native, although peaceably living in the forests of his
country.

Among those distinguished for the knowledge of the bush, compassion for
the natives, and skill in pursuing them, Mr. Batman was the subject of
frequent and approving mention. It is said by Backhouse, that his
parties killed thirty, and captured five. Occasionally, natives were
found in the neighbourhood of Ben Lomond. In one instance, it is
recorded, that ten fell, and that two were taken; and in another, that
forty received the fire, and left behind them trails of blood, but no
captives. On another, fifteen or sixteen were said to fall, out of a
party of seventy: three hundred buck shot were poured into an
encampment, at twenty yards distance. It would be endless to recite
conflicts of this kind: they probably were but a multiplication of a
short bulletin, referring to an expedition--"_five shot, and one
taken_." Looked at alone, even in the mildest form, these measures are
revolting; but to Mr. Batman belongs the praise of mingling humanity
with severity: of perceiving human affections in the creatures he was
commissioned to resist. His mission cannot be compared with that of his
successor, but he certainly began in the midst of conflict and
bloodshed, to try the softer influences of conciliation and charity. He
received a party into his house, endeavoured to win their regard; fed,
clothed, and soothed them; and when some of them disappointed his hopes,
by throwing off their garments and retiring into the bush, he still
persevered in attempting their reclamation.

But if the authorised system was attended with a sad sacrifice of native
life, no one will question the atrocities committed by _commandoes_,
first formed by stock-keepers, and some settlers, under the influence of
anger, and then continued from habit. The smoke of a fire was the signal
for a black hunt. The sportsmen having taken up their positions, perhaps
on a precipitous hill, would first discharge their guns, then rush
towards the fires, and sweep away the whole party. The wounded were
brained; the infant cast into the flames; the musket was driven into the
quivering flesh; and the social fire, around which the natives gathered
to slumber, became, before morning, their funeral pile.[14]

A detail of such facts, is in the hand of the writer, the recital of
which would disgrace, without improving mankind; and it is rather in
deference to a general principle than personal considerations,