purchase a loaf or two, and enough brown sugar to
make a bucketful of "bull," the anchor was
weighed, and the boat rowed to the shore.
Fresh fish for tea were always marketable, and
the Queens had never any difficulty in disposing
of them at the public or private houses: receiving
in return whatever articles they required to
supply their own and the king's immediate
wants.

I must here record a little anecdote of King
Bungaree. When his Majesty's ships the
Warspite, the Success frigate, and some smaller
craft anchored in Sydney, Bungaree went on
board all these vessels to welcome to his
dominions the various commanders. The
commodore, Sir James Brisbane, having heard of
King Bungaree, and being informed of his
approach, gave the order that he should be
received with all the honours and formality
accorded to persons of royal blood, save the
firing of a salute and manning the yards. The
officers, who entered into the joke, were all
assembled on the quarter-deck: the first lieutenant
stood at the gangway, the commodore in
his full-dress coat and cocked-hat took his place
at the capstan, the boatswain piped the side
in the shrillest ear-piercing tones, and the drums
and fifes made music to the air of "GOD SAVE
THE KING!" The moment King Bungaree
placed his foot on the Warspite's well-holystoned
planks, the commodore uncovered his venerable
head, and, placing his cocked-hat beneath his
left arm, with admirably-acted humility,
advanced, and offered King Bungaree his right
hand. The king, who was then wearing his
coat buttoned up to the neck, à la Sir Ralph
Darling, received the homage which was paid
him by the commodore, with just the amount of
formal empressement that the governor himself
would have exhibited under the circumstance of
being similarly greeted. Having bowed, rather
stiffly, to each of the officers on the quarter-
deck, and having cast an approving, though
cold glance at the guns, the hammock nettings,
and the rigging, King Bungaree condescended
to inquire the commodore's name. "My name
is Brisbane," said the commodore, meekly.
Bungaree, for at least two minutes, surveyed the
commodore from head to foot, with a contemptuous
expression of countenance. He had
known one Brisbane (Sir Thomas) who had only
lately left the colony, which he had governed
for five years. That there could be two
Brisbanes—that the world was big enough to hold
two—King Bungaree could not believe. At
length, his Majesty spoke as follows: "What
you mean, sa? You Brisbane, sa? What
for you, capping of big ship like this, sa,
tell King Bungaree one big lie, sa? I know
Brisbane, sa. He great frien'-o'-mine, sa.
He len' me this cock-hat, sa—this coat, sa—
this shirt, sa. No, sa; not this shirt, sa. King
Bungaree never tell a lie, sa. Capping Crotty,
of 3rd Buffs, sa, len' me this shirt, sa."
Captain Crotty was not a very tall man, and the
garment to which Bungaree last alluded scarcely
reached the monarch's knees. "No, sa; you
are not Governor Brisbane, sa. I show these
gennelmen Governor Brisbane, sa." Divesting
himself, for the nonce, of the airs and manners
of Sir Ralph Darling, Bungaree put on those of
Sir Thomas Brisbane, walked the deck, spoke to
several of the officers, and, taking a telescope
from the hand of the signal-midshipman of the
day, looked through it into the heavens, and
exclaimed, "Ah!" Sir Thomas Brisbane was
a great astronomer, and while in New South
Wales had been constantly star-gazing. The
commodore was so struck with King Bungaree's
imitation of his own first cousin, that he stood
aghast; while the officers, unable any longer to
preserve their gravity, indulged in a hearty peal
of laughter.

"No, sa," resumed Bungaree, addressing the
commodore, and again acting General Darling,
"you not Brisbane. But you very good man, I
dessay. Never mind. I forgive you. I now
feel very thirsty. Len' it glass o' grog." Several
glasses of the ship's rum, well diluted with
water, were "lent" to his Majesty, and several
pipes of tobacco. After remaining about an hour
on board the Warspite, Bungaree was piped over
the side, taking with him "loans " to the extent
of five old shirts, a handkerchief full of biscuit,
and a cold leg of mutton. A marine officer
offered to "lend" him an old coat; but, after
examining the loan, and discovering that it did
not belong to an officer entitled to two epaulettes,
Bungaree shook his head, and remarked
that it "would not do." But, going to the
gangway, he threw the garment down into his
boat, in which his Queens were sitting. Onion
picked up the old red coat, and, as the day was
rather cold, put it on, and wore it in the streets
of Sydney habitually.

II.

HAVING had the misfortune (if misfortune it
were), when I was in my sixteenth year, to be
transported from my native land, Botany Bay,
to the penal settlement of Great Britain, I lost
sight of King Bungaree for a long time. I was
tried in my mother's drawing-room, on a charge
of having a great aptitude for learning, but a
want of perseverance in my studies. The sentence
passed upon me, was, "Seven years to England;"
the first four to be kept at hard labour with a
private tutor, and the remaining three to be
spent in one of the penitentiaries of Oxford or
Cambridge. I was informed that every
indulgence (compatible with reason, and with
reference to my position as one of "the lords of
Botany Bay") would be allowed me; but upon
no account would I be permitted to return,
until the full period of seven years had
"expired."

As I am an Australian, writing a biographical
memoir of my aboriginal sovereign, I may be
permitted to say a few words concerning
myself, and my feelings during the term of
my banishment. At first, I felt supremely
miserable, and I believe I drooped, like any
other exotic when removed from its own
congenial clime to a colder one. There were two