nlatter are for the Murray cod.\n\n\u201cStrike him,\u201d &c.--Literal translations of the curses used on such\noccasions.\n\n\u201cStrike their shields.\u201d--Mode of salutation in war, as well as in peace,\nand before a battle very striking and picturesque.\n\n\u201cSpirits bad.\u201d--The aborigines have no _good_ spirits.\n\n\u201cSacred leg.\u201d--Women and children are not allowed to eat the hind leg of\na kangaroo--it is sacred.\n\n\u201cTau.\u201d--A woman\u2019s name.\n\n\u201cTunte nung.\u201d--Mid-day.\n\n\u201cTears run down.\u201d--The expression of sorrow, by the native man, is\nintense; tears will stream down the face, whilst the most sorrowful\nlamentations pierce the air, at the same time the women cut themselves,\nand the men spear each other in the arm; this occurs particularly at\nfuneral solemnities.\n\n\u201cWurleys.\u201d--Native huts, made from the boughs of trees, and in winter\nstrongly constructed, of a dome shape, and capable of holding from six\nto a dozen persons. Near whaling stations, the ribs of whales are\nemployed as the frame-work, and the divisions filled up with boughs and\nsea-weed.\n\n\u201cWarpoo.\u201d--A kind of dagger; it is always _dedicated_, by being drenched\nin human blood.\n\n\u201cWarra warra.\u201d--Sorcerers.\n\n\u201cWodlalla.\u201d--A reed.\n\n\u201cWife, and mother.\u201d--Natives highly esteem the opinion of their mother;\nthis regard is a pleasing trait in their character.\n\n\u201cWinda, or uwinda.\u201d--The largest spear, and generally jagged, from ten\nto fourteen feet long.\n\n\u201cYerke.\u201d--A kangaroo rat.\n\n\u201cYerku.\u201d--A woman\u2019s name.\n\n[Illustration: Ornament.--Kangaroo Teeth.]","title":"The Legend of Kupirri, or, The Red Kangaroo: An Aboriginal Tradition of the Port Lincoln Tribe","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":4194}