person. When she was, I
suppose, considerably over sixty, her favourite granddaughter died.

Old Bootha was in a terrible state of grief, and chopped herself in a
most merciless manner at the burial, especially about the head. She
would speak to no one, used to spend her time about the grave, round
which she fixed upright posts which she painted white, red, and black.
All round the grave she used to sweep continually.

More and more she isolated herself, and at last discarded all her
clothes and roamed the bush A LA Eve before the Fall, as she had
probably done as a young girl.

She dug herself an underground camp, roofed it over, and painted
enormous posts which she erected in front of her 'Muddy wine,' as she
called her camp. She never came near the house, though we had been
great friends before.

She used to prowl round the outhouses and pick up all sorts of things,
rubbish for the most part, but often good utensils too; all used to be
secreted in the underground camp. She never talked to any one, but used
to mutter continually to herself and her dogs in an unknown tongue
which only her dogs seemed to understand.

We thought she was quite mad.

One day, while we were playing tennis, she suddenly, muttering her
strange language and dancing new corroboree steps, clad only in her
black skin, came up. Matah told her to go away, but she only
corroboreed round him and said she wanted to see me. I have the most
morbid horror of lunacy in any form. I was once induced to go over a
lunatic asylum--the horror of it haunts me still. However, I thought it
would never do to show the coward I was, so though I felt as if I had
been scooped out and filled up with ice, I went to her. She danced
round me for a little time, then sidled up to me and said:

'Wahl you frightened, wahl me hurt you. I only womba--mad--all
yowee--spirits--in me tell me gubbah--good--I lib 'long a youee; bimeby
I come back big feller wirreenun; wahl you frightened? I not hurt you.'

And after crooning an accompaniment to her steps off she went, a
strange enough figure, dancing and crooning as she went towards her
camp; and not until the spirits gave up possession of her did she come
near the house again.

One day she gave us a start. We were schooling a new team of four
horses. The off-side leader had only been in once before, and was a
brumby (horse run in from a wild mob). We had to pass Bootha's camp. I
looked about as we neared it but saw nothi