a firm and prompt authority over them.

When we first arrived, we were philanthropists, in the usual sense of
that term, and thought a good deal about the moral and general
destitution of this unfortunate people; but when we first encountered
on the road a party of coffee-coloured savages, with spears in their
hands, and loose kangaroo-skin cloaks (their only garments) on their
shoulders, accompanied by their women similarly clad, and each
carrying in a bag at her back her black-haired offspring, with a face
as filthy as its mother's -- we by no means felt inclined to step
forward and embrace them as brethren.

I question, indeed, whether the most ardent philanthropist in the
world would not have hesitated before he even held forth his hand to
creatures whose heads and countenances were darkened over with a
compound of grease and red clay, whose persons had never been
submitted to ablution from the hour of their birth, and whose
approach was always heralded by a perfume that would stagger the most
enthusiastic lover of his species.

But it was not merely disgust that kept us at arm's length. We must
confess we were somewhat appalled at this first view of savage life,
as we looked upon the sharp-pointed spears, wild eyes, and
well-polished teeth of our new acquaintance. Although, in truth,
they were perfectly harmless in their intentions, we could not help
feeling a little nervous as they drew nigh, and saluted us with
shrill cries and exclamations, and childish bursts of wild laughter.
Their principal question was, whether we were "cabra-man?" or seamen,
as we afterwards discovered their meaning to be. After a good deal
of screaming and laughing, they passed on their way, leaving us much