C. W. Peck
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Australian Legends is a book by C. W. Peck, first published in 1925. It is a collection of Aboriginal folklore, and stories about Aborigines, primarily from the New South Wales region of Australia, on the southeast coast. Stories include: The Struggle For Supremacy Between Birds And Animals; How The Sky Was Lifted Up; How The White Waratah Became Red; How The Waratah Got Its Honey; Why The Petiole Of The Waratah Is Long; Two Waratah Legends; The Legend of the Pleiades, and many more.
This book has 178 pages in the PDF version, and was originally published in 1925.
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Excerpt from 'Australian Legends'
In a little settlement for aborigines not far from Sydney lives the last full-blooded person of the once-powerful Cammary Tribe. She lives in the past. The present has no lure for her, and very little interest.
She has to eat and she has to sleep and she has to dress.
She looks for no pleasure, but she finds pleasure in the thoughts she has of her earliest childhood, and the knowledge she has of the real South Coast aborigine.
She is a princess, and she is also the sister-in-law of the man who was the last king of his group.
Both groups were of the one tribe, and each group had its king.
She has the true aboriginal cast of countenance, and she speaks most fluently to those who can understand or only partly understand the language of her people.
And her people are of two groups, for she said to the writer, "My mother was of the North; my father was of the South; I speak between the two!"
And her English is of a pleasing kind, for it is not in any sense "pidgin." It is soft in accent and musical in tone.
She does not know her age, for, as she puts it, "I did not go to school."
She knew many beautiful legends.
But they have nearly all gone from her, for she never told them. She heard them and forgets nearly all. She hears no more, for they are seldom spoken of by the remnant of her race.
Time was when the story-teller was an honoured man, when he dressed for his part, when the young people were educated in the lore of the land and the law of the land, by means of legend.
But there is so much white blood in the people that practically none wish to bear the stories of the "Alcheringa," and so the stories have faded.
But not all.
And the religious beliefs!
They are still very real to this "Last of Her Tribe."
Just as real as ours are to us.
"Don't think that the white man told us about God," said Ellen.
"My people always knew about Him. Their fathers told them. Our God was never a wooden idol, nor a thing carved by human hands. He was always up in the Heavens where He lived, and from where He looked down upon all the world, and sought out the evil doers and punished them in many ways. From His throne He caused by His will the food to come upon the trees and the game to add to the larder. And He made the rain to fall, and He shook the earth with His thunder, and He threatened with the lightning! And there were good men who could see Him and get Him to move!"
So said Ellen.
To pray to Him was the most natural thing for the people to do, and there were those whose principal mission it was to do that. They were the good men-the Clergymen, the Priests.
He made it the duty, too, of the people to inflict punishment upon the wrong doers that were caught and proved to be malefactors. Therefore it was, that men were sometimes stood up and speared, and women were beaten with nullahs.
There were the doctors, also. These men gave much time to the study and practice of the healing art, and sorcery and witchery did not escape their especial notice-just as the white people have their crystal readers and fortune-tellers to-day right in all our capital cities.
The doctors knew much of the effect of the eating of herbs and the drinking of water in which herbs had been steeped. They provided the leaves and the bark that were thrown into the water-holes in order to stupefy fish, as well as the medicines for the cure of the ills of the people. In their sorcery they played upon the emotions just as our mesmerists and evangelists do.
All this the old Princess of the aboriginal settlement tells, but not to everyone. Only to those who have a sympathy and an understanding, and a readable wish to learn the deeper things of the aboriginal mind.
There is, in a gully near Appin, a place that was sacred for, possibly, many thousands of years.
The gully is deep, and the head of it is a big round water-hole with precipitous sides, ever one of which the water pours in a roaring, tumbling, spraying fall.
The fall is governed now by the gates and spillways of the Cataract Dam, but until that was built it was governed only by the rains that fell and the winds that blew.
And the way down to the pool was always difficult.
None but the priest ever descended there, and when he did he carried with him the flint rod that served as the bell in the church steeple of the white man does-to call-but with the difference that the bell calls the people, and the flint called the gods or the spirits.
Tap, tap, tap, tap went the flint on the sandstone, and ages of tapping wore a hole that is not even seen by the great majority that clamber there now, much less understood.