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  • Keepitshort 16 Jun 2009 at 01:43
    Windradyne obituary: The author is probably George Suttor, and "B-------e", is probably the poroperty "Brucedale". The editor has added a note after the Latin quotation which is not formally part of this text, but I have added it. It is in fact a slight misquotation, since "nihil" should be "nil". It comes from the playwright Terentius (Terence), and it means: "I am a man, I consider nothing human as alien to me." The editor comments: "* This quotation from the Roman dramatist contains a fine sentiment for those persons who think no more of man in a state of nature than they do of a wild animal."
  • Keepitshort 16 Jun 2009 at 02:30
    Quotation: The initial quotation seems to begin "Sips" from the text, but it should be: "Life's a short summer ...." and comes from Samuel Johnson. The full poem is: WINTER; AN ODE. No more tire morn, with tepid rays, Unfolds the flow'r of various hue; Noon spreads no more the genial blaze, Nor gentle eve distils the dew. The ling'ring hours prolong the night, Usurping darkness shares the day; Her mists restrain the force of light, And Phoebus holds a doubtful sway. By gloomy twilight, half reveal'd, With sighs we view the hoary hill, The leafless wood, the naked field, The snow-topp'd cot, the frozen rill. No musick warbles through the grove, No vivid colours paint the plain; No more, with devious steps, I rove Through verdant paths, now sought in vain. Aloud the driving tempest roars, Congeal'd, impetuous show'rs descend; Haste, close the window, bar the doors, Fate leaves me Stella, and a friend. In nature's aid, let art supply With light and heat my little sphere; Rouse, rouse the fire, and pile it high, Light up a constellation here. Let musick sound the voice of joy, Or mirth repeat the jocund tale; Let love his wanton wiles employ, And o'er the season wine prevail. Yet time life's dreary winter brings, When mirth's gay tale shall please no more Nor musick charm--though Stella sings; Nor love, nor wine, the spring restore. Catch, then, Oh! catch the transient hour, Improve each moment as it flies; Life's a short summer--man a flow'r: He dies--alas! how soon he dies!
  • Anonymous 18 Jun 2011 at 14:17
    My Mum, whose grandparents came to Gundagai in 1848 and whose other grandparents came to the western side of town near Ulandra National Park in the 1860s, often said that 'Saturday' used to raid the farms out on that western side of the area (on Saturdays when farmers were in town). This is well past the date of Windradyne's passing so whether this warrior had a successor to the name or the rains on the farms dated from the 1820s I am not sure but Windradyne/Saturday's name was well known of in Gundagai by colonial and later era locals. Its interesting that Windradyne suffered his mortal wound in a battle with Aboriginal warriors from south of Bathurst so they have been the local Murrumbidgee Aboriginal people also in that conflict. I have another great grandfather who was also potentially in the Gundagai area though in the 1820s after he escaped from his lunatic slave master. It would be good if Gundagai arected a monument to the Wiradjuri Wars that never happened according to many who weren't there then, but did happen to great extent in south western NSW in the 1800s, particularly around Gundagai. Gundagai isn't grown up enough yet though to be able to handle admission of its past story. Johneen Jones

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"Sips a short summer, man's a flower,   he dies, alas! how soon he dies."


You will perhaps please to insert in your recording   columns, this short biographical sketch of the native   Bathurst chief Windrodine, but better known to the   colonists by the appellative, Saturday. Though his  

original or aboriginal name was Windrodine, and on   Saturday, 21st of the present March, this chief paid the debt of nature ; he fell in a sharp fight sub noctera on the banks of the Macquarie, with a tribe from the South. Several lives were lost, and two chiefs were laid por du combat, on the field of battle. The wound which caused Windrodine's death, was a very severe

one on his knee, which quickly mortified, and termi-   nated in death after a few hours. He continued   talking to his countrymen, till life was extinct, in the   hospital at Bathurst, near which place he was buried,   his body wrapped in his mantle, and his weapons de-   posited in that grave which now contains all that   remains of Windrodine, once the terror of the sur-   rounding woods, nominally his wide domain assigned

to him by the sovereign hand of nature.  

He was a man who never suffered an injury with impunity, in his estimation revenge was virtue, his head, his countenance, indeed his whole person, which was admirable formed, was a fine specimen of the savage warrior of New Holland. His age did not, I think, exceed 30 years, his height was near 6 feet, he was of a brave but impetuous disposition, for dispositions vary as much among the native tribes as they do among the most cultivated or artificial beings

of the human race.  

I have often observed, with pleasure, his kindness to the women and children of his tribe, particularly to those that were sick ; Windrodine professed the healing art, and a knowledge of potent spells among

his sable countrymen. I may here insert an anecdote   illustrative of his character, on obtaining some wheat from his friend for his use, he took pains to make him understand, that he was a gentleman, and did not grind, but he would get one of his men to grind it, though it may be observed that the authority of the

native chief is little more than nominal among their


Five hundred acres of land was at one time offered for his head, but he surrendered, and was introduced to Sir Thomas Brisbane, at Parramatta, where he excited a great deal of curiosity : he resided a short time in the domain there, and the kindness shown to him then seemed to have operated on his mind in favour of the colonists, for ever since he has avoided any act of violence to them, though it may be sup- posed his high and independent spirit felt uneasy at times at seeing his country possessed by the white fellows, as the aborigines call us.

It is to be lamented that the imprudence, and too often cruelty of the Europeans, has heretofore given too much cause of revenge among the native tribes, who are really to us an inoffensive race, particularly those of the interior, and when we consider the ma-  

terials the British nation has sent among them, and how much they are accustomed to war, this sentiment may well be entertained of them. Always in hostility   with each other, often losing their lives in revenging the death of a clansman, or to recover their captive

ladies, as was the fate of Windrodine.      

" Homo sum, humani nihil a me alienum puto." *  

your's &c. COLO.   B---------e, 24th March, 1829.

* This quotation from the Roman dramatist contains a fine sentiment for those persons who think no more of man in a state of nature than they do of a wild animal.