unless the old man is sick, or too feeble to hunt, or unless the wife's mother is a widow.[1]
At the Bunya feasts which the Turrbal attended, the strangers on a visit did not climb the Bunya trees for the cones, all the trees belonging to the people of the place. A father gives certain trees to his sons, who can invite their friends to come and eat of the fruit. The visitors purchased bags of the seeds when they returned home. The Bunya feast lasted about a mouth.[2]
In the Dalebura tribe, when on a march, those who have been unfortunate in the chase are invited, when all are camped for the night, to partake of the game of the successful ones.[3]
The Bunya-Bunya tribe had a curious custom which they practised when an inland and a coast tribe met. It was considered a great honour to send word to a man on the other side that you would like him to pull your beard and whiskers out. Of course there was only a small quantity left to pull out, the rest being burnt off too short to catch hold of. A meeting generally took place about mid-day, and, with a little bees'-wax on the fingers, the operation was soon gone through, fat and burnt bark being rubbed in. As a rule the young bark of the Bloodwood tree, which makes a very fine white ash, was used.[4]
Mr. Christison tells me that when he has been out on expeditions, accompanied by his blackboys only, and the food ran short, and the division of rations was very scanty, they have refused to take their share, intimating that he stood more in need of it. On previous occasions, when he had his own countrymen with him, the contrary was the case, for the ration-bags were broached, and when in any difficulties, grumbling was the rule. In their wild state the Dalebura seemed to live peaceably enough. He had seen a camp of three hundred live for three months without a quarrel.
As supplementary to the rules under which food was distributed in common in the groups to which the individual
