prospects of that unfortunate race without the deepest commiseration.  I am well aware of the many difficulties which oppose themselves to the effectual protection of these people, and especially of those which must originate from the exasperation of the settlers, on account of aggressions on their property, which are not the less irritating, because they are nothing else than the natural results of the pernicious examples held out to the Aborigines, and of the many wrongs of which they have been the victims.  Still it is impossible that the Government should forget that the original aggression was our own; and that we have never yet performed the sacred duty of making any systematic or considerable attempt to impart to the former occupiers of New South Wales, the blessings of Christianity, or the knowledge of the arts and advantages of civilized life.”]

Several very lamentable instances of this kind, have occurred in Port Lincoln.  The following is one among others.  Soon after the murder of Messrs. Biddle and Brown, a party of soldiers was sent over to try and capture the aggressors.  In one of their attempts a native guide was procured from the Eastern tribe, who promised to conduct them to where the murderers were.  The party consisting of the military and their officer, the police, a settler, and the missionary, in all twelve or fourteen persons, set off towards Coffin’s Bay, following as they supposed upon the track of the murders.  Upon reaching the coast some natives were seen fishing in the water, and the party was at once spread out in a kind of semicircle, among the scrub, to close upon and capture them; the officer, missionary, and guide, being stationed near the centre.  As the party advanced nearer, the guide saw that he was mistaken in the group before him, and that they were not the guilty parties, but friends.  The officer called out not to fire, but unfortunately from the distance the men were at, and the scrubby nature of the country, he was not heard or attended to.  A shot was fired, one of the natives sprung up convulsively in the water, walked on shore and fell down, exclaiming whilst dying, “me Kopler, me good man,” and such indeed it proved.  He was one of a friendly tribe, and a particular protege of the missionary’s, having taken the name of Kopler from his German servant who was so called.

The other natives at once came forward to their dying friend, scornfully motioning away his murderers, fearless alike of the foes around them, and regardless of their ill-timed attempts to explain the fatal mistake.  Will it be credited, that at such a scene as this the soldiers were indulging in coarse remarks, or brutal jests, upon the melancholy catastrophe; and comparing the last convulsive spring of the dying man to a salmon leaping in the water.  Yet this I was assured was the case by the Government Resident at Port Lincoln, from when I received this account.