No truer insight could be obtained into the mind of a primitive man than by means of a psycho-analysis of his artistic productions and predilections. Like most other peoples, past or present, the Australian aboriginal has developed his talents to an astonishing degree. Just as is true of his dances and musical performances, the real value of a production can only be appreciated by one who can throw himself, heart and soul, into the responsive, reciprocative, and assimilative mood and atmosphere the artist endeavours to create. The psychological factor is the more important; an aboriginal’s design may be crude, but his imagination is, nevertheless, wonderful; we see the line, but he sees the life; we behold the image, he the form. In the absence of such a psychological reciprocation, however, the effect and quality of any artistic production may fall flat. Indeed, we ask, what is contained in a mere line? With due deference to the Euclidian definition, a line, from a primitive point of view, might represent almost anything, provided the necessary imagination is there; and it is just this imagination which is particularly cultivated by the primitive man. The question arises: “Who is the better artist: the man who can satisfy himself or the man who can satisfy others?” The former is unquestionably the more primitive idea of satisfaction. Simplicity of design is by no means indicative of a deficiency in talent, provided the inventor has evolved the necessary imagination which permits him to behold in a design before him the reality of the original. This instinct is common to all mankind; we have only to observe our own children to appreciate the excellence of their creative talent and imagination when they are at play among themselves. Modern adult man is too realistic, perhaps too unnatural; he cries for something tangible, something concrete to appease his tastes. Just as one often sees youngsters, European as well as aboriginal, playing at their favourite game of “father and mother,” assuming certain inanimate objects, like sticks, to represent their children, so the aboriginal artist’s imaginative mind can actually see the real living picture contained in the crude diagram before him; he conveys his thoughts to his fellows by means of a lengthy verbal explanation, and, when they have caught the idea, they can wax as enthusiastic over the thing as the artist himself. This sentiment we have sacrificed to a certain extent. It is difficult to say exactly who is an artist and who is not. By nature we are all artists, and most of us can satisfy our individual needs in a more or less conventional way. But to pose as a modern artist, it is required of us to be able to take the inspiration from Nature and reproduce it in such a way that others are able to grasp the significance or beauty of the design without more explanation than a mere title. Yet the conception of “art” is a variable and relative measure, and we know well there have been different tendencies and schools, some of which are so highly specialized that the untrained mind cannot grasp, or even admire, the quality of the reproduction, because it cannot see with the same eye as the artist specialist. Here, then, we have a reversion to the primitive instinct, combined with all the perfections and skill which culture and training have evolved during the long space of time lying between a primitive foundation and the high standard of modern excellence.

The oldest records of primitive art in Australia are preserved in the form of carvings upon rock surfaces, akin to those found in parts of Europe, South Africa, and Egypt. The technique of these carvings is twofold. At Port Jackson, and elsewhere along the coast of New South Wales, and to a small extent at Port Hedland in Western Australia, a great variety of representations of fish, animals, and men have been cut and scraped in outline into the surface of the rock; in the Mann Ranges also, certain nondescript designs were found lightly scratched upon the surface of some diorite outcrops with a fragment of rock. At different points in the northern Flinders Ranges, at Yunta, at Eureowie in New South Wales, on the Flinders and Burnett Rivers in Queensland, and also at Port Hedland in Western Australia, an extensive series of designs occurs which has been chipped into the rocks with the aid of pointed stone chisels. The carvings at Port Hedland and those in the Flinders Ranges are very old indeed. In fact, they are so old that none of the tribes now living remember anything about them, and refer to them as being the handicraft of the Evil Spirit.

The most striking feature about the Port Jackson carvings is the large size of individual designs, some of the fish measuring nearly thirty feet in length, and some of the kangaroo over ten feet in height. That the carvings have been made for generations past is evident from the fact that in places a practically obliterated design has been covered, and re-covered, with new designs.

At Port Hedland there are many acres of a low limestone plateau literally covered with carvings, many of which are badly weather-beaten; several of the carvings are of the scraped type found at Port Jackson. The accompanying illustrations depict a chosen number of the Port Hedland designs drawn to scale.

Among them we observe: Two turtles (Figs. 1 and 2), the one of which (Fig. 1) being shown in a dorsal aspect, the other (Fig. 2) apparently in a ventral; two large fish (Figs. 3 and 4) resembling the Port Jackson type; a lizard track (Fig. 5), showing the trail of the tail in the centre; a human foot-print (Fig. 7), with an emu track above it; a large stingray (Fig. 8), with protruding eyes and long tail standing erect; a shark’s liver (Fig. 9), at any rate, it was described as such by a native; a stingray’s liver (Fig. 10); an emu track (Fig. 11); a lizard (Fig. 12); shields (Figs. 16, 18, 19, 21, 30), variously decorated; boomerangs (Figs. 14, 15, 20, 27, 28, 32), variously decorated; spear-throwers (Figs. 22 and 31); a corrobboree plume (Fig. 33), such as is worn in the hair or stuck in the armlets during many of the ceremonial dances; pubic tassels (Figs. 34, 35, 36), used as a covering, suspended from a hair belt; a “circle-within-circle” design (Fig. 39), often figuring conspicuously among emblematic and ceremonial patterns; a human foot-print (Fig. 37); a dog track (Fig. 38); a lizard (Fig. 41); a group of figures (Fig. 40), consisting of a spiral, of similar significance as Fig. 39, a chain of turkey tracks on the right, and three paired tracks of a bounding wallaby on the left. One or two of the remaining smaller figures are of doubtful meaning, the most remarkable being Fig. 25, which for an aboriginal ideograph is extraordinarily complex and symmetrical.

We shall next consider a number of figures in this series which have to do with the human form. In some cases the attempts at representing the human body have been very crude (Figs. 17, 45, 46), and it would be difficult to recognize the results if it were not for the association of these figures with others in which the human form is more evident. In Fig. 13 we behold a man whose attitude suggests that he is either walking or dancing; in all probability the former, because his body is not in any way decorated to suggest a ceremony. But when we look at Fig. 42, our attention is drawn to the fact that the man there represented is wearing a pubic tassel hanging from his belt, carrying a tall head-gear, and has tribal markings or scars upon his chest; moreover, in this case the eyes and mouth are shown, but not the nose. In Figs. 6, 43, and 44, pubic appendages are shown, which in all probability are intended to represent a hair tassel in the first instance, and pearl shell in the others; head-gears are also indicated. All the figures have the arms extended as if a dancing attitude were attempted by the artist. It is most unusual to find all the facial features, including the chin, represented as in Fig. 44. There is no neck shown in any of the last-mentioned figures, although in other cases (Fig. 13) it is clearly indicated. It will be observed that in several of the figures (Figs. 6, 42, 44), the feet are represented by their tracks. The only remaining figure is that of a dancing gin (Fig. 29), the characteristic position of whose arms suggests the dance during which they hold a skein of hair or fibre-string between their hands to jerk it to and fro.

A real illustration of the Port Hedland type of carving is presented in Plate XL, 1, but owing to the carving occurring upon a horizontal plane, the tilting of the camera, which was necessary, has rather seriously distorted the design. A correct copy is, however, included among the designs reproduced on page 300 (Fig. 10, 6).

Turning now to the pre-historic carvings of the Flinders Ranges and other localities cited, it would be impossible to discuss the enormous number of designs in anything like detail, without unduly burdening the dimensions of this volume. At certain places, like Deception Creek and Yunta, the carvings are so numerous that it is difficult to find a space entirely devoid of any; the places are deserving of being ranked as primitive art galleries, and every endeavour should be made to preserve them as such. Considerable care must have been taken in the execution of these carvings, since either the outline or the entire area of every design has been diligently chipped away. And the work of hours must have run into the labour of years, yea, of generations, because at one or two spots like Yunta one design has been carved over the top of another, time after time, until eventually the ground appeared as though it were covered with an elaborate carpet. A few illustrations only will be selected to serve as types of the handiwork to be found in such great profusion.

In the first picture (Plate XL, 2), a design will be observed near the centre consisting of seven parallel vertical lines lying beneath a horizontal band. From what we have learned above, we shall have no difficulty in recognizing the shape of a pubic tassel or apron, so commonly used throughout Australia. Immediately to the left of this is the image of a long lizard clearly and wholly intagliated into the rock; whilst just above the tassel, and a little to the right of it, stands the form of a creature with two legs, a plump body, two large eyes (appearing like circles at the top), and an elevated beak between them—this is the representation of an owl! About midway between owl and lizard is a small mark resembling an inverted broad arrow which stands for the track of a bustard, commonly called wild turkey.

The next illustration (Plate XLI, 1) may, for convenience of discussion, be divided into two halves by the joint-fissure which is seen running vertically down the middle of the picture. In the centre of the left-hand half, the dark, and deeply pitted, shape of a human foot-print, with the toes pointing upwards, will be apparent. Upon the brightly illuminated surface above it, the vertical strands of a pubic tassel are indistinctly visible; whilst on the left of the foot-print a small wallaby track has been cut, in which the long median toes, as well as the lateral, have been truly imitated. Beneath the latter, upon the elevated portion of rock, is a single corrobboree circle. But the most interesting figure is near the centre of the right-hand half of the picture; the creature it most resembles is the duck-billed platypus. The “duck-bill” is very conspicuous, whilst the head, the plump body, and the stumpy tail all agree with the appearance of the platypus, even to the claws, which are clearly seen on the right hind leg. It is, of course, possible that the carving was intended to stand for a native “hedge-hog” or Echidna, but the former explanation would seem more true to Nature. The remaining carvings are principally representations of the paired spoors of wallaby and kangaroo.

The following two photographs (Plate XLI, 2, and Plate XLII, 1) present similar subjects, the carvings consisting of an array of corrobboree circles, human foot-prints, and tracks of wallaby, kangaroo, and turkey. A new feature is contained in the upper illustration in the shape of the claws of kangaroo or possibly of the human hand; these are seen in the top right-hand quarter.

It will be admitted that these primitive carvings or petroglyphs of the northern Flinders Ranges have more than a passing resemblance to the ancient graffiti of Egypt. It will be noticed, too, that the last illustration includes a slab of rock upon which some of the designs only occur in part. This is because the slab has fallen from its original position, since the carvings were made upon it; and so, at several points, portion of a design can be seen upon a rock lying in the valley, whilst the piece belonging to it might be detected, still in situ, up in a cliff. This in itself seems to suggest that the work of ages has been going on since the ancient artists put their talents to a test.

It is astounding to what height above the level of the ground the natives must have climbed to decorate the rock faces with their carvings; in many instances atmospheric denudation has so altered the shape of the cliffs that it would be impossible at the present day to reach some of the designs, to say nothing of finding a footing to undertake the carving.

But more, several cases were observed where a design was bisected by a gaping fissure; all the evidence was in favour of the separated portions of the design having originally been contiguous, but subsequent earth movement had forced them asunder. In addition to the actual cleft existing between the two portions of a design, cases were noted where a slight faulting had occurred along the fissure, through which one side of the disrupted design stood at a measurably higher level than the other.

The strongest geological evidence in support of the great antiquity of these carvings, however, is in the presence of a dark rust-coloured patina or glossy surface film which everywhere covers the exposures of the rock and carvings as well. These protective films are characteristic of all desert and arid regions. In Egypt, it has been ascertained that the presence of the patina is a ready means of distinguishing primitive carvings from those made within historic reckoning. Professor G. Schweinfurth, the famous Egyptologist, has pointed out that whereas the prehistoric carvings are covered by the patina, the incised hieroglyphics of even the fifth and sixth Dynasty at El Kab are as fresh-looking as though they had been carved yesterday. In some of the Australian examples there is no appreciable difference between the thickness of the film on the rock and that covering the design; in others the designs look quite fresh, or, if they show anything at all, it is but a rudimentary glaze. The conclusion is that some of the Australian designs must, upon this evidence alone, be regarded as extremely old.

But there is further evidence. If we could definitely claim the platypus design as authentic, it would mean that the ancient artist was familiar with the form of an animal which at the present time is quite unknown in central Australia. But geology tells us that in times gone by, in the Pliocene period, perhaps even later, all the great lake systems of the Australian interior were not salt, as they are now, but fresh water. Under those conditions, it is quite feasible that the duck-billed monotreme might easily have lived in that region; if so, it might have supplied prehistoric man in Australia with a model he perpetuated in the rocks.

The platypus design is by no means unique. Among the carvings at Yunta there are several depicting the spoor of a very large animal, which are rounded at one end like a heel and have four or five serrations resembling toe-marks at the other. The picture is not unlike that of a wombat track, but the dimensions are far too great. The Yunta “tracks” measure nearly ten inches in length and are practically the same in width. There is no animal living in Australia at the present time whose track would be anything like as large; the nearest known animal which might answer the form of the carving would perhaps be that of a hippopotamus. This animal is, of course, not indigenous to Australia, but we know that an extinct animal, probably not unlike a hippopotamus, used to roam the fertile plains of central Australia in Pliocene times; that was the Diprotodon. In the accompanying sketch I have placed a tracing of the Yunta carving beside one of the reconstructed manus of the Diprotodon, and one must admit that there is a plausible agreement between the two. Vide Fig. 13.

An aboriginal never exaggerates the dimensions of a track when drawing from Nature. Upon this point, indeed, he is most exacting, because upon an accurate knowledge of and familiarity with such things his very livelihood depends, and the acquisition of accuracy represents part of the recognized standard of his educational system. He would never, for instance, draw the track of a wallaby larger than it is in reality, because confusion would immediately arise as to whether it might not be that of a kangaroo or euro; and if he drew it smaller than it actually is, doubt would be raised as to whether it might not represent the track of a kangaroo-rat, or even of a marsupial mouse. So, too, when he wishes to draw a turkey track, he has to be careful, because if he makes it bigger than it should be, it might be mistaken for that of an emu; and if he makes it smaller, people who see the track might take it to be that of a curlew, or even of a plover.

For the above reason alone, a native would never draw the track of a wombat on the elaborate scale of the Yunta carving. Furthermore, there are some exceptionally large bird tracks carved into the rocks at Balparana, in the Flinders Ranges, which seem too big to be intended for those of an emu; the question might reasonably be asked whether they could not have been made by a primitive hunter at a time when the now extinct “moa” or Genyornis still lived in Australia.

A type of decorative art quite similar to the ancient rock carvings, though on a much smaller scale, is to be found on the stone-tjuringas of the Arunndta, Tjingali, and other central Australian tribes. The designs, like those on the wooden objects, consist largely of engraved circles, straight and sinuous lines, and tracks of totemic significance. The intaglios are usually tinted with red ochre.

Leaving the discussion of carved rocks and stones for the time being, and directing our attention to the subject of carved trees, we find that this interesting cult flourished principally in the tribal territories which are now included in the State of New South Wales and the extreme southern portion of Queensland, the haunts of tribes now practically extinct.

The design or decoration was either carved straight into the bark, or the latter was previously removed and the cutting done in the sapwood or heartwood. Great variety was displayed in the choice of designs. Some were crude and unshapely, others neatly and cleanly cut and of intricate pattern; among them were perfect geometrical designs, consisting of groups of circles and quadrilateral figures, usually concentric and often combined with parallel, wavy, zig-zag, or spiral lines; yet another class of design would consist of some animal or human form, more or less grotesquely modified.

The object of this elaborate tree-carving was of a twofold nature. Firstly a certain number of trees would be so treated, within the immediate surroundings of the grave of a notable tribesman, to permanently mark the place of sepulchre; and, secondly, the butt of a tree commanding the ground of an initiation ceremony might have been so distinguished, if the importance of the occasion warranted it.

Along the north-west coast of Australia, where the boabab tree flourishes, the tribes often carve animalistic and other designs into the bark, which, on account of its softness, lends itself admirably for the purpose. The carvings are usually to be found near a camp or at the site of an ordinary corroboree ground. The designs, once they have been cut into the bark, remain there during the life of the tree. The accompanying illustration (Plate XLII, 2) depicts an emu, which stands three feet high, carved into a boabab off King Sound, Western Australia. The whole of the bark within the area occupied by the design has been removed. The feet, it will be observed, are portrayed in a perfectly free way in order to leave no doubt in the mind of an observer as to the track the bird actually makes. Two other figures stood beside the emu, cut in a similar way into the bark of the same tree; one was a snake, a shade over five feet in length, the other an emu track.

In place of the carved trees, the Melville and Bathurst Islanders erect carved and painted posts around the graves of their people—men, women, and children alike. These pillars, which are of hard and heavy wood, are from four to six feet high, circular in section, and have the top carved into a “head” of one or other of the patterns drawn in the accompanying figure. The top of the pillar is either flat, rounded, or pointed, the “head” being formed by cutting one or more circumferential grooves of chosen width, and at chosen distances, below the top. At times an oblong hole is cut transversely through the post five or six inches from the top, leaving only two narrow strips of timber, one on either side, to support the “head” thus formed. Vide Fig. 14.

Designs and patterns quite similar to, but on a smaller scale than those cut on trees, are found carved upon weapons of some of the tribes. Shields and spear-throwers are those most commonly found decorated with incised patterns. Some of the hardwood shields of the River Murray tribes are richly incised with parallel, zig-zag, and geniculate lines, and with squares standing point to point in a longitudinal line, all the spaces between the squares being filled in with parallel “elbows.” The Worora tribe at Port George IV, on the other hand, decorate their shields with fantastic representations of snakes, emus, and tracks of various animals. The light-wood shields of central Australia are destitute of any ornamentation except wide and shallow longitudinal grooves, which are also characteristic of the bark food-carriers in use all over the continent of Australia.

So far as spear-throwers are concerned, the handsomely carved specimens produced by the natives of the Warburton and Gascoyne Rivers, and of the King Leopold Ranges in Western Australia, deserve special mention. The favourite pattern in that region appears to be longitudinal geniculate bands, alternately incised lengthwise and crosswise, together giving the effect of a false herring-bone motive. A new element is introduced in wood-carving in the ceremonial spear-throwers of central Australian tribes by the inclusion of the concentric circles pattern already referred to; the Arunndta in particular produce some very showy specimens on gala occasions. The decoration is very finely graved upon the inner flat surface. The old Victorian types occasionally had pictures of animals, birds, and men carved upon them.

Boomerangs are often decorated with incised patterns, but more frequently the decoration is only lightly graved into the wood with the point of a stone-knife or with the sharp cutting edge of a shell, tooth, or bone. From an art point of view, the finest productions come from the north of Western Australia. The King Leopold Ranges natives cover one whole side of their boomerangs with an incised pattern, consisting usually of parallel geniculate lines, false herring-bone, or concentric rhomboids posed along a median line. Some of the most attractive specimens, however, come from the Pidunga tribe at Broome. These natives covered both surfaces of the missile with a wonderful variety of designs, which included excellent representations of emu, kangaroo, snakes, crocodiles, turtle, tracks of every description, dancing men, corrobboree circles, and many decorative designs. Other articles, such as adze-handles, tjuringas, and message sticks, are carved after much the same fashion.

There is yet another class of incised decorative art to record which is found in the far north of Western Australia. The King Sound and other natives of the northern Kimberley district have developed a cult quite peculiar to themselves, in that they carve ornate designs upon the brown surface of the large nuts of the boabab. The method they have adopted is to hold the nut firmly in the left hand and work the designs into the dark, outer layer of the shell with the sharp point of a bone, or, as is the case nowadays, with the point of a piece of iron wire or of a pocket knife. The instrument is held in the right hand, with the four fingers against the palm, while the thumb is laid straight along it on top. The nut is steadied against the body whilst the point of the instrument is applied from the distant side. By applying semi-rotary movements with the hand, the point is made to plough forwards, and by so doing the thin, brown surface-skin is broken and falls away, leaving a white, and slightly jagged, line upon a dark background. Many are the designs which cover the surface of a boabab nut; and it must be admitted the artists exercise considerable judgment in the grouping of the subjects displayed. Among the more important figures are included animals, birds, reptiles, fish, and human beings, besides many of a more complicated and less apparent nature. Vide Plate XLIII, 1.

The north-western tribes, from Broome to Wyndham, and to a lesser extent those of the Northern Territory, artistically decorate the pearl-shell coverings they wear suspended from the belt by cutting designs into the smooth surface of the inner shell of the oyster. By rubbing powdered red ochre into the portions thus roughened, the carvings stand out in bold contrast against the nacreous background. The designs are largely conventional and often embody the human form; a few tracks of animals or of birds are also occasionally added.

Unlike his racial relative, who used to live in Europe during the Stone Age, the Australian aboriginal does not pay much attention to the carving of bone. The little he does, in fact, is more utilitarian than artistic. We have had occasion to note that the old Murray River tribes used to make the points of their spear-throwers of bone. In central Australia a wing bone of the pelican is cut at both ends and worn through the septum of the nose; occasionally one end is plugged with triodia resin whilst the hollow in the opposite end carries a plume. Not infrequently the slender ulna of a kangaroo serves a similar purpose; the shaft is cut about six inches from one end and sharpened by scraping it with a stone fragment; the condyles are left intact to represent the head of the pin. Two types of bone fish-hooks have already been referred to.

The central tribes make a useful gouge out of a strong hollow bone of the kangaroo or dingo by splitting it longitudinally and grinding down its ends on the slope. The implement thus fashioned has a sharp, bevelled, semi-cylindrical cutting edge at either one or both ends.

We now come to the consideration of another big and important branch of primitive art, which comprises the charcoal, kaolin, and ochre drawings of the aboriginal of Australia. As did his palæolithic relative in the Old World, the aboriginal during the rainy season spends much of his time under the cover of overhanging rock shelters, well within the cheerful influence of his never-failing fire. Moreover, in mid-summer months, when the heat of the sun becomes intense, he often finds his way to the same haunts to have the full benefit of the shade the solid walls of rock produce. Congregated under these conditions, there are always some who spend their time in decorating the surrounding walls of the cave. This may be done for purely æsthetic reasons, or as the result of a discussion, or, indeed, to sanctify the abode and so to make it impregnable to the Evil Spirit. Whatever the reason may be, the mere act of drawing a figure upon the wall by a recognized artist always solicits the patronage of many, who will follow the different manipulations of the entertainer with considerable interest. There are usually a few men in every tribe who have established a reputation as artists; and their work is prized by the heads and protected by tribal law from the hands of vandals who would at a frivolous moment deface or disfigure a work of art which the tribe is proud to look upon as their own. It is gratifying to observe that there is very little tendency on the part of the aboriginal, humble as he is, to destroy wantonly or deliberately a work designed to create an environment for him during his leisure or to protect his body and kin against aggression by evil during the darkness of night.

Usually the interior of rock shelters and caves has, in consequence of long ages of weathering and mineral precipitation, become deeply stained and dark in colour. In addition, the continued burning of fires within has helped to smut the stony roof. This condition makes an admirable background for the application of colour. Where the wall is black, charcoal naturally finds no favour, and the pigments available are reduced to white, yellow, and red.

Pipe-clay and ochres are always stocked in quantity; not a tribe in the whole of Australia has ever been known to be without them. Where the tribal ground is not in possession of natural deposits, supplies are obtained from a neighbouring tribe, it may be from considerable distance, by barter or by an actual expedition to the ochre mine.

In quite the same sense as modern peoples refer to red ochre as blood-stone, the natives of Australia connect the formation of the natural, red pigment with blood mythologically.

There is a fine deposit of red ochre in the Flinders Ranges, near Parachilna, which for ages past has supplied more than one tribe with pigment; the mine was known as Yarrakinna. The ochre was regarded as the blood of a sacred emu which was there killed by a horde of wild dogs. From time immemorial the “Salt-water Tribe” used to send a number of its men across from Queensland to obtain a large supply of the precious stone at the spot and return with it to their native ground.

The expedition would be under the leadership of an old man, and his party would consist of young men who had recently been initiated. The journey was a long and arduous undertaking, and young fellows were selected in order that their strength and powers of endurance might be put to the test. When they reached to within a certain stage of the mine, the old man ordered everybody to discard any belongings he might be carrying, and, upon a given signal, the party, led by the old man, began to run towards a big hill which stood before them. Many a hurdle was in their way, but it was imperative that they kept running. Then they took the sloping ground, and presently a large boulder lay in front of them; this the young men were informed was the petrified dog which had killed the emu. Each in his turn was asked to throw a stone at it as he skipped by. Next, they came upon a group of stones which they were told represented the cursed remains of the female dog and pups. As the names of these were mentioned, each of the men again threw stones.

Suddenly the party was ordered to halt. Just ahead of them was the platform of rock upon which the sacred emu had expired. The men were requested to remain where they stood and to keep silent whilst the old fellow made for a chasm below the platform. He returned not long after, with his hands full of rich red ochre, which he rubbed over the bodies of his young attendants. Thereupon all present cut off their beards, which they had been wearing long purposely for the occasion, and walked in a body to the chasm. “The great Emu wants feathers,” they exclaimed, “we offer her the token of our manhood”; and, as they spoke, they threw the beards into the chasm below. Then each man was allowed to fill his bag with red ochre, and, placing it upon his head, he ran down the hill to the place at which he left his belongings. Nobody was allowed to look back; and should, by accident, a bag of ochre be dropped on the way, it had to be left just where it fell, and under no circumstances picked up again.

According to the Kukata, there was once an old man who had several wild dogs, which were ferocious in habit, generally, but obeyed their master. One day, when he was out hunting, he saw the track of a kangaroo which he made up his mind to follow. He had his little daughter with him, and, not thinking it advisable to take her with him into the scrub, he decided to leave her to play on a clay-pan while he followed his prey into the hills. He captured the kangaroo and returned to the clay-pan, but imagine his disgust when he found that his dogs had, during his absence, killed his child and devoured her flesh.

In his wrath, the old man chased the dogs into the hills at the point of his spears, until eventually he drove them into a cave, the entrance of which he closed with a number of large stones. The wounded dogs in their plight attacked one another and tore themselves to pieces. In consequence, their blood poured freely into the cave and soaked deeply into the rocks. Ever since, the tribe have gone to that cave to collect supplies of the “blood-stained” rock—the red ochre—which they require for their ceremonies and corrobborees.

Ochre and pipe-clay, which form an article for inter-tribal barter, are carried from one tribe to another in oblong parcels contained in bark wraps, which are folded at the ends and kept together with fibre-string. Small quantities are always carried by the men in their chignons and dilly bags, and, when larger supplies are required for special occasions, they are consigned to the care of the women.

When ochre is required for decorative purposes, it is necessary to reduce it to a fine powder. This is done by placing a measured amount upon a level surface of rock and grinding it with the aid of a medium-sized pebble. Hand-mills of this description are to be found at any sites which natives have been in the habit of embellishing with their drawings; they may be recognized as small, shallow depressions scooped into the surface by the continued abrasion of the hand-piece. Where there is no flat, natural surface available, the grinding is done upon portable slabs the women carry around from one camp to another.

The ochre (or pipe-clay), having been finely ground, it is collected upon a piece of bark, or in a bark food-carrier, and mixed with sufficient water to make a thick paste; and it is ready for application. The Bathurst Islanders use the large, concave shells of Cyrena in much the same way as European artists formerly used the valves of fresh-water mussels (Unio pictorum) for mixing their pigments in.

The native spreads the paint with his fingers, where larger surfaces are concerned, and with a short stick where finer lines or details are to be added. The Bathurst Islanders cut short pieces off the green shoots of the lawyer-cane (Calamus) and chew one or both ends of the sticks until all the fibres have been separated; these then fulfil the same purpose as the paint brushes of a modern artist.

A favourite practice, and one which is met with all over the continent, is to obtain a “negative” shape of a person’s hand. This is done in the following way: The person puts a small handful of ochre or pipe-clay into his mouth and crunches it to a pulp; then he fills his mouth with water and thoroughly mixes the contents. He holds the hand he wishes to stencil against a flat surface, spacing the fingers at equal distances, and spurts the contents of his mouth all about it. A short while after, the hand is withdrawn. The area which it covered remains in its natural condition, whilst the space surrounding it has adopted the colour of the ochre or clay. Very often the “hand” is subsequently painted over with a colour different from that of the surrounding area. The Arunndta refer to the hand-marks as “ilja imbadja.” Vide Plate XLIV.

A native attaches considerable importance to his identity being thus recorded and preserved in some of the caves, believing the brand to stand for his individuality with as much certitude as, say, the European who leaves his card or carves his name in stone or wood. It is compulsory for members of a certain rank in the Worora tribe to have their “hand-shadows” perpetuated upon the walls of caves in which the bones of their ancestors are reposed, because the spirits of the dead are thus supposed to be apprised of any visits which have been made to their last earthly resting places.

It is beyond dispute that the natives possess the faculty of being able to recognize the hand-marks of their relatives and tribesmen, even though they may not have been present when they were made.

Less frequently, the negative imprint process is applied to a person’s feet or any of his private belongings, such as stone tomahawks. At times, too, the hand is smeared over with ochre and then smacked against a surface to obtain a positive. Vide Plate XLIV, 2.

The number of ochre drawings one finds on rock surfaces is naturally unlimited, especially when extending observations over the whole of Australia; and the variety in regard to subject, colour, composition, and execution is correspondingly large.

Without at this stage attempting to delve deeply into the consideration of individual designs and their artistic merits, let us cast our eyes for a moment upon an illustration, which might be considered typical, to familiarize ourselves with the general appearance of Australian cave drawings (Plate XLV, 1). We have before us a rock shelter or abris on the Forrest River in the north of Western Australia, a more or less vertical wall at the base, overhung at the top by a solid ledge or “roof” of quartzite. For the better part of the day this spot is protected from the intense heat of a tropical sun; and during the “wet season,” also, it provides a shelter from the prolific rains. But a casual glance at the picture suffices to convince one of the presence of a number of conspicuous designs drawn in ochre upon the rock faces. One in particular, that of a huge snake, immediately catches the eye, but if a careful scrutiny of the lower portion of the escarpment is made, many other smaller designs will be discovered.

When the rocky background is light-coloured, and not sooty, the artists often include charcoal drawings among the coloured ochre designs. The native applies the charcoal either in the form of a powder with the aid of his fingers, or he selects a piece of charred wood, big enough to hold between his fingers, and this he uses after the fashion a modern artist does a crayon. According to the method employed, the result is either a figure blackened all over, or a line drawing, shaded here and there. Some particularly creditable charcoal drawings were obtained near Pigeon Hole on the Victoria River in the Northern Territory; these are described later.