for a fire (this was indeed a
fine opportunity for revenge); so making his sister
hide herself, he flew to the young woman and lifted up
his club to bring her to the ground, and thus satisfy
his revenge. The victim trembled, yet, knowing his
power, she stood with all the fortitude she could;
lifting up her eyes, they came in contact with his and
such was the enchanting beauty of her form (!) that he
stood an instant motionless to gaze on it (!). The poor
thing saw this and dropped on her knees (!) to implore
his pity, but before she could speak, his revenge
softened into love (!); he threw down his club, and
clasping her in his arms (!) vowed eternal constancy
(!!!); his pity gained her love (!), thus each procured
a mutual return. Then calling his sister, she would
have executed her revenge, but for her brother, who
told her she was now his wife. On my hero asking after
his sister, his new wife said she was very ill, but
would soon be better; and she excused her brother (!)
because the means he had taken were the customary one
of procuring a wife (!!); 'but you,' said she, 'have
more white heart' (meaning he was more like the
English), 'you no beat me; me love you; you love me; me
love your sisters; your sisters love me; my brother no
good man.' This artless address won both their hearts,
and now all three live in one hut which I enabled them
to make comfortable within half a mile of my own
house."

Barrington concludes with these words: "This little anecdote I have
given as the young man related it to me and perhaps I have _lost much
of its simplicity_." It is very much to be feared that he has. I have
marked with, exclamation points the most absurdly impossible parts of
the tale as idealized and embellished by Barrington. The Australian
never told him that he "gazed motionless" on the "enchanting beauty"
of the girl's form or that his "revenge softened into love;" he never
clasped her in his arms, nor "vowed eternal constancy." The girl never
dreamt of saying that his pity gained her love, or of excusing her
brother for doing what all Australian men do. These sentimental
touches are gratuitous additions of Barrington; native Australians do
not even clasp each other in their arms, and they are as incapable of
vowing eternal constancy as of comparing Herbert Spencer's philosophy
wi