This is a modern-English version of Journal of an Expedition into the Interior of Tropical Australia, in Search of a Route from Sydney to the Gulf of Carpentaria (1848), originally written by Mitchell, T. L. (Thomas Livingstone).
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Journal of an Expedition into the Interior of Tropical Australia,
by Thomas Mitchell
Journal of an Expedition
into the Interior of Tropical Australia
In Search of a Route from Sydney
to the Gulf of Carpentaria (1848)
by
Lt. Col. Sir Thomas Livingstone Mitchell Kt. D.C.L. (1792-1855)
Surveyor-General of New South Wales
Originally published in 1848
TO
THE HONOURABLE
THE SPEAKER AND MEMBERS
OF THE
LEGISLATIVE COUNCIL OF NEW SOUTH WALES,
THIS JOURNAL
OF
AN EXPEDITION OF DISCOVERY,
PETITIONED FOR BY THE COUNCIL,
AND
UNDERTAKEN AT THE EXPENSE OF THE COLONY,
IS
DEDICATED
BY
THEIR MOST OBEDIENT,
HUMBLE SERVANT,
T. L. MITCHELL
PREFACE.
"Admiring Nature in her wildest grace,"[* Burns.] it has ever been the most attractive of the author's duties to explore the interior of Australia. There the philosopher may look for facts; the painter and the poet for original studies and ideas; the naturalist for additional knowledge; and the historian might begin at a beginning. The traveller there seeks in vain for the remains of cities, temples, or towers; but he is amply compensated by objects that tell not of decay but of healthful progress and hope;—of a wonderful past, and of a promising future. Curiosity alone may attract us into the mysterious recesses of regions still unknown; but a still deeper interest attaches to those regions, now that the rapid increase of the most industrious and, may we add most deserving people on earth, suggests that the land there has been reserved by the Almighty for their use.
"Admiring Nature in her wildest grace,"[* Burns.] it has always been one of the author's most appealing tasks to explore the interior of Australia. There, the philosopher can seek facts; the painter and poet can find original studies and ideas; the naturalist can gain more knowledge; and the historian might start from the beginning. The traveler searches in vain for the remains of cities, temples, or towers; but they are well compensated by things that signify not decay but healthy progress and hope—of an incredible past and a promising future. Curiosity alone might draw us into the mysterious depths of still-unknown regions; but there is an even deeper interest in these areas, now that the rapid growth of the most industrious and, may we add, most deserving people on earth suggests that the Almighty has set this land aside for their use.
In Australia, the great family of civilized man seems still at that early period between history and fable, upon which, even in "the world as known to the ancients," the Roman poet had to look very far back:—
In Australia, the large family of civilized people still seems to be in that early stage between history and myth, a time that, even in "the world as known to the ancients," the Roman poet had to look back on for a long time:—
"Communemque priùs, ceu lumina solis et auras, Cautus humum longo signavit limite mensor."
[* Ovid, Met. lib. i.]
"He wisely measured the earth with a long boundary, like the sun’s light and the winds."
[* Ovid, Met. lib. i.]
The Journey narrated in this work was undertaken for the extension of arrangements depending on physical geography. It completes a series of internal surveys, radiating from Sydney towards the west, the south, and the north, which have occupied the author's chief attention during the last twenty years; and, as on former occasions, it has enabled him to bring under the notice of men of science some of the earth's productions hitherto unknown. He cannot sufficiently express his sense of obligation in this respect, to Mr. Bentham, Sir William Hooker, Dr. Lindley, and Professor De Vriese, for supplying the botanical matter and notes contained in this volume, and thus contributing to the general stock of human knowledge. It is also his pleasing duty to state, that during the long journey of upwards of a year, Captain P. P. King, R. N., kept a register of the state of the barometer at the sea side; and, in the midst of his important avocations, determined, by a very elaborate comparison of minute details, all the heights of localities herein mentioned.
The journey described in this work was undertaken to expand arrangements based on physical geography. It completes a series of internal surveys radiating from Sydney toward the west, south, and north, which have been the author's main focus for the last twenty years. As in previous instances, it has allowed him to present to scientists some of the earth's previously unknown features. He cannot adequately express his gratitude to Mr. Bentham, Sir William Hooker, Dr. Lindley, and Professor De Vriese for providing the botanical content and notes in this volume, thus contributing to the overall body of human knowledge. It is also his pleasure to note that during the long journey of over a year, Captain P. P. King, R. N., kept a record of the barometer's state at the seaside and, amidst his important duties, carefully determined the heights of the locations mentioned here through a detailed comparison of minute data.
The new geographical matter is presented to the public with confidence in its accuracy, derived as it is from careful and frequent observations of latitude; trigonometrical surveying with the theodolite, whereever heights were available; and, by actual measurement of the line of route. This route was connected, at its commencement and termination, with the trigonometrical survey of the colony; and, in closing on Mount Riddell, a survey extending two degrees within the tropics, the near coincidence of his intersections with that summit, as fixed by his survey of 1830, could not but be very satisfactory to the author.
The new geographical information is confidently shared with the public, based on careful and frequent observations of latitude, trigonometrical surveying with the theodolite wherever heights were obtainable, and actual measurements of the route. This route was linked, at both its start and end, to the trigonometrical survey of the colony. In concluding at Mount Riddell, a survey that extended two degrees into the tropics showed a close match with his intersections at that summit, as established by his survey of 1830, which was very satisfying to the author.
The geological specimens collected during this journey have been deposited in the British Museum, and their original locality is shown on the maps by the numbers marked upon the specimens, so that they may be available to geologists; hence, in the progress of geological science, the fossils now brought from these remote regions will be accessible at any future time, and something known of the geology as well as of the geography of the interior. As Professor Forbes most readily undertook to describe the freshwater shells after the work had passed through the press, that portion of the collection also has thus been brought under the notice of geologists.
The geological specimens collected during this journey have been placed in the British Museum, and their original locations are indicated on the maps by the numbers marked on the specimens, making them available to geologists. As a result, in the advancement of geological science, the fossils brought back from these distant regions will be accessible in the future, providing knowledge about both the geology and the geography of the interior. Since Professor Forbes generously agreed to describe the freshwater shells after the work was published, that part of the collection has also been brought to the attention of geologists.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER I.
GENERAL MAP
Objects of the expedition.—Unexpected delay—by reference to Lord Stanley.—List of the Party.—Departure from Buree.—Sheep stations.—Scattered population.—Passage through Hervey's Range.—Encroachment of sheep on cattle runs.—A tea-totaller.—Meet an old acquaintance.—Sulphureous springs.—Currandong—Necessity for damming up the Bogan. Leave Bultje's country.—Ephemeral existence of Aborigines.—Line between the squatters and the wild natives.—Velocity of the Bogan.—Supply of young bullocks.—Richard Cunningham—Young cattle troublesome.—A night without water.—Distress from heat and thirst.—Excessive heat.—Reunion of the party.—Melancholy fate of the Bogan tribe.—Interesting plants discovered.—Encampment at Mudaà.—Carry water forward.—Arrive at Daròbal.—Nyingan.—Water at Canbelègo.—Discovery of a lagoon.—Encamp near Canbelègo. Explore the Bogan in search of water.—Long ride.—Quit the Bogan.—Party attacked with ophthalmia
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Objectives of the expedition.—Unexpected delay—reference to Lord Stanley.—List of the Group.—Departure from Buree.—Sheep stations.—Scattered population.—Journey through Hervey's Range.—Sheep encroaching on cattle areas.—A teetotaler.—Run into an old acquaintance.—Sulphur springs.—Currandong—Need to dam the Bogan. Leave Bultje's territory.—Brief existence of Aborigines.—Boundary between squatters and wild natives.—Speed of the Bogan.—Supply of young bullocks.—Richard Cunningham—Troublesome young cattle.—A night without water.—Suffering from heat and thirst.—Extreme heat.—Reunion of the group.—Tragic fate of the Bogan tribe.—Interesting plants found.—Campsite at Mudaà.—Carry water ahead.—Arrive at Daròbal.—Nyingan.—Water at Canbelègo.—Discovery of a lagoon.—Set up camp near Canbelègo. Explore the Bogan for water.—Long ride.—Leave the Bogan.—Group affected by ophthalmia.
CHAPTER II.
MAP OF THE RIVERS BOGAN AND MACQUARIE
Move to the ponds of Cannonbà.—Set up our bivouac.—Hot wind.—Piper's intention to quit the party.—Piper sent to Bathurst.—Change of weather.—A day of rain.—Mr. Kennedy returns.—Salt made from the salt plant.—Reconnoitre Duck Creek.—Ophthalmia still troublesome.—Approach of a flood announced.—It arrives in clear moonlight.—Marshes of the Macquarie.—Difficulty of watering cattle.—A new guide.—Cattle astray.—Yulliyally.—Docility of the Aborigines.—Water insufficient for cattle.—Want of water.—Small ponds destroyed by cattle.—At last find abundance.—Aboriginal preferable to modern names.—Cattle again astray—and delay the journey.—Junction of the Macquarie and Bàrwan.—The Darling as at present, and formerly.—Admirable distribution of water. The ford at Wyàbry.—The party crosses the Darling
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Travel to the ponds of Cannonbà.—Set up our camp.—Hot winds.—Piper’s plan to leave the group.—Piper sent to Bathurst.—Weather changes.—A rainy day.—Mr. Kennedy returns.—Salt produced from the salt plant.—Scout Duck Creek.—Ongoing issues with ophthalmia.—Flood warning received.—It arrives in bright moonlight.—Marshes of the Macquarie.—Challenges in watering cattle.—A new guide joins us.—Cattle are lost.—Yulliyally.—The gentleness of the Aborigines.—Insufficient water for the cattle.—Water shortage.—Small ponds ruined by cattle.—Finally find plenty of water.—Aboriginal names are preferable to modern ones.—Cattle wander off again, delaying our journey.—Where the Macquarie meets the Bàrwan.—The Darling River, both now and in the past.—Excellent water distribution. The crossing at Wyàbry.—The group crosses the Darling.
CHAPTER III.
MAP OF THE RIVERS NARRAN, CULGOA, AND BALONNE TO ST. GEORGE'S BRIDGE,—SHOWING ALSO THE ROUTE HOMEWARD, AS DESCRIBED IN CHAPTER X.
Plains and low hills.—The Caràwy ponds.—Delayed by weak cattle.—The Narran.—Arrived at—encamp by:—Narran swamp.—A bridge required.—During the delay of drays take a ride forward.—Rich pastures on the Narran.—New plants.—Arrival of drays.—Bridge laid down for their passage.—The party fords the Narran.—Advances but slowly.—Low hills examined.—Good grassy country.—Food of the natives.—Rising ground west of the river.—Ride up.—Abodes and food of natives.—Rich grass.—Parley with a native.—Gravelly ridges.—Two natives conduct us to the river.—Approach the assembled natives.—Interview with the tribes.—Cordial reception.—Cross the Balonne.—Reach the Culgòa.—Cross that river.—Route beyond.—The Upper Balonne.—Explore its course.—Numerals cut on trees.—A native scamp.—Fine country.—Splendid reaches of the river—Lagoons near it.—Lake Parachute.—Seek a position—for a depôt camp.—Ride to the north-west.—Character of the country.—Search for water. Uncommon birds.—Return to the camp.—New Acacia
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Plains and low hills.—The Caràwy ponds.—Held up by weak cattle.—The Narran.—Arrived at—set up camp by:—Narran swamp.—A bridge needed.—While waiting for the drays, take a ride ahead.—Lush pastures by the Narran.—New plants found.—Drays arrive.—Bridge built for their crossing.—The group crosses the Narran.—Goes forward slowly.—Low hills explored.—Good grassy land.—Food sources of the natives.—Rising ground west of the river.—Ride up.—Homes and food of the natives.—Rich grassland.—Talk with a native.—Gravelly ridges.—Two natives guide us to the river.—Approach the gathered natives.—Meeting with the tribes.—Warm welcome.—Cross the Balonne.—Reach the Culgòa.—Cross that river.—Route ahead.—The Upper Balonne.—Investigate its course.—Numbers carved on trees.—A native kid.—Great land.—Stunning stretches of the river—Lagoons nearby.—Lake Parachute.—Look for a spot—for a depot camp.—Ride to the northwest.—Nature of the land.—Search for water. Uncommon birds.—Return to camp.—New Acacia
CHAPTER IV.
MAP OF THE ADVANCE TO THE MARANÒA—SHOWING ALSO THE ROUTE BY WHICH THE PARTY RETURNED TO ST. GEORGE'S BRIDGE, AS DESCRIBED IN CHAPTER VII.
Advance with a light party.—Fine river scenery.—Junction of rivers.—Trace one up, then cross to the other.—Mr. Kennedy instructed to explore it.—Fine country for grazing.—Turanimga lagoon.—Trace up a small tributary.—Mountains discovered.—Camp visited by three natives.—"Cogoon" the name of tributary.—Charms of the Australian climate.—Mount Minute.—Extreme cold.—Traces of high floods in the Cnogoa.—-Mount Inviting.—Mount Abundance.—Ascend that mountain.—Fitzroy Downs.—The Bottle Tree, or DELABECHEA.—Frosty Creek.—Travel due north over open downs.—Advantages of mountains.—Ascend one.—Mount Bingo.—Thenod Tagando tribe.—The party advances to the Amby—followed by the tribe.—How we got rid of them.—Enter the country through the pass.—Find one pond.—A large river discovered.—Position taken up on its banks.—There await Mr. Kennedy's arrival.—Explore to the north-west.—Ascend a hill and tree to take angles from.—Interior country visited.—View of the western interior.—Its character.—Determine to trace the river upwards.—Ascend Mount Kennedy.—Extensive prospect.—Native visit during my absence.—Arrival of Mr. Kennedy's party.—The Tagando tribe again.—Their visit to Mr. Kennedy.—Prepare to advance again with a light party.—Instructions left with Mr. Kennedy
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Move forward with a small group.—Beautiful river scenery.—Where two rivers meet.—Follow one upstream, then cross to the other.—Mr. Kennedy given the task to explore it.—Great land for grazing.—Turanimga lagoon.—Follow a small tributary upstream.—Mountains found.—The camp is visited by three locals.—"Cogoon" is the name of the tributary.—The charm of the Australian climate.—Mount Minute.—Very cold weather.—Signs of past high floods in the Cnogoa.—Mount Inviting.—Mount Abundance.—Climb that mountain.—Fitzroy Downs.—The Bottle Tree, or DELABECHEA.—Frosty Creek.—Travel straight north over open pastures.—Benefits of mountains.—Climb one.—Mount Bingo.—The Thenod Tagando tribe.—The group moves toward the Amby, followed by the tribe.—How we managed to lose them.—Enter the land through the pass.—Find a pond.—A large river discovered.—Settle on its banks.—Wait for Mr. Kennedy to arrive.—Explore to the northwest.—Climb a hill and tree to take measurements from.—Visit the interior region.—View of the western interior.—Its features.—Decide to trace the river upstream.—Climb Mount Kennedy.—Wide view.—Natives visit while I'm away.—Mr. Kennedy's group arrives.—The Tagando tribe again.—Their visit to Mr. Kennedy.—Get ready to move forward again with a small group.—Leave instructions with Mr. Kennedy.
CHAPTER V.
MAP OF THE COUNTRY AND THE ROUTES BETWEEN THE MARANOA AND MOUNT MUDGE, AND THOSE ALONG THE RIVER VICTORIA AS DESCRIBED IN CHAPTER VII.
My departure.—A team of bullocks sent back for.—Good grassy country.—Ride north-west during rain.—Hostile natives menace our camp.—The party crosses Possession Creek.—A small river found.—Another ride to the north-west.—Banks of the little river.—Mount Owen seen.—Travel towards it.—Flank movement to the Maranòa for water.—None found in its bed.—View from Mount Owen.—Names of localities on the map.—Scarcity of water impedes our progress.—Water found in rocky gullies.—Excursion northward.—Mount Aquarius.—View from northern summit of Mount Owen.—Progress through a broken country.—Night without water.—Another route explored amongst the gullies.—Plants found near Mount Owen.—Route for the advance of the carts.—View of mountains—from Mount P. P. King.—View from western extremity of Table Land of Hope.—Mount Faraday.—Strange Hakea.—A running stream discovered.—Return towards the camp.—The party with the carts advances.—Course of the new found river.—New plants.—A large lake receives the river.—The outlet dry.—Enter a scrub.—Return to the Salvator.—Discovery of the Claude.—Rich soil on the downs.—The party moves to the Claude.—Cross that river. Fossil wood.—Again shut up in a rocky country.—Slow progress in a gully.—Balmy Creek.—New plants.—Emerge from the ravines.—Tower Almond.—View from Mount Kilsyth.—View from Mount Mudge.—Two natives met.—Remarkable tree
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My departure.—A team of bullocks was sent back for.—Good grassy land.—Riding northwest during the rain.—Hostile natives threaten our camp.—The group crosses Possession Creek.—A small river is discovered.—Another ride northwest.—Banks of the little river.—Mount Owen is sighted.—Traveling towards it.—Flank movement to the Maranòa for water.—No water found in its bed.—View from Mount Owen.—Names of locations on the map.—Water scarcity slows our progress.—Water is found in rocky gullies.—Excursion northward.—Mount Aquarius.—View from the northern summit of Mount Owen.—Progress through rough terrain.—Night without water.—Another route explored through the gullies.—Plants discovered near Mount Owen.—Route planned for the carts' progress.—View of the mountains—from Mount P. P. King.—View from the western edge of Table Land of Hope.—Mount Faraday.—Unique Hakea.—A flowing stream is found.—Return towards the camp.—The group with the carts moves forward.—Course of the newly found river.—New plants discovered.—A large lake receives the river.—The outlet is dry.—Entering a scrub area.—Return to the Salvator.—Discovery of the Claude.—Fertile soil on the downs.—The group advances to the Claude.—Cross that river. Fossil wood found.—Again trapped in rocky terrain.—Slow progress in a gully.—Balmy Creek.—New plants discovered.—Emerge from the ravines.—Tower Almond.—View from Mount Kilsyth.—View from Mount Mudge.—Encountered two natives.—A remarkable tree.
CHAPTER VI.
MAP OF THE RIVER BELYANDO,
Head of another river.—Water again scarce.—Abundance found.—Climate and country—under the Tropic Line.—Plants.—Peculiar character of the water-course.—One cause of open spaces in the woods.—New plants.—Causes of the outspread of channel.—Plains of wild indigo.—Large river channel from the south.—Cross.—Novelties beyond.—The river much increased.—Long journey through scrub.—New plants.—Journey along the river bank.—Character of this river.—Distant prospect.—No water.—Fatiguing journey through scrubs. Reach the river by moonlight.—Large lagoons.—New tributary—from the S. W.—Excursion to the N. W.—Night without water.—Interview with natives.—Camp visited by natives during my absence.—An affair at the camp.—The party crosses the river.—Conclusions.—The party returns.—Tilled ground of the natives.—The shepherd astray.—Singular phenomenon.—Extraordinary vegetable production.—Heavy rain comes on.—Probability of finding a river.—Singular meteor.—Intertropical temperature.—Effects of the rain.—Recross the Tropic.—Regain the higher land.—Remarkable tree.—(Hakea?)—Dip of the strata.—Character of the Belyando.—How to explore a river in brigalow.—A more direct way homewards.—Successful passage with carts and drays.—Open downs.—Fossil wood.—Recross the Claude.—Mantuan downs.—Natives of the Salvator.—Position taken up for a depôt camp.—Interesting plants
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Head of another river. — Water is scarce again. — Found plenty. — Climate and country — positioned under the Tropic Line. — Plants. — Unique features of the watercourse. — One reason for open spaces in the woods. — New plants. — Reasons for the spread of the channel. — Fields of wild indigo. — A large river channel flowing from the south. — Crossing. — New discoveries beyond. — The river has significantly increased. — Long trek through scrub. — New plants. — Journey along the riverbank. — Characteristics of this river. — Distant view. — No water. — Exhausting journey through scrub. Reached the river by moonlight. — Large lagoons. — New tributary from the southwest. — Trip to the northwest. — Night without water. — Encounter with natives. — Camp visited by natives during my absence. — An incident at the camp. — The group crosses the river. — Conclusions. — The group returns. — Cultivated land of the natives. — The shepherd is lost. — Unusual phenomenon. — Extraordinary plant growth. — Heavy rain starts. — Likelihood of finding a river. — Unique weather event. — Intertropical climate. — Effects of the rain. — Crossed the Tropic again. — Regained higher land. — Notable tree. — (Hakea?) — Tilt of the strata. — Nature of the Belyando. — How to explore a river in brigalow. — A more straightforward route home. — Successful passage with carts and drays. — Open downs. — Fossil wood. — Crossed the Claude again. — Mantuan downs. — Natives of the Salvator. — Location established for a depot camp. — Interesting plants.
CHAPTER VII.
(Having reference to Map V.)
Preparations and departure.—Mount Pluto.—Route amongst the three volcanic hills.—Interview with a female native.—Cross a range beyond.—The Nive and the Nivelle.—Burning of grass by the natives.—Water found, after a night of thirst.—Pastures green, and quiet waters at sunset.—Morning view from a rock.—A new river followed down-over extensive open downs.—Brigalow scrubs away from the river.—River much increased.—Security from natives—Thoughts in these solitudes.—The downs and the river.—An emu shot there.—A river joins from the east.—Structure of native's huts.—Two separate channels unite.—The river well filled.—Packhorse unserviceable.—Rare pigeon—numerous.—A wild tribe—surprised at a lagoon.—Recross the river—and return homewards.—The savage compared—with the civilized.—Hills in the S. W.—Short cut along the left bank of the river.—Name it the Victoria.—Privations in exploring.—Return to the Nive and Nivelle.—Gallant charge by a snake.—Sources of the Salvator.—View from Mount Pluto.—Arrival at the camp of the pyramids.—Rare and new plants collected there
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Preparations and departure.—Mount Pluto.—The route among the three volcanic hills.—A conversation with a local woman.—Crossing a range beyond.—The Nive and the Nivelle.—Natives burning grass.—Finding water after a night of thirst.—Green pastures and calm waters at sunset.—Morning view from a rock.—Following a new river down through wide open plains.—Brigalow scrubs away from the river.—The river has grown much larger.—Feeling safe from the natives—Reflections in these quiet spaces.—The plains and the river.—An emu was shot there.—A river joins from the east.—The structure of the native huts.—Two separate channels coming together.—The river is well-filled.—The packhorse is no longer useful.—A rare pigeon—numerous.—Encountering a wild tribe—surprised at a lagoon.—Recrossing the river—and heading homeward.—Comparing the savage with the civilized.—Hills in the southwest.—Taking a shortcut along the left bank of the river.—Naming it the Victoria.—Challenges faced during the exploration.—Returning to the Nive and Nivelle.—A brave charge by a snake.—Sources of the Salvator.—View from Mount Pluto.—Arrival at the camp of the pyramids.—Collecting rare and new plants there.
CHAPTER VIII.
(Having reference to Map V.) and (Having reference to Map Map IV.)
Fossils and plants.—A new genus.—LINSCHOTENIA DISCOLOR.—Ascend Mount Faraday.—Valley of the Warregò.—Meet an old native.—Return to the camp over the gullies.—Encamp by the Maranòa.—The river found to be near our former track—with water in abundance.—Loss of a horse.—Cattle tracks.—Arrival at the camp of Mr. Kennedy.—Visits of the natives—during our absence.—Plants gathered at the depôt camp.—New plants.—Fossils at Mount Sowerby.—Ascent of Mount Kennedy.—The party leaves the depôt camp following the course of the Maranòa.—Discovery of a fine open country.—Numbered trees at camps.—The country on the Maranòa.—Singular habits of a fish.—Name of river obtained from good authority.—The Acacia varians.—Water scarce again.—Some at length discovered by a dog.—Country between the two routes.—Plants.—Arrive at the Balonne.—Return to St. George's Bridge
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Fossils and plants.—A new genus.—LINSCHOTENIA DISCOLOR.—Climb Mount Faraday.—Valley of the Warregò.—Meet an old local resident.—Head back to the camp over the gullies.—Set up camp by the Maranòa.—The river is found to be close to our previous route—with plenty of water.—Lost a horse.—Found cattle tracks.—Arrived at Mr. Kennedy's camp.—Natives visited during our absence.—Collected plants at the depot camp.—New plants discovered.—Fossils found at Mount Sowerby.—Climb Mount Kennedy.—The team leaves the depot camp, following the course of the Maranòa.—Discovered a beautiful open area.—Marked trees at camps.—The landscape along the Maranòa.—Unique behaviors of a fish.—The river’s name confirmed by reliable sources.—The Acacia varians.—Water is scarce again.—Eventually, some is found by a dog.—The area between the two routes.—Plants collected.—Arrived at the Balonne.—Return to St. George's Bridge.
CHAPTER IX.
(Having reference to Map III.)
Despatches sent forward.—Acquisitions during the delay.—Mr. Kennedy's return and report.—The party crosses the Balonne.—Arrives at the Mooni.—A white woman.—Cattle stations.—Heavy rain.—The country impassable.—Camp removed to a hill.—Dam thrown up.—The waters subside.—The party proceeds.—Arrival at the Barwan.—A flood.—Cross the Màal, also in boats.—Country between the rivers.—Mount Riddell recognised.—The Gwydir crossed.—Termination of the journey.—A stockman. —Night on the open plain.—The Nammoy.—First news
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Messages sent ahead.—Gains made during the wait.—Mr. Kennedy's return and report.—The group crosses the Balonne.—Reaches the Mooni.—A white woman is found.—Cattle stations are noted.—Heavy rainfall occurs.—The area becomes impassable.—Camp is moved to a hill.—A dam is built.—The waters recede.—The group continues on.—Arrival at the Barwan.—A flood is encountered.—Cross the Màal using boats as well.—The land between the rivers is explored.—Mount Riddell is identified.—The Gwydir is crossed.—The journey ends.—A stockman is present.—Spending the night on the open plain.—The Nammoy.—First news is received.
CHAPTER X.
Instructions to Mr. Kennedy for the survey of the river Victoria.—Of the Aborigines.—Simple conditions of human existence.—Grass, fire, kangaroos, and men.—Case of the aboriginal natives.—My native guides.—Experiment worth trying.—Of the Convicts.—Character of the men of the party.—Of convicts generally.—Of the Colony of New South Wales,—capabilities of soil and climate.—Progress of colonization,—Division and appropriation of the territory.—Capricornia and Austral-india
Instructions for Mr. Kennedy regarding the Victoria River survey.—About the Indigenous people.—Basic conditions of human life.—Grass, fire, kangaroos, and humans.—Situation of the Indigenous natives.—My local guides.—An experiment worth attempting.—About the Convicts.—The character of the men in the group.—About convicts in general.—About the Colony of New South Wales—its soil and climate potential.—The progress of colonization—division and allocation of land.—Capricornia and Austral-India.
MAP OF EASTERN AUSTRALIA
APPENDIX.
The Colonial Secretary to the Surveyor General of New South Wales.—Letter, dated 28th October, 1830
Systematical List of Plants
The Colonial Secretary to the Surveyor General of New South Wales.—Letter, dated October 28, 1830
Organized List of Plants
ILLUSTRATIONS.
Flood coming down the Macquarie
Map I. The Indian Archipelago
Portrait of Bultje
Remnant of the Bogan tribe
Map II. The Rivers Bogan and Macquarie
First use of the boats
Map III. The Rivers Narran, Culgoa, and Balonne to St. George's Bridge, shewing also the route thence homeward to Snodgrass Lagoon
Separation of the Balonne into the Culgoa, Narran, etc.
The River Balonne, 7th April
Map IV. Advance to the Maranòa, and route returning to St. George's Bridge
The Bottle tree, DELABECHEA
The black awaiting the white
Map V. The country and the routes between the Maranòa and Mount Mudge, and those along the River Victoria
Tree without branches
The Pyramids
Martin's Range
Tower Almond
Map VI. The River Belyando
Missile club of natives of Central Australia
Remarkable tree (HAKEA ?)
The River Salvator, 5th Sept.
Lindley's Range
Old native female
Aboriginal dance
View on the River Maranòa
Acacia VARIANS
St. Georgia's Bridge
Last use of the boats
Map VII. Eastern Australia, with recent discoveries
Flood coming down the Macquarie
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Martin's Range
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JOURNEY INTO TROPICAL AUSTRALIA, ETC.
Chapter I.
OBJECTS OF THE EXPEDITION.—IT IS DELAYED BY A REFERENCE TO LORD STANLEY.—LIST OF THE PARTY.—DEPARTURE FROM BUREE.—SCATTERED POPULATION.—IRISH AMONGST THE SQUATTERS.—A TEA-TOTALLER FROM SYDNEY.—A SHEPHERDESS IN AUSTRALIA. SHEEP WALK WHERE CATTLE RUN.—MEET AN OLD ABORIGINAL ACQUAINTANCE.—CATTLE STATIONS ABANDONED.—THE BOGAN RIVER.—YOUNG BULLOCKS TROUBLESOME.—EXCESSIVE HEAT.—GREAT SCARCITY OF WATER.—THE PARTY MUCH DISTRESSED BY HEAT AND DROUGHT.—MELANCHOLY FATE OF THE BOGAN TRIBE.—INTERESTING PLANTS DISCOVERED.—CARRY WATER FORWARD.—DESPERATE RIDE DOWN THE BOGAN.—FIND ITS CHANNEL DRY.—DOGS DIE FROM THIRST.—THE PARTY ATTACKED WITH OPHTHALMIA.—QUIT THE BOGAN, BY MOVING TO THE PONDS OF CANNONBÀ.—ENCAMP THERE TO REST AND REFRESH THE PARTY.
OBJECTIVES OF THE EXPEDITION.—DELAYED BY A REFERENCE TO LORD STANLEY.—LIST OF THE GROUP.—DEPARTURE FROM BUREE.—SPARSE POPULATION.—IRISH PEOPLE AMONGST THE SQUATTERS.—A TEETOTALER FROM SYDNEY.—A SHEPHERDESS IN AUSTRALIA. SHEEP PASTURE WHERE CATTLE ROAM.—MEET AN OLD ABORIGINAL FRIEND.—ABANDONED CATTLE STATIONS.—THE BOGAN RIVER.—TROUBLESOME YOUNG BULLS.—EXTREME HEAT.—SEVERE WATER SHORTAGE.—THE GROUP IS GREATLY AFFECTED BY THE HEAT AND DROUGHT.—SAD FATE OF THE BOGAN TRIBE.—INTERESTING PLANTS FOUND.—TRANSPORT WATER AHEAD.—DESPERATE RIDE DOWN THE BOGAN.—DISCOVER ITS CHANNEL DRY.—DOGS DIE OF THIRST.—THE GROUP SUFFERS FROM OPHTHALMIA.—LEAVE THE BOGAN BY MOVING TO THE CANNONBÀ PONDS.—CAMP THERE TO REST AND REFRESH THE GROUP.
The exploration of Northern Australia, which formed the object of my first journey in 1831, has, consistently with the views I have always entertained on the subject [* See London Geographical Journal, vol. vii. part 2, p. 282.], been found equally essential in 1846 to the full development of the geographical resources of New South Wales. The same direction indicated on Mr. Arrowsmith's map, published by the Royal Geographical Society in 1837, was, in 1846, considered, by a committee of the Legislative Council of New South Wales, the most desirable to pursue at a time when every plan likely to relieve the colony from distress found favour with the public.
The exploration of Northern Australia, which was the focus of my first journey in 1831, has, as I’ve always believed, proven to be equally important in 1846 for the complete development of the geographical resources of New South Wales. The same route shown on Mr. Arrowsmith's map, published by the Royal Geographical Society in 1837, was, in 1846, deemed by a committee of the Legislative Council of New South Wales as the most desirable to follow at a time when every plan that could bring relief to the colony was welcomed by the public.
At no great distance lay India and China, and still nearer, the rich islands of the Indian Archipelago; all well-peopled countries, while the industrious and enterprising colonists of the South were unable to avail themselves of the exuberance of the soil and its productions,
At a short distance were India and China, and even closer, the wealthy islands of the Indian Archipelago; all are densely populated regions, while the hardworking and ambitious settlers of the South struggled to take advantage of the fertile land and its resources,
"Which mock'd their scant manurings,
and requir'd more hands than theirs to prune their wanton growth."
"Which mocked their limited efforts,
and required more hands than theirs to manage their excessive growth."
The same attraction which drew the greatest of discoverers westward, "al nacimiento de la especeria [* To the region where spices grew.]," seemed to invite the Australian explorer northward; impelled by the wayward fortunes of the Anglo-Saxon race already rooted at the southern extremity of the land whose name had previously been "Terra Australis incognita." The character of the interior of that country still remained unknown, the largest portion of earth as yet unexplored. For the mere exploration, the colonists of New South Wales might not have been very anxious just at that time, but when the object of acquiring geographical knowledge could be combined with that of exploring a route towards the nearest part of the Indian Ocean, westward of a dangerous strait, it was easy to awaken the attention of the Australian public to the importance of such an enterprise. A trade in horses required to remount the Indian cavalry had commenced, and the disadvantageous navigation of Torres Straits had been injurious to it: that drawback was to be avoided by any overland route from Sydney to the head of the Gulf of Carpentaria.
The same attraction that led the greatest explorers westward, "al nacimiento de la especeria [* To the region where spices grew.]," seemed to draw the Australian explorer northward; driven by the unpredictable fortunes of the Anglo-Saxon people already settled at the southern tip of the land previously known as "Terra Australis incognita." The interior of that country remained a mystery, the largest area of land still unexplored. At that moment, the colonists of New South Wales might not have been very eager for exploration, but when the goal of gaining geographical knowledge could be paired with finding a route to the closest part of the Indian Ocean, west of a dangerous strait, it became easy to get the Australian public's attention on the importance of such a venture. A trade in horses needed to re-equip the Indian cavalry had started, and the tricky navigation of Torres Straits had been a setback: that obstacle could be bypassed with an overland route from Sydney to the head of the Gulf of Carpentaria.
But other considerations, not less important to the colonists of New South Wales, made it very desirable that a way should be opened to the shores of the Indian Ocean. That sea was already connected with England by steam navigation, and to render it accessible to Sydney by land, was an object in itself worthy of an exploratory expedition. In short, the commencement of such a journey seemed the first step in the direct road home to England, for it was not to be doubted that on the discovery of a good overland route between Sydney and the head of the Gulf of Carpentaria, a line of steam communication would thereupon be introduced from that point to meet the English line at Singapore.
But other factors, just as important to the colonists of New South Wales, made it very desirable to open a route to the shores of the Indian Ocean. That sea was already linked to England by steam navigation, and making it accessible to Sydney by land was a worthy goal for an exploratory mission. In short, starting such a journey seemed like the first step on the direct path home to England, as it was clear that once a good overland route was discovered between Sydney and the head of the Gulf of Carpentaria, a steam communication line would be introduced from that point to connect with the English line at Singapore.
In this view of the subject, it seemed more desirable to open a way to the head of the Gulf of Carpentaria, the nearest part of the sea, than to the settlement at Port Essington, on a presque-île forming the furthest point of the land; and, that the journey would terminate at the Gulf was therefore most probable. The map of Australia, when compared with that of the world, suggested reasonable grounds for believing that a considerable river would be found to lead to the Gulf of Carpentaria.
In this perspective, it seemed more preferable to find a route to the head of the Gulf of Carpentaria, the closest section of the ocean, rather than to the settlement at Port Essington, located on a peninsula that is the furthest point of the land; thus, it was most likely that the journey would end at the Gulf. When the map of Australia was compared to the world map, it provided reasonable reasons to think that a significant river would be discovered leading to the Gulf of Carpentaria.
My department having been reduced to a state of inactivity in 1843, I submitted a plan of exploration to Sir George Gipps, the Governor, when His Excellency promised, that if the Legislative Council made such reductions as they seemed disposed to make in the public expenditure, he should be able to spare money for such an expedition. The Legislative Council not only made reductions in the estimates to save much more money than His Excellency had named, but even voted 1000L. towards the expense of the journey, and petitioned the Governor to sanction it. His Excellency, however, then thought it necessary to refer the subject to the Secretary for the Colonies. Much time was thus lost, and, what was still worse, the naturalist to whom I had explained my plan, and invited to join my party, Dr. Leichardt. This gentleman, tempted by the general interest taken by the colonists at the time in a journey of discovery, which afforded a cheering prospect amid the general gloom and despondency, raised and equipped a small party by public subscription, and proceeded by water to Moreton Bay. Dr. Leichardt, and the six persons who finally accompanied him thence to the northward, had not been heard of, and were supposed to have either perished or been destroyed by natives. [* Dr. Leichhardt returned afterwards to Sydney from Port Essington by sea; and the journal of his journey, recently published, shows what difficulties may be surmounted by energy and perseverance.]
My department was put on hold in 1843, so I submitted a plan for exploration to Sir George Gipps, the Governor. He promised that if the Legislative Council cut back on public spending as they seemed inclined to do, he could find funding for the expedition. The Legislative Council ended up not only cutting the budget to save much more money than the Governor had mentioned but also voted £1000 towards the journey's costs and requested the Governor's approval. However, His Excellency decided it was necessary to refer the matter to the Secretary for the Colonies. This delay wasted a lot of time, and even worse, the naturalist I had asked to join my team, Dr. Leichhardt, had been encouraged by the colonists' interest in exploration during a time of general gloom and despair. He raised and equipped a small group through public donations and traveled by water to Moreton Bay. Dr. Leichhardt and the six people who finally accompanied him northwards were not heard from and were thought to have either perished or been killed by natives. [* Dr. Leichhardt returned later to Sydney from Port Essington by sea; and the journal of his journey, recently published, shows what challenges can be overcome with energy and determination.]
The reply of Lord Stanley was, as might have been anticipated, favourable to the undertaking; but the Governor of the colony still declined to allow the journey to be undertaken, without assigning any reason for keeping it back. This was the more regretted by me, when it became known in New South Wales that Captain Sturt was employed, with the express sanction of Lord Stanley, to lead an exploring expedition from Adelaide into the northern interior of Australia, and that he was actually then in New South Wales. Sir George Gipps had expressed, in one of his early despatches to the British Government, his readiness to encourage such an undertaking as that, and stated that "no one came forward to claim the honour of such an enterprise;" yet now that Lord Stanley had sanctioned the plan of the Surveyor General, whose duty it was to survey the country, he refused to allow this officer to proceed. The Legislative Council, however, renewed the petition for this undertaking, to which the Governor at length assented, in 1845; and the sum of 2000L. was unanimously voted for the outfit of the party, but with the clear understanding on the part of the Council, that the plan of the Surveyor General should be adopted.
The response from Lord Stanley was, as expected, in favor of the project; however, the Governor of the colony still refused to allow the journey to take place without giving any reasons for the delay. This was particularly disappointing for me when it became known in New South Wales that Captain Sturt was appointed, with Lord Stanley's full approval, to lead an exploration expedition from Adelaide into the northern interior of Australia, and that he was actually in New South Wales at that time. Sir George Gipps had previously mentioned in one of his early letters to the British Government his willingness to support such an undertaking and noted that "no one came forward to claim the honor of such an enterprise;" yet now that Lord Stanley had approved the plan of the Surveyor General, whose responsibility it was to map the area, he refused to let this officer move forward. Nevertheless, the Legislative Council renewed their request for this undertaking, to which the Governor eventually agreed in 1845; and the sum of £2000 was unanimously allocated for the party's preparation, but with the clear understanding from the Council that the Surveyor General's plan would be followed.
The idea of a river flowing to the northward, was not, however, new. The journey in 1831 was undertaken chiefly in consequence of a report that a large river had been followed down to the coast by a bushranger, accompanied by the natives: and the ultimate course of the Condamine, still a question, was a subject of controversy in some of the first papers published in the Journal of the Royal Geographical Society. My suggestions on the subject are detailed at length in the London Geographical Journal, Vol. VII., Part 2., page 282., and accompanied by a map showing the line of exploration then recommended.
The idea of a river flowing north wasn’t new. The journey in 1831 was mostly prompted by a report that a bushranger, along with some locals, had followed a large river down to the coast. The ultimate course of the Condamine, which was still uncertain, sparked debate in some of the earliest papers published in the Journal of the Royal Geographical Society. My thoughts on the topic are explained in detail in the London Geographical Journal, Vol. VII., Part 2., page 282., along with a map showing the proposed exploration route.
In making preparations for this expedition, the means of conveyance by land and water required the earliest consideration. These were strong bullock-drays and portable boats. Horses and light carts had been preferred by me: but the longer column of march, and necessity for a greater number of men, were considered objections; while many experienced persons suggested that the bullocks, though slow, were more enduring than horses. [* The results of this journey proved quite the reverse.] Eight drays were therefore ordered to be made of the best seasoned wood: four of these by the best maker in the colony, and four by the prisoners in Cockatoo Island. Two iron boats were made by Mr. Struth, each in two parts, on a plan of my own, and on the 17th of November the whole party moved off from Paramatta on their way to the proposed camp at Buree.
In getting ready for this expedition, we had to consider the best ways to travel on land and water right from the start. We chose sturdy bullock drays and portable boats. I preferred horses and light carts, but the longer march and the need for more men were seen as drawbacks. Plus, many experienced individuals suggested that while bullocks are slower, they can endure more than horses. [* The results of this journey proved quite the reverse.] So, we ordered eight drays to be built from the best seasoned wood: four by the top maker in the colony and four by prisoners on Cockatoo Island. Mr. Struth made two iron boats, each in two parts, based on my design, and on November 17th, the entire group set off from Paramatta to head to the planned camp at Buree.
I joined the party encamped at Buree on the 13th of December, having rode there from Sydney in four and a half days, and on the following Monday, 15th of December, 1845, I put it in motion towards the interior. The Exploring party now consisted of the following persons:—
I joined the group camped at Buree on December 13th, having ridden there from Sydney in four and a half days. On the next Monday, December 15th, 1845, I set it in motion towards the interior. The exploring group now included the following people:—
SIR T. L. MITCHELL, Kt., Surveyor General, Chief of the Expedition. EDMUND B. KENNEDY, Esq. Assistant Surveyor, Second in command. W. STEPHENSON, M.R.C.S.L. Surgeon and Collector of objects of Natural History. PETER M'AVOY, Mounted Videttes. Charles Niblett, William Graham, ANTHONY BROWN, Tent-keeper. WILLIAM BALDOCK, In charge of the horses. John Waugh Drysdale, Store-keeper. Allan Bond, Bullock-drivers. Edward Taylor, William Bond, William Mortimer, George Allcot, John Slater, Richard Horton, Felix Maguire, James Stephens, Carpenters. Job Stanley, Edward Wilson, Blacksmith. George Fowkes, Shoemaker. John Douglas, Barometer carrier. Isaac Reid, Sailor and Chainman. Andrew Higgs, Chainman. William Hunter, With the horses. Thomas Smith, Patrick Travers, Carter and Pioneer. Douglas Arnott, Shepherd and Butcher. Arthur Bristol, Sailmaker and Sailor. 8 drays, drawn by 80 bullocks; 2 boats; 13 horses; 4 private do.; and 3 light carts, comprised the means of conveyance; and the party was provided with provisions for a year:—250 sheep (to travel with the party), constituting the chief part of the animal food. The rest consisted of gelatine, and a small quantity of pork.
SIR T. L. MITCHELL, Kt., Surveyor General, Head of the Expedition. EDMUND B. KENNEDY, Esq. Assistant Surveyor, Second in command. W. STEPHENSON, M.R.C.S.L. Surgeon and Collector of Natural History specimens. PETER M'AVOY, Mounted Videttes. Charles Niblett, William Graham, ANTHONY BROWN, Tent-keeper. WILLIAM BALDOCK, In charge of the horses. John Waugh Drysdale, Storekeeper. Allan Bond, Bullock drivers. Edward Taylor, William Bond, William Mortimer, George Allcot, John Slater, Richard Horton, Felix Maguire, James Stephens, Carpenters. Job Stanley, Edward Wilson, Blacksmith. George Fowkes, Shoemaker. John Douglas, Barometer carrier. Isaac Reid, Sailor and Chainman. Andrew Higgs, Chainman. William Hunter, With the horses. Thomas Smith, Patrick Travers, Carter and Pioneer. Douglas Arnott, Shepherd and Butcher. Arthur Bristol, Sailmaker and Sailor. 8 drays, pulled by 80 bullocks; 2 boats; 13 horses; 4 private ones; and 3 light carts made up the transportation means; and the group was stocked with food for a year: 250 sheep (to travel with the group), which made up the bulk of the animal food. The remainder included gelatin and a small amount of pork.
With the exception of a few whose names are printed in italics, the party consisted of prisoners of the Crown in different stages of probation, with whom the prospect of additional liberty was an incentive so powerful, that no money payment was asked by them or expected, while, from experience, I knew that for such an enterprise as this I could rely on their zealous services. The patience and resolution of such men in the face of difficulties, I had already witnessed; and I had hired three of the old hands, in order the more readily to introduce my accustomed camp arrangements. Volunteers of all classes had certainly come eagerly forward, offering their gratuitous services on this expedition of discovery; but discipline and implicit obedience were necessary in such a party to ensure the objects in view, as well as its own preservation; and it was not judged expedient, where some prisoners were indispensable as mechanics, to mix with them men of a different class, over whom the same kind of authority could not be exercised.
Apart from a few people whose names are in italics, the group was made up of prisoners of the Crown at various stages of probation. The chance for more freedom was such a strong motivator that they didn’t ask for or expect any payment. From experience, I knew I could count on their enthusiastic help for this kind of project. I had already seen their patience and determination when facing challenges, and I had hired three of the seasoned workers to help me set up my usual camp arrangements more easily. Volunteers from all kinds of backgrounds eagerly stepped up to offer their help for this exploration mission, but discipline and complete obedience were crucial for the group to achieve its goals and ensure everyone's safety. It wasn't considered wise to mix prisoners, who were essential for their skills, with men from different backgrounds, as the same level of authority couldn't be enforced over them.
Following the same road by which I quitted Buree, in 1835, my former line of route across Hervey's Range lay to the left. The party thus arrived at Bramadura, a sheep station occupied by Mr. Boyd. It was on the same chain of ponds crossed by me on the journey of 1835, and then named Dochendoras Creek, but now known as the Mundadgery chain of ponds. These ponds had been filled by heavy rains which fell on Tuesday the 9th December—the day on which I left Sydney, where the weather had been clear and sultry. A tornado or hurricane had, on the same day, levelled part of the forest near this place, laying prostrate the largest trees, one side of which was completely barked by the hailstones. Many branches of trees along the line of route, showed that the wind had been very violent to a considerable distance.
Following the same road I took when I left Buree in 1835, my previous route across Hervey's Range veered to the left. The group then reached Bramadura, a sheep station run by Mr. Boyd. It was located along the same chain of ponds I crossed during my journey in 1835, which I had called Dochendoras Creek, but is now known as the Mundadgery chain of ponds. These ponds had filled up with heavy rain that fell on Tuesday, December 9th—the day I left Sydney, where the weather had been clear and hot. On that same day, a tornado or hurricane flattened part of the forest nearby, uprooting the largest trees, one side of which was completely stripped of bark by hailstones. Many tree branches along the route indicated that the wind had been extremely strong over a significant distance.
16TH DECEMBER.—Some of the bullocks missing: the party could not, therefore, quit the camp until 11 o'clock. The passage of the bed of the chain of ponds (which we travelled up) was frequently necessary, and difficult for heavily laden drays, which I found ours were, owing, chiefly to a superabundance of flour, above the quantity I intended to have taken, but supplied to my party, and brought forty miles by my drays before my arrival at the camp.
16TH DECEMBER.—Some of the oxen were missing, so the group couldn’t leave camp until 11 o’clock. We often had to cross the dry bed of the chain of ponds we traveled along, which was tough for the heavily loaded carts. I realized ours were overloaded because we had way more flour than I planned on taking, which was supplied to my team and hauled forty miles by my carts before I got to camp.
We halted at another sheep station of Mr. Boyd's. Here I perceived that Horehound grew abundantly; and I was assured by Mr. Parkinson, a gentleman in charge of these stations, that this plant springs up at all sheep and cattle stations throughout the colony, a remarkable fact, which may assist to explain another, namely, the appearance of the Couchgrass, or Dog's-tooth-grass, wherever the white man sets his foot, although previously unknown in these regions.
We stopped at another sheep station owned by Mr. Boyd. Here, I noticed that Horehound was growing abundantly, and Mr. Parkinson, the gentleman in charge of these stations, assured me that this plant appears at all sheep and cattle stations throughout the area. This is a remarkable fact that might help explain another—namely, the presence of Couchgrass, or Dog's-tooth-grass, wherever white settlers go, even though it was previously unknown in these regions.
17TH DECEMBER.—Set off about 7 a.m. and travelled along a good road, for about 6 miles. Then, at a sheep station, we crossed the chain of ponds, following a road leading to Dr. Ramsay's head station, called Balderudgery. Leaving that road, and, at 7 miles, taking to the left, we finally encamped on Spring Creek, after a journey of about 9 miles. We had passed over what I should have called a poor sort of country, but everywhere it was taken up for sheep; and these looked fat; yet not a blade of grass could be seen; and, but for the late timely supply of rain, it had been in contemplation to withdraw these flocks to the Macquarie.
17TH DECEMBER.—We left around 7 a.m. and traveled about 6 miles on a decent road. Then, at a sheep station, we crossed a series of ponds, following a road that led to Dr. Ramsay's main station, called Balderudgery. After leaving that road and taking a left at 7 miles, we finally set up camp on Spring Creek after a journey of about 9 miles. We passed through what I would describe as a pretty poor area, but every bit of it was used for sheep; they appeared to be well-fed, yet there wasn't a single blade of grass in sight. If it hadn't been for the recent much-needed rain, we would have been considering moving these flocks to the Macquarie.
Calling at a shepherd's hut to ask the way, an Irish woman appeared with a child at her breast and another by her side: she was hut-keeper. She had been there two years, and only complained that they had never been able to get any potatoes to plant. She and her husband were about to leave the place next day, and they seemed uncertain as to where they should go. Two miles further on, a shoemaker came to the door of a hut, and accompanied me to set me on the right road. I inquired how he found work in these wild parts. He said, he could get plenty of work, but very little money; that it was chiefly contract work he lived by: he supplied sheep-owners with shoes for their men, at so much per pair. His conversation was about the difficulty a poor man had in providing for his family. He had once possessed about forty cows, which he had been obliged to entrust to the care of another man, at 5S. per head. This man neglected them: they were impounded and sold as unlicensed cattle under the new regulations.
Stopping at a shepherd's hut to ask for directions, an Irish woman appeared with a baby at her breast and another child by her side; she was the hut-keeper. She had lived there for two years and only complained that they had never been able to get any potatoes to plant. She and her husband were planning to leave the place the next day, and they seemed unsure about where to go. Two miles further on, a shoemaker came to the door of a hut and offered to show me the right road. I asked him how he found work in these remote areas. He said he could find plenty of work, but not much money; he mainly relied on contract work: he supplied sheep-owners with shoes for their workers, charging a rate per pair. His conversation focused on the challenges a poor man faces in providing for his family. He had once owned around forty cows, which he had to leave in the care of another man for a fee of 5 shillings per head. Unfortunately, this man neglected them, and they were impounded and sold as unlicensed cattle under the new regulations.
"So you saw no more of them?"
"So you didn’t see them anymore?"
"Oh, yes, your honour, I saw some of them after they had been sold at the pound!—I wanted to have had something provided for a small family of children, and if I had only had a few acres of ground, I could have kept my cows."
"Oh, yes, Your Honor, I saw some of them after they had been sold at the pound! I wanted to have something for a small family of kids, and if I had just a few acres of land, I could have kept my cows."
This was merely a passing remark made with a laugh as we walked along, for he was one of the race—
This was just a casual comment made with a laugh as we walked along, because he was one of us—
"Who march to death with military glee."
"Who march to their deaths with military excitement."
But the fate of a poor man's family was a serious subject: such was the hopeless condition of a useful mechanic ready for work even in the desolate forests skirting the haunts of the savage. So fares it with the disjecta membra of towns and villages, when such arrangements are left to the people themselves in a new colony.
But the fate of a poor man's family was a serious matter: such was the hopeless situation of a skilled worker ready to work even in the desolate forests near the homes of the wild. This is how it goes for the scattered remnants of towns and villages when people are left to manage things on their own in a new colony.
18TH DECEMBER.—The party moved off about 7 a.m., and continued along a tolerable road, crossing what shepherds called Seven Mile Creek, in which there was some water; and a little further on we quitted the good beaten road leading to Balderudgery, and followed one to the left, which brought us to another sheep station on the same chain of ponds, three miles higher up than Balderudgery. Having directed the party to encamp here, I pursued the road south-westward along the chain of ponds, anxious to ascertain whether I could in that direction pass easily to the westward of Hervey's Range, and so fall into my former line of route to the Bogan. At about five miles I found an excellent opening through which the road passed on ground almost level. Having ascended a small eminence on the right, I fell in with some natives with spears, who seemed to recognise me, by pointing to my old line of route, and saying, "Majy Majy" (Major Mitchell). I little thought then that this was already an outlying picquet of the Bogan Blacks, sent forward to observe my party. The day was hot, therm. 97° in the shade. The chain of ponds, there called "the Little River," contained water in abundance, and was said to flow into the Macquarie, in which case the Bogan can have but few sources in Hervey's Range.
18TH DECEMBER.—The group set off around 7 a.m. and continued along a decent road, crossing what the shepherds referred to as Seven Mile Creek, which had some water. A little further on, we left the well-trodden path to Balderudgery and took a left turn that led us to another sheep station situated three miles upstream along the same chain of ponds. After directing the group to set up camp here, I followed the road southwest along the chain of ponds, eager to see if I could easily get west of Hervey's Range and rejoin my previous route to the Bogan. After about five miles, I discovered a great opening where the road traversed nearly level ground. When I climbed a small rise on the right, I encountered some natives with spears who seemed to recognize me—they pointed to my old route and said, "Majy Majy" (Major Mitchell). Little did I realize then that this was already an outlying picket of the Bogan Blacks, sent ahead to watch my group. The day was hot, with the temperature reaching 97° in the shade. The series of ponds, called "the Little River," was filled with plenty of water and was said to flow into the Macquarie, which would mean that the Bogan has very few sources in Hervey's Range.
The station beside which we had encamped, comprised a stock yard, and had been formerly a cattle station belonging to Mr. Kite. It was now a sheep station of Dr. Ramsay's, and there was another sheep station a mile and a half from it, along the road I had examined. Thus the country suitable for either kind of stock is taken up by the gradual encroachment of sheep on cattle runs, not properly such. This easily takes place—as where sheep feed, cattle will not remain, and sheep will fatten where cattle would lose flesh. Fortunately, however, for the holders of the latter description of stock, there are limits to this kind of encroachment. The plains to the westward of these ranges afford the most nutritive pasturage in the world for cattle, and they are too flat and subject to inundations to be desirable for sheep. A zone of country of this description lies on the interior side of the ranges, as far as I have examined them. It is watered by the sources of the rivers Goulburn, Ovens, Murray, Murrumbidgee, Lachlan, Bogan, Macquarie, Castlereagh, Nammoy, Peel, Gwydir, and Darling; on which rivers the runs will always make cattle fat. There are two shrubs palpably salt, and, perhaps, there is something salsolaceous in the herbage also on which cattle thrive so well; and the open plains and muddy waterholes are their delight. Excessive drought, however, may occasionally reduce the owners of such stock to great extremities, and subject them to serious loss. The Acacia pendula, a tree whose habitat is limited and remarkable, is much relished by the cattle. It is found only in clay soils, on the borders of plains, which are occasionally so saturated with water as to be quite impassable; never on higher ground nor on any lower than that limited sort of locality, in the neighbourhood of rivers which at some seasons overflow. In such situations, even where grass seems very scarce, cattle get fat; and it is a practice of stockmen to cut down the Acacia pendula (or Myall trees, as they call them) for the cattle to feed on.
The station where we set up camp had a stockyard and was once a cattle ranch owned by Mr. Kite. It’s now a sheep station owned by Dr. Ramsay, and there’s another sheep station a mile and a half down the road I checked out. This gradual takeover of sheep is pushing into land that could be used for cattle. Sheep eat where cattle won’t stay, and they can gain weight where cattle would lose it. Luckily for the cattle owners, there are limits to this takeover. The plains to the west of these ranges are some of the best pastureland in the world for cattle, and they're too flat and prone to flooding to be good for sheep. There’s a stretch of land like this on the inland side of the ranges that I've looked at. It’s watered by the rivers Goulburn, Ovens, Murray, Murrumbidgee, Lachlan, Bogan, Macquarie, Castlereagh, Nammoy, Peel, Gwydir, and Darling, where cattle can always thrive. There are two types of shrubs that are clearly salty, and there might also be some salty herbs that help cattle do so well; they love the open plains and muddy waterholes. However, severe drought can sometimes put the cattle owners in tough situations and cause them significant losses. The Acacia pendula, a tree that has a unique and specific habitat, is a favorite among the cattle. It only grows in clay soils on the edges of plains that can get so wet they’re hard to cross; it doesn’t grow on higher ground or in any place lower than that specific area near rivers that flood during certain seasons. Even in places where grass is scarce, cattle can gain weight, and stockmen often cut down the Acacia pendula (or Myall trees, as they call them) for the cattle to eat.
At this sheep station where we had encamped, I met with an individual who had seen better days, and had lost his property amid the wreck of colonial bankruptcies—a tea-totaller, with Pope's Essay on Man for his consolation, in a bark hut. This "melancholy Jaques" lamented the state of depravity to which the colony was reduced, and assured me that there were shepherdesses in the bush! This startling fact should not be startling, but for the disproportion of sexes, and the squatting system which checks the spread of families. If pastoralisation were not one thing, and colonisation another, the occupation of tending sheep should be as fit and proper for women as for men. The pastoral life, so favourable to love and the enjoyment of nature, has ever been a favourite theme of the poet. Here it appears to be the antidote of all poetry and propriety, only because man's better half is wanting. Under this unfavourable aspect the white man first comes before the aboriginal native; were the intruders accompanied by women and children, they could not be half so unwelcome. One of the most striking differences between squatting and settling in Australia consists in this. Indeed if it were an object to uncivilise the human race, I know of no method more likely to effect it than to isolate a man from the gentler sex and children; remove afar off all courts of justice and means of redress of grievances, all churches and schools, all shops where he can make use of money, then place him in close contact with savages. "What better off am I than a black native?" was the exclamation of a shepherd to me just before I penned these remarks.
At the sheep station where we set up camp, I met a guy who had seen better days and lost everything due to the failures of colonial businesses—a teetotaler with Pope's Essay on Man for comfort, living in a bark hut. This “melancholy Jaques” mourned the decline of the colony and insisted that there were shepherdesses out in the bush! This surprising fact isn’t so surprising, though, considering the gender imbalance and the squatting system that limits family growth. If pastoral living and colonization were not so different, taking care of sheep would be just as suitable for women as it is for men. The pastoral lifestyle, which is so conducive to love and enjoying nature, has always been a popular theme for poets. Here, it seems to be the opposite of all poetry and decency, simply because the better half of humanity is missing. In this unfavorable light, the white man first appears before the Indigenous people; if these intruders had brought women and children, they would not be half as unwelcome. One of the most noticeable differences between squatting and settling in Australia is this. In fact, if the goal were to uncivilize people, I can’t think of a better way to do it than to isolate a man from women and children, move away all courts of justice and means to address grievances, get rid of all churches and schools, and eliminate shops where he can spend money, putting him in close contact with savages. “What better off am I than a black native?” was the cry of a shepherd to me just before I wrote this.
19TH DECEMBER.—The party moved along the road I had previously examined. On passing through to the western side, I recognised the trees, plants, and birds of the interior regions. Granitic hills appeared on each side, and the sweet-scented Callitris grew around, with many a curious shrub never seen to the eastward of these ranges. On descending, grassy valleys, with gullies containing little or no water, reminded me of former difficulties in the same vicinity, and it was not until we had travelled upwards of sixteen miles that I could encamp near water. This consisted of some very muddy holes of the Goobang Creek, on which I had formerly been pleasantly encamped with Mr. Cunningham. [* See Vol. I. of Three Expeditions, etc., page 171.] Two or three natives soon made their appearance, one of whom I immediately recognised to be my old friend Bultje, who had guided me from thence to the Bené Rocks, on my former journey along the Bogan. He brought an offering of honey. Ten years had elapsed since I formerly met the same native in the same valley, and time had made no alteration in his appearance. With the same readiness to forward my views that he formerly evinced, he informed me where the water was to be found; and how I should travel so as to fall in with my former route, by the least possible détour. Mount Laidley bore 23° E. of N.
19TH DECEMBER.—The group continued along the road I had checked out earlier. As we crossed to the west side, I recognized the trees, plants, and birds from the inland areas. Rocky hills appeared on both sides, and the sweet-smelling Callitris surrounded us, along with various interesting shrubs I hadn't seen east of these ranges. As we descended, grassy valleys with gullies that held little or no water reminded me of past challenges in the same area, and it wasn't until we had traveled over sixteen miles that I could set up camp near some water. This was just muddy puddles in Goobang Creek, where I had once camped happily with Mr. Cunningham. [* See Vol. I. of Three Expeditions, etc., page 171.] A couple of locals soon showed up, one of whom I instantly recognized as my old friend Bultje, who had guided me from there to the Bené Rocks on my previous journey along the Bogan. He brought a gift of honey. Ten years had passed since I last met this native in the same valley, and he looked exactly the same. With the same eagerness to help me as before, he informed me where to find water and how to travel to reconnect with my previous route with the least possible détour. Mount Laidley was located 23° E. of N.
20TH DECEMBER.—This day I gave the cattle a rest, as the grass seemed good, while I rode to look at my old line of marked trees. A cattle station (of Mr. Kite) was within a mile and a half of our camp, and at about three miles below it, I fell in with the former line. Where it crossed the Goobang, a track still continued by them, but finally diverged, leaving the line of marked trees, without the slightest trace of the wheels or hoofs that had formerly passed by it. Reaching a hill laid down on my former survey, and from which I recognised Mount Laidley, I returned directly to the camp. We had encamped near those very springs mentioned as seen on my former journey, but instead of being limpid and surrounded by verdant grass, as they had been then, they were now trodden by cattle into muddy holes, where the poor natives had been endeavouring to protect a small portion from the cattle's feet, and keep it pure, by laying over it trees they had cut down for the purpose. The change produced in the aspect of this formerly happy secluded valley, by the intrusion of cattle and the white man, was by no means favourable, and I could easily conceive how I, had I been an aboriginal native, should have felt and regretted that change. The springs which issue from the level plains of clay, while the bed of the water-course some twenty feet lower continues dry and dusty, are numerous. One had a strong taste of sulphur, and might probably be as salubrious as other springs more celebrated. They show that, in this country at least, the water-courses are not supplied by springs, but depend wholly on heavy torrents of rain descending from the mountains. Some holes in the bed of the Goobang Creek did however retain some water which had fallen during the last rain. The thermometer stood at 107° in the tent.
20TH DECEMBER.—Today I gave the cattle a break since the grass looked good, while I rode out to check on my old line of marked trees. A cattle station owned by Mr. Kite was about a mile and a half from our camp, and about three miles downstream, I encountered the original line. Where it crossed the Goobang, there was still a track that they used, but it eventually veered off, leaving the line of marked trees without any signs of wheels or hooves that had once gone by. I reached a hill noted in my previous survey, from which I recognized Mount Laidley, and headed straight back to camp. We had set up near those same springs I had seen on my last trip, but instead of being clear and surrounded by lush grass as they had been then, they were now trampled by cattle into muddy depressions, where the poor locals had tried to protect a small area from the cattle by laying down cut trees over it. The transformation of this once peaceful valley, due to the presence of cattle and the intrusion of white settlers, was definitely not positive, and I could easily imagine how I would have felt as an Indigenous person, mourning that change. The springs that emerge from the flat clay plains, while the riverbed about twenty feet lower remains dry and dusty, are numerous. One had a strong sulfur taste and might be as healthy as other more famous springs. They indicate that, at least in this area, watercourses aren't supplied by springs but rely entirely on heavy rain pouring down from the mountains. Some holes in the bed of the Goobang Creek did retain some water from the last rain. The thermometer hit 107° in the tent.
21ST DECEMBER.—Guided by my old friend Bultje, we pursued a straight line of route through the forest to Currandong, which was half way to the Bogan. We passed over a very open, gently undulating country, just heading a gully called Brotherba—showing how well our guide knew the country—and we reached Currandong at 2 o'clock. Here also were two flocks belonging to Dr. Ramsay; Balderudgery, the head station, being fifteen miles distant, by a mountain road through a gap. While travelling this day, Corporal Graham overtook me with letters from Buree, and a cart had also been sent after us by Mr. Barton with a small supply of corn. That country is considered excellent as a fattening run for sheep; the shepherd told me they there find a salt plant, which keeps them in excellent condition and heart for feeding. The scarcity of water at some seasons occasions a conversion here of cattle runs into sheep runs, and VICE VERSÂ, a contingency which seems to render these lands of Hervey's range of temporary and uncertain value.
21ST DECEMBER.—Guided by my old friend Bultje, we took a direct route through the forest to Currandong, which was halfway to the Bogan. We went across a very open, gently rolling area, just skirting a gully called Brotherba—showing how well our guide knew the land—and we arrived at Currandong at 2 o'clock. There were also two flocks belonging to Dr. Ramsay; Balderudgery, the main station, was fifteen miles away, via a mountain road through a gap. While traveling this day, Corporal Graham caught up with me bringing letters from Buree, and a cart had also been sent after us by Mr. Barton with a small supply of corn. That area is considered excellent for fattening sheep; the shepherd told me they find a salt plant there that keeps them in great condition for feeding. The lack of water during some seasons leads to a switch from cattle runs to sheep runs, and VICE VERSÂ, a situation that seems to make these lands in Hervey's range temporarily and uncertainly valuable.
22D DECEMBER.—Guided by Bultje we continued to follow down the little chain of ponds which, as he said, led to the Bogan. The road was good—the Currandong ponds running in a general direction about N. N. W. It was the first of the sources of the Bogan we had reached. Crossing at length to its left bank, near an old lambing station of Dr. Ramsay's, we further on came to a large plain with the Yarra trees of the Bogan upon its western skirts. Some large lagoons on the eastern side of the plains had been filled by the late rains, and cattle lay beside them. We at length arrived in sight of a cattle station of Mr. Templar's, called Ganànaguy, and encamped on the margin of a plain opposite to it. The cattle here looked very fat, and although the herd comprised about 2000 head, there was abundance of grass. The Bogan thus first appeared on our left hand, and must have its sources in the comparatively low hills, about the country crossed by my former line of route, rather than in Hervey's or Croker's ranges, as formerly supposed. The water in the ponds of the Bogan seemed low.
22D DECEMBER.—With Bultje guiding us, we continued to follow the little chain of ponds that, according to him, led to the Bogan. The road was good—the Currandong ponds going generally in a northwest direction. This was the first of the Bogan's sources we reached. After crossing to the left bank near an old lambing station owned by Dr. Ramsay, we came upon a large plain with the Yarra trees of the Bogan along its western edge. Some large lagoons on the eastern side of the plains had been filled by recent rains, and cattle were lying beside them. Eventually, we spotted a cattle station owned by Mr. Templar, called Ganànaguy, and set up camp on the edge of a plain opposite it. The cattle looked very healthy here, and although the herd numbered about 2000, there was plenty of grass. The Bogan first appeared on our left and likely has its sources in the relatively low hills crossed by my previous route, rather than in Hervey's or Croker's ranges, as was previously thought. The water in the Bogan's ponds seemed low.
This fine grazing country had been abandoned more than once from the failure of the water, and yet these ponds seemed capable of holding an almost inexhaustible supply. A single dam would have retained the water for miles, the Bogan always flowing through clay in a bed of uniform width and depth like a canal. No doubt a little art and labour would be sufficient to render the land permanently habitable: but on an uncertain tenure this remedy was not likely to be applied, and therefore the sovereignty of art's dominion remained unasserted there. The incursions of the savage, who is learning to "bide his time" on the Darling, are greatly encouraged by the hardships of the colonists when water is scarce; and I was shown where no less than 800 head of fat bullocks had been run together by them when water was too abundant. Then horses cannot travel, and cattle stick fast in the soft earth and are thus at the mercy of the natives. The stone ovens, such as they prepare for cooking kangaroos, had been used for the consumption of about twenty head of cattle a day, by the wild tribes who had assembled from the Darling and lower Bogan on that occasion. Thermometer in tent 109° at noon, wind W.N.W.
This great grazing land had been abandoned multiple times due to water shortages, yet these ponds appeared to hold an almost endless supply. A single dam could have kept the water for miles, as the Bogan always flowed through clay in a uniformly wide and deep bed, like a canal. With a bit of skill and effort, the land could easily be made permanently livable, but with an uncertain land claim, this solution was unlikely to be implemented, leaving the power of cultivation unclaimed there. The incursions of the Indigenous people, who are learning to “bide their time” along the Darling, are greatly fueled by the struggles of settlers when water is scarce; I was shown where at least 800 fat bullocks had been gathered by them when water was too plentiful. During such times, horses can’t travel, and cattle get stuck in the soft ground, making them vulnerable to the locals. The stone ovens, used for cooking kangaroos, had catered to about twenty head of cattle a day, by the wild tribes who gathered from the Darling and lower Bogan on that occasion. Thermometer in tent 109° at noon, wind W.N.W.
23D DECEMBER.—We crossed the Bogan (flowing eastward) at Mr. Templar's station at Ganànaguy, and the overseer most hospitably stood by the party as it passed with a bucket of milk, of which he gave a drink to each of the men. Bultje put us on the right road to the next nearest water-holes (Mr. Gilmore's station), and having rendered me the service he promised, I gave him the tomahawk, pipe, and two figs of tobacco promised him, and also took a sketch of his singularly Socratic face. This native got a bad name from various stockmen, as having been implicated in the murder of Mr. Cunningham. Nothing could be more unfounded; and it must indeed require in a man so situated the wisdom of a Socrates to maintain his footing, or indeed his life, between the ignorant stockmen or shepherds on one hand, and the savage tribes on the other. These latter savages naturally regard those who are half civilised, in the same light as we should look on deserters to the enemy, and are extremely hostile to them, while perhaps even his very usefulness to our party had most unjustly connected this native's name with the murder of one of our number. His laconic manner and want of language would not admit of any clear explanation of how much he had done to serve our race—and the difficulties he had to encounter with his own; while the circumstance of his having been met with at an interval of ten years in the same valley in a domesticated state, if it did not establish any claim to the soil, at least proved his strong attachment to it, and a settled disposition. Much tact must be necessary on his part to avoid those savages coming by stealth to carry off his gins; and to escape the wrath of white men, when aroused by the aggressions of wild tribes to get up a sort of foray to save or recover their own. How Bultje has survived through all this, without having nine lives like a cat, still to gather honey in his own valley, "surpasseth me to know."
23D DECEMBER.—We crossed the Bogan (flowing eastward) at Mr. Templar's station at Ganànaguy, and the overseer kindly stood by the group as we passed with a bucket of milk, giving each of the men a drink. Bultje guided us to the next closest waterholes (Mr. Gilmore's station), and after he fulfilled the promise he made to me, I gave him the tomahawk, pipe, and two figs of tobacco I had promised, and also sketched his uniquely Socratic face. This native earned a bad reputation from several stockmen for allegedly being involved in the murder of Mr. Cunningham. This accusation was completely unfounded; it must take the wisdom of a Socrates for a man in his position to navigate his survival between the ignorant stockmen or shepherds on one side and the savage tribes on the other. These savage tribes typically view those who are partially civilized like we would see deserters to the enemy, and they are extremely hostile towards them. Ironically, his usefulness to our group may have unjustly linked this native's name to the murder of one of our own. His brief way of speaking and limited language skills left no room for a clear explanation of how much he had done to help our kind—and the challenges he faced with his. The fact that he had been found in the same valley in a domesticated state after an interval of ten years, while not establishing any claim to the land, at least showed his strong attachment to it and a settled disposition. He must use a great deal of tact to avoid those savages sneaking in to take his women; and to escape the anger of white men, stirred up by the invasions of wild tribes, who might take action to protect or reclaim their own. How Bultje has managed to survive all of this, without having nine lives like a cat, while still enjoying his own valley, "surpasses me to know."
We encamped at two large water-holes of the Bogan near Mr. Gilmore's station, and the overseer sent to the men two buckets of milk. At the station a well had been made to the depth of eighty feet, but a flood had come, and risen so high as to wash in the sides and so fill up the well. The workmen had passed through yellow clay chiefly, and the clay was wet and soft when the further sinking was interrupted. Thermometer in my tent 109°, wind W. N. W.
We set up camp by two big water holes of the Bogan near Mr. Gilmore's station, and the overseer sent two buckets of milk to the men. At the station, they had dug a well down to eighty feet, but a flood came through and rose so high that it washed away the sides and filled up the well. The workers had mostly gone through yellow clay, which was wet and soft when they had to stop digging. The thermometer in my tent reads 109°, wind from the W.N.W.
24TH DECEMBER. A lurid haze hung among the trees as the earliest sunbeams shot down amongst them. The party were ready to move off early, but the progress was slow from various impediments. A hot wind blew like a blast furnace. A bullock dropt down dead at the yoke. We encamped on the Currandong, or Back Creek, near a small plain, after travelling about ten miles. Thermometer in tent, 103.° Hot wind from the west.
24TH DECEMBER. A bright haze hovered among the trees as the first sunlight broke through. The group was ready to leave early, but progress was slow due to a few obstacles. A hot wind blew fiercely, like a blast furnace. One of the oxen collapsed dead at the yoke. We set up camp on the Currandong, or Back Creek, near a small plain after traveling about ten miles. The thermometer in the tent read 103°F. Hot wind coming from the west.
25TH DECEMBER. Halted to rest the cattle. The wind blew this day more from the northward, and was cooler. Thermometer in tent, 107°.
25TH DECEMBER. We stopped to rest the cattle. The wind blew more from the north today and it was cooler. The thermometer in the tent read 107°.
26TH DECEMBER.—Proceeded to Graddle, a cattle station belonging to Mr. Coss, 2½ miles. Thermometer, 109°.
26TH DECEMBER.—Traveled to Graddle, a cattle station owned by Mr. Coss, 2½ miles. Temperature, 109°.
27TH DECEMBER.—The bullock-drivers having allowed twenty-two of the bullocks to stray, it was impossible to proceed.
27TH DECEMBER.—The bullock drivers let twenty-two of the bullocks wander off, so we couldn’t move forward.
At early morning the sky was overcast, the weather calm, a slight wind from the west carried off these clouds, and at about eleven a very hot wind set in. The thermometer in my tent stood at 117°, and when exposed to the wind rose rapidly to 129°, when I feared the thermometer would break as it only reached to 132°.
At dawn, the sky was cloudy, the weather was calm, and a light wind from the west started to clear away the clouds. By around eleven, a scorching wind picked up. The thermometer in my tent read 117°, and when exposed to the wind, it quickly climbed to 129°, making me worry that it might break since it only went up to 132°.
28TH DECEMBER.—All the cattle having been recovered, we set off early, accompanied by a stockman from Graddle, Mr. Coss's station. The day was excessively warm, a hot wind blowing from the west. We finally encamped on the Bogan, at a very muddy water-hole, after travelling eleven miles. Thermometer in tent, 115°. At half past five, the sky became overcast, and the hot wind increased to a violent gust, and suddenly fell. I found that tartaric acid would precipitate the mud, leaving a jug of the water tolerably clear, but then the acid remained. Towards evening the sky was overcast, and a few drops of rain fell. The night was uncommonly hot. At ten the thermometer stood at 102°, and at day-break at 90°.
28TH DECEMBER.—After getting all the cattle back, we left early, with a stockman from Graddle, Mr. Coss's station, joining us. It was extremely hot, with a hot wind coming from the west. We eventually set up camp on the Bogan, at a really muddy waterhole, after traveling eleven miles. The thermometer in the tent read 115°. At 5:30, the sky became cloudy, the hot wind picked up to a strong gust, and then suddenly died down. I discovered that tartaric acid could clear the mud, leaving the water in a jug somewhat clear, but the acid remained in it. By evening, the sky was overcast, and a few drops of rain fell. The night was unusually hot. At ten, the thermometer showed 102°, and at daybreak, it was at 90°.
29TH DECEMBER.—The remaining water was so muddy that the cattle would no longer drink it. The sky was overcast, with the wind from south. Finding a cart road near our camp, I lost no time in conducting the lighter portion of our equipment to Mr. Kerr's station at Derribong. In the hollows I saw, for the first time on this journey, the Polygonum junceum, reminding me of the river Darling, and on the plains a Solanum in flower, of which I had only seen the apple formerly. At length, greener grass indicated that the late rains had fallen more heavily there, and at about twelve miles I reached the station situated on a rather clear and elevated part of the right bank of the Bogan. Here the stock of water had been augmented by a small dam, and a channel cut from a hollow part of the clay surface conducted any rain water into the principal pool, where the water was very good. We had now arrived at the lowest station on the Bogan. The line of demarcation between the squatter and the savage had been once much lower down, at Mudà, and even at Nyingan (see infra), but the incursions of the blacks had rendered these lower stations untenable, without more support than the Colonial government was able to afford. There, at least, the squatter is not only not the real discoverer of the country, but not even the occupier of what had been discovered. The map will illustrate how it happens that the colonists cannot keep their ground here from the marauding disposition of the savage tribes. [* See map of Eastern Australia—infra.] The Darling is peopled more permanently by these natives, than perhaps any other part of Australia: affording as it does a more certain supply of food. It is only in seasons of very high flood that this food, the fish, cannot be got at, and that they are obliged to resort to the higher country at such seasons, between the Darling, the Lachlan, and the Bogan. It also happens that the cattle of the squatter are most accessible from the soft state of the ground; the stockmen cannot even ride to protect them. The tribes from the Lachlan and Macquarie meet on these higher lands, and when tribes assemble they are generally ready for any mischief. The Bogan is particularly within their reach, and when wet seasons do occur the cattle of squatters must be very much at the mercy of the savages. The tribes from the Darling are extremely hostile, even to the more peaceably disposed hilltribes near the colony, and several stations have already been abandoned in consequence of the outrages of the aborigines from the Darling and Lachlan. Nothing is so likely to increase these evils as the precarious or temporary occupation of such a country. The supply of water must continue uncertain so long as there is no inducement from actual possession to form dams, and by means of art to secure the full benefit of the natural supply. Hence it is that half a million of acres, covered with the finest grass, have been abandoned, and even savages smile at the want of generalship by which they have been allowed to burn the white man's dairy station and stockyards on the banks of the Bogan. The establishment of a police station near the junction of the Bogan with the Darling, or the formation of an inland township about Fort Bourke, had been sufficient to have secured the stations along the Bogan and Macquarie, and to have protected the Bogan natives as well as our own countrymen from frequent robbery, murder, and insult. Such are the results where squatting has been permitted to supersede settling. With possession, deficiency of water in dry seasons had been remedied, and no such debateable land had remained on the borders of a British colony.
29TH DECEMBER.—The remaining water was so muddy that the cattle refused to drink it. The sky was overcast, with the wind coming from the south. Finding a cart road near our camp, I quickly took the lighter part of our equipment to Mr. Kerr's station at Derribong. In the hollows, I spotted the Polygonum junceum for the first time on this journey, reminding me of the River Darling, and on the plains, I saw a flowering Solanum, of which I had only previously seen the apple. Finally, greener grass indicated that the recent rains had fallen heavier there, and after about twelve miles, I arrived at the station located on a relatively clear and elevated part of the right bank of the Bogan. Here, the water supply had been improved by a small dam, and a channel cut from a low part of the clay surface directed any rainwater into the main pool, where the water was very good. We had now reached the lowest station on the Bogan. The boundary between the squatters and the indigenous people used to be much lower down, at Mudà, and even at Nyingan (see infra), but the incursions of the Aboriginal people had made these lower stations uninhabitable without more support than the Colonial government could provide. There, at least, the squatter is not only not the true discoverer of the land, but also not even the occupant of what had been discovered. The map will show how it is that the colonists cannot maintain their presence here due to the raiding behavior of the indigenous tribes. [* See map of Eastern Australia—infra.] The Darling is more permanently inhabited by these natives than perhaps any other part of Australia, as it offers a more reliable food supply. Only during very high floods is this food, mainly fish, unavailable, forcing them to move to higher country between the Darling, the Lachlan, and the Bogan during those times. Additionally, the squatter's cattle are particularly vulnerable due to the muddy ground; the stockmen can't even ride to protect them. The tribes from the Lachlan and Macquarie gather in these higher areas, and whenever tribes unite, they are typically inclined to cause trouble. The Bogan is especially within their reach, and during wet seasons, the squatter's cattle are at the mercy of the indigenous people. The tribes from the Darling are very hostile, even to the more peaceful hill tribes near the colony, and several stations have already been abandoned due to attacks from the Aboriginal people from the Darling and Lachlan. Nothing is more likely to escalate these issues than the temporary occupation of such land. The availability of water will remain uncertain as long as there is no motivation to create dams and make use of technology to fully benefit from the natural supply. This is why half a million acres, covered with the finest grass, have been abandoned, and even the indigenous people mock the lack of strategy that has allowed them to burn down the white man's dairy station and stockyards on the banks of the Bogan. Establishing a police station near the junction of the Bogan with the Darling, or creating an inland town around Fort Bourke, would have been enough to secure the stations along the Bogan and Macquarie, and to protect both the Bogan natives and our own settlers from frequent theft, murder, and insults. Such are the outcomes when squatting takes precedence over proper settlement. With ownership, the lack of water during dry seasons would have been addressed, and no disputed land would have remained on the borders of a British colony.
The part of the Bogan where least water can be found, has always been that between our present camp and Mudà, a very large lagoon about 50 miles lower down. I found by the barometer that there is a fall of 206 feet in that distance of 50 miles; whereas the fall in the bed of the Bogan is only 50 feet between Mudà and New Year's Range, in a distance of upwards of 100 miles. The general course of the Bogan changes at Mudà from N.W. to north, the former being nearly in the direction of the general declination of the country, the latter rather across it, of which the overflowings of the parallel river Macquarie into Duck Creek, and other channels to the westward, seemed to afford sufficient proofs. Where the declination is least, the water is most likely to remain in ponds in the channel of the river after floods, the water of which can neither flow with so much velocity, nor bear down any of the obstructions by which ponds are formed. Mr. Dixon found the velocity of the Bogan at this part, during a flood in 1833, to be four miles in an hour; which is about double the average rate of the larger rivers of Australia.
The area of the Bogan where water is hardest to find is always the stretch between our current camp and Mudà, a very large lagoon about 50 miles downstream. I discovered with the barometer that there's a drop of 206 feet over that 50-mile distance; meanwhile, the drop in the Bogan's bed is only 50 feet between Mudà and New Year's Range, over more than 100 miles. The general direction of the Bogan shifts at Mudà from northwest to north, with the first direction roughly aligning with the general slope of the land, while the latter goes more against it, which the overflowing of the parallel Macquarie River into Duck Creek and other channels to the west seems to confirm. Where the slope is gentlest, the water is more likely to stay in pools in the river channel after floods, since the water can't flow as fast or push away the obstructions that create ponds. Mr. Dixon found that the speed of the Bogan in this area during a flood in 1833 was four miles per hour, which is about twice the average rate of Australia's larger rivers.
I had an order from Mr. Kerr, the proprietor of this station of Derribong, to his superintendant, for such fat cattle as I might require to take with me as live stock. Finding that the sheep answered very well, having lost none, and that they rather improved in travelling, whereas the working oxen had been much jaded and impoverished by the long journey, heavy loads, and warm weather; I determined to take as many young bullocks as might suffice to relieve and assist the others, and break them in as we proceeded.
I received an order from Mr. Kerr, the owner of the Derribong station, to his superintendent, for as many fat cattle as I would need to take with me as livestock. Since the sheep were doing well, having lost none, and seemed to improve while traveling, while the working oxen were worn out and weakened by the long journey, heavy loads, and warm weather, I decided to take as many young bullocks as I could to help and support the others, breaking them in as we went.
30TH DECEMBER.—The wind changed to S.E., and brought a cool morning. Thermometer, 68°. This day we selected from the herds of Mr. Kerr 32 young bullocks, and they were immediately yoked up in the stockyard.
30TH DECEMBER.—The wind shifted to the southeast, bringing a cool morning. The temperature was 68°. Today, we chose 32 young bullocks from Mr. Kerr's herds, and they were quickly yoked up in the stockyard.
Received letters from Sydney, by Corporal Graham.
Received letters from Sydney, delivered by Corporal Graham.
31ST DECEMBER, 1845.—Thermometer at 5 a.m., 62°: at noon, 109°. Wind S.E. At noon a whirlwind passed over the camp, fortunately avoiding the tents in its course; but it carried a heavy tarpaulin into the air, also some of the men's hats, and broke a half-hour sand-glass, much wanted for the men on watch at night. The sky overcast from the west in the evening.
31ST DECEMBER, 1845.—The thermometer read 62° at 5 a.m. and 109° at noon. The wind was coming from the southeast. At noon, a whirlwind swept through the camp but luckily missed the tents; however, it did lift a heavy tarpaulin into the air, along with some of the men's hats, and broke a half-hour sand timer that was much needed for the men on night watch. The sky became cloudy from the west in the evening.
1ST JANUARY, 1846.—A strong wind from N.E. blew during the day, and was very high at 11 a.m. The party were chiefly employed breaking in the young bullocks. At noon, nimbus, and some rain, tantalised us with the hope of a change; but the sky drew up into clouds of cumulus by the evening. The vegetation of the Bogan now recalled former labours: the Atriplex semibaccata of Brown was a common straggling plant.
1ST JANUARY, 1846.—A strong wind from the northeast blew throughout the day, reaching a high point at 11 a.m. The team mainly focused on training the young bulls. At noon, nimbus clouds and some rain teased us with the possibility of change; however, the sky turned to cumulus clouds by evening. The plants around the Bogan reminded us of past efforts: the Atriplex semibaccata noted by Brown was a common, spreading plant.
2D JANUARY.—The young cattle still occasioned delay. The morning was cloudy and promised rain; but a N.W. wind broke through the clouds, which resolved themselves into cirrostratus, and we had heat again. Besides the Salsola australis, we found a Halgania with lilac flowers, probably distinct from the species hitherto described, which are natives of the south-west coast.
2D JANUARY.—The young cattle still caused delays. The morning was cloudy and looked like it might rain; but a north-west wind pushed through the clouds, which turned into cirrostratus, and we felt heat again. In addition to the Salsola australis, we discovered a Halgania with lilac flowers, likely different from the species that have been previously described, which are native to the south-west coast.
3D JANUARY.—This morning the young cattle were yoked up with the old; and, after considerable delay, the party proceeded to some ponds in the Bogan about five miles lower down. We were now nearly opposite to the scene of Mr. Cunningham's disasters: I had recognised, amongst the first hills I saw when on the Goobang Creek, the hill which I had named Mount Juson, at his request, after the maiden name of his mother. The little pyramid of bushes was no longer there, but the name of Cunningham was so identified with the botanical history of almost all the shrubs in the very peculiar scenery of that part of the country, that no other monument seemed necessary. Other recollections recalled Cunningham to my mind; his barbarous murder, and the uncertainty which still hung over the actual circumstances attending it. The shrubs told indeed of Cunningham; of both brothers, both now dead; but neither the shrubs named by the one, nor the gloomy CASUARINOE trees that had witnessed the bloody deed, could tell more. There the Acacia pendula, first discovered and described by Allan, could only
3D JANUARY.—This morning, the young cattle were paired with the old ones, and after some delays, the group moved on to some ponds in the Bogan about five miles downstream. We were now almost directly across from where Mr. Cunningham had met his misfortunes: I recognized, among the first hills I saw when I was on the Goobang Creek, the hill I had named Mount Juson at his request, after his mother’s maiden name. The small mound of bushes was gone, but Cunningham's name was so tied to the botanical history of nearly all the plants in that unique landscape that no other memorial seemed needed. Other memories brought Cunningham to mind; his brutal murder and the lingering uncertainty about the actual events surrounding it. The plants certainly reminded me of Cunningham; of both brothers, both now deceased; but neither the plants named by one nor the grim CASUARINOE trees that had witnessed the violent act could say more. There, the Acacia pendula, first discovered and described by Allan, could only
"Like a weeping mourner stooping stand,
For ever silent, and for ever sad."
"Like a grieving mourner bent over,
Always silent, and always sorrowful."
4TH JANUARY.—The early cooler part of the morning was taken up with the young cattle. It was now but too obvious that this means of conveyance was likely to retard the journey to an extent that no pecuniary saving would compensate, as compared with light carts and horses. I proceeded forward in search of a deserted stockyard, called Tabbaratong, where some water was said still to remain. We found some mud and water only; although some that was excellent was found about two miles lower down the Bogan, late in the evening.
4TH JANUARY.—The early cool part of the morning was spent with the young cattle. It was now clear that this way of transporting them was likely to slow down the journey to a degree that no financial savings would justify, compared to light carts and horses. I moved ahead in search of an abandoned stockyard called Tabbaratong, where some water was said to still be available. We only found some mud and water, although we did discover some excellent water about two miles further down the Bogan later in the evening.
We had crossed the neutral ground between the savage and the squatter. The advanced posts of an army are not better kept, and humiliating proofs that the white man had given way, were visible in the remains of dairies burnt down, stockyards in ruins, untrodden roads. We hoped to find within the territory of the native, ponds of clear water, unsoiled by cattle, and a surface on which we might track our own stray animals, without their being confused by the traces of others.
We had crossed the boundary between the wild and the settlers. The outposts of an army are not better maintained, and obvious signs of the white man's retreat were visible in the remains of burned dairies, destroyed stockyards, and deserted roads. We hoped to find within the native territory clear ponds of water, untouched by cattle, and a surface where we could track our lost animals without their footprints getting mixed up with others.
5TH JANUARY.—Three of the young cattle having escaped during the night, retarded us in the morning until 8 o'clock, at which hour they were brought into the camp, having been tracked by Yuranigh, a most useful native who had come with us from Buree. I proceeded with the light carts, guided by a very young native boy, not more than ten years old, who had come with the party from Kerr's station, and who, being a native of the lower Bogan, could tell us where water was likely to be found. Our route was rather circuitous, chiefly to avoid a thick scrub of Callitris and other trees, which, having been recently burnt, presented spikes so thickly set together, that any way round them seemed preferable to going through. We reached plains, and came upon an old track of the squatters. The grass in parts was green and rich. I could see no traces of my former route, but we arrived at length at an open spot which Dicky, the young native, said was "Cadduldury." Leaving Dr. Stephenson with the people driving the light carts there, I proceeded towards the bed of the Bogan, which was near, to see what water was there, and following the channel downwards, I met with none. Still I rode on, accompanied by Piper (also on horseback), and the dryness of the bed had forbidden further search, but that I remembered the large ponds we had formerly seen at Bugabadà and Mudà, which could not be far distant. But it was only after threading the windings of the Bogan, in a ride of at least twelve miles, that we arrived at the most eastern of the Bugabadà ponds. The water was however excellent, purer indeed than any we had seen for many days, and we hastened back to the party at Cadduldury, which place we only arrived at as darkness came on, so that Piper had nearly lost his way. The drays with Mr. Kennedy had not come up, and I sent William Baldock and Yuranigh back in haste to inform him that I was encamped without water, and that I wished him, if still en route, immediately to unyoke the cattle, encamp on a grassy spot, and have them watched in their yokes during the night, and to come forward at earliest dawn to the water-holes I had found near Bugabadà. We passed a miserable night without water at Cadduldury.
5TH JANUARY.—Three of the young cattle escaped during the night, which delayed us in the morning until 8 o'clock, at which time they were brought back to camp, tracked down by Yuranigh, a really helpful local who came with us from Buree. I moved ahead with the light carts, guided by a very young local boy, no more than ten years old, who had joined us from Kerr's station and, being from the lower Bogan, could point out where we might find water. Our route was a bit winding, mainly to avoid a thick area of Callitris and other trees that had been recently burned, leaving behind spikes so closely packed that it seemed better to go around than through. We reached some plains and found an old path used by the squatters. The grass in places was green and lush. I couldn’t see any signs of my previous route, but eventually, we arrived at a clearing that Dicky, the young local, said was "Cadduldury." I left Dr. Stephenson with the group driving the light carts there and went towards the Bogan riverbed, which was nearby, to check for water. As I followed the channel downstream, I found none. Still, I rode on with Piper (who was also on horseback), and since the riverbed was dry, we didn’t look further. However, I remembered the large ponds we had previously seen at Bugabadà and Mudà, which couldn’t be too far away. After navigating the twists of the Bogan for at least twelve miles, we finally reached the easternmost of the Bugabadà ponds. The water was excellent, indeed purer than any we had encountered in days, so we quickly returned to the group at Cadduldury, arriving just as darkness fell, which almost made Piper lose his way. The drays with Mr. Kennedy hadn’t yet caught up, so I sent William Baldock and Yuranigh back urgently to tell him that I was camped without water and that I wanted him, if still en route, to immediately unyoke the cattle, set up camp in a grassy area, and keep an eye on them in their yokes overnight, and to come to the water-holes I had found near Bugabadà at the earliest dawn. We spent a miserable night without water at Cadduldury.
6TH JANUARY.—William Baldock returned at daybreak, bringing a message from Mr. Kennedy, saying he should do as I had requested. I went forward with the light party, and reached the water-holes by 8 a.m.. The morning happened to be extremely hot, which, under the want of water and food the preceding evening, made Drysdale very ill, and John Douglas and Isaac Reid were scarcely able to walk when we arrived at the first water-hole. But how the jaded bullocks were to draw the heavy loads thus far in the extreme heat, was a subject of anxious thought to me. William Baldock again returned to Mr. Kennedy with two barrels of water on a horse, a horn full of tea, etc. On his way he met six of the drays, the drivers of which were almost frantic and unable to do their work from thirst. He brought me back intelligence that Mr. Kennedy still remained at his encampment, with the two remaining drays, whereof the drivers (Mortimer and Bond) had allowed their teams, with bows, yokes, and chains, to escape, although each driver had been expressly ordered to watch his own team during the night. This was a most serious misfortune to the whole party. The rest of the drays could not be brought as far as my camp, but I ordered the cattle to be released and driven forward to the water, which they reached by the evening, sufficient guards being left with the drays. The shepherd with the sheep could not get so far as the water, and the poor fellow had almost lost his senses, when Mr. Stephenson, who had hastened back with several bottles, relieved his thirst, and, as the man said, "saved his life."
6TH JANUARY.—William Baldock arrived at dawn with a message from Mr. Kennedy, saying he would do as I requested. I moved ahead with the light party and reached the water holes by 8 a.m. It happened to be extremely hot that morning, and since we had lacked water and food the previous evening, Drysdale became very ill. John Douglas and Isaac Reid could barely walk when we got to the first water hole. I was really worried about how the exhausted bullocks would pull the heavy loads in this intense heat. William Baldock went back to Mr. Kennedy with two barrels of water on a horse, along with a horn full of tea and other supplies. On his way, he encountered six of the drays, whose drivers were almost frantic and could hardly work because of thirst. He returned with news that Mr. Kennedy was still at his camp with the two remaining drays, where the drivers (Mortimer and Bond) had let their teams escape, even though each had been specifically ordered to keep an eye on their team overnight. This was a serious setback for the whole group. The rest of the drays couldn't make it to my camp, but I instructed that the cattle be let go and driven to the water, which they reached by evening, with enough guards left with the drays. The shepherd with the sheep couldn't get to the water either, and the poor guy was nearly out of his mind when Mr. Stephenson rushed back with several bottles and relieved his thirst, which the man said "saved his life."
Our position might indeed have been critical, had the natives been hostile, or as numerous as I had formerly seen them at that very part of the Bogan. Separated into three parties, and exhausted with thirst and heat, the men and the drays might have been easily assailed. No natives, however, molested us; and I subsequently found that the tribe, with which I was on very friendly terms there formerly, were still amicably disposed towards us.
Our situation could have been serious if the locals had been hostile or as numerous as I had seen them in that area of the Bogan before. Divided into three groups and worn out from thirst and heat, the men and the carts could have been easily attacked. However, no locals bothered us, and I later discovered that the tribe I had previously been friendly with was still on good terms with us.
7TH JANUARY.—Early this morning, M'Avoy brought in the spare bullocks, having been sent forward by Mr. Kennedy to travel on during the night. The shoemaker also brought in one of the lost teams and part of the other. I sent back, by Baldock, this morning, water for the men in charge of the drays, and some tea and bread for Mr. Kennedy. He would also have gone in search of the four bullocks still missing, but Mr. Kennedy sent him again to me to procure something to eat. The drays carrying the provisions had not come up, and my party too was short. The day surpassed in heat any I had ever seen: the thermometer at noon in the shade stood at 109°, a gentle hot wind blowing. The camp of Mr. Kennedy was distant at least 16 miles from mine near Bugabadà.
7TH JANUARY.—Early this morning, M'Avoy brought in the spare oxen, having been sent ahead by Mr. Kennedy to travel during the night. The shoemaker also returned with one of the lost teams and part of the other. I sent back, with Baldock, water for the men in charge of the carts, along with some tea and bread for Mr. Kennedy. He would have gone in search of the four missing oxen, but Mr. Kennedy sent him back to me to get something to eat. The carts carrying the supplies hadn’t arrived yet, and my group was short on provisions as well. The day was hotter than any I had ever experienced: the thermometer reached 109° in the shade at noon, with a mild hot wind blowing. Mr. Kennedy's camp was at least 16 miles away from mine near Bugabadà.
The six drays came in about 4 p.m.; the sheep not until long after dark. Bread, gelatine, and ten gallons of water were sent back to Mr. Kennedy, and a memorandum from me apprising him of my arrangement for drawing forward the two drays, which he had taken such good care of, and which was as follows: Two teams to leave my camp on the evening of next day, to be attached on their arrival to the two drays with which they were to come forward, travelling by moonlight during the rest of the night, until they should be met by two other fresh teams, destined to meet them early next morning. Also I informed Mr. Kennedy that it was not my intention to send after the four stray bullocks until the drays came in, and the party could be again united. Thermometer again 109° in the shade all day.
The six wagons arrived around 4 p.m.; the sheep didn’t show up until long after dark. Bread, gelatin, and ten gallons of water were sent back to Mr. Kennedy, along with a note from me updating him on my plan for bringing up the two wagons he had taken such good care of. The plan was as follows: Two teams would leave my camp the next evening, and when they arrived, they would be attached to the two wagons to continue on, traveling by moonlight for the rest of the night until they met up with two other fresh teams that were set to meet them early the next morning. I also let Mr. Kennedy know that I wouldn’t be sending after the four missing bullocks until the wagons arrived, so the group could be reunited. The thermometer was again at 109° in the shade all day.
The Calotis cuneifolia was conspicuous amongst the grass. This was the common BURR, so detrimental to the Australian wool. Small as are the capitula of this flower, its seeds or achenia are armed with awns having reflexed hooks scarcely visible to the naked eye; it is these that are found so troublesome among the wool.
The Calotis cuneifolia stood out among the grass. This was the common BURR, which is so harmful to Australian wool. Even though the flower's heads are small, its seeds or achenes have awns with tiny hooked tips that are nearly invisible to the naked eye; it's these that cause so much trouble in the wool.
8TH JANUARY.—The messenger returned from Mr. Kennedy saying he had found him and the men with him, in a state of great distress from want of water, having given great part of what had formerly been sent to a young dying bullock, in hopes thereby to save its life. He also stated that a tribe of natives were on their track about three miles behind. Baldock had seen several bullocks dead on the way. In the evening the two first teams were sent off as arranged. This day had also been very sultry, especially towards evening.
8TH JANUARY.—The messenger came back from Mr. Kennedy, saying he had found him and his men in serious trouble due to a lack of water. They had given most of what had been sent to a young bullock that was dying, hoping to save its life. He also mentioned that a group of natives was following their trail about three miles behind. Baldock had seen several dead bullocks along the way. In the evening, the first two teams were sent off as planned. Today had also been very hot, especially in the evening.
9TH JANUARY.—Early this morning, the two relieving teams were despatched as arranged, and at noon Mr. Kennedy and the whole entered the camp. We had been very fortunate, under such trying circumstances, to suffer so little loss, and I determined never to move the party again, until I could ascertain where the water was at which it should encamp. I had been previously assured by the young native that water was still to be found at Cadduldury, and the disappointment had nearly proved fatal to the whole party.
9TH JANUARY.—Early this morning, the two relief teams were sent out as planned, and at noon Mr. Kennedy and everyone else arrived at the camp. We had been very lucky, given how difficult things had been, to have lost so few people, and I decided not to move the group again until I could find out where the water was that they should set up camp. I had been told before by the young native that there was still water available at Cadduldury, and the disappointment nearly turned out to be deadly for the entire group.
On the banks of the Bogan, the Atriplex hagnoides formed a round white-looking bush.
On the banks of the Bogan, the Atriplex hagnoides formed a round, white-looking bush.
I rode forward to Mudà, accompanied by Dr. Stephenson and by Piper, and had an interview with some of the heads of the old tribe, who remembered my former visit, and very civilly accompanied me to show me my old track and marked trees, which I found passed a little to the northward of my present encampment. The chief, my old friend, had been killed in a fight with the natives of the Macquarie, not long before. Two old grey-haired men sitting silent in a gunya behind, were pointed out to me as his brothers, one of whom so very much resembled him, that I had at first imagined he was the man himself. These sat doubled up on their hams opposite to each other, under the withered bushes, naked, and grey, and melancholy—sad and hopeless types of their fading race!
I rode ahead to Mudà, with Dr. Stephenson and Piper, and met with some leaders of the old tribe who remembered my previous visit. They kindly guided me along my old path and pointed out the marked trees, which I found were located just a bit north of my current camp. The chief, my old friend, had been killed in a conflict with the people of the Macquarie not long ago. Two elderly men with grey hair, sitting quietly in a shelter behind us, were introduced to me as his brothers. One of them looked so much like him that I initially thought he was the chief himself. They sat hunched on their legs facing each other, under the dry bushes, bare, grey, and sorrowful—sad and hopeless symbols of their dwindling race!
The chief who formerly guided us so kindly had fallen in a hopeless struggle for the existence of his tribe with the natives of the river Macquarie, allied with the border police, on one side; and the wild natives of the Darling on the other. All I could learn about the rest of the tribe was, that the men were almost all dead, and that their wives were chiefly servants at stock stations along the Macquarie.
The chief who once led us with such kindness had died in a desperate battle for his tribe's survival against the natives of the Macquarie River, who teamed up with the border police, while the wild natives from the Darling were on the other side. The only thing I could find out about the rest of the tribe was that most of the men were dead, and their wives mostly worked as helpers at the stock stations along the Macquarie.
The natives of Mudà assured me there was no water nearer than Nyingan, a large pond which I knew was 22 1/3 miles distant, in a direct line lower down the Bogan. The ponds of Mudà, their great store of water, and known to white men as the largest on the Bogan, were alarmingly low, and it became evident that our progress under such a scarcity of water would be attended with difficulty. These natives gave us also a friendly hint that "gentlemen" should be careful of the spears of the natives of Nyingan, as many natives of Nyingan had been shot lately by white men from Wellington Valley.
The people of Mudà told me that the nearest water source was Nyingan, a large pond that I knew was 22 1/3 miles away in a straight line farther down the Bogan. The ponds in Mudà, which held a significant amount of water and were known to white people as the largest on the Bogan, were worryingly low. It was clear that our progress in such a water-scarce situation would be challenging. These locals also kindly warned us that "gentlemen" should be cautious of the spears from the people of Nyingan, as many from Nyingan had been shot recently by white men from Wellington Valley.
Among the woods we observed the white-flowered Teucrium racemosum, the Justicia media, a small herbaceous plant with deep pink flowers; also a Stenochilus and Fusanus (the Quandang), although not in fruit; a new species of Stipa, remarkable for its fine silky ears and coarse rough herbage.[*] This place produced also a fine new species of Chloris in the way of C. truncata, but with upright ears, and hard three-ribbed pales,[**] and we here observed, for the first time, a fine new Eremophila with white flowers, forming a tree fifteen feet high.[***] The beautiful Damasonium ovalifolium, with white flowers red in the centre, still existed in the water.
Among the woods, we noticed the white-flowered Teucrium racemosum, the Justicia media, a small herb with deep pink flowers; we also found a Stenochilus and Fusanus (the Quandang), though they weren’t fruiting; a new species of Stipa, notable for its fine silky spikes and coarse rough foliage.[*] This area also yielded a great new species of Chloris similar to C. truncata, but with upright spikes and tough three-ribbed stems,[**] and we noted, for the first time, a stunning new Eremophila with white flowers, growing into a tree fifteen feet high.[***] The lovely Damasonium ovalifolium, with white flowers that have a red center, was still thriving in the water.
[* S. scabra (Lindl. MS.), aristis nudis, paleis pubescentibus basi villosis, glumis setaceo-acuminatis glabris, foliis scabropilosis involutis culmis brevioribus, geniculis pubescentibus, ligulâ oblongâ subciliatâ.]
[* S. scabra (Lindl. MS.), with bare awns, hairy palea with woolly bases, glumes that are hair-like and smooth, leaves that are rough and curled with shorter stems, hairy nodes, and an elongated ligule with some fringes.]
[** C. sclerantha (Lindl. MS.), culmo stricto, foliis planis glabris tactu scabris, spicis 4—7-strictis, spiculis bifloris, flore utroque breviaristato cartilagineo truncato 3-nervi glabro supremo sterili vacuo.]
[** C. sclerantha (Lindl. MS.), with a straight stem, flat leaves that feel rough to the touch, spikes that are 4 to 7 in number and upright, spikelets that are biflorous, with each flower having a short, cartilage-like structure that is truncated and smooth with three nerves, and the upper part sterile and empty.]
[*** E. mitchelli (Benth. MS.), glabra viscidula, foliis alternis linearibus planis, corolla alba extus glabra fauce amplo laciniis 4 superioribus subaequalibus infima majore retusa, staminibus inclusis.]
[*** E. mitchelli (Benth. MS.), smooth and sticky, with alternate flat linear leaves, white corolla that is smooth on the outside, a wide throat, and four nearly equal upper petals, with the lower petal larger and notched, and the stamens are included.]
In the evening it was discovered that no one had seen the shepherd and the sheep since the morning, and Piper and Yuranigh went in search. It was night ere they returned with the intelligence that they had found his track ten miles off to the S. W. when darkness prevented them from following it further.
In the evening, it was noticed that no one had seen the shepherd and the sheep since the morning, so Piper and Yuranigh went to look for them. They returned at night with the news that they had found his trail ten miles to the southwest, but darkness stopped them from following it any further.
I ascertained, by observations of the stars Aldebaran and Orionis, that out present camp near Bugabadà was in latitude 31° 56', and thus very near the place where Mr. Dixon's journey down the Bogan in 1833 had terminated. Thermometer at noon, 90°; at 9 p.m., 70°; with wet bulb, 63°.
I determined, by observing the stars Aldebaran and Orion, that our current camp near Bugabadà was at latitude 31° 56', which is very close to where Mr. Dixon's journey down the Bogan ended in 1833. The thermometer read 90° at noon and 70° at 9 p.m., with a wet bulb temperature of 63°.
10TH JANUARY.—Early this morning Mr. Kennedy and Piper went to the S. W. in search of the shepherd and sheep, while at the same time I sent William Baldock and Yaranigh back along our track in search of the stray bullocks. Meanwhile I conducted the party along my former track to Mudà, where we met Mr. Kennedy and Piper with the shepherd and sheep, already arrived there. The shepherd stated that the fatigue of having been on watch the previous night had overcome him; that he fell asleep, and that the sheep went astray; that he followed and found them, but lost himself. He had met one or two natives who offered him honey, etc. which he declined.
10TH JANUARY.—Early this morning, Mr. Kennedy and Piper headed southwest to look for the shepherd and sheep, while I sent William Baldock and Yaranigh back along our route to search for the stray cattle. In the meantime, I guided the group along my previous path to Mudà, where we ran into Mr. Kennedy and Piper, who had already arrived with the shepherd and sheep. The shepherd explained that he was exhausted from being on watch the night before; he fell asleep, and as a result, the sheep wandered off. He chased after them and found them, but ended up getting lost himself. He encountered a couple of locals who offered him honey and other things, which he turned down.
We encamped beside the old stock-yard and the ruins of a dairy, only visible in the remaining excavation. But a paddock was still in such a state of preservation, that in one day we completed the enclosure. We had passed near Bugabadà similar remains of a cattle station. This position of Mudà was a fine place for such an establishment; a high bank nearly clear of timber, overlooking a noble reach of great capacity, and surrounded by an open forest country, covered with luxuriant grass. The last crop stood up yellow, like a neglected field of oats, in the way of a young crop shooting up amongst it.
We set up camp next to the old stockyard and the ruins of a dairy, which were only visible in the remaining excavation. However, a paddock was still in such good shape that we finished enclosing it in one day. We had passed near Bugabadà, where there were similar remnants of a cattle station. This location at Mudà was perfect for such a setup; a high bank, mostly clear of trees, overlooking a large, impressive expanse, and surrounded by open forest land filled with lush grass. The last crop stood yellow, like a neglected field of oats, while a young crop was pushing up through it.
11TH JANUARY, 1846.—Sunday. Prayers were read to the men, and the cattle and party rested. The day was cool and cloudy.
11TH JANUARY, 1846.—Sunday. Prayers were said for the men, and the cattle and group took a break. The day was cool and overcast.
12TH JANUARY.—Still I halted at Mudà for the lost bullocks. To-day I noticed the Kochia brevifolia, a little salt-bush, with greenish yellow fruit, edged with pink.
12TH JANUARY.—I stayed at Mudà to search for the missing bullocks. Today, I noticed the Kochia brevifolia, a small salt-bush, with greenish-yellow fruit that has a pink edge.
13TH JANUARY.—Baldock and Yuranigh arrived early in the morning (by moonlight) with five of the stray bullocks. Two others (young ones) could not be driven along, and one old bullock was still astray at Mr. Kerr's station (to which they had returned) and could not even then be found. We had now in all 106 bullocks, and, considering the great scarcity of water, heat, and consequent drought, I was most thankful that our loss had been so slight.
13TH JANUARY.—Baldock and Yuranigh showed up early in the morning (in the moonlight) with five of the stray bullocks. Two younger ones couldn't be driven, and one old bullock was still missing at Mr. Kerr's station (where they had gone back) and couldn't be found either. We now had a total of 106 bullocks, and given the severe lack of water, the heat, and the resulting drought, I was really thankful that our losses had been so minimal.
I proceeded to reconnoitre the country in a straight line towards Nyingan, which bore 353°—and having found a tolerably open country for about six miles, I returned and took the party on so far, and encamped, sending back all the cattle and horses to the water at Mudà. Enough had been carried forward for the men who were to remain at the camp. To ensure the early return of the cattle, I had repaired, as already stated, the paddock at Mudà, in which during this night, they could be secured, having also sufficient grass,—likewise the horses. In my ride I found a new grass of the genus Chloris[*], something like Chl. truncata in habit, some starved specimens of Trichinium lanatum; amongst the grasses I also found the Aristida calycina of Brown, the curious Neurachne mitchelliana Nees, discovered originally by me in 1836, and also a new Pappophorum with the aspect of our European Anthoxanthum.[**] A smart shower fell during the evening.
I headed out to scout the land directly toward Nyingan, which was at 353°. After about six miles, I found a relatively clear area, so I went back, brought the team that far, and set up camp. I sent all the cattle and horses back to the water at Mudà. We had brought enough supplies for the men who would stay at the camp. To make sure the cattle returned quickly, I fixed up the paddock at Mudà, where they could be kept safe during the night, along with plenty of grass for them and the horses. While I was riding, I discovered a new type of grass from the genus Chloris that resembled Chl. truncata; I also found some undernourished examples of Trichinium lanatum. Among the grasses, I identified Aristida calycina described by Brown, the interesting Neurachne mitchelliana Nees, which I originally discovered in 1836, and a new Pappophorum that looked similar to our European Anthoxanthum.[**] A decent rain shower came down in the evening.
[* C. acicularis (Lindl. MS.); culmo stricto, foliis involutis glabris tactu scabris, spicis 8—9 subacutis, spiculis bifloris, flore utroque setaceo aristato, supremo sterili angustissimo, paleis dorso scabris.]
[* C. acicularis (Lindl. MS.); with a straight stem, leaves that are rolled and smooth to the touch yet rough, having 8—9 slightly pointed spikes, with two-flowered spikelets, both flowers having bristles, the top one being very narrow and sterile, with rough-backed skins.]
[** P. flavescens (Lindl. MS.); aristis 9 rigidis pallidis plumosis, spicâ compositâ densissimâ oblongâ, paleis lanatis, glumis ovatis pilosis, foliis vaginisque pubescentibus tactu scabris, geniculis villosis.]
[** P. flavescens (Lindl. MS.); with 9 stiff, pale, feathery bristles, a densely packed, oblong flower spike, woolly glumes, oval, hairy husks, and leaves and sheaths that feel fuzzy and rough to the touch, with hairy joints.]
14TH JANUARY.—The cattle arrived early from Mudà, and were immediately yoked to the drays. I proceeded with the light carts, still on the same bearing, until arriving near Dar, where I had formerly been encamped, I turned to the left to ascertain if there really was no water there. I found two excellent ponds, and encamped beside them after a journey of about ten miles. The drays arrived early and I subsequently found I had encamped near my old ground of 9th May, 1835, when I was guided by the friendly chief of the Bogan tribe to the best water holes his country afforded. By the route I had selected from my former surveys, I had cut off the great bend described by the Bogan in changing from a north-westerly to a northerly course, and the track now left by our wheels will probably continue to be used as a road, when the banks of the Bogan may be again occupied by the colonists. At Darwere still most substantial stock-yards, and, as usual, the deep dug foundations of a dairy that had been burnt down.
14TH JANUARY.—The cattle arrived early from Mudà and were quickly hitched to the drays. I continued with the light carts, still heading in the same direction, until I reached the area near Dar, where I had previously set up camp. I turned left to check if there was truly no water there. I discovered two excellent ponds and set up camp beside them after a journey of about ten miles. The drays arrived early, and I later realized I had camped near my old spot from 9th May, 1835, when the friendly chief of the Bogan tribe guided me to the best water holes in his territory. By following the route I'd chosen from my earlier surveys, I cut off the big bend mentioned by the Bogan when shifting from a north-westerly to a northerly direction, and the track left by our wheels will likely continue to be used as a road when the banks of the Bogan are reclaimed by settlers. At Dar, there were still some sturdy stock-yards and, as usual, the deep foundations of a dairy that had burned down.
15TH JANUARY.—Eight bullocks were missing, and although the day was fine, not too hot, I could not think of moving until these cattle were found. Accordingly, at earliest dawn, I despatched William Baldock and the native to look for them. In the course of the day six were found by Baldock in one direction, and the remaining two, afterwards, in another. An inconspicuous blue-flowered Erigeron grew here, also the Jasminum lineare, with its sweet-scented white flowers—and, near the water, I saw the Alternanthera nodiflora.
15TH JANUARY.—Eight oxen were missing, and even though the weather was nice and not too hot, I couldn't think about moving until they were found. So, at first light, I sent William Baldock and the local guy to search for them. Throughout the day, Baldock found six in one area, and later, the last two in another spot. There was a subtle blue-flowered Erigeron growing here, as well as the Jasminum lineare with its fragrant white blooms—and near the water, I spotted the Alternanthera nodiflora.
16TH JANUARY.—At a good early hour the party moved from Dar, crossing the Bogan and falling into my former track and line of marked trees. We lost these, however, on crossing the Bogan at Murgabà, and made a slight détour to the eastward before we found Nyingan, where we encamped, and were joined by the drays by twelve o'clock. During this day's journey Piper and Yuranigh discovered fresh traces of horsemen with those of the feet of a native guide, come from the East to my old track, and returning, apparently, as our natives thought, looking for traces of our party.
16TH JANUARY.—In the early morning, the group left Dar, crossing the Bogan and reconnecting with my previous route marked by trees. However, we lost sight of these markers after crossing the Bogan at Murgabà, and we took a slight detour to the east before reaching Nyingan, where we set up camp and met up with the drays by noon. During today's journey, Piper and Yuranigh found fresh signs of horsemen along with the footprints of a native guide who appeared to have come from the East to my old route and was returning, as our locals believed, to look for signs of our group.
At Nyingan we found many recent huts and other indications of the natives, but saw none. Large stock-yards and a paddock remained, but a house and garden fences had been burnt down. The great ponds were sunken very low and covered with aquatic weeds. As soon as the camp had been established with the usual attention to defence, I set out to look for the next water, and after riding twelve miles nearly in the direction of my former route, I reached the dry channel of the Bogan, and tracing it thence upwards, I sought in every hollow at all its turnings for water, but in vain, and I reached the camp only at dusk, without having seen, during the day, any other ponds than those of Nyingan.
At Nyingan, we came across many new huts and other signs of the locals, but we didn't see anyone. There were large stockyards and a paddock, but a house and garden fences had been burned down. The big ponds were very low and covered with aquatic weeds. Once we set up camp with the usual focus on security, I headed out to find the next water source. After riding twelve miles almost in the same direction as my previous route, I reached the dry channel of the Bogan. I then traced it upstream, searching every hollow and bend for water, but had no luck. I returned to camp only at dusk, having not seen any ponds other than those at Nyingan throughout the day.
17TH JANUARY.—Early this morning, I sent Mr. Kennedy with the native Yuranigh, also on horseback, to run back my track of yesterday to the Bogan where I had commenced its examination upwards, and from that point to examine the channel downwards to the nearest water, provided this did not take Mr. Kennedy too far to admit of his return by sunset. Two old women came to the ponds of Nyingan for water, by whom Piper was told that the nearest permanent water was "niminé," where white men had attempted to form a cattle-station, and been prevented by natives from the Darling, many of whom had since been shot by the white men. They said the place was far beyond Canbelego, the next stage of my former journey, and where these women also said little or no water remained.
17TH JANUARY.—Early this morning, I sent Mr. Kennedy with the local Yuranigh, who was also on horseback, to retrace my steps from yesterday to the Bogan where I had started examining it upstream, and from there to check the channel downstream to the nearest water, as long as it didn’t take Mr. Kennedy too far to be back by sunset. Two elderly women came to the ponds of Nyingan for water, and they told Piper that the closest permanent water was "niminé," where white men had tried to set up a cattle station but were stopped by locals from the Darling, many of whom had since been shot by the white men. They mentioned that the spot was far beyond Canbelego, the next stop from my last journey, and where these women also said there was little to no water left.
Mr. Kennedy returned at eleven a.m., having found water at Canbelego. Yuranigh brought with him a large green specimen of the fruit of the Capparis mitchellii, which he called an apple, being new to him, but which Dicky, the younger native from the Lower Bogan, knew, and said was called "moguile;" he also said that it was eaten by the natives.
Mr. Kennedy came back at 11 a.m. after discovering water at Canbelego. Yuranigh brought along a large green sample of the fruit from the Capparis mitchellii, which he referred to as an apple since it was new to him. However, Dicky, the younger native from the Lower Bogan, recognized it and said it was called "moguile;" he also mentioned that the natives ate it.
18TH JANUARY.—The party moved to Canbelego where one or two small ponds remained, but on the plains adjacent there was better grass than we had hitherto found near those places where, for the sake of water, we had been obliged to encamp. I sent Mr. Kennedy again forward looking for water, but he returned sooner than I expected, and after following the river down twelve miles, without finding any. I was now within the same distance of Duck Creek, in which Mr. Larmer had found abundance of water when I sent him to survey it upwards during my last return journey up the Bogan. It also seemed, from the direction in which Piper pointed, that the old gins referred to Duck Creek, as containing water; and as the course of that creek, so far as shown on maps, led even more directly to the Darling than did the Bogan, I was willing in such a season of extreme drought, to avail myself of its waters. My eye had been much injured by straining at stars while at the camp near Walwadyer, and I was obliged to send Mr. Kennedy on one of my own horses, followed by Graham, to examine the water in Duck Creek. I instructed him to proceed on a bearing of 35° E. of North, until he should reach the creek, and if he found water in it to return direct to the camp, but that if water was not found on first making the creek, then he was to follow Duck Creek up to its junction with an eastern branch, surveyed also by Mr. Larmer, and to return thence to the camp on a bearing of 240°. I also sent Corporal Macavoy with Yuranigh down the Bogan, to ascertain if the channel contained any pond between our camp and the part previously examined by Mr. Kennedy.
18TH JANUARY.—The group moved to Canbelego where a couple of small ponds were left, but the nearby plains had better grass than we had found so far near the places where we had to set up camp for the sake of water. I sent Mr. Kennedy ahead to look for water again, but he came back sooner than I expected. After following the river for twelve miles without finding any water, I was now the same distance from Duck Creek, where Mr. Larmer had discovered plenty of water when I sent him to explore it upriver during my last return journey up the Bogan. It also seemed, based on Piper's directions, that the older women referred to Duck Creek as having water; and since the creek’s path, as shown on maps, led even more directly to the Darling than the Bogan did, I was eager to take advantage of its waters during this extreme drought. My sight had suffered from looking at the stars while at the camp near Walwadyer, so I had to send Mr. Kennedy on one of my own horses, followed by Graham, to check the water in Duck Creek. I instructed him to head on a bearing of 35° E. of North until he reached the creek, and if he found water there, to return directly to camp. However, if he didn't find water right away upon reaching the creek, he was to follow Duck Creek upstream to where it joined an eastern branch that Mr. Larmer had also surveyed, and then return to camp on a bearing of 240°. I also sent Corporal Macavoy with Yuranigh down the Bogan to see if there were any ponds in the channel between our camp and the area Mr. Kennedy had previously examined.
This officer returned from Duck Creek after an absence of twelve hours, and reported that he had found no water in Duck Creek after examining its bed twelve miles; but that he had found a fine lagoon on the plains near the head of the eastern branch, but around which there was no grass, all having been recently burnt.
This officer came back from Duck Creek after being gone for twelve hours and reported that he didn't find any water in Duck Creek after checking its bed for twelve miles. However, he did discover a nice lagoon on the plains near the start of the eastern branch, but there was no grass around it because everything had recently burned.
20TH JANUARY.—Macavoy returned at seven a.m., saying he had been twenty-four miles down the Bogan without finding any water. About the same time Sergeant Niblett, in charge of the bullocks, came to inform me that these animals were looking very ill, and could not drink the mud remaining in the pond. At the same time intelligence was brought me that four of the horses had broken their tether ropes during the night, and that William Baldock had been absent in search of them on foot, from an early hour in the morning. I immediately sent back the whole of the bullocks to Nyingan, with a dray containing the empty harness casks, also the horses, and a cart carrying all our other empty casks; and the whole of the cattle and horses returned in the evening with all the casks filled.
20TH JANUARY.—Macavoy got back at seven a.m., saying he had gone twenty-four miles down the Bogan without finding any water. Around the same time, Sergeant Niblett, who was in charge of the bullocks, came to let me know that the animals looked very sick and couldn't drink the muddy water left in the pond. I was also informed that four of the horses had broken their tether ropes during the night and that William Baldock had been out looking for them on foot since early morning. I immediately sent all the bullocks back to Nyingan, along with a dray carrying the empty harness casks, the horses, and a cart with all our other empty casks; by evening, all the cattle and horses returned with all the casks filled.
21ST JANUARY.—Having again despatched the bullocks back to Nyingan, I conducted the light carts forward along my old track (of 1835), having on two of these carts two of the half-boats, and in the carts under them all the water-kegs that had been filled. My object was to use the iron boat as a tank, at which we might water the bullocks at one stage forward; that by so gaining that point and proceeding onwards towards the water I hoped to find next day, we might encamp at least at such a convenient distance from it, as would admit of the cattle being driven forward to return next day and draw the drays to it. This I considered possible, even if it might be found necessary to go as far for water as the fine reach described in my journal as the place of my encampment on the 14th May, 1835, beyond Mount Hopeless, and which I concluded from the gin's description, must have been what she called Nimine, or the disputed station of Lee. I encamped this party on a plain about twelve miles from Canbelego, where I had left Mr. Kennedy, with instructions to bring the drays on with the spare cattle and horses early next morning. I had sent thence Corporal Macavoy and Yuranigh to follow the track of Baldock and the horses; but it was obvious that we could remain no longer at Canbelego. As soon as we could set up one of the half-boats, the contents of the water-kegs were emptied into it, and the cart was immediately sent back with the empty kegs to Canbelego, where fresh horses had been left, to continue with the same cart and empty kegs to Nyingan during the night, so as to arrive in time to admit of the dray—already there with the harness casks—bringing an additional supply back in the kegs, when the bullocks returned next day.
21ST JANUARY.—After sending the bullocks back to Nyingan again, I moved the light carts along my old route from 1835. On two of these carts, I had two half-boats, and underneath them were all the filled water kegs. My plan was to use the iron boat as a tank to water the bullocks at a point further along; by reaching that spot and then moving toward the water I hoped to find the next day, we could camp at a reasonable distance, allowing us to drive the cattle forward and bring the drays to it the next day. I thought this was doable, even if we had to go as far for water as the nice stretch I described in my journal as the place I camped on May 14, 1835, beyond Mount Hopeless, which I believed from the gin's description had to be Nimine, or the disputed station of Lee. I set up camp for this group on a plain about twelve miles from Canbelego, where I had left Mr. Kennedy with instructions to bring the drays and spare cattle and horses early the next morning. I had sent Corporal Macavoy and Yuranigh to follow Baldock's track and the horses, but it was clear we couldn't stay at Canbelego any longer. As soon as we could set up one of the half-boats, the water keg contents were poured into it, and the cart was immediately sent back with the empty kegs to Canbelego, where fresh horses had been left to continue with the same cart and empty kegs to Nyingan that night, in time for the dray already there with the harness casks to bring back an extra supply in the kegs when the bullocks returned the next day.
It was now necessary that I should ascertain as soon as possible the state of the ponds lower down the Bogan, and thereupon determine at once, whether to follow that dry channel further in such a season, or to cross to the pond in Duck Creek, and await more favourable weather. I accordingly set out at 3 p.m., from where the water had been placed in the half-boat, accompanied by Dr. Stephenson, and followed by Corporal Graham and Dicky the native boy. By the advice of the latter, I rode from the camp in the direction of 30° E. of N., and, crossing the Bogan, we reached at about 3½ miles beyond it, a channel like it, which I supposed was Duck Creek; and in it, just where we made it, there was a small pond of water. Having refreshed our horses, we followed this channel downwards, without meeting with more water. To my surprise, I found the general direction was westward, until it joined the bogan. We next followed the course of the Bogan as long as daylight allowed us to do so, without discovering any indication that water had recently lodged in any of the hollows, and we finally tied up our horses and lay down to sleep, in hopes that next day might enable us to be more successful.
It was essential for me to find out as quickly as possible the condition of the ponds further down the Bogan and then decide whether to continue down that dry channel during this season or to head over to the pond in Duck Creek and wait for better weather. I set out at 3 p.m. from where the water had been loaded into the half-boat, accompanied by Dr. Stephenson, with Corporal Graham and Dicky, the native boy, following us. Following the latter's advice, I rode from the camp in a direction of 30° E. of N., and after crossing the Bogan, we reached what I assumed was Duck Creek about 3½ miles beyond it; in it, we found a small pond of water right where we arrived. After refreshing our horses, we continued down this channel, but didn’t come across any more water. To my surprise, I noticed that the general direction was westward until it joined the Bogan. We then followed the course of the Bogan as far as daylight would allow, but didn’t find any signs that water had recently collected in any of the hollows. Finally, we tied up our horses and lay down to sleep, hoping that the next day would bring us more success.
22D JANUARY.—Having proceeded some miles along the western bends of the Bogan, hastily—being desirous to see that day the great pond beyond Mount Hopeless—I observed that the clay was very shining and compact in a hollow sloping into an angle of the river-bed, that the grass was green as from recent rain, and that there was more chirping of birds; I was tempted once more by these indications, to look for water in the Bogan's almost hopeless channel, and there we found a pond, at sight of which poor Dicky shouted for joy; then drank, and fell asleep almost in the water. It was small, but being sufficient for our immediate wants, we thankfully refreshed our horses and ourselves, and proceeded on our eventful journey. Almost immediately after leaving this pond I discovered my old track, which we continued to follow across those large plains, whence I had formerly discovered Mount Hopeless. These plains I soon again recognized from the old tracks of my draywheels, distinctly visible in many places after a lapse of nearly eleven years. Arriving at length near the debateable land of Lee's old station, we resumed our examination of the Bogan. There we perceived old cattle tracks; the ovens in which the natives had roasted whole bullocks, and about their old encampments many heaps of bones; but in none of the deep beds of former ponds or lagoons could we discover any water. The grass was nevertheless excellent and abundant; and its waste, added to the distress the want of water occasioned us, made us doubly lament the absence of civilised inhabitants, by whose industry that rich pasture and fine soil could have been turned to good account. We saw no natives; nor were even kangaroos or emus to be seen, as formerly, any longer inhabitants of these parts. I turned at length, reluctantly, convinced that it would have been unsafe to venture with cattle and drays into these regions before rain fell. In returning, we at first found it difficult to find our old track, by which alone we could hope that night to reach the small pond of the morning; but Dr. Stephenson very fortunately found it, and we had also the good fortune, for so we considered it, to arrive at the pond before sunset. There we tied up our horses and lay down, glad indeed to have even that water before our eyes. Dicky, the native boy, had repeatedly thrown himself from his horse during the afternoon, quite ill from thirst.
22D JANUARY.—After traveling a few miles along the western bends of the Bogan, eager to see the large pond beyond Mount Hopeless that day, I noticed that the clay was very shiny and compact in a hollow sloping down to the riverbed, the grass was green as if from recent rain, and there were more birds chirping. These signs tempted me once again to look for water in the Bogan's nearly hopeless channel, and there we found a pond. At the sight of it, poor Dicky shouted with joy; then he drank and nearly fell asleep in the water. It was small, but good enough for our immediate needs, so we gratefully refreshed our horses and ourselves before continuing our eventful journey. Almost immediately after leaving the pond, I spotted my old track, which we followed across those vast plains where I had once discovered Mount Hopeless. I soon recognized those plains again from the old tracks made by my dray wheels, still visible in many places after almost eleven years. Eventually arriving near the disputed land of Lee's old station, we resumed our exploration of the Bogan. There, we noticed old cattle tracks, ovens where the natives had roasted whole bullocks, and many heaps of bones around their former encampments; however, we couldn't find any water in the deep beds of former ponds or lagoons. The grass, though excellent and abundant, combined with our distress over the lack of water, made us sadly wish for the presence of civilized inhabitants who could have made good use of that rich pasture and fine soil. We saw no natives, nor could we spot kangaroos or emus, creatures that used to inhabit these areas. Eventually, I turned back, reluctantly convinced that it would be unsafe to venture with cattle and drays into these regions until it rained. On our return, we initially struggled to find our old track, which was our only hope to reach the small pond from the morning before nightfall; but Dr. Stephenson fortunately discovered it, and we were lucky enough to arrive at the pond before sunset. There, we tied up our horses and lay down, truly glad to have even that water in sight. Dicky, the native boy, had repeatedly fallen off his horse during the afternoon, quite ill from thirst.
23D JANUARY.—After our horses had drank, we left no water in the pond; but they had fed on good grass, and we were well refreshed, although with water only, for our ride back to the camp. Setting off from an old marked tree of mine near the Bogan, on a bearing of 160°, I several times during our ride fell in with the old track, and finally reached the camp after a rapid ride of four hours. I found the whole party had arrived the previous evening with the water, as arranged; but that Mr. Kennedy was absent, having set off that morning in search of water to the N. E. with Corporal Macavoy, on two government horses, leaving word that he should return by twelve o'clock. He did not return at that hour, however, and at two I moved the party across the Bogan, and proceeded along open plains towards the ponds at Duck Creek, with the intention of there refreshing the cattle and horses, and awaiting more favourable weather. I previously watered out of the half-boat, 106 bullocks, and gave a quart to each of the horses. On the way, the heat was so intense that our three best and strongest kangaroo dogs died, and it was not until 10 p.m. that the drays reached the ponds where I had proposed to encamp. About an hour and a half before, Mr. Kennedy also came in, having galloped the two horses 66 miles, and hurt both their backs, Macavoy being a heavy man. At 9 p.m., therm. 80°, wet bulb, 68°.
23RD JANUARY.—After our horses drank, there was no water left in the pond; however, they had eaten good grass, and we were well refreshed, although we only had water for our ride back to camp. We set off from an old marked tree of mine near the Bogan, on a bearing of 160°, and I came across the old track several times during our ride, eventually reaching the camp after a fast ride of four hours. I found that the whole party had arrived the previous evening with the water, as planned; but Mr. Kennedy was missing, having left that morning in search of water to the N.E. with Corporal Macavoy, using two government horses, leaving word that he would return by noon. However, he didn’t come back at that time, so at two, I moved the party across the Bogan and headed across open plains towards the ponds at Duck Creek, planning to refresh the cattle and horses there and wait for better weather. I had already watered 106 bullocks from the half-boat and gave each of the horses a quart. Along the way, the heat was so unbearable that our three best and strongest kangaroo dogs died, and it wasn’t until 10 p.m. that the drays arrived at the ponds where I intended to set up camp. About an hour and a half earlier, Mr. Kennedy also returned, having galloped the two horses for 66 miles, injuring both their backs, with Macavoy being a heavy man. At 9 p.m., the thermometer read 80°, wet bulb 68°.
24TH JANUARY.—This morning I awoke completely blind, from ophthalmia, and was obliged to have poultices laid on my eyes; several of the men were also affected in the same manner. The exciting cause of this malady in an organ presenting a moist surface was, obviously, the warm air wholly devoid of moisture, and likely to produce the same effect until the weather changed. At 9 p.m., therm. 84°, with wet bulb, 68°.
24TH JANUARY.—This morning I woke up completely blind from an eye infection and had to have poultices put on my eyes; several of the men were also affected in the same way. The obvious cause of this problem, given the moist surface of the eyes, was the warm air that was completely dry, likely to produce the same effect until the weather changed. At 9 p.m., the temperature was 84°, with a wet bulb reading of 68°.
Chapter II.
SEND TO NYINGAN FOR LEECHES.—BETTER PONDS FOUND TO THE NORTHEAST.—MOVE TO THE PONDS OF CANNONBÀ AND SET UP OUR BIVOUAC.—HOT WIND.—HEAT GREATER THAN MY TABLE FOR EXPANSION OF MERCURY WAS CALCULATED FOR.—PIPER'S INTENTION TO QUIT THE PARTY.—HIS SENT TO BATHURST.—WEATHER CHANGES.—RAIN.—MR. KENNEDY RETURNS FROM THE MACQUARIE.—SALT MADE FROM THE SALT PLANT.—RECONNOITRE "DUCK CREEK."—THE PARTY QUITS CANNONBÀ—CROSSES PLAINS TO MARRA CREEK—AND THENCE TO THE RIVER MACQUARIE.—OPHTHALMIA STILL TROUBLESOME.—APPROACH OF A FLOOD ANNOUNCED.—ITS ARRIVAL IN CLEAR MOONLIGHT.—MR. KINGHORNE GUIDES THE PARTY ALONG THE REEDY BANKS.—NO WATER FOUND IN "DUCK CREEK."—DIFFICULTY OF WATERING THE CATTLE FROM SOFTNESS OF THE BANKS OF PONDS AMONGST THE REEDS.—"YULLIYALLY," A NATIVE, GUIDES THE PARTY.—NEW PLANTS DISCOVERED.—DESCRIPTION OF OUR NATIVE GUIDE.—CONDITION OF HIS COUNTRYMEN.—HOW AFFECTED BY THE INTRUSION OF THE WHITE RACE.—AT LENGTH EMERGE FROM THE REEDS.—WATER SCARCE.—NECESSITY FOR PRESERVING ABORIGINAL NAMES OF RIVERS.—DELAYED BY STRAY BULLOCKS SEVERAL DAYS.—AT LENGTH ARRIVE AT THE JUNCTION OF THE RIVER WITH THE DARLING.—CROSS THE MACQUARIE NEAR ITS JUNCTION—AND FORD THE DARLING AT WYÀBRY.
SEND TO NYINGAN FOR LEECHES. — FOUND BETTER PONDS TO THE NORTHEAST. — MOVE TO THE PONDS OF CANNONBÀ AND SET UP OUR CAMP. — HOT WIND. — HEAT GREATER THAN I EXPECTED FOR MY THERMOMETER. — PIPER PLANS TO LEAVE THE GROUP. — HIS MESSAGE SENT TO BATHURST. — WEATHER CHANGES. — RAIN. — MR. KENNEDY RETURNS FROM THE MACQUARIE. — SALT MADE FROM THE SALT PLANT. — RECONNOITRE "DUCK CREEK." — THE GROUP LEAVES CANNONBÀ — CROSSES PLAINS TO MARRA CREEK — AND THEN TO THE RIVER MACQUARIE. — OPHTHALMIA STILL TROUBLESOME. — FLOOD APPROACHING ANNOUNCED. — ITS ARRIVAL IN CLEAR MOONLIGHT. — MR. KINGHORNE GUIDES THE GROUP ALONG THE REEDY BANKS. — NO WATER FOUND IN "DUCK CREEK." — DIFFICULTY WATERING THE CATTLE DUE TO THE SOFTNESS OF THE BANKS OF PONDS AMONGST THE REEDS. — "YULLIYALLY," A NATIVE, GUIDES THE GROUP. — NEW PLANTS DISCOVERED. — DESCRIPTION OF OUR NATIVE GUIDE. — CONDITION OF HIS COUNTRYMEN. — HOW THEY HAVE BEEN AFFECTED BY THE INTRUSION OF THE WHITE RACE. — FINALLY EMERGE FROM THE REEDS. — WATER SCARCE. — NECESSITY TO PRESERVE ABORIGINAL NAMES OF RIVERS. — DELAYED BY STRAY BULLOCKS FOR SEVERAL DAYS. — FINALLY ARRIVE AT THE JUNCTION OF THE RIVER WITH THE DARLING. — CROSS THE MACQUARIE NEAR ITS JUNCTION AND FORD THE DARLING AT WYÀBRY.
25TH JANUARY.—Dr. Stephenson having recommended the application of leeches, and having observed them in the ponds at Nyingan, I sent William Baldock and Yuranigh there in search of some, and they brought back enough. Fourteen were applied to my eyes the same afternoon. The ground here was quite naked; it was, in fact, the blue clay of the Darling, with the same sterile looking plants; and no time was to be lost in seeking some ponds where there might be also good grass for the cattle. Therm. at sunrise, 97°; at noon, 100°; at 9 p.m. 90°; with wet bulb, 71°.
25TH JANUARY.—Dr. Stephenson suggested using leeches and mentioned seeing them in the ponds at Nyingan, so I sent William Baldock and Yuranigh to find some, and they returned with plenty. Fourteen were applied to my eyes that same afternoon. The ground here was completely bare; it was actually the blue clay of the Darling, with the same unappealing plants; and we needed to hurry to find some ponds that might also have good grass for the cattle. Temperature at sunrise was 97°; at noon, 100°; at 9 p.m. 90°; with a wet bulb reading of 71°.
26TH JANUARY.—I sent Corporal Graham with Piper, in a N. E. direction to where we had observed the light of burning woods reflected from a cloudy sky last evening; considering that a sure indication that water was near, as natives are seldom found where there is none. He returned early with the welcome tidings that he had found abundance of water in a creek about five miles off, and excellent grass upon its banks. My eyes were so far recovered that I could observe the altitude of a star, thus ascertaining the latitude of this camp to be 31° 20' 20" S. Therm. at sunrise, 85°; at noon, 112°; at 9 p.m. 84°; with wet bulb, 70°.
26TH JANUARY.—I sent Corporal Graham and Piper in a northeast direction to where we had seen the light from burning woods reflected off a cloudy sky last night; I figured that was a good sign that water was close by, as natives are rarely found where there isn't any. He came back early with the great news that he found plenty of water in a creek about five miles away, along with excellent grass on its banks. My eyes had improved enough that I could measure the height of a star, allowing me to determine the latitude of this camp to be 31° 20' 20" S. The temperature at sunrise was 85°; at noon, it was 112°; and at 9 p.m., it was 84°; with a wet bulb reading of 70°.
27TH JANUARY.—The whole party moved to the ponds called "Cannonbà" by the natives. There we found greater abundance of water and better grass than we had seen near water during the whole journey, and I determined to halt for at least two weeks, as part of the time I had previously intended to devote to the repose and refreshment of the cattle, when we should have reached the Darling. The cattle and their drivers had been much harassed, and both needed and deserved rest. The horses had got out of condition, and I considered that when we arrived at the Darling their services would be more required. I was also to try the experiment here, whether I might prosecute the journey without danger of losing my eyesight; to have abandoned the undertaking at that point, had been almost as painful to me as the other alternative. There were no hostile natives here, the fire having been set up by some solitary gins; rain was daily to be expected, at least cooler weather would certainly come in a short time; the wheels of the drays had been long represented to me as needing a thorough repair, from the effect of the heat on the wheels;—and, upon the whole, I considered it very fortunate that we could encamp under such circumstances on so favourable a spot. We placed our tents amongst shady bushes—set up the blacksmith's forge, and soon all hands were at work in their various avocations, whilst the cattle and horses enjoyed the fresh grass, leisure to eat it, and abundance of water.
27TH JANUARY.—The whole group moved to the ponds called "Cannonbà" by the locals. There, we found more water and better grass than we had seen near any water throughout the whole journey, and I decided to stay for at least two weeks, as part of the time I had originally planned to dedicate to resting and refreshing the cattle once we reached the Darling. The cattle and their drivers had been very stressed, and both needed and deserved a break. The horses had fallen out of shape, and I believed that when we got to the Darling, their help would be needed more. I also wanted to see if I could continue the journey without risking my eyesight; giving up at that point would have been almost as painful as the other option. There were no hostile locals around, as the fire had been made by some lone women; rain was expected daily, or at least cooler weather would come soon; the wheels of the carts had often been said to need serious repair due to the heat’s effects;—and overall, I thought it was very lucky that we could camp under such favorable conditions in such a great spot. We set up our tents among shady bushes—set up the blacksmith's forge, and soon everyone was busy with their different tasks, while the cattle and horses enjoyed the fresh grass, the time to eat it, and plenty of water.
Amongst the bushes here, a Hakea, with simple filiform mucronulate leaves without flower, occurred, loaded with oblong hard galls resembling dry plums. Also the Senecio cunninghami (D.C.), found by Allan Cunningham on the shores of Lake George. Mr. Stephenson discovered here a very pretty new Trichinium, with heads of hoary pink flowers. [* T. semilanatum (Lindl. MS.); ramosa, pubescens, ramulis, angulatis, foliis linearibus acutis noveillis villosis, capitulis paucifloris hemisphericis, rachi densè bracteis uninerviis acutis scpalisque angustis plumosis parcè lanatis.]
Among the bushes here, a Hakea with long, thin leaves and no flowers was found, covered in oval, hard galls that looked like dried plums. Also, the Senecio cunninghami (D.C.) was discovered by Allan Cunningham on the shores of Lake George. Mr. Stephenson found a very pretty new Trichinium with clusters of soft pink flowers. [* T. semilanatum (Lindl. MS.); branching, hairy, with angular branches, narrow pointed new leaves that are hairy, few-flowered hemispherical flower heads, with densely bracted, single-veined sharp bracts and narrow, slightly woolly, hairy sepals.]
I learnt from the natives that this creek also joined the Bogan, consequently that the real Duck Creek must either be still to the N. E. of us, or be a branch out of this. At all events, the creek surveyed by Larmer is thus proved to have been a discovery of his, and a most useful one it has thus proved to us on this emergency. That chain of ponds (whence we had just come) was called Bellaringa; this "Cannonbà;" and to what I suppose must be Duck Creek, water to which the natives point northward, they give the name of "Marra." Therm. at sunrise, 78°; at noon, 115°; at 4 p.m. 96°; at 9, 88°; with wet bulb, 73°.
I learned from the locals that this creek also connected to the Bogan, so the real Duck Creek must either still be to the northeast of us or be a branch of this one. In any case, the creek surveyed by Larmer is clearly a discovery of his, and it has been really useful to us in this situation. That chain of ponds we just left was called Bellaringa; this one is "Cannonbà;" and what I believe must be Duck Creek, which the locals point to in the north, is called "Marra." The thermometer read 78° at sunrise, 115° at noon, 96° at 4 p.m., and 88° at 9 p.m., with a wet bulb reading of 73°.
28TH JANUARY.—Several kettles, a good spade, a Roman balance with large chain complete, barrels, and other articles, were found at the bottom of one of the ponds; and old tracks of cattle were numerous about the banks. Thus it was clear that this favourable spot for a cattle station had not been unheeded by the white man. It was vaguely asserted by some old gins seen by Piper, that three men had been killed here when the place was abandoned. We were about twelve or fourteen miles to the W.N.W. of Mount Harris; and certainly the general bed of this watercourse was broader than that of the Bogan, and moreover contained much granitic sand, all but identifying its sources with those of the Macquarie. This day was very hot; a thunder cloud passed over us, and a shower fell about 3 p.m. Thermometer at sunrise, 78°; at noon, 115°; at 4 p.m. 108°; at 9, 84°; with wet bulb, 63°.
28TH JANUARY.—Several kettles, a good shovel, a Roman scale with a complete large chain, barrels, and other items were found at the bottom of one of the ponds. There were many old cattle tracks around the banks. This made it clear that this prime location for a cattle station hadn't gone unnoticed by the white settlers. Some old women, seen by Piper, vaguely claimed that three men had been killed here when the place was abandoned. We were about twelve or fourteen miles to the west-northwest of Mount Harris; and clearly, the general bed of this watercourse was wider than that of the Bogan, and also contained much granitic sand, almost linking its sources with those of the Macquarie. The day was extremely hot; a thundercloud passed overhead, and a shower fell around 3 p.m. The thermometer read 78° at sunrise, 115° at noon, 108° at 4 p.m., and 84° at 9 p.m., with a wet bulb reading of 63°.
29TH JANUARY.—A more than usually hot wind raised the thermometer to 115° in the shade; but distant thunder was soon heard, and the horizon became clouded. The day was very sultry, and although no rain fell near us, it was evident that other parts to the north-east were receiving a heavy shower. Thermometer at sunset, 102°.
29TH JANUARY.—An unusually hot wind pushed the thermometer up to 115° in the shade; however, we soon heard distant thunder, and the horizon turned cloudy. The day felt really muggy, and even though we didn’t get rain here, it was clear that other areas to the northeast were having a heavy downpour. Thermometer at sunset, 102°.
30TH JANUARY.—An easterly wind brought a refreshing air from the quarter where the thunder-cloud had exhausted itself last evening. This day the doctor found the tree mentioned as bearing a nondescript fruit in my former journal, Vol. I. page 82., but this tree bore neither flower nor fruit. Thermometer at sunrise, 80°; at noon, 103°; at 4 p.m., 108°; at 9, 100 ½°; with wet bulb, 79°.
30TH JANUARY.—An easterly wind brought a refreshing breeze from where the thunderstorm had cleared out last night. Today, the doctor discovered the tree I mentioned before that had an unknown fruit in my earlier journal, Vol. I. page 82., but this tree had neither flowers nor fruit. The thermometer read 80° at sunrise, 103° at noon, 108° at 4 p.m., and 100 ½° at 9, with a wet bulb temperature of 79°.
31ST JANUARY.—The weather still very sultry. I commenced a series of observations with a syphon barometer (made by Bunten of Paris). The table for expansion of mercury and mean dilatation of glass, sent me by my friend Captain P. P. King, came but to 88° of Fahrenheit, whereas at 4 p.m., the centigrade thermometer stood at 44½°, which is equal to 112° of Fahrenheit.
31ST JANUARY.—The weather is still very humid. I started a series of observations using a syphon barometer (made by Bunten of Paris). The table for the expansion of mercury and the average dilation of glass, provided by my friend Captain P. P. King, only went up to 88°F, while at 4 p.m., the Celsius thermometer read 44½°, which is equivalent to 112°F.
This day I was apprised of Piper's intention to leave the party, taking with him the two younger and more useful natives. He had recently made some very unreasonable demands. It was now obvious from various sayings and doings thus brought to my recollection, that he had never any serious intention of accompanying this expedition throughout its progress. The services of other more intelligent natives might easily have been obtained, having been proffered by many in the settled districts, but Piper from having been with me before, was preferred as a matter of course. He had not improved in speech or manners during the long interval of ten years that had elapsed since our former acquaintance, although during that time he had visited Adelaide, Sydney, Moreton Bay, the river Hunter, etc., etc. From the day on which he had joined the party on this last occasion, he had been allowed a horse, saddle, doublebarrelled gun, clothing, and the same rations as the other men, blankets, place in a tent with the men, etc. Unlike most other natives, he was a very bad shot, and very awkward about a horse; it was impossible to obtain any clear intelligence from his countrymen through him as interpreter; he went very unwillingly about doing anything. He had drawn his rations and those of the two young natives separately from the men's mess the week before this, on the plea that they did not obtain their fair share; he was thus premeditately preparing for his clandestine departure, foreseeing that on the Saturday, when rations were issued, he could thus obtain a week's provisions in advance, without suspicion. He also had it in his power, like a true savage, to take the lion's share from the other two, in thus drawing rations apart from the men's mess. He had heard of the gins who had made the conflagration having retired towards the cattle-stations on the Macquarie. Here, then, while other men were actively at their work,—blacksmiths, carpenters, bullock-drivers, —this man, who was as well fed and clothed as they, carried on a horse to boot, and doing no work, was the only dissatisfied person. Me, whom he called his "old master," he would heartlessly leave, without a native guide, just at the time when such guides were most required. The only difficulty I felt on this occasion was how to secure the services of the two others, and yet dismiss him. He had just received a week's ration in advance, and he was baking the whole of the flour into bread. I sent to have him instantly seized, and brought with the dough and the other native, Yuranigh, before Mr. Kennedy and myself, as magistrates. He denied the intention to decamp. The other declared he had proposed to him to leave the party and go in search of gins, and that he could not understand him; that he was afraid to accompany Piper in a country so far from his own home (Buree). On this I ordered Piper to be sent to Bathurst, and the rations he was about to carry off, to be given to the other two, and that he should be kept apart from them during the night. Thermometer at sunrise, 85°; at noon, 111°; at 4 p.m., 112°; at 9, 101°;—with wet bulb, 78°.
Today I learned of Piper's plan to leave the group, taking with him the two younger and more capable locals. He had recently made some unreasonable demands. It was now clear from various things I've remembered that he never really intended to stay with this expedition until the end. Other, more capable locals could have easily been found since many had offered their help from the settled areas, but Piper was chosen simply because he had been with me before. He hadn’t improved in speech or behavior during the ten years since we last met, despite having traveled to Adelaide, Sydney, Moreton Bay, the Hunter River, and more. Since joining the group this time, he had been given a horse, saddle, double-barreled gun, clothing, and the same rations as the other men, along with a spot in the tent with them. Unlike most other locals, he was a terrible shot and very clumsy with a horse; it was impossible to get any useful information from his countrymen through him as an interpreter, and he was very unwilling to help. The week before this, he had drawn rations for himself and the two younger locals separately from the men’s supplies, claiming they weren’t getting their fair share; he was thus planning for his secret departure, anticipating that on Saturday, when rations were given out, he could get a week's worth of provisions in advance without raising any suspicions. He also had the ability, like a true opportunist, to take more than his share from the other two by drawing rations separately from the men’s mess. He had heard that the women who started the fire had moved towards the cattle stations on the Macquarie. So here, while the other men were busy with their work—blacksmiths, carpenters, bullock drivers—this man, who was just as well-fed and dressed as they were, also riding a horse, was the only one unhappy. He would call me his "old master" and then leave without a local guide just when we needed them the most. My only concern was how to keep the other two while getting rid of him. He had just received a week's worth of rations in advance and was baking all the flour into bread. I ordered him to be seized and brought, along with the dough and the other local, Yuranigh, before Mr. Kennedy and myself, as magistrates. He denied planning to leave. The other stated that Piper had suggested they leave and look for women, and that he didn’t understand him; he was afraid to join Piper in such unfamiliar territory (Buree). I then ordered Piper to be sent to Bathurst, the rations he was about to take to be given to the other two, and that he should be kept separate from them during the night. Thermometer read: at sunrise, 85°; at noon, 111°; at 4 p.m., 112°; at 9 p.m., 101°;—with a wet bulb reading of 78°.
1ST FEBRUARY.—This morning Piper was sent off with Corporal Graham. Mr. Kennedy rode on also in order to find out the nearest police station, and make arrangements, if possible, there, for forwarding Piper to Bathurst, his own district, which would put it out of his power to molest the party by endeavouring to induce the other natives to leave it. On them this measure appeared to have a salutary effect, Yuranigh calmly observing that Piper had only himself to blame for what had befallen him, and that he had acted like a fool. Mr. Kennedy undertook also to obtain, if he could, some more kangaroo dogs to replace those which had died from excessive heat. By that loss our party was left almost without dogs; and dogs were useful not only to kill kangaroos and emus, but to afford protection from, or to give notice of, nightly attacks by the natives, in which attacks those on that part of the Darling we were approaching, had been rather too successful against various armed parties of whites. Thermometer at sunrise, 88°; at noon, 104°; at 4 p.m., 106°; at 9 p.m., 88°;—with wet bulb, 76°.
1ST FEBRUARY.—This morning, Piper was sent off with Corporal Graham. Mr. Kennedy also rode along to find the nearest police station and, if possible, make arrangements to send Piper to Bathurst, his own area. This would prevent him from bothering the group by trying to encourage the other natives to leave. It seemed this measure had a positive effect, with Yuranigh calmly noting that Piper had only himself to blame for what happened to him and that he had acted foolishly. Mr. Kennedy also agreed to try to get some more kangaroo dogs to replace those that had died from the extreme heat. With that loss, our group was left almost without any dogs, and dogs were essential not only for hunting kangaroos and emus but also for protection against or early warnings of nightly attacks by the natives. Those in that part of the Darling we were approaching had been quite successful against several armed groups of whites. Thermometer at sunrise, 88°; at noon, 104°; at 4 p.m., 106°; at 9 p.m., 88°;—with wet bulb, 76°.
2ND FEBRUARY.—The setting sun descended on a blue stratus cloud which appeared along the edge of all other parts of the horizon, and eagerly watching any indication of a change, I drew even from this a presage of rain. Thermometer at sunrise, 88°; at noon, 104°; at 4 p.m., 106; at 9, 88°;—with wet bulb, 72°.
2ND FEBRUARY.—The setting sun sank behind a blue stratus cloud that stretched across the horizon, and while anxiously looking for any sign of change, I took this as a hint of rain. The thermometer read 88° at sunrise, 104° at noon, 106° at 4 p.m., and 88° at 9 p.m.—with a wet bulb reading of 72°.
3RD FEBRUARY.—High winds whistled among the trees this morning, and dark clouds of stratus appeared in the sky. A substantial shower fell about 9 a.m., and the horizon was gradually shut in by clouds of nimbus. The high wind had blown steadily from north both yesterday and this morning, and in the same quarter a thunder cloud seemed busy. But when the rain began to fall, the wind shifted to the S.W., from which quarter the rain seemed to come. With it came a very peculiar smell, which I had noticed near Mount Arapiles in 1836, about the time of the commencement of the rainy weather there; and nothing could have been more welcome to us now, than the prospect of rain, and the decided change in the temperature from 115° to 73°. This was almost the first day during a month in which the air had not been warmer than our blood; often had it been greater than fever heat, so that 73° felt to us as cool as 50° would have been to a resident of Sydney. Much rain did not fall at our camp, but it seemed that rain was falling about the sources of the Bogan and other places at which a supply of water was indispensable to enable us to proceed. At sunset, glimpses of a clear sky appeared about the horizon, and during the night the moon and stars came forth, and destroyed all hopes of more rain. We were thankful, however, for the relief afforded by what had fallen, which had lowered the temperature about 40 degrees, and enabled us to enjoy a night of refreshing rest. Thermometer at sunrise, 85°; at noon, 80°; at 4 p.m., 73°; at 9, 68°; —with wet bulb, 67°.
3RD FEBRUARY.—High winds whistled through the trees this morning, and dark stratus clouds appeared in the sky. A heavy shower fell around 9 a.m., and the horizon was gradually filled with nimbus clouds. The strong wind had been blowing steadily from the north both yesterday and this morning, and a thundercloud seemed to be forming in that direction. But when the rain started, the wind shifted to the southwest, which is where the rain seemed to be coming from. Along with it came a very distinct smell that I had noticed near Mount Arapiles back in 1836, around the time the rainy weather began there; and nothing could have been more welcome to us now than the promise of rain and the clear change in temperature from 115° to 73°. This was almost the first day in a month where the air hadn't been warmer than our body temperature; often it had been hotter than fever heat, so 73° felt to us as refreshing as 50° would to someone living in Sydney. Not much rain fell at our camp, but it seemed like rain was falling around the sources of the Bogan and other places where we desperately needed water to continue. At sunset, we caught glimpses of a clear sky on the horizon, and during the night, the moon and stars came out, dashing all hopes of more rain. However, we were grateful for the relief given by what had fallen, which had lowered the temperature by about 40 degrees, allowing us to enjoy a night of refreshing rest. Thermometer at sunrise, 85°; at noon, 80°; at 4 p.m., 73°; at 9, 68°;—with wet bulb, 67°.
4TH FEBRUARY.—The morning dawned in a most serene sky, with refreshing breezes from the south, and the thermometer at 61°. This day we had completed the repair of the wheels of half the drays. Many of the tire-rings had been cut, rewelded, and again fixed and bolted on the wheels; the wood of these having contracted so much in the intense heat, as to have rendered these repairs indispensable. The same repairs were required by the wheels of the remaining drays and those of the light carts, and the smith and wheelwright continued their work with activity and zeal. Meanwhile the cattle were daily regaining strength and vigour for another effort. Thermometer at sunrise, 61°; at noon, 89°; at 4 p.m., 89°; at 9, 72°;—with wet bulb, 62°.
4TH FEBRUARY.—The morning started with a clear sky and refreshing breezes from the south, and the temperature was at 61°. Today, we finished fixing the wheels on half of the drays. Many of the tire rings had been cut, rewelded, and reattached to the wheels; the wood had shrunk a lot in the intense heat, making these repairs essential. The same fixes were needed for the wheels on the other drays and the light carts, and the smith and wheelwright continued to work with energy and enthusiasm. Meanwhile, the cattle were gradually regaining their strength and energy for another task. Temperature readings were 61° at sunrise, 89° at noon, 89° at 4 p.m., and 72° at 9 p.m., with a wet bulb reading of 62°.
5TH FEBRUARY.—This morning the mercurial column stood higher than I had yet observed it here, and clouds of cirrus lay in long streaks across the sky, ranging from east to west, but these were most abundant towards the northern horizon. The day was comparatively cool and pleasant, the thermometer never having risen above 96°. By 6 p.m., the barometer had fallen nearly four millimetres, and even upon this apparently trivial circumstance, I could build some hope of rain; such was my anxiety for a change of weather at that time, when the earth was so parched as not only to preclude our travelling, but almost to deprive us of sight. Thermometer at sunrise, 60°; at noon, 94°; at 4 p.m., 96°; at 9, 73°; with wet bulb, 64°.
5TH FEBRUARY.—This morning, the mercury was higher than I had seen it here before, and clouds of cirrus streaked across the sky from east to west, but they were most plentiful toward the northern horizon. The day was relatively cool and nice, with the temperature never climbing above 96°. By 6 p.m., the barometer had dropped nearly four millimeters, and even though this seemed like a minor detail, I felt some hope for rain; I was so anxious for a change in the weather, given how dry the ground was, which not only made travel impossible but also nearly obscured our visibility. Temperature at sunrise, 60°; at noon, 94°; at 4 p.m., 96°; at 9 p.m., 73°; with a wet bulb reading of 64°.
6TH FEBRUARY.—Dark stratus-shaped clouds wholly covered the sky, and shut out the sun, to my unspeakable delight. A most decided change seemed to have taken place; still the barometer remained as low as on the previous evening. A slight breeze from south-east changed to north, and at about 7 a.m. the rain began to fall. Clouds of nimbus closed on the woody horizon, and we had a day of rain. In the evening the barometer had fallen still lower, and it was probable that the rain might continue through the night. Range of thermometer from 74° to 72°.
6TH FEBRUARY.—Dark, stratus-like clouds completely covered the sky, blocking out the sun, much to my delight. It seemed a definite change had occurred; however, the barometer stayed as low as it was the night before. A light breeze shifted from the southeast to the north, and around 7 a.m., it started to rain. Nimbus clouds closed in on the wooded horizon, giving us a rainy day. By evening, the barometer had dropped even lower, and it was likely that the rain would continue overnight. The thermometer ranged from 74° to 72°.
7TH FEBRUARY.—Some heavy showers fell during the night, and the mercurial column stood exactly at the same point as on the last evening. About 10 a.m. a very heavy shower fell, after which the sun broke through, and the mass of vapour separated into vast clouds of nimbus. Much rain seemed to be still falling in the east, where the Macquarie, Bogan, and other rivers had their sources. At noon, the barometer had risen one millimetre. The rain had penetrated the clay soil of the plains about five inches.
7TH FEBRUARY.—Some heavy rain fell during the night, and the mercury stayed exactly where it was the previous evening. Around 10 a.m., there was a really heavy downpour, after which the sun came out, and the mass of vapor broke into large clouds of nimbus. It looked like a lot of rain was still falling to the east, where the Macquarie, Bogan, and other rivers begin. By noon, the barometer had risen by one millimeter. The rain had soaked into the clay soil of the plains by about five inches.
Mr. Kennedy returned in the afternoon, having duly provided for Piper's conveyance by the mounted police to Bathurst, and brought back a good bull-dog, and also some useful information respecting the various water-courses, and the river Macquarie, which he had gathered from the natives about the stations along the banks of that river. Thermometer at sunrise, 74°; at noon, 86°; at 4 p.m., 90°; at 9, 80°;—with wet bulb, 75°.
Mr. Kennedy came back in the afternoon after arranging for Piper to be taken by the mounted police to Bathurst. He also brought along a strong bulldog and some valuable information about the different water sources and the Macquarie River, which he had learned from the locals near the stations along the riverbank. The temperature was 74° at sunrise, 86° at noon, 90° at 4 p.m., and 80° at 9 p.m., with a wet bulb reading of 75°.
8TH FEBRUARY.—The moisture recently imbibed by the earth and air made us much more sensible of the high temperature in which we had been living, although it had been reduced by the late rains. The night air, especially, breathed no refreshing coolness as heretofore during the dry heat. The drier earth below seemed to be steaming the wet soil above it (as Brown, our cook, justly observed). Thermometer at sunrise, 80°; at noon, 96°; at 4 p.m., 95°; at 9, 80°;—with wet bulb, 75°.
8TH FEBRUARY.—The recent moisture absorbed by the ground and air made us more aware of the high temperatures we had been experiencing, even though the recent rains had brought it down. The night air, in particular, felt less refreshing compared to the coolness we were used to during the dry heat. The drier earth below seemed to be steaming the wet soil above it (as Brown, our cook, rightly pointed out). Thermometer at sunrise, 80°; at noon, 96°; at 4 p.m., 95°; at 9, 80°;—with wet bulb, 75°.
9TH FEBRUARY.—The leisure we enjoyed at this camp, enabled us to bestow more attention on the vegetable and animal productions of these remarkable plains, than had been given during my former journey. It appeared that the saltwort plants, which were numerous, were not only efficacious in keeping the cattle that fed on them in the best possible condition; but as wholly preventing cattle and sheep from licking clay, a vicious habit to which they are so prone, that grassy runs in the higher country nearer Sydney are sometimes abandoned only on account of the "licking holes" they contain. It is chiefly to take off that taste for licking the saline clay, that rock-salt is in such request for sheep, lumps of it being laid in their pens for this purpose. At all events, it is certain that by this licking of clay both sheep and cattle are much injured in health and condition, losing their appetite for grass, and finally passing clay only, as may be seen near such places. In the salt plants on these plains, nature has amply provided for this taste of these large herbivora for salt. Our sheep nibbled at the mesembryanthemum, and the cattle ate greedily of various bushes whereof the leaf was sensibly salt to the taste. The colour of the leaves of such bushes is usually a very light bluish green, and there are many species. That with the largest leaves, called salt-bush by stockmen, and by Dr. Brown Rhagodia parabolica, was very useful as a vegetable after extracting the salt sufficiently from it. This we accidentally discovered from some experiments made by Mr. Stephenson, for the purpose of ascertaining the proportion of salt contained in the leaves. The leaves contained as much as a twentieth part of salt, nearly two ounces having been obtained from two pounds of the leaves.[*] We also found that after twice boiling the leaves a few minutes in water to extract the salt, and then an hour in a third water, the leaves formed a tender and palatable vegetable, somewhat resembling spinach. As the superior excellence of these runs for fattening cattle is admitted on all hands, as compared with others more abundant in grass on the eastern side of the great range, would it not be advisable for the colonists to cultivate this salt-supplying bush, and thereby to produce a vegetable substitute for the rock salt, which is not only expensive, but only a very imperfect remedy for the clay-licking propensities of sheep and cattle on many runs? Thermometer at sunrise, 70°; at noon, 94°; at 4 p.m., 98°; at 9, 86°;—with wet bulb, 75°.
9TH FEBRUARY.—The time we spent at this camp allowed us to focus more on the plant and animal life of these remarkable plains than I did during my previous journey. It seemed that the saltwort plants, which were abundant, not only helped keep the cattle that grazed on them in top condition but also completely prevented cattle and sheep from licking clay, a harmful habit they often develop. Grassy areas in the higher regions closer to Sydney are sometimes abandoned solely because of the "licking holes" they have. Rock salt is in high demand for sheep to help deter them from wanting to lick the salty clay, with chunks of it placed in their pens for this reason. In any case, it's clear that this clay licking greatly harms the health and condition of both sheep and cattle, leading them to lose their appetite for grass and eventually to pass only clay, as can be seen near these spots. Nature has generously provided salt-rich plants on these plains to satisfy the salt cravings of these large herbivores. Our sheep grazed on the mesembryanthemum, and the cattle eagerly consumed various bushes that were noticeably salty. The leaves of these bushes are usually a pale bluish-green, and there are many species. The one with the largest leaves, known as salt-bush by stockmen and by Dr. Brown as Rhagodia parabolica, was very useful as a vegetable after the salt was removed. We stumbled upon this information through some tests conducted by Mr. Stephenson to determine the salt content in the leaves. The leaves contained as much as one-twentieth salt, with nearly two ounces being extracted from two pounds of leaves.[*] We also discovered that after boiling the leaves twice for a few minutes in water to remove the salt, and then boiling them for an hour in a third batch of water, they became a tender and tasty vegetable, somewhat like spinach. Since the superiority of these pastures for fattening cattle is widely recognized compared to those that have more grass on the eastern side of the great range, wouldn't it be a good idea for the colonists to grow this salt-producing bush? It could provide a vegetable alternative to rock salt, which is not only costly but also only a partial solution to the clay-licking habits of sheep and cattle in many pastures. Thermometer at sunrise, 70°; at noon, 94°; at 4 p.m., 98°; at 9, 86°;—with wet bulb, 75°.
[* The process of Mr. Stephenson was as follows:—"Two pounds of the green leaf were boiled in eight quarts of water for half an hour, then strained and evaporated nearly to dryness. The mass was then submitted to a red heat for half an hour. The residuum was next digested in one pint of water, filtered, and again evaporated to six ounces. It was then exposed to the sun's rays, which completed the desiccation; crystals of a cubic shape having previously been formed."]
[* Mr. Stephenson's process was as follows: "Two pounds of green leaves were boiled in eight quarts of water for half an hour, then strained and evaporated almost to dryness. The remaining mass was then heated intensely for half an hour. The leftover material was next mixed with one pint of water, filtered, and then evaporated down to six ounces. It was then left in the sun, which finished the drying process; cubic-shaped crystals had formed previously."]
10TH FEBRUARY.—This morning the natives caught, in a hollow tree, an animal apparently of the same genus as the Dipus Mitchellii, and which seemed to live solely on vegetables. The barometer had fallen three millimetres last evening, and by noon this day it had declined three more. A fresh breeze blew from N. N. E., and at 2 p.m. a dark thunder cloud came from the S. S. W. and passed over the camp. The thunder was very loud, the lightning close and vivid; the wind for some time high, and rain heavy. The sky was, however, clear by 4 p.m., except in the N. E. where the thunder continued. Thermometer at sunrise, 75°.
10TH FEBRUARY.—This morning, the locals caught an animal in a hollow tree that seemed to belong to the same genus as the Dipus Mitchellii, and it appeared to feed exclusively on plants. The barometer had dropped three millimeters last evening, and by noon today, it had fallen another three. A fresh breeze was blowing from the N. N. E., and at 2 p.m., a dark thundercloud moved in from the S. S. W. and passed over the camp. The thunder was very loud, the lightning was close and bright; the wind was strong for a while, and the rain was heavy. However, the sky was clear by 4 p.m., except in the N. E. where the thunder continued. The thermometer read 75° at sunrise.
11TH FEBRUARY.—The real "Duck Creek" was still to the northeastward of our camp, as Mr. Kennedy had ascertained when on the Macquarie. I hoped to find in it water sufficient at least to serve the party halting on it one night, on its way to the Macquarie, by which line alone I was now convinced water enough might be obtained to supply the party until it could arrive at the Darling; I therefore rode this day to examine it, with the elder native. I followed the bearing of N. N. E. from our camp, a direction in which it was likely to be met with, so as equally to divide the journey of the drays to the Macquarie, into two days. I crossed plains covered with luxuriant crops of very rich grass, and at length obtained a sight of Mount Foster bearing east. I reached Duck Creek (that of Sturt), or the "Marra" of the natives, ascertained by the bearing of Mount Foster, the native name of which is Narrab. I examined the bed of the Marra downwards for about two miles, without seeing therein the least indication of water, and returned to the camp fully resolved to proceed next day to the Macquarie, so as to reach it a little way below Mount Foster, a distance in that direction rather too great for the cattle to travel over in one day. Thermometer at sunrise, 59°; at noon, 73°; at 4 p.m., 76°; at 9, 61°;—with wet bulb, 57°. From an average of twenty-five observations of the mercurial column, the height of this station has been determined to be 566 English feet above the level of the sea.
11TH FEBRUARY.—The actual "Duck Creek" was still to the northeast of our camp, as Mr. Kennedy confirmed when he was on the Macquarie. I hoped to find enough water there to support our party for at least one night on their way to the Macquarie, which I now believed was the only route where sufficient water could be found to sustain us until we reached the Darling. So, I rode out today to check it out with the older native. I followed a northeast direction from our camp, which was likely where it would be found, equally dividing the journey of the wagons to the Macquarie into two days. I crossed plains covered with lush, rich grass, and finally spotted Mount Foster to the east. I reached Duck Creek (Sturt's Duck Creek), or the "Marra" as the natives call it, confirmed by the position of Mount Foster, whose native name is Narrab. I explored the bed of the Marra downstream for about two miles, but I didn’t see any signs of water, so I returned to the camp fully determined to head to the Macquarie the next day, aiming to reach it a bit below Mount Foster, which was a distance too far for the cattle to cover in one day. The thermometer read 59°F at sunrise, 73°F at noon, 76°F at 4 p.m., and 61°F at 9 p.m.—with a wet bulb reading of 57°F. Based on an average of twenty-five observations of the mercury column, the height of this location has been calculated to be 566 feet above sea level.
12TH FEBRUARY.—We broke up our encampment on Cannonbà ponds, where we had greatly recruited ourselves, both men and cattle, and crossing the channel of the water-course near our camping ground, we travelled over open grassy plains towards the river Macquarie. At thirteen miles we reached the western branch of Duck Creek, or "Marra," a name by which it is universally known to natives and stockmen. Of this we crossed several branches, from which it would appear as if the name was derived from that of the hand, which is the same, especially as natives sometimes hold up the hand and extend the fingers, when they would express that a river has various branches or sources. I went on with an advanced party towards the Macquarie, and encamped on the bank of that river at 5 p.m. The thick grass, low forests of yarra trees, and finally the majestic blue gum trees along the river margin, reminded me of the northern rivers seen during my journey of 1831. Still even the bed of this was dry, and I found only two water holes on examining the channel for two miles. One of these was, however, deep, and we encamped near it, surrounded by excellent grass in great abundance. The Macquarie, like other Australian rivers, has a peculiar character, and this was soon apparent in the reeds and lofty yarra trees growing on reedy plats, and not, as usual in other rivers, on the edge of water-worn banks. The channel was here deep and dry. We found this day, in the scrubs by Marra Creek, the Acacia salicina, whereof the wood has a strong perfume resembling violets, also a new small-leaved Kochia with intricate branches.[*] Thermometer at sunrise, 47°; at 4 p.m., 77°; at 9, 57°;—with wet bulb, 56°.
12TH FEBRUARY.—We packed up our campsite by Cannonbà ponds, where we had significantly rested and replenished ourselves, both men and cattle. After crossing the watercourse near our camping site, we traveled across open grassy plains toward the Macquarie River. After thirteen miles, we reached the western branch of Duck Creek, or "Marra," which is the name it’s usually known by among locals and stockmen. We crossed several branches, and it seems the name might come from the word for hand, as locals sometimes hold up their hand and spread their fingers to indicate that a river has various branches or sources. I continued on with an advance party toward the Macquarie and set up camp on the riverbank at 5 p.m. The lush grass, low yarra tree forests, and the impressive blue gum trees lining the riverbanks reminded me of the northern rivers I saw during my journey in 1831. However, the riverbed was dry, and I only found two waterholes after exploring the channel for two miles. One of these was quite deep, and we camped nearby, surrounded by an abundance of excellent grass. The Macquarie, like other Australian rivers, has a distinctive character, which became clear with the reeds and tall yarra trees growing on reedy flats, rather than along typical water-worn banks. Here, the channel was deep and dry. During the day, in the scrub near Marra Creek, we found the Acacia salicina, whose wood has a strong scent reminiscent of violets, as well as a new small-leaved Kochia with complex branches.[*] The thermometer read 47° at sunrise; 77° at 4 p.m.; and 57° at 9, with a wet bulb reading of 56°.
[* K. thymifolia (Lindl. MS.); fruticosa, ramosissima, ramulis intricatis pubescentibus, foliis carnosis obtusis teretibus fructibusque glabris.]
[* K. thymifolia (Lindl. MS.); shrubby, highly branched, with intricate hairy twigs, fleshy blunt cylindrical leaves, and smooth fruits.]
13TH FEBRUARY.—I was again laid up with the maladie du pays—sore eyes. Mr. Stephenson took a ride for me to the summit of Mount Foster, and to various cattle stations about its base, with some questions to which I required answers, about the river and stations on it lower down. But no one could tell what the western side of the marshes was like, as no person had passed that way; the country being more open on the eastern side, where only the stations were situated; Mr. Kinghorne's at Gràway, about five miles from our camp, being the lowest down on the west bank. Mr. Stephenson returned early, having met two of the mounted police. To my most important question—what water was to be found lower down in the river—the reply was very satisfactory; namely, "plenty, and a flood coming down from the Turmountains." The two policemen said they had travelled twenty miles with it, on the day previous, and that it would still take some time to arrive near our camp. About noon the drays arrived in good order, having been encamped where there was no water about six miles short of our camp, the whole distance travelled, from Cannonbà to the Macquarie, having been about nineteen miles. In the afternoon two of the men taking a walk up the river, reported on their return, that the flood poured in upon them when in the river bed, so suddenly, that they narrowly escaped it. Still the bed of the Macquarie before our camp continued so dry and silent, that I could scarcely believe the flood coming to be real, and so near to us, who had been put to so many shifts for want of water. Towards evening, I stationed a man with a gun a little way up the river, with orders to fire on the flood's appearance, that I might have time to run to the part of the channel nearest to our camp, and witness what I had so much wished to see, as well from curiosity as urgent need. The shades of evening came, however, but no flood, and the man on the look-out returned to the camp. Some hours later, and after the moon had risen, a murmuring sound like that of a distant waterfall, mingled with occasional cracks as of breaking timber, drew our attention, and I hastened to the river bank. By very slow degrees the sound grew louder, and at length, so audible as to draw various persons besides from the camp to the river-side. Still no flood appeared, although its approach was indicated by the occasional rending of trees with a loud noise. Such a phenomenon in a most serene moonlight night was quite new to us all. At length, the rushing sound of waters and loud cracking of timber, announced that the flood was in the next bend. It rushed into our sight, glittering in the moonbeams, a moving cataract, tossing before it ancient trees, and snapping them against its banks. It was preceded by a point of meandering water, picking its way, like a thing of life, through the deepest parts of the dark, dry, and shady bed, of what thus again became a flowing river. By my party, situated as we were at that time, beating about the country, and impeded in our journey, solely by the almost total absence of water —suffering excessively from thirst and extreme heat,—I am convinced the scene never can be forgotten. Here came at once abundance, the product of storms in the far off mountains, that overlooked our homes. My first impulse was to have welcomed this flood on our knees, for the scene was sublime in itself, while the subject—an abundance of water sent to us in a desert—greatly heightened the effect to our eyes. Suffice it to say, I had witnessed nothing of such interest in all my Australian travels. Even the heavens presented something new, at least uncommon, and therefore in harmony with this scene; the variable star ARGUS had increased to the first magnitude, just above the beautiful constellation of the southern cross, which slightly inclined over the river, in the only portion of sky seen through the trees. That very red star, thus rapidly increasing in magnitude, might, as characteristic of her rivers, be recognized as the star of Australia, when Europeans cross the Line. The river gradually filled up the channel nearly bank high, while the living cataract travelled onward, much slower than I had expected to see it; so slowly, indeed, that more than an hour after its first arrival, the sweet music of the head of the flood was distinctly audible from my tent, as the murmur of waters, and the diapason crash of logs, travelled slowly through the tortuous windings of the river bed. I was finally lulled to sleep by that melody of living waters, so grateful to my ear, and evidently so unwonted in the dry bed of the thirsty Macquarie. Thermometer, at sunrise, 47°; at noon, 79°; at 4 p.m., 88°; at 9, 63°; —with wet bulb, 57°.
13TH FEBRUARY.—I was once again laid up with the maladie du pays—sore eyes. Mr. Stephenson rode to the summit of Mount Foster and visited various cattle stations around its base for me, asking some questions I needed answers to about the river and the stations further downstream. However, no one could tell me what the western side of the marshes was like, as no one had gone that way; the land was more open on the eastern side, where only the stations were located, with Mr. Kinghorne's at Gràway, about five miles from our camp, being the lowest down on the west bank. Mr. Stephenson returned early after encountering two mounted police. To my most important question—what water was available further down the river—the response was very reassuring: "plenty, and a flood coming down from the Turmountains." The two policemen mentioned they had traveled with the flood for twenty miles the day before and that it would still take some time to reach our camp. Around noon, the drays arrived in good condition after camping six miles short of our camp where there was no water, covering a total distance of about nineteen miles from Cannonbà to the Macquarie. In the afternoon, two of the men who took a walk up the river reported, upon returning, that the flood rushed towards them so suddenly while they were in the riverbed that they narrowly escaped. Still, the bed of the Macquarie in front of our camp remained so dry and quiet that I could barely believe the flood approaching was real and so close to us, who had struggled so much for water. Toward evening, I stationed a man with a gun a little ways up the river, instructing him to fire when the flood appeared so that I would have time to reach the part of the channel closest to our camp and witness what I had longed to see, driven by both curiosity and urgent need. The evening came, but no flood appeared, and the lookout man returned to camp. A few hours later, after the moon had risen, we heard a murmuring sound like a distant waterfall mixed with occasional loud cracking, similar to breaking timber, which caught our attention, and I hurried to the riverbank. Gradually, the sound grew louder until it was loud enough to attract others from the camp to the river’s edge. Still, no flood was visible, despite the occasional crashing of trees that indicated its approach. Such a phenomenon on a calm moonlit night was entirely new to all of us. Eventually, the rushing sound of water and the loud cracking of timber announced that the flood was just around the next bend. It surged into view, sparkling in the moonlight, like a moving waterfall, carrying along ancient trees and smashing them against its banks. It was preceded by a section of meandering water, making its way like a living thing through the deepest parts of the dark, dry, shaded bed, which was once again a flowing river. Given our situation, surrounded by the arid landscape, struggling in our journey solely due to the almost complete lack of water—suffering greatly from thirst and extreme heat—I’m convinced that the scene could never be forgotten. Here came an abundance, the result of storms from the distant mountains overlooking our homes. My first instinct was to welcome this flood on our knees, as the scene was breathtaking, and the fact that it was water being sent to us in a desert amplified its significance. In short, I had witnessed nothing as captivating throughout all my Australian travels. Even the sky looked different, at least unusual, in keeping with the scene; the variable star ARGUS had brightened to the first magnitude, just above the beautiful constellation of the Southern Cross, which slightly leaned over the river in the only patch of sky visible through the trees. That brightening red star could be recognized as the star of Australia when Europeans cross the Line. The river gradually filled the channel nearly to the banks as the living waterfall moved forward much slower than I had expected. So slowly, in fact, that more than an hour after its initial arrival, the pleasant sound of the flood could be heard distinctly from my tent, as the murmur of water and the rhythmic crash of logs traveled softly through the winding riverbed. Eventually, I was lulled to sleep by the soothing melody of flowing water, a sound so pleasing to my ears and evidently so uncommon in the dry bed of the thirsty Macquarie. Thermometer, at sunrise, 47°; at noon, 79°; at 4 p.m., 88°; at 9, 63°;—with wet bulb, 57°.
14TH FEBRUARY.—The river had risen to within six feet of the top of the banks, and poured its turbid waters along in fulness and strength, but no longer with noise. All night that body of water had been in motion downwards, and seemed to me enough to deluge the whole country to the Darling, and correct at least any saltness in its waters, if stagnant; a probability which had greatly reconciled me to the necessity for changing the line of my intended route, as the waters above the junction of the Castlereagh had never been known to become salt. We proceeded, falling soon into a cart track which led us to Gràway, Mr. Kinghorne's cattlestation, and we encamped about five miles beyond it, near a bend of the river. We were already in the midst of reeds, but these had been so generally burnt, that we had little difficulty in crossing those parts of the marshes. The Imperata arundinacea, with its long head of white silky flowers, was common, and a straggling naked branched species of dock, on the parts unburnt. Thermometer at sunrise, 54°; at noon, 91°; at 4 P. M., 82°; at 9, 72°;—with wet bulb, 60°. Height above the level of the sea, 475 feet.
14TH FEBRUARY.—The river had risen to within six feet of the top of the banks, and was flowing with muddy water in full force, but no longer making noise. All night that body of water had been moving downstream, and it seemed enough to flood the entire area up to the Darling, possibly even clearing out any stagnation in its waters, which eased my mind about the need to change my intended route since the waters above the junction of the Castlereagh had never been known to turn salty. We moved on, soon finding a cart track that led us to Gràway, Mr. Kinghorne's cattle station, and we set up camp about five miles past it, near a bend in the river. We were already among reeds, but they had mostly burned away, so we had little trouble crossing the marshes. The Imperata arundinacea, with its long head of white silky flowers, was common, and there was a scattered naked-branched type of dock in the unburned areas. The thermometer read 54° at sunrise; 91° at noon; 82° at 4 P.M.; and 72° at 9, with a wet bulb at 60°. We were 475 feet above sea level.
15TH FEBRUARY.—Mr. Kinghorne obligingly accompanied me this day, and guided us across arms of the marshy ground. I was very glad to have his assistance, for I saw no line of trees as on other rivers, nor other objects by which I could pursue its course or keep near its waters; trees of the aquatic sort and reeds grew together. At one time nothing was visible to the eastward but a vast sea of reeds extending to the horizon. Where the long reeds remained unburnt, they presented a most formidable impediment, especially to men on foot and sheep, and twenty of these got astray as the party passed through. We encamped on a bank of rather firm ground, in lat. 30° 53' 55" S. The grass was very rich on some parts of open plains near the marshes, and the best was the PANICUM LOEVINODE of Dr. Lindley, mentioned in my former journals[*] as having been found pulled, and laid up in heaps for some purpose we could not then discover. Mr. Kinghorne now informed me that it was called by the natives "coolly," and that the gins gather it in great quantities, and pound the seeds between stones with water, forming a kind of paste or bread; thus was clearly explained the object of those heaps of this grass which we had formerly seen on the banks of the Darling. There they had formed the native's harvest field. There also I observed a brome grass, probably not distinct from the Broods australis of Brown; it called to mind the squarrose brome grass of Europe. Thermometer at sunrise, 59°; at noon, 87°; at 4, 89°; at 9, 73°;—with wet bulb, 66°.
15TH FEBRUARY.—Mr. Kinghorne kindly joined me today and guided us across the marshy ground. I was really grateful for his help, because I couldn’t see any lines of trees like I had along other rivers, or any other landmarks to follow the water's path. Aquatic trees and reeds grew together. At one point, the only thing visible to the east was an endless sea of reeds stretching to the horizon. Where the tall reeds remained unburnt, they created a serious obstacle, especially for people walking and sheep, and twenty of them got lost as we made our way through. We set up camp on a relatively solid bank, at lat. 30° 53' 55" S. The grass was really lush in some parts of the open plains near the marshes, and the best was the PANICUM LOEVINODE of Dr. Lindley, which I had mentioned in previous journals[*] as having been found pulled and heaped up for some unknown purpose. Mr. Kinghorne told me that it is called "coolly" by the natives, and that the women gather it in large amounts and pound the seeds with water between stones, forming a sort of paste or bread; this clearly explained the purpose of those heaps of grass we had seen along the Darling before. There, they had created the natives' harvest field. I also noticed a type of brome grass, likely not different from the Broods australis of Brown; it reminded me of the squarrose brome grass found in Europe. The thermometer read 59° at sunrise; 87° at noon; 89° at 4; and 73° at 9;—with a wet bulb temperature of 66°.
[* Vol. i. p. 237.]
[* Vol. 1. p. 237.]
16TH FEBRUARY.—Mr. Kinghorne set out with a man of our party to examine Duck Creek, a native boy having told him that water was to be found in it lower down. I sent back early this morning, our native, with the store-keeper, some of the men, and the shepherd, to look for the lost sheep in the reeds, and Yuranigh fortunately found them out, still not very far from the spot where they had been separated from the rest of the flock. Our greatest difficulty in these marshes was the watering of the cattle. We had still the Macquarie at hand—deep, muddy, and stagnant —not above thirty feet wide, the banks so very soft that men could scarcely approach the water without sinking to the knees. We could water the horses with buckets, but not the bullocks. The great labour of filling one of the half-boats, and giving the cattle water by that means, was inevitable, and this operation took up three hours of the morning; a wheel required repair, the box having been broken yesterday. I for these reasons found it advisable to halt this day, which I did very reluctantly. At sunset, Mr. Kinghorne returned, having found no water in the "Marra," (Duck Creek).
16TH FEBRUARY.—Mr. Kinghorne set out with one of our group to check out Duck Creek, since a local boy told him there was water further down. I sent our local guide back early this morning with the storekeeper, some of the men, and the shepherd to search for the lost sheep in the reeds, and luckily, Yuranigh found them, not far from where they had been separated from the rest of the flock. Our biggest issue in these marshes was getting water for the cattle. We still had the Macquarie close by—it was deep, muddy, and stagnant—no more than thirty feet wide, with banks so soft that it was hard for men to get to the water without sinking to their knees. We could water the horses with buckets, but not the bullocks. The heavy task of filling one of the half-boats to water the cattle took up three hours this morning; a wheel needed repair because it had broken yesterday. For these reasons, I decided to stop for the day, which I did very reluctantly. At sunset, Mr. Kinghorne returned, having found no water in the "Marra" (Duck Creek).
Among the grasses growing among the reeds, we perceived the Andropogon sericeus and an Erianthus, which appeared to differ from E. fulvus in having no hair upon the knees. The smooth variety of the European Lythrum salicaria, raised its crimson spikes of flowers among the reeds of the Macquarie, as it does in England on the banks of the Thames. We saw also Morgania floribunda, SENECIO BRACHYLOENUS (D.C.), a variety with toothed leaves, also a BRACHYCOME resembling B. heterodonta, only the leaves were entire. A new species of Lotus appeared among the reeds, very near the narrow-leaved form of L. australis on the one hand, and the South European narrow-leaved form of L. corniculatus on the other; the flowers were pink, and smaller than in L. australis.[*] Also an Ethulia [**], which may, on further examination, constitute a new genus; it was found by Allan Cunningham on the Lachlan. Thermometer at sunrise, 54°; at noon, 86°; at 4 p.m., 84°; at 9, 61°;—with wet bulb, 54°.
Among the grasses growing among the reeds, we noticed the Andropogon sericeus and an Erianthus, which seemed to be different from E. fulvus because it had no hair on the knees. The smooth version of the European Lythrum salicaria raised its crimson flower spikes among the reeds of the Macquarie, just as it does in England along the banks of the Thames. We also spotted Morgania floribunda, SENECIO BRACHYLOENUS (D.C.), a variety with toothed leaves, as well as a BRACHYCOME that resembled B. heterodonta, but with entire leaves. A new species of Lotus was found among the reeds, very close to the narrow-leaved form of L. australis on one side, and the South European narrow-leaved form of L. corniculatus on the other; the flowers were pink and smaller than those of L. australis.[*] We also came across an Ethulia [**], which might, upon further examination, be a new genus; it was discovered by Allan Cunningham on the Lachlan. The thermometer readings were 54° at sunrise, 86° at noon, 84° at 4 p.m., and 61° at 9 p.m.; with a wet bulb temperature of 54°.
[* L. LAEVIGATUS (Benth. MS.); subglaber glaucescens, foliolis linearibus v. lineari-cuneatis vix acutatis, pedunculis folio longioribus 3—6-floris, calycis subsessilis appresse pubescentis dentibus setaceo-acuminatis tubo suo paullo longioribus, legumine recto tereti glabro.]
[* L. LAEVIGATUS (Benth. MS.); slightly hairy bluish-green, with narrow leaves that are either linear or linear-wedge shaped and barely pointed, flower stems longer than the leaves bearing 3-6 flowers, calyx that is almost sessile and densely hairy with bristle-like pointed teeth slightly longer than its tube, and a straight, smooth, round pod.]
[** ETHULIA CUNNINGHAMI (Hooker MS.); glaberrima, caule dichotomo, foliis oblongis sessilibus dentato-serratis, capitulis paucis corymbosis globosis, involucri squamis oblongis imbricatis viridibus, pappo e setis paucis brevibus.]
[** ETHULIA CUNNINGHAMI (Hooker MS.); smooth, with a branching stem, leaves that are elongated, sitting directly on the stem with toothed edges, few globular flower clusters that are corymb-like, with green, overlapping, elongated involucral scales, and a pappus made up of a few short bristles.]
17TH FEBRUARY.—The party moved off early, and Mr. Kinghorne having shown me a few miles more of the best ground between the scrubs and reeds, went towards a cattle station beyond the Macquarie, where a belt of open forest separated the reeds and enabled him to pass. He prevailed on a native whom he met with there to come with him to me, and to guide me to water until I reached the Bàrwan. This native at first seemed rather afraid of our numerous party, but our own native, Yuranigh, endeavoured by every means to make him at ease, and to induce him to remain with us. He guided us this day by fine open ground westward of the marshes, to a part of the Macquarie where the banks were solid enough to admit of the cattle drinking. The name was Bilgawàngara; I reached the spot early, but at sunset no drays had come up. At length I was informed that such was the softness of the soil, that the drays had sank frequently, that two were fast in one place, four in another, and that two of the bullocks were astray. The marshes were said to be just then occupied by some angry tribes, of whom Mr. Kinghorne had warned me to be on my guard. The patience necessary to any traveller depending on bullocks and bullock drivers, I then thought ought to exceed that of Job. Our native guide was very shy, and Yuranigh feared he meant to "bolt." We depended on him for finding water—on our own native for finding bullocks; but it would not have done then to have sent him away. The weather might change, and these marshes become impassable; indeed, we were as much at the mercy of Providence in this respect as the Israelites were in the bed of the Red Sea. It depended on the weather whether we should deserve to be considered Jews or Egyptians. The teams came in about midnight, after the moon had risen, by which the drivers were enabled to see my track. Lat. 30° 45' 55" S. Thermometer at sunrise, 48°; at noon, 85°; at 4 p.m., 88°; at 9, 60°;—with wet bulb, 54°.
17TH FEBRUARY.—The group set off early, and Mr. Kinghorne showed me a few more miles of the best land between the scrubs and reeds before heading toward a cattle station beyond the Macquarie River, where a stretch of open forest allowed him to pass. He convinced a local native he encountered there to accompany him to me and guide me to water until I reached the Bàrwan. This native initially appeared quite nervous around our large group, but our own native, Yuranigh, did everything he could to help him feel comfortable and encourage him to stay with us. He led us that day across nice open ground to the west of the marshes, to a part of the Macquarie where the banks were solid enough for the cattle to drink. The location was called Bilgawàngara; I arrived there early, but by sunset, the drays hadn’t caught up yet. Eventually, I was told that the soil was so soft that the drays had frequently sunk, with two stuck in one spot, four in another, and two of the bullocks had wandered off. The marshes were said to be occupied by some hostile tribes, which Mr. Kinghorne had warned me to be cautious of. I thought that the patience required for any traveler relying on bullocks and bullock drivers should exceed that of Job. Our native guide was quite shy, and Yuranigh was worried he might try to run away. We were counting on him to find water and on our native to find the bullocks; however, it wouldn’t have been wise to send him away. The weather could change, making these marshes impassable; indeed, we were just as vulnerable to chance in this regard as the Israelites were at the Red Sea. Whether we would be seen as Jews or Egyptians depended on the weather. The teams finally arrived around midnight, after the moon rose, which helped the drivers see my tracks. Lat. 30° 45' 55" S. Thermometer at sunrise, 48°; at noon, 85°; at 4 p.m., 88°; at 9, 60°;—with a wet bulb reading of 54°.
18TH FEBRUARY.—Two bullocks were still astray some miles behind, and the iron axle of one of the drays having got bent, required repair. The cattle, I was told, were so jaded, as to be unable to make a day's journey without more rest, and I was again obliged to halt. One only of the two lost bullocks was found, and for this one we were indebted to little Dicky, a native only ten years of age, whom the big fool who had lost them was at some trouble to coax to go and assist him in the search, as Yuranigh could not be spared from the more important duty of entertaining our less civilised guide, and preventing him from making his escape. It must, indeed, appear strange to these people of the soil, that the white man who brought such large animals as oxen with them into the country, should be unable to find them without the assistance of a mere child of their own race. Dicky had soon found both, but one of them being young and wild, escaped again amongst the tall reeds.
18TH FEBRUARY.—Two bullocks were still wandering a few miles behind, and the iron axle of one of the drays was bent and needed fixing. I was told the cattle were so exhausted that they couldn’t make it through the day without more rest, so I had to stop again. Only one of the two lost bullocks was found, thanks to little Dicky, a native boy who was only ten years old. The big fool who lost them had to go through a lot of trouble to persuade him to help search, since Yuranigh couldn’t be spared from the more important job of keeping our less civilized guide entertained and preventing him from escaping. It must seem strange to these locals that the white man who brought such large animals like oxen into the country couldn’t find them without a child from their own community to help. Dicky quickly located both, but one of them was young and wild, and it managed to escape again into the tall reeds.
In the rich soil near the river bed, we saw the yellowish flowers of the native tobacco, Nicotiana suaveoleus, the Minuria heterophylla (D.C.), found by Allan Cunningham near the Lachlan, and a Fugosia near F. digitata of Senegambia. In the scrub we found a fine new silvery Atriplex with broad rounded leaves and strings of circular toothed fruits.[*] Thermometer at sunrise, 53°; at noon, 93°; at 4 p.m., 96°; at 9, 67°; —with wet bulb 59°.
In the fertile soil by the river, we spotted the yellowish flowers of the native tobacco, Nicotiana suaveoleus, the Minuria heterophylla (D.C.), discovered by Allan Cunningham near the Lachlan, and a Fugosia near F. digitata from Senegambia. In the brush, we found a beautiful new silvery Atriplex with broad rounded leaves and clusters of circular, toothed fruits.[*] The thermometer read 53° at sunrise, 93° at noon, 96° at 4 p.m., and 67° at 9, with a wet bulb reading of 59°.
[* A. nummularia (Lindl. MS.); caule suffruticoso glabro ramoso, foliis alternis ovato-subrotundis integerrimis petiolatis basi cuneatis utrinque argenteis, floribus monoïcis, spicis longis pendulis, bracteis subrotundis dentatis basi connatis.]
[* A. nummularia (Lindl. MS.); has a woody stem that is smooth and branched, with alternate leaves that are oval to round, completely edged, on petioles, wedge-shaped at the base, silver on both sides, flowers are monoecious, with long, drooping spikes, and round, toothed bracts that are fused at the base.]
19TH FEBRUARY.—We set off early, guided by our native friend. He was a very perfect specimen of the genus homo, and such as never is to be seen, except in the precincts of savage life, undegraded by any scale of graduated classes, and the countless bars these present to the free enjoyment of existence. His motions in walking were more graceful than can be imagined by any who have only seen those of the draped and shod animal. The deeply set yet flexible spine; the taper form of the limbs; the fulness yet perfect elasticity of the glutei muscles. The hollowness of the back, and symmetrical balance of the upper part of the torso, ornamented as it was, like a piece of fine carving, with raised scarifications most tastefully placed; such were some of the characteristics of this perfect "piece of work." Compared with it, the civilised animal, when considered merely in the light of a specimen in natural history, how inferior! In vain might we look amongst thousands of that class, for such teeth; such digestive powers; for such organs of sight, hearing, smelling, tasting, feeling; for such powers of running, climbing, or walking; for such full enjoyment of the limpid water, and of all that nature provides for her children of the woods. Such health and exemption from disease; such intensity of existence, in short, must be far beyond the enjoyments of civilised men, with all that art can do for them; and the proof of this is to be found in the failure of all attempts to persuade these free denizens of uncultivated earth to forsake it for the tilled ground. They prefer the land unbroken and free from the earliest curse pronounced against the first banished and first created man. The only kindness we could do for them, would be to let them and their wide range of territory alone; to act otherwise and profess good-will is but hypocrisy. We cannot occupy the land without producing a change, fully as great to the aborigines, as that which took place on man's fall and expulsion from Eden. They have hitherto lived utterly ignorant of the necessity for wearing fig leaves, or the utility of ploughs; and in this blissful state of ignorance they would, no doubt, prefer to remain. We bring upon them the punishments due to original sin, even before they know the shame of nakedness. Such were the reflections suggested to my mind by the young savage as he tripped on lightly before me by the side of his two half-civilised brethren of our party, who, muffled up in clothes, presented a contrast by no means in favour of our pretensions to improve and benefit their race. Yet our faithful Yuranigh was all that could be wished. He was assiduously making to the stranger such explanations of our wants and purposes, as induced him to conduct us in the direction these required. He led us, thus admonished, over those parts of the country most favourable for the passage of wheels. The rosewood acacia was abundant, but many parts were covered with most luxuriant grass. We encamped on the edge of a salt-bush plain, where there was a small pond of water left by the last rains on a clay surface. There was certainly enough for ourselves and horses, but it appeared that our guide had greatly underrated the capacity for water, of our hundred bullocks. For these, however, there was superb grass to the westward, and a little dew fell on it during the night. Thermometer at sunrise, 59°; at noon, 102°; at 4 p.m., 104°; at 9, 77°; —with wet bulb, 65°.
19TH FEBRUARY.—We set out early, led by our native friend. He was a remarkable example of humanity, someone you only see in the wild, untouched by social hierarchies and the many barriers they create to fully enjoy life. His movements while walking were more graceful than anyone could imagine if they had only seen those of people covered in clothing and shoes. His deeply set yet flexible spine; the slim shape of his limbs; the fullness and perfect elasticity of his gluteal muscles; the curve of his back, and the symmetrical balance of his upper body, adorned like a fine sculpture with tastefully placed raised scars—these were some traits of this perfect “work of art.” Compared to him, the so-called civilized person, when viewed merely as a specimen in natural history, seemed vastly inferior! We might search through thousands of that category in vain for teeth like his; such digestive abilities; for similar organs of sight, hearing, smell, taste, and touch; for this level of running, climbing, or walking; or for such pure enjoyment of fresh water and all that nature offers to her children of the woods. The health and freedom from disease he exhibited; the sheer intensity of his existence, in fact, must far surpass the pleasures of civilized people, despite everything art can do for them. The proof lies in the failure of all attempts to convince these free inhabitants of untamed land to leave it for cultivated fields. They choose the unspoiled land, free from the earliest curse pronounced on the first exiled and created man. The only kindness we could offer them would be to leave them and their vast territory alone; to do otherwise while pretending to have good intentions is sheer hypocrisy. We cannot occupy the land without making a change, just as significant for the indigenous people as the one that occurred when mankind fell from grace and was expelled from Eden. They have lived completely unaware of the need for fig leaves or the usefulness of plows; in this blissful ignorance, they would surely prefer to stay. We inflict on them the punishments that stem from original sin, even before they know the shame of nakedness. These were the thoughts that crossed my mind as the young native danced lightly ahead of me alongside his two partially civilized companions, who, bundled up in clothes, presented a contrast that did not favor our claims to improve and uplift their people. Yet our loyal Yuranigh was everything we could hope for. He was diligently explaining our needs and intentions to the stranger, convincing him to guide us in the direction we needed. He led us, as instructed, through the areas of the country most suitable for wheeled travel. The rosewood acacia was plentiful, but many areas were covered with lush grass. We set up camp on the edge of a saltbush plain, where a small pond of water remained from the last rains on a clay surface. There was certainly enough for us and our horses, but our guide had vastly underestimated our hundred bullocks' water needs. However, to the west, there was excellent grass for them, and a bit of dew fell on it during the night. The thermometer read 59° at sunrise; 102° at noon; 104° at 4 p.m.; and 77° at 9 p.m., with a wet bulb reading of 65°.
20TH FEBRUARY.—From the necessity for obtaining water as soon as possible for the bullocks, we travelled over ground which was rather soft, otherwise our guide would have pursued a course more to the westward, and over a firmer surface. We, at length, crossed two narrow belts of reeds not more than twenty feet across, and had the great satisfaction to learn from him that these were the last of the reeds. A shallow creek appeared soon thereafter on our right, in which our guide had expected to find water, but was disappointed; cattle having recently drank up there, what had been a large pond when he was there formerly. He showed us the recent prints of numerous cloven feet, and thus we were made to feel, in common with the aborigines, those privations to which they are exposed by the white man's access to their country. On proceeding some miles further, our guide following down the channel, he at length appeared at a distance making the motions of stooping to bathe, on which Yuranigh immediately said "He has found plenty of water;" and there, in fact, our guide had found two large ponds. They were still in the attenuated channel of the Macquarie, here called by them Wámmerawá, the course of which river is continuous throughout the marshes; and marked by some high reeds greener than the rest, even when the reeds may have been generally burnt. These reeds are distinctly different from the "balyan," growing on the marshy parts of the rivers Lachlan, Murrumbidgee, and Millewà; the former being a cane or bamboo, the latter a bulrush, affording, in its root, much nutritious gluten. We found good grass for the cattle on both sides of the water-course, which was fringed with a few tall reeds, near which the pretty little Kochia brevifolia observed at Mudá on the Bogan, again occurred. The native name of the spot was "Warranb." The soft earth had again impeded the drays; the teams of two came in at twilight, an axle of one dray having been damaged; the six others were brought up in the course of the evening. Thermometer at sunrise, 60°; at 4 p.m., 103°; at 9, 78°;—with wet bulb, 68°.
20TH FEBRUARY.—We needed to find water for the bullocks as soon as possible, so we traveled over some soft ground; otherwise, our guide would have taken a route farther to the west and on a firmer surface. After a while, we crossed two narrow strips of reeds no more than twenty feet wide, and we were very relieved when our guide told us these were the last of the reeds. Soon after, we saw a shallow creek on our right where our guide had hoped to find water, but he was disappointed; cattle had recently drunk up what had been a large pond the last time he was there. He showed us the fresh prints of numerous hooves, making us aware, like the Indigenous people, of the hardships they face because of the white man’s intrusion into their land. As we continued a few miles further, our guide moved down the channel and eventually appeared at a distance, bending down as if to bathe. Yuranigh immediately said, "He has found plenty of water," and indeed, our guide had discovered two large ponds. They were still in the narrow channel of the Macquarie, referred to by them as Wámmerawá, where the river flows continuously through the marshes, marked by some tall reeds that are greener than the rest, even when the surrounding reeds may have been mostly burned. These reeds are clearly different from the "balyan" that grows in the marshy areas of the Lachlan, Murrumbidgee, and Millewà rivers; the former is a cane or bamboo, while the latter is a bulrush that has very nutritious gluten in its roots. We found good grass for the cattle on both sides of the watercourse, which had a few tall reeds along its edges, where we again spotted the pretty little Kochia brevifolia seen earlier at Mudá on the Bogan. The native name for the area was "Warranb." The soft earth had again slowed down the drays; the two teams arrived at twilight, with one dray’s axle having been damaged; the other six were brought in during the evening. The thermometer read 60° at sunrise, 103° at 4 p.m., and 78° at 9, with a wet bulb reading of 68°.
21ST FEBRUARY.—The first thing done this morning was to send back cattle to draw forward the dray with a bent axle, to the camp, that it might be repaired. This was done so as to enable the party to continue the journey by 1 p.m. The barometer was going down at a rate which was alarming enough, considering what our position must have been there in a flood, or even after a heavy fall of rain. I therefore pressed forward with the light carts, and guided by the native. He brought us at 5 p.m. to "Willery," the place where he had expected to find water; but here again, he had been anticipated by cattle, which had drunk up all, and trodden the ponds as dry as a market-place. He gave us no hopes of finding water that night, nor until we could reach the Bàrwan, then distant, I was quite sure, at least twenty-four miles, according to the latitude observed (30° 19' 54" South). We encamped here, and I sent back directions that the drays should at once halt, taking their places beside the leading dray, and that the cattle should be driven back in the morning to be watered at the last camp (Warranb), and then to return and follow in my track. Mr. Drysdale, the storekeeper, had also to go back to serve out a week's rations to the party with the drays, and he returned to my camp by 2 A. M., in the moonlight, bringing, on the horse of the former messenger, rations for my party. Here we found the Keraudrenia integrifolia. Thermometer at sunrise, 70°; at noon, 105°; at 9, 83°;—with wet bulb, 57°.
21ST FEBRUARY.—The first thing we did this morning was send some cattle back to pull the dray with a bent axle to camp for repairs. This was necessary so we could keep moving by 1 p.m. The barometer was dropping at a concerning rate, especially considering how flooded it could get here or after a heavy rain. So, I pushed ahead with the light carts, guided by the native. He led us to "Willery" by 5 p.m., which he thought would have water; but once again, cattle had already come through and drained everything, leaving the ponds as dry as a market place. He told us not to expect any water that night, or until we could reach the Bàrwan, which I was sure was at least twenty-four miles away, based on the latitude we observed (30° 19' 54" South). We set up camp here, and I instructed that the drays should stop immediately and park next to the lead dray, and that the cattle should be taken back in the morning to get water at the last camp (Warranb), then return and follow my trail. Mr. Drysdale, the storekeeper, also needed to go back to distribute a week's worth of rations to the group with the drays, and he made it back to my camp by 2 A.M., in the moonlight, bringing rations for my party on the horse of the previous messenger. Here we found the Keraudrenia integrifolia. Thermometer at sunrise, 70°; at noon, 105°; at 9, 83°;—with wet bulb, 57°.
22D FEBRUARY.—My guide was now desirous that I should cross the Macquarie, to open plains which he represented to be much more favourable for wheel carriages; but I endeavoured to explain to him, by drawing lines in the clay surface, how the various rivers beyond would cross and impede my journey to the Bàrwan. There were the Castlereagh, Morissett's Ponds, and the Nammoy.[* If Arrowsmith's map had been correct, which it was not, for the Nammoy joins the Darling separately, at least fifty miles higher than the junction of the Castlereagh.]
22D FEBRUARY.—My guide really wanted me to cross the Macquarie to reach open plains that he claimed were much better for vehicles; however, I tried to explain to him by drawing lines in the clay how the rivers ahead would cross and block my route to the Bàrwan. There were the Castlereagh, Morissett's Ponds, and the Nammoy.[* If Arrowsmith's map had been accurate, which it wasn't, since the Nammoy merges with the Darling separately, at least fifty miles upstream from where the Castlereagh joins in.]
An instance occurred here of the uselessness of new names, and the necessity for preserving the native names of Rivers. I could refer, in communicating with our guide, to the Nammoy only, and to the hills which partly supplied the Castlereagh, whereof the native name was Wallambangle. I wanted to make them understand the probability that some flood had come down the channel of the Castlereagh, and that we might therefore hope to find water below its junction with the Macquarie. This, with the aid of Yuranigh, our own native, was at length made intelligible to our Bàrwan guide, and he shaped his course accordingly. He took us through scrubs, having in the centre those holes where water usually lodges for some time after rain, where some substratum of clay happens to be retentive enough to impede the common absorption. But the water in these holes had been recently drunk, and the mud trampled into hard clay by the hoofs of cattle. Thus it is, that the aborigines first become sensible of the approach of the white man. These retired spots, where nature was wont to supply enough for their own little wants, are well known to the denizens of the bush. Each locality has a name, and such places are frequented by helpless females with their children, or by the most peaceably disposed natives with their families. There they can exist apart from belligerent tribes, such as assemble on large rivers. Cattle find these places and come from stations often many miles distant, attracted by the rich verdure usually growing about them, and by thus treading the water into mud, or by drinking it up, they literally destroy the whole country for the aborigines, and thereby also banish from it the kangaroos, emus, and other animals on which they live. I felt much more disgusted than the poor natives, while they were thus exploring in vain every hollow in search of water for our use, that our "cloven foot" should appear everywhere. The day was extremely hot, which usually happened to be the case whenever we were obliged to experience the want of water. The thermometer under a tree stood at 110°. The store-keeper was taken ill with vertigo. Our bull-dog perished in the heat, and the fate of the cattle, still a day's journey behind us, and of the sheep, which had not drunk for two days, were subjects of much anxiety to me at that time. It may, therefore, be imagined with what pleasure I at length saw before me large basins of water in the channel of the Macquarie, when I next approached the banks, after a journey at a good pace for six hours and a half. We had made it below the junction of Morissett's Ponds, and found that a recent flood had filled its channel with water. The natives dived into it to cure their headaches, as they said, and seemed to go completely under water, in order to take a cool drink. We had reached the united channel of the Macquarie and Morissett's Ponds, and were at an easy day's journey only distant from the junction with the Bàrwan or "Darling." The use of the aboriginal name of this river is indispensable amongst the squatters along its banks, who do not appear to know it to be the "Darling." It is most desirable to restore to such rivers their proper names as early as possible after they have been ascertained, were it only to enable strangers thereby to avail themselves of the intelligence and assistance of the natives, in identifying the country by means of the published maps. The river Castlereagh is known to the natives as the Barr; Morissett's Ponds, as the Wàwill; and the lower part of the Macquarie, as the Wammerawà. The squatting system of occupation requires still more that the native names of rivers should be known to commissioners empowered to parcel out unsurveyed regions of vast extent, whereof the western limits would be, indeed, beyond their reach or control, but for the line of an angry savage population, which line the squatter dares not to cross unsupported by an armed mounted police. Thermometer at sunrise, 59°; at noon, 110°; at 4 p.m., 107°; at 9, 89°; —with wet bulb 72°.
An example here shows how pointless new names can be and how important it is to keep the original names of rivers. When talking with our guide, I could only mention the Nammoy and the hills that partly supplied the Castlereagh, which the locals called Wallambangle. I wanted to help them understand that some flood had likely come down the Castlereagh, so we might be able to find water where it meets the Macquarie. With the help of Yuranigh, our native guide, we finally made that clear to our Bàrwan guide, and he adjusted our route. He led us through dense scrub, passing by the spots where water usually pools after rain, where a layer of clay holds the moisture longer. However, the water in those pools had recently been drunk, and the mud was packed into hard clay by cattle hooves. This is how the aborigines first sense the presence of white people. These secluded areas, where nature once provided for their needs, are well-known to the bush inhabitants. Each spot has a name, and these places are often visited by vulnerable women with their children or peaceful natives with their families. There, they can live away from hostile tribes that gather near larger rivers. Cattle find these places too, traveling from stations many miles away, drawn by the lush grass that tends to grow there. By trampling the water into mud or drinking it dry, they ruin these areas for the aborigines and drive away the kangaroos, emus, and other animals they depend on. I felt more frustrated than the natives while they searched every hollow for water for us, witnessing our "cloven foot" everywhere. The day was extremely hot, which always seems to happen when we’re short on water. The thermometer under a tree read 110°. The store-keeper got sick with dizziness. Our bulldog died from the heat, and I was very worried about the cattle, a day’s journey behind us, and the sheep that hadn’t had water for two days. So, you can imagine the relief I felt when I finally saw large pools of water in the Macquarie channel after a solid six and a half hour journey. We reached a point below the junction of Morissett's Ponds and found that a recent flood had filled its channel. The natives jumped in to relieve their headaches, going completely underwater for a refreshing drink. We had arrived at the combined channel of the Macquarie and Morissett's Ponds, just an easy day’s journey from where it meets the Bàrwan or "Darling." Using the original name of this river is essential for the squatters along its banks, who don’t seem to know it as "Darling." Restoring the proper names of rivers as soon as they are identified is extremely important, mainly to help outsiders make use of the knowledge and help of the locals to recognize the area using published maps. The river Castlereagh is known to the locals as the Barr; Morissett's Ponds as the Wàwill; and the lower section of the Macquarie as the Wammerawà. The squatting system also requires that commissioners, who are in charge of dividing up vast unsurveyed areas, know the native names of rivers. The western limits of those regions are really beyond their reach or control, except for the line drawn by a fierce native population, which the squatter cannot cross without support from armed mounted police. Thermometer readings: at sunrise, 59°; at noon, 110°; at 4 p.m., 107°; at 9, 89°; with a wet bulb reading of 72°.
23RD FEBRUARY.—The drays did not come up, nor was any intelligence of them received at our camp until late in the afternoon, when a man I had sent back in the morning to tell the drivers to halt in good time to send forward the cattle by daylight along my track to the water, brought me word that he left them on the way ten miles off about eleven in the morning. This man (Smith) also brought forward the sheep with him. They had not drank for two nights, and ran skipping and baaing to the water, as soon as they saw it. The heat of this day and yesterday was excessive, a hot wind blowing hard all the time. Among the scrub on the banks of the Macquarie, a salt plant belonging to the genus Scleroloena was remarked; it was perhaps not distinct from S. Uniflora. The Goodenia geniculata overran the ground, with its strawberry-like runners, and yellow flowers. Latitude, 30° 12' 56" S. Thermometer at sunrise, 75°; at noon, 105°; at 4 p.m., 94°; at 9, 73°;—with wet bulb, 62°.
23RD FEBRUARY.—The carts didn't arrive, and we didn't get any news about them until late in the afternoon. A man I had sent back in the morning to tell the drivers to stop in time so they could send the cattle forward by daylight to the water came back to tell me he had left them ten miles away around eleven in the morning. This man (Smith) also brought the sheep with him. They hadn’t drunk any water for two nights and ran joyfully to the water as soon as they saw it. The heat today and yesterday was extreme, with a strong hot wind blowing constantly. Among the scrub on the banks of the Macquarie, we noticed a salt plant belonging to the genus Scleroloena, which might not be different from S. Uniflora. The Goodenia geniculata covered the ground with its strawberry-like runners and yellow flowers. Latitude, 30° 12' 56" S. Thermometer at sunrise, 75°; at noon, 105°; at 4 p.m., 94°; at 9, 73°;—with wet bulb, 62°.
24TH FEBRUARY.—Some of the teams came up, having been out all night. The drivers brought me word that they had been detached at twilight to come six miles; the night was very dark; of course they could not see my track, and as a matter equally of course, the spare bullocks had strayed from them. Such were the almost daily recurring causes of delay by the bullock drivers on this journey. Here, within a day's journey (thirteen miles) of the Bàrwan, I was compelled to halt thus several days, and really the prospect of performing so long a journey with such drivers seemed almost hopeless. Thermometer at sunrise, 59°; at noon, 80°; at 4 p.m., 85°; at 9, 64°;—with wet bulb, 59°.
24TH FEBRUARY.—Some of the teams arrived after being out all night. The drivers informed me that they had been sent out at twilight to cover six miles; the night was pitch dark, so they couldn’t see my track, and naturally, the spare bullocks had wandered off from them. These were just some of the frequent reasons for delays caused by the bullock drivers on this journey. Here, just a day's journey (thirteen miles) from the Bàrwan, I had to stop for several days, and honestly, the idea of making such a long journey with these drivers seemed nearly impossible. The thermometer read 59° at sunrise; 80° at noon; 85° at 4 p.m.; and 64° at 9 p.m.—with a wet bulb reading of 59°.
25TH FEBRUARY.—In the evening, the carpenter brought in ten of the stray bullocks; four were still wanting, and I dispatched Mortimer, a bullock driver, and the carpenter to show him where he had last left the track of the animals still astray; both were mounted. Thermometer at sunrise, 53°; at noon, 90°; at 4 p.m., 94°; at 9, 79°;—with wet bulb, 62°.
25TH FEBRUARY.—In the evening, the carpenter brought in ten of the stray bullocks; four were still missing, so I sent Mortimer, a bullock driver, and the carpenter to show him where he last saw the tracks of the animals that were still lost; both were on horseback. The thermometer read 53° at sunrise; 90° at noon; 94° at 4 p.m.; and 79° at 9, with a wet bulb temperature of 62°.
26TH FEBRUARY.—Mortimer came in early, saying he had found only one of the bullocks, that the others had gone back to the last wateringplace twenty-two miles distant. His companion did not arrive during the day; he said he had left him bringing on the animal they had fallen in with. I blamed him for leaving him, and ordered him to find him forthwith on foot. I could not afford to lose horses. Here, it seemed, we were doomed to remain. I endeavoured to make the most of the time by carrying on the mapping of our survey, in order to make good our longitude at crossing the Bàrwan. Thermometer at sunrise, 60°; at noon, 94°; at 4 p.m., 101°; at 9, 72°;—with wet bulb, 62.°
26TH FEBRUARY.—Mortimer came in early, saying he had only found one of the bullocks and that the others had gone back to the last watering hole, which is twenty-two miles away. His companion didn’t show up during the day; he mentioned he had left him bringing along the animal they came across. I criticized him for leaving the guy behind and told him to go find him on foot immediately. I couldn’t afford to lose horses. It seemed like we were stuck here. I tried to make the most of the time by continuing the mapping of our survey to confirm our longitude at the Bàrwan crossing. The thermometer read 60° at sunrise; 94° at noon; 101° at 4 p.m.; and 72° at 9 p.m.; with a wet bulb reading of 62°.
27TH FEBRUARY.—When the teams were about to be put to the drays this morning, I was informed that five bullocks were astray. This delayed the party until 10 a.m., and then we left one lame bullock still missing. I reduced the men's rations by one pound per week, and declared that a proportional reduction should be regularly made to correspond with such unlooked-for delays in the journey. We proceeded over firmer ground, having the river almost always in sight, until, after travelling about six miles, our guide showed me the river, much increased in width, and said they called that the "Bàrwan." As it was still a mere chain of ponds, though these were large, I was sure this was not the main channel; he also said this joined the main channel a good way lower down. I was convinced that it was only the Castlereagh that had thus augmented the channel of the Macquarie, which I found afterwards to be the case, the junction taking place two miles higher. I willingly encamped on it, however, to afford more time for the lost man, and the man sent after him, to rejoin the party.
27TH FEBRUARY.—As the teams were getting ready for the drays this morning, I was told that five bullocks were missing. This pushed our departure to 10 a.m., and we still ended up leaving one lame bullock behind. I cut the men's rations by one pound per week and decided that we would regularly reduce rations to match any unexpected delays in our journey. We moved over firmer ground, usually keeping the river in sight, and after traveling about six miles, our guide pointed out the river, which had widened significantly, and said they called it the "Bàrwan." Since it was mostly just a series of large ponds, I was sure this wasn’t the main channel; he mentioned it connected to the main channel further down. I believed it was only the Castlereagh that had expanded the Macquarie's channel, which I later found out was correct, with the junction occurring two miles upstream. Nevertheless, I happily set up camp there to give the lost man and the one sent to find him more time to catch up with us.
I this day gave "Yulliyàlly," our guide, the promised tomahawk, a pipe, tobacco; and, in addition, a shirt; also a few lines to Mr. Kinghorne, certifying that this native had done what he had engaged to do. Thermometer at sunrise, 62°; at noon, 94°; at 4 p.m., 97°; at 9, 70°; —with wet bulb, 57°.
I today gave "Yulliyàlly," our guide, the promised tomahawk, a pipe, tobacco; and, in addition, a shirt; also a few lines to Mr. Kinghorne, certifying that this native had done what he had committed to do. Thermometer at sunrise, 62°; at noon, 94°; at 4 p.m., 97°; at 9, 70°; —with wet bulb, 57°.
28TH FEBRUARY.—The wheelwright and Mortimer came into the camp at 6 a.m., bringing back the horse of the former, and one of the lost bullocks. We set out early, and after travelling about six miles I came upon a cart-track, which I followed to the westward until overtaken by a stockman, who informed me that the Wammerawà, on which I had been encamped, joined the Bàrwan, then on my right, within two miles of the spot on which we stood; that he belonged to the cattle station of Mr. Parnell, Jun., which was distant from my last camp about five miles, and on the main river; also that the track I was following led to Mohanna, Mr. Lawson's station, seventy-five miles lower down the Bàrwan. I turned with him towards the junction of the Macquarie and Bàrwan, and encamped thereby, right glad to reach at length, the river beyond which our exploratory tour was to commence. The river looked well, with a good current of muddy water in it, of considerable width, and really like a river. I understood from my guide to this point, that there was a good ford across the river at his station; also that Commissioner Mitchell had been down the river a short time back, making a map to show all the cattle stations on both banks. We had neither seen nor heard anything of Mr. Wright, the commissioner of the Macquarie district through which we had just passed, except that he "might visit the district when the hot weather was over." Here we found a new species of CALOTIS.[*] Thermometer at sunrise, 61°; at noon, 101°; at 4 p.m., 100°; at 9, with wet bulb, 62°.
28TH FEBRUARY.—The wheelwright and Mortimer arrived at the camp at 6 a.m., bringing back the wheelwright's horse and one of the lost bullocks. We set off early, and after traveling about six miles, I came across a cart track, which I followed west until I was stopped by a stockman. He told me that the Wammerawà, where I had camped, joined the Bàrwan, which was to my right, just two miles from where we were standing. He worked at Mr. Parnell Jr.'s cattle station, which was about five miles from my last camp and located on the main river. He also said that the track I was on led to Mohanna, Mr. Lawson's station, seventy-five miles downstream on the Bàrwan. I decided to go with him toward the junction of the Macquarie and Bàrwan and set up camp there, happy to finally reach the river where our exploratory journey was set to begin. The river looked good, with a strong current of muddy water, wide enough to truly be called a river. My guide mentioned that there was a good ford across the river at his station and that Commissioner Mitchell had been down the river recently making a map of all the cattle stations on both banks. We hadn’t seen or heard anything from Mr. Wright, the commissioner of the Macquarie district we had just passed through, except that he “might visit the district when the hot weather was over.” Here, we found a new species of CALOTIS.[*] Thermometer readings: at sunrise, 61°; at noon, 101°; at 4 p.m., 100°; at 9, with wet bulb, 62°.
[* Calotis scapigera (Hook. MSS.); stolonifera glaberrima, foliis omnibus radicalibus lineari-spathulatis, scapo nudo monocephalo, achenii aristis robustis subulatis retrorsum pilosis apice rectis vel uncinatis.—A very distinct species. Habit of Brachystephium scapigerum D. C.: but that ought to have no aristae to the achenium: here the awns are very stout in proportion to the size of the capitulum.]
[* Calotis scapigera (Hook. MSS.); glabrous stolonifera, with all leaves being linear-spatula-shaped, a naked scape with a single head, and achenes with sturdy, backward-hairy, needle-like awns that are straight or hooked at the top.—This is a very distinct species. It resembles Brachystephium scapigerum D. C.: however, that species should have no awns on the achenes, whereas here the awns are quite robust in relation to the size of the flower head.]
1ST MARCH.—When, fifteen years before, I visited this river at a higher point where it was called the Karaula [*], no trace of hoofs of horses or bullocks had been previously imprinted on the clayey banks. Now, we found it to be the last resource of numerous herds in a dry and very hot season, and so thickly studded were the banks of this river with cattle stations, that we felt comparatively at home. The ordinary precautionary arrangements of my camp against surprise by savage natives seemed quite unnecessary, and, to stockmen, almost ridiculous. We had at length arrived at the lowest drain of that vast basin of clay absorbing many rivers, so that they lose themselves as in the ocean. Here the final outlet or channel of the waters of the Macquarie, was but a muddy ditch one might step across, which the magnificent flood we had seen in the same river above the marshes was not at all likely to reach. That flood had gone to fill thousands of lagoons, without which supply, those vast regions had been unfit for animal existence. Here we discover another instance of that wonderful wisdom which becomes more and more apparent to man, when he either looks as far as he can into space, or attentively examines the arrangement of any matter more accessible to him. The very slight inclination of the surface of these extensive plains seems finely adapted to the extremely dry and warm climate over this part of the earth. If the interior slope of the land from the eastern coastranges were as great as that in other countries supplying rivers of sustained current, it is obvious that no water would remain in such inclined channels here; but the slope is so gentle that the waters spread into a net-work of reservoirs, that serve to irrigate vast plains, and fill lagoons with those floods that, when confined in any one continuous channel, would at once run off into the ocean.
1ST MARCH.—Fifteen years ago, when I visited this river higher up, known as the Karaula [*], there were no signs of hoofprints from horses or cattle on the muddy banks. Now, we found it to be the last refuge for many herds during this dry, scorching season, and the banks were so filled with cattle stations that it felt somewhat familiar. The usual safety measures I took in my camp to guard against surprise attacks by local tribes seemed completely unnecessary and almost silly to the stockmen. We had finally arrived at the lowest point of that vast clay basin that absorbs many rivers, causing them to disappear as if into the ocean. Here, the final outlet for the waters of the Macquarie was merely a muddy ditch that one could easily step across, which was hardly likely to be reached by the impressive flood we had observed in the river further upstream. That flood had ended up filling thousands of lagoons; without that water supply, these vast areas would be unlivable for animals. Here we see another example of the incredible wisdom that becomes clearer to us when we either gaze into the far reaches of space or carefully examine the organization of things within our grasp. The gentle slope of these broad plains is perfectly suited for the very dry and warm climate in this part of the world. If the interior slope of the land from the eastern coastal ranges were as steep as in other regions with rivers that maintain a steady flow, it’s clear that no water would remain in such sloped channels here. However, the slope is so mild that the waters spread out into a network of reservoirs, which help irrigate vast plains and fill lagoons with floods that, if confined to a single continuous channel, would quickly rush off into the ocean.
[* We then understood the natives very imperfectly and might have been wrong about the name, which is the more likely, as caràwy, which the name resembles, means any deep water-hole.]
[* We then understood the locals very poorly and could have been mistaken about the name, which seems probable since caràwy, which the name is similar to, means any deep water-hole.]
In a wet season, the country through which we had traced out a route with our wheels had been impassable. The direction I should have preferred, and in which I had endeavoured to proceed, was along the known limits of this basin, and formed a curved line, or an arc, to which the route necessity had obliged us to follow was the chord; thus we had not lost time; but had, in fact, shortened the distance to be travelled over very considerably. A permanent route had, however, seemed to me more desirable to any country we might discover, than one liable to be interrupted by flooded rivers and soft impassable ground. The track of our drays, along the western side of the Macquarie marshes opened a new and direct route from Sydney to the banks of the river Darling, by way of Bathurst; and afforded access to a vast extent of excellent pasturage on the Macquarie, along the western margin of the marshes, which land would, no doubt, be soon taken up by squatters. In so dry a climate, and where water is so frequently scarce, it may, indeed, be found that the shortest line of route with such advantages would be more frequented than any longer line, possessing only the remote advantage of security from interruption by too much water. Thermometer at sunrise, 64°; at noon, 100°; at 4 p.m., 101°; at 9, 81°; with wet bulb, 61°.
In a rainy season, the area where we had mapped out a route with our wheels would have been impossible to navigate. The path I would have preferred, and which I tried to take, followed the known edges of this basin and formed a curved line, or an arc, while the route we had to take was the straight line connecting two points; thus, we hadn’t wasted time but had actually reduced the distance we needed to travel significantly. However, I thought a permanent route would be better for any land we might find than one that could be interrupted by flooded rivers and soft ground. The path of our carts along the western side of the Macquarie marshes created a new, direct route from Sydney to the banks of the Darling River via Bathurst and provided access to a large area of excellent grazing land on the Macquarie along the western edge of the marshes, which would likely be claimed by squatters soon. In such a dry climate, where water is often hard to find, it may actually turn out that the shortest route with these advantages would be used more frequently than any longer route that only offers the distant benefit of being safe from too much water. Thermometer readings at sunrise were 64°; at noon, 100°; at 4 p.m., 101°; at 9 p.m., 81°; with a wet bulb reading of 61°.
2ND MARCH—MONDAY. I took a ride to examine the ford at Wyàbry, (Mr. Parnell, Jun.'s station,) which I found practicable for our drays, although, for their descent and ascent, it was necessary to cut better approaches on each side. The Macquarie, although the channel was so attenuated and ditch-like, was likely to prove also an obstacle without some work of the same kind. Accordingly, on my return to the camp, I sent some men to the last-mentioned work.
2ND MARCH—MONDAY. I took a ride to check the crossing at Wyàbry, (Mr. Parnell, Jun.'s station,) which I found to be usable for our carts, although we needed to create better paths for going down and up on each side. The Macquarie, even though the channel was narrow and looked like a ditch, was probably going to be a problem without some similar improvements. So, on my way back to camp, I sent some men to work on it.
I learnt from natives whom I met at Mr. Parnell's station, that the rivers Bolloon, Culgoa, and Biree were then flowing, some abundant rains having fallen about their sources. Also, from the stockman, that the Narran was thirty-five miles distant, but that a native could be found to guide me to water only ten miles off. Water was also to be obtained at a distance of only seven miles beyond the Bàrwan there at the "Morella Ridges," to which the natives were in the habit of resorting at certain seasons, by a path of their own, to gather a fruit of which they were very fond, named by them "Moguile," and which I had previously ascertained to be that formerly discovered by me, and named by Dr. Lindley Capparis Mitchellii.[*] We found back from this camp the Rutidosis helychrysoides of De Candolle. Thermometer at sunrise, 72°; at noon, 101°; at 4 p.m.; 100°; at 9, 78°; and with wet bulb, 62°.
I learned from the locals I met at Mr. Parnell's station that the rivers Bolloon, Culgoa, and Biree were flowing due to some rains falling near their sources. A stockman also told me that the Narran was thirty-five miles away, but a local could guide me to water just ten miles off. Water could also be found just seven miles beyond the Bàrwan at the "Morella Ridges," which the locals visited at certain times of the year, following their own path to gather a fruit they really liked, which they called "Moguile." I had previously discovered this fruit and it was named by Dr. Lindley Capparis Mitchellii.[*] We also found the Rutidosis helychrysoides of De Candolle near this camp. The thermometer read 72° at sunrise, 101° at noon, 100° at 4 p.m., 78° at 9 p.m., and the wet bulb temperature was 62°.
[* See "Three Expeditions," etc., vol. i. page 315.]
[* See "Three Expeditions," etc., vol. i. page 315.]
3D MARCH.—Early this morning a party of men were sent to cut better approaches to the ford across the Bàrwan at Mr. Parnell's station. Ascertained the longitude of the junction of the rivers Macquarie and Darling at our present camp to be 147° 33' 45" E., by actual measurements connected with my former surveys of the colony. Mr. Kennedy had chained the whole of the route from Bellaringa, and I had connected his work with latitudes observed at almost every encampment, and after determining at various points the magnetic variation, which appeared to be very steady, I made the latitude of this camp 30° 6' 11" south. Thermometer at sunrise, 72°; at noon, 99°; at 4 p.m., 97°; at 9, 72°; and with wet bulb, 65°. The height above the sea level of the bed of the river here, the average result of eight observations, as calculated by Capt. King, was 415 feet.
3D MARCH.—Early this morning, a group of men was sent to create better access routes to the ford across the Bàrwan at Mr. Parnell's station. I determined the longitude of the junction of the Macquarie and Darling rivers at our current camp to be 147° 33' 45" E., using actual measurements linked to my previous surveys of the colony. Mr. Kennedy measured the entire route from Bellaringa, and I connected his work with latitude readings taken at nearly every campsite. After establishing the magnetic variation at various points, which seemed very consistent, I calculated the latitude of this camp to be 30° 6' 11" south. The thermometer readings were 72° at sunrise, 99° at noon, 97° at 4 p.m., and 72° at 9 p.m., with a wet bulb reading of 65°. The average height above sea level of the riverbed here, based on eight observations calculated by Capt. King, was 415 feet.
4TH MARCH.—The party moved off towards the ford over the Bàrwan at Wyàbry, crossing the bed of the Macquarie about half a mile above its junction with the Bàrwan; there, although the approaches had been well enough cut, we found the bottom too soft for our heavy vehicles, one of which dipped its wheel to near the axle. We were obliged to pave the soft and muddy bed with logs, and to cover these with branches, on which earth was thrown, ere the rest could be got across. The party arrived about noon at Wyàbry, and by 2 p.m. the whole was safely encamped on the right bank of the Bàrwan. I had received this morning a dispatch from my son, commissioner of this district, in which he gave me a most favourable account of several rivers he had explored in the direction of my proposed route. These dispatches came to me at the last camp by the hands of a native, in forty-four hours after the superintendent of Mr. Lawson, being then on his way down the river, had promised to send them to me, from a station forty-five miles off, towards Fort Bourke, where it had been supposed my party would pass. Lat. of this camp, 30° 5' 41" S. On this northern bank of the Darling we looked for novelty in botany, and found some interesting plants, such as a toothed variety of Senerio brachyloenus D. C., a kind of groundsel; Morgania floribunda, loaded with purple blossoms, and a variety of Helichrysum bracteatum, somewhat different in the leaves from the usual state of the species. Thermometer at sunrise, 70°; at 4 p.m., 98°; at 9, 72°;—with wet bulb, 61°.
4TH MARCH.—The group set off toward the crossing over the Bàrwan at Wyàbry, crossing the bed of the Macquarie about half a mile above its confluence with the Bàrwan. Even though the approach had been cleared well enough, we found the ground too soft for our heavy vehicles, one of which nearly sank its wheel to the axle. We had to pave the soft, muddy bottom with logs and cover them with branches before we could get the rest safely across. The group arrived at Wyàbry around noon, and by 2 p.m., everyone was safely camped on the right bank of the Bàrwan. This morning, I received a dispatch from my son, the commissioner of this district, giving me a very positive report about several rivers he had explored along my planned route. These dispatches reached me at the last camp via a local tribesman, just forty-four hours after Mr. Lawson's superintendent had promised to send them to me from a station forty-five miles away, en route to Fort Bourke, where it was expected my group would pass. Latitude of this camp, 30° 5' 41" S. On this northern bank of the Darling, we searched for new plant species and discovered some fascinating plants, including a toothed variety of Senerio brachyloenus D. C., a type of groundsel; Morgania floribunda, adorned with purple flowers; and a variety of Helichrysum bracteatum, which differed slightly in its leaves from the usual form of the species. The thermometer read 70° at sunrise, 98° at 4 p.m., and 72° at 9, with a wet bulb reading of 61°.
Chapter III.
THE PARTY ADVANCES INTO THE UNKNOWN REGION BEYOND THE DARLING,—GUIDED BY TWO ABORIGINAL NATIVES.—PLAINS AND LOW HILLS.—ARRIVE AT PONDS OR SPRINGS CALLED "CARÀWY."—DELAYED BY THE WEAKNESS OF THE CATTLE.—REACH THE NARRAN SWAMP SOONER THAN EXPECTED.—BRIDGE MADE TO CROSS SOFT PART OF SWAMP,—WHILE AWAITING THE ARRIVAL OF TIRED BULLOCKS.—SWAMP VERY EXTENSIVE TO THE EASTWARD.—NEW PLANTS.—RIDE ACROSS THE SWAMP AND RECONNOITRE THE RIVER NARRAN THIRTY MILES UPWARDS.—THE SWAMP THE LAST RECEPTACLE OF THE RIVER.—BRIDGE LAID DOWN BY MOONLIGHT.—THE WHOLE PARTY CROSSES IT, AND AFTERWARDS FORD THE NARRAN,—CROSSING TO THE LEFT BANK.—ADVANCE BY VERY SHORT STAGES FROM WEAKNESS OF THE CATTLE.—RICH GRASS ON THE NARRAN.—ELEVATED STONY GROUND TO THE WESTWARD.—AGAIN RECONNOITRE THE RIVER IN ADVANCE WHILE THE CATTLE REST.—PARLEY WITH A NATIVE.—TWO NATIVES OF THE BALONNE GUIDE ME TO THAT RIVER.—APPROACH THE ASSEMBLED POPULATION OF ITS BANKS.—INTERVIEW WITH THE TRIBES.—CORDIAL RECEPTION.—CROSS THE BALONNE,—AND REACH THE CULG.—CIVILITY OF THE NATIVES.—CROSS THE CULG.—TRAVEL UP ALONG THE RIGHT BANK OF THE BALONNE.—GRASSY PLAINS ALONG ITS BANKS.—THE OLD DELAY, CATTLE MISSING.—A NATIVE SCAMP.—SPLENDID REACHES OF THE RIVER.—DÉPÔT CAMP AT A NATURAL BRIDGE.—RIDE TO THE NORTHWEST.—RECEIVE DISPATCHES FROM SYDNEY.—RETURN TO THE CAMP AT ST. GEORGE'S BRIDGE.
The group moves into the unknown area beyond Darling, guided by two local Indigenous people. There are plains and low hills. They reach ponds or springs called "Caràwy." Delay occurs due to the cattle's weakness. They arrive at the Narran Swamp sooner than expected. A bridge is built to cross the soft part of the swamp while waiting for the tired oxen. The swamp is very extensive to the east. They observe new plants. They ride across the swamp and scout the River Narran thirty miles upstream. The swamp is the river's last destination. A bridge is laid down by moonlight. The whole party crosses it and then fords the Narran, moving to the left bank. They advance in very short distances because of the cattle's weakness. There’s rich grass along the Narran and elevated stony ground to the west. They scout the river further while the cattle rest. They have a conversation with a local. Two Indigenous people from the Balonne guide me to that river. They approach the gathered population along its banks. There’s a meeting with the tribes and a warm welcome. They cross the Balonne and reach the Culga. The Indigenous people's politeness is noted. They cross the Culga and travel along the right bank of the Balonne. Grassy plains are found along its banks. There are delays again, and some cattle are missing. A local man runs away. They enjoy the splendid stretches of the river. They set up a depot camp at a natural bridge. They ride northwest and receive messages from Sydney. Finally, they return to the camp at St. George's Bridge.
5TH MARCH.—Early this morning the stockman brought over two natives, brothers, who were to guide us to water ten miles on towards the Narran, which was said to be thirty-five miles off. In the first two miles we passed over some soft ground. Further on, hills were visible to the left, which our native guides called Goodeingora. Fragments of conglomerate rocks appeared in the soil of the plains, pebbles and grains of quartz cemented by felspar. These plains appeared to become undulating ground as we proceeded northward, and the surface became firmer. At length the country opened into slight undulations, well clothed with grass, and good for travelling over, the soil being full of the same hard rock found on the rising grounds nearest to the Darling, in the lowest parts of that river explored formerly by me. The red earth seemed to be but the decomposed matrix of that rock, as the water-worn pebbles of quartz so thickly set therein, here covered the ground in some places so thickly as to resemble snow. Much Anthistiria and other good grasses grew on those plains. I was, indeed, most agreeably surprised at the firm undulating stony surface and open character of the country, where I had expected to see soft clay, and holes and scrubs. At six miles, other slight elevations appeared to the N. E. which the natives called Toolowly, a name well calculated to fix in white men's memory elevations too low to be called hills. They were quite high enough, however, along a line of route for such heavy drays as those following us. There appeared much novelty in the trees on this side the Darling. The Angophora lanceolata was every where; Callitris grew about the base of the hills, and some very singular acacias, a long-leaved grey kind of wattle, the Acacia stenophylla of Cunningham. On one tree large pods hung in such profusion as to bend the branches to the ground. From this abundance I supposed it was not good to be eaten; nevertheless, I found in another place many of the same pods roasted at some fires of the natives, and learnt from our guides that they eat the pea. The pod somewhat resembled that of the Cachou nut of the Brazils,—Mùnumulà is the native name. The grasses comprised a great variety, and amongst the plants a beautiful little Brunonia, not more than four inches high, with smaller flower-heads than those of BR. SERICEA, quite simple or scarcely at all lobed, and a hairy indusium.[*] The tree, still a nondescript, although the fruit had been gathered by me in 1831, and then sent to Mr. Brown, was also here; and I saw one or two trees of a species of Capparis. Mr. Stephenson found a great variety of new insects also.
5TH MARCH.—Early this morning, the stockman brought over two native brothers who were going to guide us to water about ten miles towards the Narran, which was said to be thirty-five miles away. In the first two miles, we crossed some soft ground. Further ahead, hills were visible on the left, which our native guides called Goodeingora. We spotted fragments of conglomerate rocks in the plains’ soil, pebbles, and grains of quartz held together by felspar. As we continued north, the plains started to show some undulations, and the ground became firmer. Eventually, the terrain opened up into gentle rises, well-covered with grass and suitable for traveling, with soil comprising the same hard rock found on the elevated areas closest to the Darling, in the lower sections of that river previously explored by me. The red earth seemed to be just the weathered remnants of that rock, as the water-worn quartz pebbles were so densely scattered across the ground in some areas that they resembled snow. A lot of Anthistiria and other good grasses grew on those plains. I was indeed pleasantly surprised by the firm, undulating stony surface and open nature of the land, where I had expected to encounter soft clay, holes, and scrub. At six miles, other slight elevations appeared to the northeast, which the natives called Toolowly, a name likely to stick in white men's memories for being elevations too low to be called hills. However, they were more than tall enough for the heavy drays following us along this route. There was much variety in the trees on this side of the Darling. The Angophora lanceolata was everywhere; Callitris grew at the base of the hills, and I noticed some very unique acacias, a long-leaved gray type of wattle, the Acacia stenophylla of Cunningham. On one tree, large pods hung in such abundance that they bent the branches to the ground. From this overabundance, I assumed they weren’t good for eating; however, I later found many of the same pods roasted at some native campfires and learned from our guides that they eat the peas. The pod was somewhat similar to that of the Cachou nut from Brazil—Mùnumulà is the native name. The grasses included a great variety, and among the plants was a beautiful little Brunonia, no more than four inches high, with smaller flower heads than those of BR. SERICEA, quite simple or hardly lobed, and a hairy indusium.[*] I still couldn’t identify the tree, although I had gathered the fruit back in 1831 and sent it to Mr. Brown, and I saw one or two trees of a Capparis species. Mr. Stephenson also discovered a wide variety of new insects.
[* B. simplex (Lindl. MSS.); pumila, foliis undique scapisque longitudinaliter sericeis, villis appressis, capitulis subsimplicibus, bracteis majoribus oblongis, indusio extus piloso.]
[* B. simplex (Lindl. MSS.); dwarf, with silken leaves and stalks all around, pressed hairs, nearly simple flower heads, larger oblong bracts, and a fuzzy outer indusium.]
Our guides brought us at length to some waterholes, amongst some verdant grass on a plain, where no stranger would have looked for water; and here we encamped fifteen good miles from the Barwan. The ponds were called "Caràwy," and were vitally important to us, enabling us to pass on towards the Narran, which was still, as we had been informed, twenty-five miles off. As we approached these springs, I saw some natives running off, and I sent one of the guides after them to say we should do them no harm, and beg them to stop, but he could not overtake them. The undulations crossed by us this day seemed to extend east and west in their elongations, and were probably parallel to the general course of the main channel of drainage. The same felspathic rock seen in other parts of this great basin, seems the basis of the clay, although the fragments imbedded are very hard. The earth is reddish, and much resembles in this respect the matrix of the conglomerate. Near these springs we found a new Helichrysum.[*] Thermometer at sunrise, 61°; at noon, 100°; at 4 p.m., 102°; at 9, 79°;—with wet bulb, 65°.
Our guides eventually led us to some waterholes surrounded by lush grass on a flat area, where no one would expect to find water; we set up camp here, a good fifteen miles from the Barwan. The ponds were called "Caràwy," and they were crucial for us, allowing us to continue toward the Narran, which was still, as we had learned, twenty-five miles away. As we got closer to these springs, I noticed some locals running away, so I sent one of the guides after them to let them know we meant no harm and to ask them to stop, but he couldn't catch up to them. The hills we crossed that day seemed to stretch east and west, likely parallel to the main drainage channel. The same type of felspathic rock seen in other parts of this vast basin appears to underlie the clay, though the embedded fragments are very hard. The soil is reddish and resembles the matrix of the conglomerate. Near these springs, we discovered a new Helichrysum.[*] The thermometer readings were 61° at sunrise, 100° at noon, 102° at 4 p.m., and 79° at 9 p.m.—with the wet bulb at 65°.
[* Helichrysum ramosissimum (Hook. MSS.); suffruticosum valde ramosum arachnoideo-tomentosum, foliis lineari-spathulatis subflaccidis acutis, capitulis in racemis terminalibus parvis globosis flavis, involucri squamis lineari-subulatis undulatis fimbriato-ciliatis.]
[* Helichrysum ramosissimum (Hook. MSS.); a highly branched, shrubby plant covered in a spiderweb-like hairiness, with narrowly spoon-shaped, somewhat limp, pointed leaves, and small, rounded yellow flower heads in terminal racemes, featuring involucral bracts that are linear-subulate, wavy, and fringed with tiny hairs.]
6TH MARCH.—The drays not having come up, in consequence of the excessive length of yesterday's journey, and very hot weather—(16½ miles by latitude alone)—we were obliged to remain inactive here on a beautiful cool morning. I found near the ponds, several huts made of fresh branches of trees and the remains of fires, doubtless the deserted home of the fugitives of yesterday. At these fires I found the roasted pods of the acacia already mentioned (Mùnumulà). The water was surrounded by fresh herbage, and such was the simple fare of those aborigines, such the home whence they fled. As I looked at it in the presence of my sable guides, I could not but reflect that the white man's cattle would soon trample these holes into a quagmire of mud, and destroy the surrounding verdure and pleasant freshness for ever. I feared that my good-natured but acute guides thought as much, and I blushed inwardly [*] for our pallid race.
6TH MARCH.—The carts didn't arrive because of the long journey yesterday and the extremely hot weather—(16½ miles just in latitude)—so we had to stay inactive here on a lovely cool morning. Near the ponds, I found several huts made of fresh tree branches and the remains of fires, likely the abandoned home of the people who fled yesterday. At these fires, I found the roasted pods of the acacia I mentioned earlier (Mùnumulà). The water was surrounded by fresh grass, and that was the simple diet of those Indigenous people, the place they escaped from. Looking at it with my dark-skinned guides nearby, I couldn’t help but think that the white man’s cattle would soon trample these spots into a muddy mess, ruining the surrounding greenery and refreshing atmosphere forever. I worried that my well-meaning but sharp guides felt the same way, and I felt embarrassed for our pale-skinned race.
[* The author of Waverley maintains that one may laugh inwardly—conscience may, I suppose, make us also blush inwardly sometimes.]
[* The author of Waverley suggests that one can laugh on the inside—conscience can, I guess, make us feel embarrassed on the inside sometimes.]
All day we sat still in anxious suspense about the non-arrival of our drays—the ground having been so good. With a country so interesting before us, this delay was doubly irksome, and as the cattle could only be watered by coming forward, why they did not come was the question; and this was not solved until evening, when a messenger came forward to ask if they might come, and to inform me that they were nearly exhausted. The fatal alternative of endeavouring to make them work in the morning, after passing a night without water, had been adopted, and as, on the day before, they had been worked until dusk in expectation of reaching my camp, they could not draw on the morning after; I instantly directed them to be brought forward; but the consequence of this derangement was the death of one, and much injury to many others. This contretemps arose wholly from the guides not having been understood at the Barwan as to the real distance, and this we had calculated too surely upon. Latitude 29° 52' 26" south. Thermometer at sunrise, 68°; at noon, 96°; at 4 p.m., 102°; at 9, 83°;—with wet bulb, 68°.
All day we sat in anxious suspense about the delay of our wagons—the ground had been so good. With such an interesting landscape ahead, this hold-up was even more frustrating. Since the cattle could only be watered by moving forward, we kept wondering why they didn't arrive. This question wasn't answered until evening when a messenger came to ask if they could come and to let me know that they were nearly exhausted. The decision to try to make them work in the morning after a night without water had already been made, and since they had worked until dusk the day before with the hope of reaching my camp, they couldn’t pull through in the morning. I immediately ordered them to come forward, but this mix-up led to the death of one and caused serious injury to several others. This situation was entirely due to the guides not being understood at the Barwan regarding the actual distance, which we had counted on being accurate. Latitude 29° 52' 26" south. Thermometer at sunrise, 68°; at noon, 96°; at 4 p.m., 102°; at 9, 83°;—with wet bulb, 68°.
7TH MARCH, 1846.—The bullocks having been sent back after they had been watered last evening, the drays came up about 9 a.m. I left them in Mr. Kennedy's charge, and proceeded with the light carts followed by all the bullocks yoked up. They had trodden into mud the little water that had been left at that camp, and could not live much longer without more. The guides assured us the Narran was not far off, although we had understood when at the Barwan that the distance was twenty-five miles from these springs. We passed over very good ground, and found the country to improve as we advanced. We were conducted through the most open parts of scrubs by our guides, who were made to comprehend clearly how desirable that was for our "wheelbarrows;" and after travelling about seven miles, they pointed to a line of trees as the "Narran," beyond an extensive open country, which had a singular appearance from being higher than that we were upon. We crossed one or two slight elevations wholly composed of compact felspar in blocks —forming ridges resembling an outcrop of strata, whereof the strike always pointed N. W. and S. E. Various curious new plants and fruits appeared; amongst others a solanum, the berry of which was a very pleasant-tasted fruit. The plant was a runner and spread over several yards from one root. There was also a fruit shaped like an elongated egg; it appeared to be some Asclepiad, and was called by the natives "Doobàh." They ate it, seeds and all, but said it was best roasted. As we approached the elevated country between us and the distant line of trees, we perceived that the vast level was covered with Polygonum junceum in a verdant state. The colour was dark green, such as I had never seen elsewhere in this "leafless bramble," as Sturt called it, which looks ever quite dry and withered along the margins of the Darling. We had good reason to love and admire its verdure now, when we found amongst it pure water in great abundance, into which all our native companions immediately plunged, and rolled about like porpoises. This, they said, was the "Narran," but to the vast swampy plain they gave the name of Keegur, a name quite useless for white men's memories or maps. They seemed to say it was wholly an emanation from the Narran, and pointed to the nearest part of the trees beyond, saying the river Narran was there. I still endeavoured to proceed, as they wished, towards the nearest trees beyond, until a winding narrow pond of water, in very soft mud, precluded all hopes of crossing with our drays, without some sort of bridge; I therefore immediately counter-marched the party with me, now far advanced in that sea of dark green polygonum, and conducted it into a position on open stony ground to the westward of our route, with the intention to await there the arrival of the drays, and to prepare materials for a bridge to be laid across the muddy pond, as I had seen a small clump of pines (Callitris) at no great distance back. My guides did not encourage a hope I entertained, that this swamp might be turned by the westward, in which direction the open country extended to the horizon. The man who travels with bullocks must expect to be impeded by wet ground, as well as by the scarcity of water, in many situations where horses could pass without difficulty. I directed the bullocks, that had been driven forward with me, to be allowed to graze beside the water until sunset, and then to be taken slowly back by moonlight to Mr. Kennedy. Five had dropped down on the way, and had not come forward to the water. Those sent back were also ordered to be allowed to feed all the next day at Mr. Kennedy's camp, and only to start with the drays there next evening, to come on by moonlight, thus avoiding the intense heat, so oppressive under extreme thirst. The thermometer during the day, rose to 103° in the shade. Latitude of the camp on Narran swamp, 29° 45' 51" S. Thermometer at sunrise, 47°; at noon, 97°; at 4 p.m., 97°; at 9, 69°; ditto with wet bulb, 57°. The height of this camp above the sea, the average of five registered observations, is 442 feet.
7TH MARCH, 1846.—After sending the bullocks back to be watered last night, the drays arrived around 9 a.m. I left them under Mr. Kennedy's care and moved ahead with the light carts, followed by all the bullocks hitched up. They had trampled the little water left at the camp into mud and wouldn’t survive much longer without more. The guides assured us the Narran wasn’t far off, even though we had heard at the Barwan that it was twenty-five miles from these springs. We traveled over very good ground, and the landscape improved as we went on. Our guides led us through the most open parts of the thicket, understanding that was crucial for our "wheelbarrows." After about seven miles, they pointed to a line of trees as the "Narran," beyond a wide open area that appeared odd because it was higher than where we were standing. We crossed a few slight hills made entirely of compact felspar in blocks—forming ridges that looked like outcroppings of layers, always pointing N.W. and S.E. We noticed a variety of interesting new plants and fruits; among them was a solanum, whose berry had a very pleasant taste. The plant was a runner, spreading several yards from one root. There was also a fruit shaped like an elongated egg; it seemed to be some kind of Asclepiad, and the locals called it "Doobàh." They ate it, seeds and all, but said it tasted best roasted. As we got closer to the elevated country between us and the distant trees, we saw that the vast flat area was covered with Polygonum junceum in full greenery. The color was a dark green, unlike anything else I had seen, especially this "leafless bramble," as Sturt described it, which usually looks completely dry and wilted near the Darling. We had every reason to appreciate its lushness now, especially when we found fresh water in abundance, into which all our native companions jumped in and rolled around like porpoises. They called this water the "Narran," but referred to the vast swampy plain as Keegur, a name not very memorable for white men or useful for maps. They suggested it came entirely from the Narran and pointed to the nearest trees, saying that was where the river Narran was. I still tried to move toward the nearest trees, but a winding narrow pond of water in soft mud blocked our path with the drays. So I quickly turned back the party with me, now deep in the sea of dark green polygonum, and directed it to a spot on open rocky ground to the west of our route, where we would wait for the drays and gather materials to build a bridge over the muddy pond, as I had noticed a small cluster of pines (Callitris) not far behind. My guides didn’t inspire much hope that this swamp could be diverted to the west, where the open country stretched to the horizon. Anyone traveling with bullocks must expect to be slowed down by wet ground, along with the lack of water, in many cases where horses would have no trouble at all. I instructed the bullocks that had followed us to graze by the water until sunset, and then to slowly return by moonlight to Mr. Kennedy. Five had dropped along the way and hadn’t made it to the water. Those sent back were also told to graze all of the next day at Mr. Kennedy’s camp and only to start with the drays the following evening, traveling by moonlight to avoid the intense heat that was so oppressive when we were extremely thirsty. The temperature during the day reached 103° in the shade. Latitude of the camp on Narran swamp, 29° 45' 51" S. Thermometer readings were 47° at sunrise; 97° at noon; 97° at 4 p.m.; and 69° at 9 p.m.; with a wet bulb reading of 57°. The height of this camp above sea level, averaged from five recorded observations, is 442 feet.
8TH MARCH.—The view northward from our present camp was most extensive. Far in the northeast a yellow slope presented the unusual appearance there, of a cultivated country. It was doubtless ripe grass, yet still the earth there had not even been imprinted with any hoof. Between that slope and our camp, lay the element, in abundance, which had been so scarce on the other side of the Darling. To the northward, at no great distance, was the river, where, as our guides informed us, we should no longer be ill off for water in pursuing our journey along its banks. I set the carpenter to cut sleepers and slabbing to enable us to bridge the muddy creek, for I had examined it early in the morning, and had crossed it with my horse; although I found several watercourses almost as soft, beyond. The natives maintained that the water in this extensive swamp came neither from the east nor west, but from the river directly before us, which came from the northward. Just behind our camp, to the southward, was a gentle elevation, almost a hill, consisting of the usual rock, felspar; and it seemed to me that this stony ground alone impeded the further progress of the water towards the Barwan. The ridge trended north-west, as most others did in this extensive basin; and this direction being nearly parallel to that of the coast ranges further northward, seemed to afford additional reason for expecting to find anticlinal and synclinal lines, and, consequently, rivers, much in the same direction. D'Urban's group, distant 150 miles lower down the Darling, consisted of a quartzose rock, exactly similar to this, exhibiting a tendency, like it, to break into irregular polygons, some of the faces being curved. This rock is most extensively distributed in the interior of New South Wales. It was not until the evening of this day that the approach of the drays was announced, and then prematurely, the teams only having been brought forward to the water without them. So weak were the unfortunate animals, that not even by night, nor by doubling the numbers, could they be made to draw the drays forward, for the short distance of eight miles; a distance which we had been given to understand was so much greater. Forward, all was most promising, and it may be imagined how bitterly I regretted the alteration of my original plan of equipment, which had reference to horses and light carts alone. A new species of Anthistiria occurred here, perfectly distinct from the kangaroo grass of the colony, very like Apluda mutica, and remarkable for the smooth shining appearance of the thin involucral leaves.[*] The Trichinium alopecuroideum, in great abundance, was conspicuous, with its long silky ears of green flowers. On the stony ground occurred a very curious new woolly KOCHIA [**], also a species of Cyperus; the Trichinium lanatum in great perfection; a grass resembling the close reed (Calamagrostis of England), and which proved to be the little-known Triraphis mollis. On the margin of the morass the Dactyloctenium radulans, spreading over the interstices, reminded the traveller of the grasses of Egypt; and, in stony ground near the morass, we observed the Justicia media of Brown. Thermometer at sunrise, 66°; at noon, 98°; at 4 p.m. 102°; at 9, 81°; ditto with wet bulb, 74°.
8TH MARCH.—The view to the north from our current camp was incredibly wide-ranging. Far in the northeast, a yellow slope showed the unusual sight of cultivated land. It was likely ripe grass, yet the ground hadn’t even been touched by any hooves. Between that slope and our camp lay plenty of the element that had been so scarce on the other side of the Darling. To the north, not far away, was the river, where our guides told us we wouldn't have trouble finding water as we continued our journey along its banks. I had the carpenter cut sleepers and slabs so we could bridge the muddy creek, as I had checked it early this morning and crossed it with my horse, although I found several watercourses almost as soft beyond that. The natives claimed that the water in this vast swamp didn’t come from the east or west, but directly from the river in front of us, which flowed from the north. Just behind our camp to the south was a gentle rise, almost a hill, made up of the usual rock, felspar; it seemed that this rocky ground was the only thing blocking further movement of the water toward the Barwan. The ridge trended northwest, like most others in this extensive basin, and this direction, which was nearly parallel to the coastal ranges further north, seemed to give extra reason to expect to find anticlinal and synclinal lines and, therefore, rivers following the same path. D'Urban's group, located 150 miles further down the Darling, consisted of a quartz rock, just like this one, showing a tendency to break into irregular polygons, some of the faces being curved. This rock is widely found in the interior of New South Wales. It wasn’t until the evening of this day that we were informed the drays were approaching, though it turned out to be premature; the teams had only been brought forward to the water without the drays. The poor animals were so weak that even at night, and even with double the numbers, they couldn’t pull the drays forward for the short distance of eight miles, which we had been told was much greater. Up ahead, everything looked promising, and I regretted the change to my original plan for equipment, which had only involved horses and light carts. A new type of Anthistiria appeared here, completely different from the kangaroo grass of the colony, very similar to Apluda mutica, and notable for the smooth, shiny look of the thin involucral leaves.[*] The Trichinium alopecuroideum was abundant, noticeable for its long silky green flower spikes. On the rocky ground, we found a very interesting new woolly KOCHIA [**], along with a species of Cyperus; the Trichinium lanatum was in great condition; a grass resembling the close reed (Calamagrostis of England), which turned out to be the lesser-known Triraphis mollis. Along the edge of the swamp, the Dactyloctenium radulans, spreading over the gaps, reminded travelers of the grasses found in Egypt; and in the rocky ground near the swamp, we noticed the Justicia media of Brown. Thermometer at sunrise, 66°; at noon, 98°; at 4 p.m. 102°; at 9 p.m., 81°; and the same with wet bulb, 74°.
[* A. membranacea (Lindl. MSS); involucris carinatis margine membranaceis foliis vaginisque glaberrimis, floribus verticillatis pedicellatis (masculis?), glumis omnibus scabris, aristâ glaberrimâ glumâ 3plo longiore.]
[* A. membranacea (Lindl. MSS); bracts with ribbed edges and smooth sheaths, flowers in whorls on stalks (males?), all glumes rough, with a very smooth awn three times longer than the glume.]
[** K. lanosa (Lindl. MSS); ramis strictis foliisque linearibus acutis cinereis tomentosis, fructibus lanatis, calycis laciniis elongatis.]
[** K. lanosa (Lindl. MSS); with stiff branches, sharp, gray, fuzzy linear leaves, woolly fruits, and elongated calyx lobes.]
9TH MARCH.—My native guides, tired of the delay, were anxious to return, and as the assistance they could afford me was likely to be extremely useful, and the arrival of the drays was most uncertain, I went forward this morning with one of them, two men, and Youranigh, our interpreter, all mounted. Amongst the trees, beyond the swamp, fine reaches of water appeared in a river channel, apparently continuous to the northward, but which, in the other direction, or towards the swamp, abruptly terminated like a cul-de-sac. On my asking the natives where it went to, they pointed to the various narrow water courses and the swamp as the final depositories of the water. Admirable distribution of the contents of a river in a country where water is so scarce, and the climate so hot and dry! We proceeded along the margin of the "Narran," which led us nearly due north, until we forded it, at the desire of our guides, on a good gravelly bottom, the water reaching to our saddle-flaps. Crossing a slight elevation where the soil was gravelly, and in which grew the shrubs of the ordinary scrubs with several interesting novelties, we again came upon an angle of the Narran, and continued along its banks for about thirty miles, until near sunset, when we tethered our horses, and lay down for the night. The Narran was full of water every where, and with this abundance of water there was also plenty of most excellent grass. The Panicum loevinode of Dr. Lindley seemed to predominate, a grass whereof the seed ("Cooly") is made by the natives into a kind of paste or bread. Dry heaps of this grass, that had been pulled expressly for the purpose of gathering the seed, lay along our path for many miles. I counted nine miles along the river, in which we rode through this grass only, reaching to our saddle-girths, and the same grass seemed to grow back from the river, at least as far as the eye could reach through a very open forest. I had never seen such rich natural pasturage in any other part of New South Wales. Still it was what supplied the bread of the natives; and these children of the soil were doing every thing in their power to assist me, whose wheel tracks would probably bring the white man's cattle into it. We had followed well-beaten paths of natives during the whole of this day's ride, and most anxious were my guides and I to see them; but they avoided us. Our guide was of that country, and not at all unwilling or timid; but evidently very desirous to introduce us to the inhabitants, and procure amongst them other guides to lead us further. The night was very hot, and flies and mosquitos did their utmost to prevent us from sleeping. Thermometer at sunrise, 75°; at noon, 99°; at 4 p.m., 105°; at 9, 83°; ditto with wet bulb, 75°.
9TH MARCH.—My local guides, frustrated by the delays, were eager to head back, and since their help was likely to be really valuable while we waited for the drays, which weren’t guaranteed to arrive anytime soon, I decided to move forward this morning with one of them, two other men, and Youranigh, our interpreter, all on horseback. Amid the trees, past the swamp, we spotted significant stretches of water in a river channel, seemingly extending north, but abruptly ending towards the swamp, like a dead end. When I asked the locals where it led, they pointed to the various narrow waterways and the swamp as the final destinations for the water. What an impressive way to distribute river water in a place where it's so scarce and the climate is so hot and dry! We followed the edge of the "Narran," which took us almost directly north, until we crossed it, as our guides suggested, over a solid gravel bottom, with the water reaching our saddle flaps. After climbing a slight rise where the soil was gravelly, with common shrubs and some interesting new plants, we arrived at a bend in the Narran and continued following its banks for about thirty miles until just before sunset, when we tied up our horses and settled down for the night. The Narran was brimming with water everywhere, and alongside this abundance, there was also an excellent supply of grass. The Panicum loevinode identified by Dr. Lindley seemed to be the most common, a grass whose seed ("Cooly") the locals make into a sort of paste or bread. Dry piles of this grass, pulled specifically to gather the seed, lined our path for miles. I counted nine miles along the river where we rode through this grass alone, which reached our saddle girths, and it continued to grow back from the river as far as we could see through a very open forest. I had never encountered such rich natural pasture in any other part of New South Wales. This grass also provided the natives' bread, and these local people were doing everything they could to help me, knowing that my tracks would likely lead white settlers’ cattle here. We had followed well-worn paths made by the locals throughout the whole day’s journey, and my guides and I were eager to meet them; however, they stayed out of sight. Our guide was from this region, not at all unwilling or afraid, but clearly wanting to introduce us to the residents and find more guides to take us further. The night was very hot, and flies and mosquitoes made it hard for us to get any sleep. The thermometer readings were 75° at sunrise, 99° at noon, 105° at 4 p.m., and 83° at 9 p.m., with the wet bulb also at 75°.
10TH MARCH.—Anxious for an interview with some of the natives, I continued the pursuit of the Narran's course about five miles higher, but with no better success. I then turned, after obtaining from our guide, through Youranigh, what information could be gathered thus, as to the river's further course, the best bank for the passage of our drays, etc. We were still, he said, a long way from the "Culgoa." There was no perceptible change in the aspect of the "Narran" as far as we had examined it, except that where we turned, there were flood-marks, and the dead logs and river wreck, deposited on the upper side of trees and banks, showing a current and high floods. The last of these, our guide said, had occurred about five moons before. In riding back to the camp we kept the castern bank, that the track might be available for our drays. This ride along a river where we could, when we pleased, either water our horses, or take a drink ourselves, was quite new and delightful to us, under a temperature of 105° in the shade. Our guide, aged apparently about fifty, walked frequently into the river, while in a state of perspiration; dipped quite under water, or drank a little with his lip on the level of its surface, and then walked on again. He was at last very tired, however, and pointed to the large muscles of the Rectus femoris as if they pained him. We found at the camp, on our return, five of the drays that had come up, the other three being still behind, and requiring double teams of exhausted cattle to bring them forward. In the vicinity of our camp we found the Trichinium alopecuroideum, with heads of flowers nearly five inches long; an eucalyptus near E. pulverulenta, but having more slender peduncles; a sort of Iron-bark. We found also a tall glaucous new HALORAGIS [*], and a curious new shaggy Kochia was intermingled with the grass.[**] Thermometer at sunrise, 77°; at noon, 102°; at 4, 107°; at 9, 76°;—with wet bulb, 71°.
10TH MARCH.—Eager for a meeting with some locals, I continued tracking the Narran's path about five miles upstream, but had no better luck. I then turned around after getting from our guide, via Youranigh, what info could be gathered about the river's further route, the best bank for our drays to cross, etc. According to him, we were still quite far from the "Culgoa." There was no obvious change in the look of the "Narran" as far as we had examined, except that where we turned, there were flood marks and dead logs and debris stuck to the upper sides of trees and banks, indicating a current and high floods. The last flood, our guide mentioned, had happened about five moons ago. On the way back to camp, we kept to the eastern bank so the route would be clear for our drays. Riding alongside the river where we could easily water our horses or grab a drink ourselves was a refreshing change, especially in the 105° shade. Our guide, who seemed to be around fifty, frequently waded into the river, getting fully submerged or sipping water with his lips at the surface, then walking on again. Eventually, he got quite tired and pointed to the large muscles of the Rectus femoris as if they were sore. At camp, upon our return, we found five drays had arrived, while the other three were still behind and needed double teams of worn-out cattle to bring them up. Near our camp, we discovered the Trichinium alopecuroideum, with flower heads nearly five inches long; an eucalyptus near E. pulverulenta, but with slimmer peduncles; a type of Iron-bark. We also found a new tall glaucous HALORAGIS [*], and a strange new shaggy Kochia mixed in with the grass.[**] The thermometer read 77° at sunrise, 102° at noon, 107° at 4, and 76° at 9—wet bulb at 71°.
[* H. glauca (Lindl. MSS.); annua, stricta, glaberrima, glauca, foliis oppositis lineari-oblongis obtusis petiolatis grossè serratis, racemis apice aphyllis, fructu globoso tuberculato laevi.]
[* H. glauca (Lindl. MSS.); annual, upright, very smooth, bluish-green, with opposite, linear-oblong, blunt leaves on petioles that are coarsely serrated, with racemes lacking leaves at the top, and fruit that is round, smooth, and tuberculated.]*
[** K. villosa (Lindl. MSS.); ramis erectis foliisque linearibus villosissimis, fructibus glabris.]
[** K. villosa (Lindl. MSS.); with upright branches and very hairy linear leaves, smooth fruits.]
11TH MARCH.—All the drays came in early. I gave to the two natives, the tomahawks, tobacco, and pipes, as promised; also a note to the stockman on the Barwan, who had provided me with them, saying that they had been very useful. I this morning examined the country to the westward of the swamp, and found a narrow place at which we could pass, and so avoid much soft heavy ground. The ramifications of the watery Narran penetrated into the hollows of the stony ridge, presenting there little hollows full of rich verdure and pools of water, a sight so unwonted amongst rocks characteristic of D'Urban's arid group. In one little hollow, to the westward of our camp, it seemed possible for two men with a pickaxe and shovel to have continued it through, and so to have opened a new channel for the passage of the waters of the Narran swamp, into the dry country between it and the Barwan. Thermometer at sunrise, 55°; at noon, 105°; at 4 p.m., 102°; at 9, 75°;—with wet bulb, 59°.
11TH MARCH.—All the carts arrived early. I gave the two natives the tomahawks, tobacco, and pipes, as I promised; also a note to the stockman on the Barwan, who had provided them to me, saying that they had been very helpful. This morning, I looked at the land to the west of the swamp and found a narrow spot where we could pass, helping us avoid a lot of soft, heavy ground. The branches of the watery Narran extended into the dips of the rocky ridge, creating small depressions filled with rich greenery and pools of water, a sight that was very unusual among the rocks typical of D'Urban's dry area. In one small dip, west of our camp, it seemed possible for two men with a pickaxe and shovel to dig it out further and create a new channel for the waters of the Narran swamp, leading into the dry area between it and the Barwan. The thermometer read 55° at sunrise; 105° at noon; 102° at 4 p.m.; and 75° at 9 p.m.; with a wet bulb reading of 59°.
12TH MARCH.—I found it necessary to sit still here and refresh the jaded bullocks; thus days and months passed away, in which with horses I might have continued the journey. The very extensive country before us, which appeared to absorb these waters, was quite clear of timber, and irrigated by little canals winding amongst Polygonum junceum. This open country appeared to extend north-eastward about eight miles, thence to turn eastward, as if these waters found some outlet that way to the Barwan. I regretted that this swamp led too far out of our way, to admit of our tracing its limits to the eastward.
12TH MARCH.—I found it necessary to stay put here and give the tired bullocks a break; so days and months went by when I could have continued the journey on horseback. The vast land ahead of us, which seemed to absorb these waters, was completely clear of trees and was watered by small canals winding through Polygonum junceum. This open area seemed to stretch north-east for about eight miles before veering eastward, as if these waters found some outlet that way towards the Barwan. I regretted that this swamp was too much out of our way to allow us to follow its boundaries to the east.
This day I received letters from Commissioner Mitchell, in which he strongly recommended to my attention the rivers Biree, Bokhara, and Narran, as waters emanating from, and leading to, the Balonne, a river which he said might supply our party with water, in this very dry season, almost to the tropic. I was able to inform him in reply, that I was already on the Narran, and that I had already availed myself of his account of the rivers formerly sent me, on which I must have been obliged to depend, even if the party had passed by Fort Bourke.
Today, I received letters from Commissioner Mitchell, in which he strongly recommended that I pay attention to the Biree, Bokhara, and Narran rivers, as they flow from and connect to the Balonne, a river that he mentioned could provide our group with water during this very dry season, almost up to the tropic. In my reply, I was able to inform him that I was already at the Narran and that I had already used his previous account of the rivers he sent me, which I would have had to rely on, even if our group had bypassed Fort Bourke.
This evening, by moonlight, I conducted a dray, carrying two platforms, to the place where the narrow channel, feeding the swamp, could be passed without our meeting beyond any other impediment to the drays. The sleepers used for this purpose were made of pine (Callitris pyramidalis), found half a mile back from our camp. They were fourteen feet long, two feet wide, being composed of cross-pieces, two feet long, fixed at each end between two sleepers, so that they somewhat resembled a wooden railway. These, when laid at the proper distance apart to carry both wheels, were bedded on the soft earth, and the interval between was filled to a level with them, by layers of polygonum and long grass, alternate with earth, forming together a mass of sufficient resistance to support the feet of the draught oxen. The whole formed a compact bridge or gangway. Thermometer at sunrise, 51°; at noon, 95°; at 4 p.m., 107°; at 9, 70°;—with wet bulb, 61°.
This evening, by moonlight, I brought a cart with two platforms to the spot where we could cross the narrow channel feeding the swamp without running into any other obstacles for the carts. The logs used for this were made of pine (Callitris pyramidalis) and were found half a mile back from our camp. They were fourteen feet long and two feet wide, constructed with two-foot-long crosspieces fixed at each end between two logs, making them look somewhat like a wooden railway. When positioned at the right distance to accommodate both wheels, they were placed on the soft ground, and the space between them was filled to level with layers of polygonum and long grass, alternating with soil, creating a solid base to support the feet of the draft oxen. The entire setup formed a sturdy bridge or walkway. The thermometer readings were: at sunrise, 51°; at noon, 95°; at 4 p.m., 107°; at 9 p.m., 70°;—with a wet bulb reading of 61°.
13TH MARCH.—The party once more moved onward, and the drays trundled across the swampy arm by means of our bridge, which, even in the event of an accession of water there, might have proved serviceable on our return. Three miles beyond it we had to ford the Narran, passing over a gravelly bottom to the eastern bank, and encamping there. The drays were slow in arriving at this ford and camp, as the ground was soft and hollow, but by sunset all had crossed, and our camp established on the Narran. Thermometer at sunrise, 71°; at noon, 100°; at 4 p.m., 100°; at 9, 71°;—with wet bulb, 65°. The height of this camp above the sea, according to ten registered observations, is 487 feet.
13TH MARCH.—The party set out again, and the wagons moved across the swampy area using our bridge, which, even if it rains more, could be useful on our way back. After three miles, we had to cross the Narran River, walking over a gravelly bottom to reach the eastern bank, where we set up camp. The wagons took a while to get to this crossing and campsite since the ground was soft and uneven, but by sunset, everyone had crossed, and our camp was set up by the Narran. The thermometer read 71° at sunrise, 100° at noon, 100° at 4 p.m., and 71° at 9 p.m., with a wet bulb reading of 65°. The height of this camp above sea level, based on ten recorded observations, is 487 feet.
14TH MARCH.—We now had before us water and grass in abundance, to a distance as unlimited and indefinite, as our hopes of discovery. I intended to set out early each morning, and travel only four or five miles, that the jaded animals, exhausted by want of water and hard work, might have time to feed and refresh. One old cause of delay, however, again occurred to impede us,—three bullocks were reported missing. Now it was nearly full moon, and two men had been on watch all night. It really seemed that delay and disappointment must attend all who depend on bullocks and bullock-drivers. The stray cattle were not brought up until 9 a.m., when we proceeded, and encamped on an angle of the Narran, after travelling about five miles. In the scrubs passed through, we found the fragrant Jasminum lineare in fruit, the flowers being nearly past; a bulb which proved to be the Anthericum bulbosum of Brown; a shrub ten feet high, in fruit, the Canthium oleifolium of Sir William Hooker; a fine new Chenopodium, with long naked spikes of woolly yellow flowers [*]; and a hoary variety of Acacia leptoclada, or perhaps a distinct species, having a good deal of the aspect of A. dealbata, but the leaves and glands nearer those of A. leptoclada, according to Mr. Bentham. Thermometer at sunrise, 70°; at noon, 103°; at 4 p.m., 102°; at 9, 81°;—with wet bulb, 75°.
14TH MARCH.—We now had plenty of water and grass, stretching out as far as our dreams of discovery. I planned to leave early each morning and only travel four or five miles so the tired animals, worn out from lack of water and hard labor, could rest and feed. However, we ran into an old problem again—three bullocks were reported missing. It was almost a full moon, and two men had been on watch all night. It really seemed like those relying on bullocks and their drivers were destined for delays and disappointments. The missing cattle were finally gathered by 9 a.m., and we moved on to set up camp on a bend of the Narran after traveling about five miles. In the scrub we passed through, we found the fragrant Jasminum lineare with fruit, almost past blooming; a bulb that turned out to be Anthericum bulbosum of Brown; a ten-foot-high shrub with fruit, the Canthium oleifolium of Sir William Hooker; a lovely new Chenopodium with long bare spikes of woolly yellow flowers [*]; and a grayish variety of Acacia leptoclada, or possibly a different species, looking quite a bit like A. dealbata, but with leaves and glands more similar to those of A. leptoclada, according to Mr. Bentham. The thermometer read 70° at sunrise, 103° at noon, 102° at 4 p.m., and 81° at 9 p.m., with a wet bulb reading of 75°.
[* C. auricomum (Lindl. MSS.); totum glaucum farinosum, caule stricto, foliis petiolatis oblongis subhastatis lobisque posticis obtusis supremis lanceolatis, spicis compositis nudis aphyllis glomeratis multifloris tomentosis.]
[* C. auricomum (Lindl. MSS.); completely glaucous and powdery, with a straight stem, elongated petiolate leaves that are somewhat hastate, blunt posterior lobes, and lanceolate upper lobes, featuring naked, clustered, multi-flowered spicate inflorescences that are covered in tomentum.]
15TH MARCH.—The sand amongst the scrubs was so soft and yielding, that the draught animals could not draw the drays through it without great difficulty; indeed, it was only possible by double-backing, as the drivers termed their practice of alternately assisting one another, a process to which all had had recourse with one exception. It was not until 1 a.m. of this morning, therefore, that the last dray was brought to the camp. Another bullock died on the way, and thus I felt, when the field of discovery lay open before me, that my means of conveyance were unsuited to the task. Overloading at Boree, unskilful driving, excessive heat, and want of water, had contributed to render the bullocks unserviceable, and I already contemplated the organization of a lighter party and fewer men, with which I might go forward at a better rate, leaving the heavy articles of equipment and tired cattle in a depôt, on some good grassy spot. The latitude of this camp was 29° 38' 21" south. Thermometer at sunrise, 73°; at noon, 84°; at 4 p.m., 86°; at 9, 65°; —with wet bulb, 60°.
15TH MARCH.—The sand among the bushes was so soft and yielding that the draft animals struggled to pull the wagons through it without a lot of trouble; in fact, it was only possible by doubling back, as the drivers called their practice of taking turns to help each other, a method everyone except one had to use. It wasn't until 1 a.m. this morning that the last wagon finally reached the camp. Another bullock died along the way, which made me realize that my means of transport were not suited for the task ahead as the path of discovery lay open before me. Overloading at Boree, poor driving, excessive heat, and lack of water had caused the bullocks to become unfit for work, and I was already thinking about organizing a lighter crew with fewer people, so I could move forward faster, leaving the heavier gear and exhausted cattle in a depot on some good grassy area. The latitude of this camp was 29° 38' 21" south. Thermometer readings were 73° at sunrise, 84° at noon, 86° at 4 p.m., and 65° at 9 p.m., with a wet bulb temperature of 60°.
16TH MARCH.—I proceeded six miles, and chose a camp beside a bend of the Narran, full of deep water, and in the midst of most luxuriant grass. The drays arrived by 11 a.m. in such good order, that I was induced to try whether, by early starting, good feeding, and short journeys, the party could not be got forward to the Balonne, where I could leave the whole in one depôt, to rest and refresh, while I took my intended ride forward. Latitude, 29° 34' 11" S. Thermometer at sunrise, 43°; at noon, 86°; at 4 p.m., 87°; at 9, 62°;—with wet bulb, 55°.
16TH MARCH.—I traveled six miles and set up camp by a curve of the Narran River, which had deep water and was surrounded by lush grass. The wagons arrived by 11 a.m. in great condition, so I decided to see if, by starting early, providing good food, and keeping the trips short, the group could make it to the Balonne, where I could leave everything at one depot for a break and refreshment while I took my planned ride ahead. Latitude, 29° 34' 11" S. Thermometer at sunrise, 43°; at noon, 86°; at 4 p.m., 87°; at 9, 62°;—with wet bulb, 55°.
17TH MARCH.—I proceeded seven miles, and the drays came forward as well as they did yesterday, so that I again entertained hopes of the progress of the united party, which was very desirable, as these plains were evidently sometimes so saturated with water as to be rendered wholly impassable for wheel-carriages or even horses. Latitude, 29° 29' 11" S. Thermometer at sunrise, 47°; at noon, 87°; at 4 p.m., 91°; at 9, 62°;—with wet bulb, 52°.
17TH MARCH.—I traveled seven miles, and the carts were able to move forward as well as they did yesterday, which made me hopeful about the progress of our group. This was really important since these plains were clearly sometimes so soaked with water that they became completely impossible to cross with wheeled vehicles or even horses. Latitude, 29° 29' 11" S. Temperature at sunrise was 47°; at noon, 87°; at 4 p.m., 91°; and at 9 p.m., 62°;—with a wet bulb reading of 52°.
18TH MARCH.—Again we made out a short journey over rather soft ground; all the drays coming in, although slowly. I rode to a gently rising ground, a great novelty, which appeared bearing E. N. E. from our camp, at a distance of 2½ miles. I found it consisted of gravel of the usual conglomerate decomposed—of rounded fragments of about a cubic inch in bulk. The grass was good there, and I perceived that the same gravelly ridge extended back from the river in a north and south direction. Graceful groups of trees grew about this stony ground, which looked, upon the whole, better than the red sandy soil of the scrubs and callitris forest. This seemed the dividing ridge between the Narran and Barwan. From this elevation, I saw that the course of the former ran still in a good direction for us, to a great distance northward. On that stony ground I found a new Pittosporum five feet high, with long narrow leaves, in the way of P. roeanum and Angustifolium, but distinct from both in the form of its fruit.[*] Latitude of camp 29° 25' 21". Thermometer at sunrise, 53°; at noon, 90°; at 4 p.m., 96°; at 9, 69°;—with wet bulb, 61°.
18TH MARCH.—We set out on a short journey over pretty soft ground, with all the drays coming in slowly. I rode to a gently rising area, a refreshing change, which was located E. N. E. from our camp, about 2½ miles away. I discovered it was made up of the usual decomposed conglomerate gravel—rounded pieces about the size of a cubic inch. The grass was good there, and I noticed that the same gravel ridge stretched back from the river in a north-south direction. Elegant groups of trees were scattered across this rocky ground, which looked, overall, better than the red sandy soil of the scrubs and callitris forest. This seemed to be the dividing ridge between the Narran and Barwan. From this height, I could see that the course of the Narran continued favorably for us, running a great distance northward. On that rocky ground, I found a new Pittosporum five feet tall, with long narrow leaves, similar to P. roeanum and Angustifolium, but distinct in the shape of its fruit.[*] Latitude of camp 29° 25' 21". Thermometer at sunrise, 53°; at noon, 90°; at 4 p.m., 96°; at 9, 69°;—with wet bulb, 61°.
[* P. salicinum (Lindl. MS.); foliis lineari-lanceolatis coriaccis acutissimis aveniis, pedunculis unifloris aggregatis axillaribus, fructibus subglobosis vix compressis.]
[* P. salicinum (Lindl. MS.); with leathery, sharp-pointed linear-lanceolate leaves, grouped axillary flower stalks with single flowers, and nearly round fruits that are barely flattened.]
19TH MARCH.—Pursuing the Narran, keeping its eastern or left bank, our course this day was more to the northward. I encamped after travelling six miles, not only because the ground was soft and heavy for the drays, but because I saw that the Narran turned much to the eastward, and I contemplated the passage across it, intending to look for it again, by travelling northward. Accordingly, as soon as our ground had been marked out, I crossed to reconnoitre the country in that direction. I found a fine, open, grassy country, but no signs of the river at the end of five miles, nor even until I had ridden as far eastward. There, recrossing it, I returned to the camp through some fine open forest country. Latitude observed, 29° 21' 51", S. Thermometer at sunrise, 57°; at 4 p.m., 96°; at 9, 71°;—with wet bulb, 62°.
19TH MARCH.—Following the Narran and keeping to its eastern or left bank, we headed more north today. I set up camp after traveling six miles, not just because the ground was soft and heavy for the carts, but also because I noticed that the Narran turned significantly to the east, and I was planning to cross it again while moving north. Once we marked out our camping area, I crossed over to scout the land in that direction. I found a beautiful, open, grassy area, but there were no signs of the river after five miles, nor did I see it even as I continued east. After that, I crossed back and returned to camp through a lovely open forest area. Latitude observed, 29° 21' 51", S. Thermometer at sunrise, 57°; at 4 p.m., 96°; at 9, 71°;—with wet bulb, 62°.
20TH MARCH.—Retracing my homeward tracks of yesterday, we proceeded in a nearly E. N. E. direction, along much firmer ground than we had recently traversed. The great eastern bend of the river was found amongst much excellent grass and amidst much fine timber. A species of Anthistiria appeared here, which seemed different from the ordinary sort, although this was no stranger to me, when exploring the waterless plains westward of the Lachlan, where it looked as if stunted for want of moisture. Here, however, this variety presented the same knotty head, where other grasses grew luxuriantly. After getting round the extreme eastern turn of the Narran we encamped. Near the spot large rocks appeared in the bed, as if the river was passing through the stock of the gravelly ridge I had visited on the 18th. The rock consisted of that found about the basin of the Darling; a quartzose conglomerate with much felspar, and having pebbles of quartz imbedded. The large fragments of the conglomerate in the river bed were angular, and not at all rounded at the edges. Here the poor natives had been very industrious, as was evident from heaps of the grass Panicum loevinode, and of the same redstalked coral-like plant, also mentioned as having been observed in similar heaps, on the banks of the Darling, during my journey of 1835 (vol. i. p. 238). I now ascertained that the seed of the latter is also collected by the natives and made into a paste. This seed was black and small, resembling fine gunpowder when shaken out. Nevertheless it was sweet and pleasant to the taste, possessing a nutty flavour.
20TH MARCH.—Following the path I took yesterday, we headed in a nearly E. N. E. direction, moving over much firmer ground than we had recently covered. We discovered a significant eastern bend of the river surrounded by excellent grass and fine timber. A type of Anthistiria was found here, which seemed different from the usual kind, although I recognized it from my explorations of the dry plains west of the Lachlan, where it appeared stunted due to lack of moisture. However, in this location, this variety exhibited the same knotted head as the other grasses that grew abundantly. After navigating the extreme eastern bend of the Narran, we set up camp. Nearby, large rocks were visible in the riverbed, as if the river was flowing through the gravelly ridge I had visited on the 18th. The rock was similar to what I encountered around the Darling basin; a quartz conglomerate with plenty of felspar, and with quartz pebbles embedded. The large fragments of the conglomerate in the riverbed were angular and not rounded at the edges. Here, the local natives had been very industrious, as shown by the piles of the grass Panicum loevinode, along with the red-stalked coral-like plant that I had previously observed in similar piles on the banks of the Darling during my 1835 journey (vol. i. p. 238). I discovered that the natives also collect the seeds of this plant to make a paste. The seeds were small and black, resembling fine gunpowder when shaken out. Nevertheless, they were sweet and pleasant to taste, with a nutty flavor.
The human inhabitants were few, and as invisible as other animals in these forests—the prints of whose feet were also plain in the soft smooth surface. As faithless as the snows of the North [*], this soil bore the impressions of all animals obliged to go to the water, and amongst them those of the naked feet of men, women, and children, with the prints likewise of other bipeds, such as emus and kangaroos, and also those of the native dog. Here still was our own race amongst other animals all new and strange to Europeans. The prints of the foot of man alone were familiar to us. But here he was living in common with other animals, simply on the bounty of nature; artless, and apparently as much afraid of us, and as shy, as other animals of the forest. It seemed strange, that in a climate the most resembling that of Milton's paradise, the circumstances of man's existence should be the most degrading. Latitude of our camp, 29° 19' 26" S. Thermometer, at sunrise, 55°; at noon, 100°; at 4 p.m., 101°; at 9, 70°;—with wet bulb, 65°. The mean elevation above the sea of our camps thus far on the Narran, seven in number, was 477 feet; the bed of the river being about 15 feet lower.
The human inhabitants were few and as invisible as other animals in these forests—the footprints of which were also clear on the soft, smooth ground. As unreliable as the northern snows, this soil held the traces of all animals that needed to reach the water, including those of the bare feet of men, women, and children, along with marks from other bipeds, like emus and kangaroos, as well as the native dog. Here still was our own race among other animals, all of which were new and strange to Europeans. The footprints of humans were the only familiar ones to us. But here, they lived alongside other animals, entirely reliant on nature; simple, and seemingly just as frightened of us and as shy as the other creatures in the forest. It seemed odd that in a climate most similar to Milton's paradise, the conditions of human existence should be the most degrading. Latitude of our camp: 29° 19' 26" S. Thermometer readings at sunrise: 55°; at noon: 100°; at 4 p.m.: 101°; at 9 p.m.: 70°;—with the wet bulb at 65°. The average elevation of our camps so far on the Narran, seven in total, was 477 feet; the riverbed was about 15 feet lower.
[* "And hungry Maukin's ta'en her way
To kailyards green,
While faithless snaws ilk step betray
Whar she has been." Burns.]
["And hungry Maukin's on her way
To the green gardens,
While untrustworthy snow reveals each step
Where she has been." Burns.]
21ST MARCH.—Proceeded as usual through fine grass, the river coming favourably round towards the north. At about two miles I found some traces of horses, and I looked at the river bank for Commissioner Mitchell's initials, supposing this might be "Congo," where he had forded the Narran. But we had not reached the latitude of Congo according to his map. Nevertheless we found here such an excellent dry ford, with gently sloping banks to a stony bottom, that the two circumstances induced me to cross the Narran with the party. I travelled west-ward, until meeting with a dense scrub, I turned towards the friendly Narran, where we encamped in latitude 29° 15' 31" S. Thermometer, at sunrise, 56°; at noon, 97°; at 4 p.m., 101°; at 9, 72°; ditto with wet bulb, 66°.
21ST MARCH.—We continued as usual through nice grass, with the river curving favorably to the north. After about two miles, I found some signs of horses and checked the riverbank for Commissioner Mitchell's initials, thinking this might be "Congo," where he had crossed the Narran. However, we had not yet reached the latitude of Congo according to his map. Still, we discovered an excellent dry crossing here, with gently sloping banks leading to a stony bottom, which led me to take the party across the Narran. I traveled west until I encountered a dense scrub, then I turned towards the friendly Narran, where we set up camp at latitude 29° 15' 31" S. The thermometer readings were 56° at sunrise; 97° at noon; 101° at 4 p.m.; and 72° at 9 p.m., with the wet bulb reading 66°.
22D MARCH.—Gave the party a day's rest, prayers being read by the surgeon, as was usual whenever circumstances admitted of our halting on Sunday. The bed of the Narran presented in several places the denuded rock, which seems the basis of all the soil and gravel of the country. At one place irregular concretions of milk-white quartz, cemented by a ferruginous basis, was predominant; at another, the rough surface of compact felspar weathering white presented merely the cavities in which large rounded pebbles had been imbedded, until the partial decomposition of the felspar, under the river floods, had exposed them once more to the action of water. The force of those waters, however, had not been sufficient to cut a channel through very soft rocks extending right across their course—a circumstance rather characteristic, perhaps, of a river like the Narran, watering a nearly level country, and terminating in a swamp. Thermometer at sunrise, 53°; at noon, 95°; at 4 p.m., 98°; at 9, 72°;—with wet bulb, 66°. Height above the sea, 515 feet, from eight observations.
22D MARCH.—Gave the group a day of rest, with prayers read by the surgeon, as was customary whenever we could stop on a Sunday. The bed of the Narran showed bare rock in several places, which seems to form the foundation of all the soil and gravel in the area. In one spot, there were irregular clusters of milk-white quartz, held together by a rusty base; in another, the rough surface of compact felspar weathering to white only showed the cavities where large, rounded pebbles had been embedded, until the partial breakdown of the felspar, due to river floods, had exposed them to water again. However, the strength of those waters hadn’t been enough to carve a channel through the very soft rocks that extended across their path—a feature that might be typical for a river like the Narran, which flows through a mostly flat landscape and ends in a swamp. Thermometer at sunrise, 53°; at noon, 95°; at 4 p.m., 98°; at 9, 72°;—with a wet bulb reading of 66°. Elevation above sea level is 515 feet, based on eight observations.
23RD MARCH.—All hands were bent on an early start this morning, and, soon after seven, the party moved off. We crossed much grassy land, almost approaching to the character of scrub as to bushes; but we pursued a tolerably straight course to the N.W., until we again made the Narran at 8½ miles. Various new plants attracted my attention this day, especially a beautiful Loranthus on the rosewood Acacia, and a small bush bearing a green pod resembling a small capsicum in shape. Among the sedges by the river we found the Kyllinga monocephala; and, on the rich black clayed soil near it, a species of bindweed out of flower, with large sagittate leaves: in the scrubs back from the river, grew a small bush, about four feet high, which has been considered either a variety of Brown's Santalum oblongatum, or a new species distinguished by its narrow sharp-pointed leaves. The Loranthus lineari. Folius was growing on the rosewood Acacia, and the branches of Eucalypti were inhabited by the parasitical orange loranth.[*] Lat., 29°1 0' 6" S. Therm. at sunrise, 51°; at noon, 95°; at 4 p.m., 99°; at 9, 70°;—wet bulb, 63°.
23RD MARCH.—Everyone was eager to start early this morning, and soon after seven, the group set off. We crossed a lot of grassy land, which almost looked like scrub with its bushes; however, we kept a fairly straight path to the N.W. until we reached the Narran again after 8½ miles. I noticed various new plants today, especially a beautiful Loranthus growing on the rosewood Acacia, and a small bush with a green pod that looked like a tiny capsicum. Among the sedges by the river, we found the Kyllinga monocephala; and on the rich black clay soil nearby, there was a type of bindweed without flowers, featuring large arrow-shaped leaves. In the scrubs away from the river, there was a small bush about four feet high, which is thought to be either a variety of Brown's Santalum oblongatum, or a new species known for its narrow sharp leaves. The Loranthus lineari. Folius was growing on the rosewood Acacia, and the branches of Eucalypts were home to the parasitic orange loranth. [*] Lat., 29°1 0' 6" S. Therm. at sunrise, 51°; at noon, 95°; at 4 p.m., 99°; at 9, 70°;—wet bulb, 63°.
[* L. aurantiacus (All. Cunn. MS.); ramis elongatis laxis gracilibus, foliis oppositis longe petiolatis oblongis obtusis lanceolatisve acuminatis glabris 3-5-nerviis tenui-marginatis, paniculis folio brevioribus ditrichotomis, floribus erectis, calycibus subcylindraceis superne latioribus truncatis, petalis linearibus 6, stylo infra apicem geniculato, stigmate dilatato truncato.—W. J. H.]
[* L. aurantiacus (All. Cunn. MS.); with long, slender branches, opposite leaves that are long-petioled, oblong, blunt, or lanceolate and acuminate, smooth, 3-5-nerved with thin margins, racemes shorter than the leaves and branched in two ways, upright flowers, calyxes that are somewhat cylindrical and wider at the top, truncated, with 6 linear petals, a style that is bent just below the tip, and a broad, truncated stigma.—W. J. H.]
24TH MARCH.—We set off still earlier this morning. I hoped to reach the Bokhara, on the West, a river shown on the map sent me by the Commissioner of the district, but after travelling about seven miles to the northward, I saw rising ground before me, which induced me to turn towards our own friendly river the Narran; but it proved to be very far from us, while in my search for it, to my surprise, I found it necessary to descend several considerable declivities, covered with waterworn pebbles. At length a slight opening in the dense scrubs through which we had forced our way, afforded a view towards the south-east of the low range we were upon, which trended very continuously to the north-west, covered thickly with the "Malga" tree of the natives; to the traveller the most formidable of scrubs. After several other descents, we reached the Narran, but only at half-past three in the afternoon, when we had travelled nearly twenty miles. How the teams were to accomplish this, it was painful to consider. I sent back a messenger to desire that the cattle should be detached and brought forward to the water; content to lose one day, if that indeed would suffice to recover the jaded animals. Casuarinae now grew amongst the river trees, and reminded me of the banks of the Karaula in 1831. We had also noticed another novelty in the woods we passed through this day; a small clump of trees of iron-bark with a different kind of leaf from that of the tree known by that name in the colony. On the higher stony land, a bush was common, and proved to be a broad-leaved variety of EREMOPHILA MITCHELLII, if not a distinct species. We there met with a new species of the rare and little-known genus, GEIJERA; forming a strong-scented shrub, about ten feet high, and having long, narrow, drooping leaves. Its fruit had a weak, peppery taste.[*] The rare ENCHYLOENA TOMENTOSA formed a shrub a foot high, loaded with yellow berries: all the specimens were digynous, in which it differed from the description of Brown. The CAPPARIS LASIANTHA was observed amongst the climbing shrubs still in fruit; and a beautiful new LORANTH, with red flowers tipped with green, was parasitical on trees.[**] On the bank of the Narran we found the AMARANTHUS UNDULATUS of Brown.
24TH MARCH.—We set off even earlier this morning. I hoped to reach the Bokhara, to the west, a river marked on the map I received from the district Commissioner, but after traveling about seven miles north, I came across rising ground ahead of me, which made me veer towards our own friendly river, the Narran. However, it turned out to be quite far from us, and in my quest for it, I was surprised to find I had to descend several significant slopes covered with waterworn pebbles. Eventually, a slight gap in the dense shrubbery we had pushed through gave us a view to the southeast of the low range we were on, which stretched continuously to the northwest, heavily clad in the "Malga" tree that the locals recognize as the most daunting of shrubs. After several more descents, we finally reached the Narran, but it was already half-past three in the afternoon, after traveling nearly twenty miles. It was daunting to think about how the teams would handle this. I sent back a messenger to ask that the cattle be unhitched and brought forward to the water; I was okay with losing a day if that would help restore the worn-out animals. Casuarina trees were now growing among the river trees, bringing back memories of the Karaula banks in 1831. We also noticed something new in the woods we passed through today; a small cluster of iron-bark trees with leaves different from the type known by that name in the colony. On the higher, stony land, a bush was common, which turned out to be a broad-leaved variety of EREMOPHILA MITCHELLII, if not a separate species. We encountered a new species of the rare and little-known genus GEIJERA; it formed a strongly-scented shrub, about ten feet high, with long, narrow, drooping leaves. Its fruit had a mild, peppery taste.[*] The rare ENCHYLOENA TOMENTOSA formed a foot-high shrub loaded with yellow berries; all specimens were digynous, which differed from Brown's description. We also spotted CAPPARIS LASIANTHA among the climbing shrubs still bearing fruit, and a beautiful new LORANTH, with red flowers tipped in green, was parasitic on the trees.[**] On the bank of the Narran, we found the AMARANTHUS UNDULATUS that Brown noted.
[* G. PARVIFLORA (Lindl. MS.); ramis erectis, foliis longis linearibus pendulis in petiolum sensim angustatis 4 unc. longis.]
[* G. PARVIFLORA (Lindl. MS.); with upright branches, long linear leaves that hang down, gradually narrowing towards the petiole, 4 inches long.]
[** LORANTHUS LINEARIFOLIUS (Hook. MS.); foliis lineari-filiformibus acutis carnosis glabris teretibus, pedunculis axillaribus brevibus bifloris, calycibus cylindraceis truncatis contractis, petalis 6 linearibus supra basin coalitis.]
[** LORANTHUS LINEARIFOLIUS (Hook. MS.); leaves linear and thread-like, sharp, fleshy, smooth, and rounded, short axillary peduncles with two flowers, truncated cylindrical calyxes that are contracted, and 6 linear petals fused above the base.]
The cattle arrived in the dark, and were watered in the muddy-banked Narran, by the light of burning boughs; then set to feed. Lat. 29° 6' 33" S.; therm. at sunrise, 48°; at 4 p.m., 101°; at 9, 74°; ditto with wet bulb, 62°.
The cattle arrived at night and were given water in the muddy-banked Narran, lit by burning branches; then they started to feed. Latitude 29° 6' 33" S; temperature at sunrise was 48°; at 4 p.m., it reached 101°; at 9 p.m., it was 74°; the same for the wet bulb, which was 62°.
25TH MARCH.—The cattle had now to return to bring forward the drays. Meanwhile I took a ride up the river, in order to ensure a moderate journey for these exhausted animals. Proceeding along the right bank, I found gravelly slopes almost closing upon the river. The direction of its course for four miles, was nearly southward. Then I saw gravelly ridges on the left, and a line of wood before me, while the river evidently came from the East round the margin of an extensive plain. I continued northward; found a rosewood scrub: then saw the Malga tree; passed through scrubs thereof; found myself on stony ridges, whence descending in a N. E. direction, again passed through rosewood scrubs, and only reached the river after riding 2½ miles in that direction. I saw a continuous ridge, bare and distant, beyond what I considered the river bed, and a similar ridge to the westward. I crossed a native camp where the newly deserted fires still smoked. We saw one man at a distance, who did not mind us much; I could not have obtained any information from him, and therefore did not seek a parley. Crossing the Narran there, by a beaten track, beside a native fishing fence, I returned to the camp, on the bearing of S. S. W., and found a grassy plain the whole way back, until within sight of the tents, and a good rocky ford for the passage of the party next day. On the stony ridge I found a remarkable shrub, a species of Sida (ABUTILON), allied to S. GRAVEOLENS, Roxb., but distinct. The teams brought the drays in, about 5 p.m.; one animal of all being missing. Therm. at sunrise, 72°; at noon, 89°; at 4 p.m., 91°; at 9, 60°;—with wet bulb, 53°.
25TH MARCH.—The cattle had to head back to bring the drays forward. Meanwhile, I took a ride up the river to ensure a smoother trip for these tired animals. Riding along the right bank, I found gravelly slopes almost reaching the river. For about four miles, the river flowed nearly southward. Then I spotted gravelly ridges to the left and a stretch of woods ahead, while the river clearly came from the East around the edge of a large plain. I continued northward, found a rosewood thicket, then spotted the Malga tree; I passed through scrubs of that tree and found myself on stony ridges. Descending in a northeast direction, I went through rosewood scrubs again and only reached the river after riding 2½ miles that way. I saw a continuous ridge, bare and distant, beyond what I thought was the riverbed, along with a similar ridge to the west. I crossed a native camp where the recently abandoned fires were still smoking. We saw one man in the distance, who didn’t pay us much attention; I could not have gotten any information from him, so I didn’t try to talk. I crossed the Narran via a beaten path next to a native fishing fence and returned to the camp, heading S. S. W. I found a grassy plain all the way back, until I could see the tents, and a good rocky crossing for the party the next day. On the stony ridge, I discovered a remarkable shrub, a species of Sida (ABUTILON), related to S. GRAVEOLENS, Roxb., but distinct. The teams brought the drays in around 5 p.m.; one animal was missing. Temperature at sunrise was 72°; at noon, 89°; at 4 p.m., 91°; and at 9, 60°;—with the wet bulb at 53°.
26TH MARCH.—Early this morning, William Baldock was sent back in search of the stray bullock, while the party crossed the Narran, and proceeded along my horse's track of yesterday. Baldock over took the party, having found the bullock on the river, four miles below our late encampment. The natives seen yesterday had disappeared, having previously set fire to the grass. We proceeded two miles beyond their fires, and encamped on the river bank in lat. 29° 1' 57" S.
26TH MARCH.—Early this morning, William Baldock went back to look for the missing bullock, while the group crossed the Narran and followed the trail my horse made yesterday. Baldock caught up with the group after finding the bullock by the river, four miles downstream from our last campsite. The natives we saw yesterday were gone, having already set fire to the grass. We moved two miles past their fires and set up camp by the riverbank at lat. 29° 1' 57" S.
A small path along the river margin; marks on trees, where hollow portions of bark had been taken off; some ancient, some recent, huts of withered boughs and dry grass; freshwater muscle shells, beside the ashes of small fires; and, in some places, a small heap of pulled grass (PANICUM LOEVINODE), or of the coral plant; such were the slight but constant indications of the existence of man on the Narran. Such was the only home of our fellow-beings in these parts, and from it they retired on our approach. Ducks, which were rather numerous, and emus (coming to drink), probably constituted their chief food, as nets to ensnare both these kinds of birds, were found about their huts. Youranigh brought me one of their chisels, a small bit of iron fastened to a stick with gum, and tied with a piece of striped shirting. I directed him to place it carefully where he had found it. Thermometer at sunrise, 47°; at noon, 90°; at 4 p.m., 95°; at 9, 69°;—with wet bulb, 60°. The mean height above the sea of the camps of 23d, 24th, and 26th March, was 461 feet.
A narrow path along the riverbank; marks on trees where chunks of bark had been removed; some old, some new, huts made of dried branches and grass; freshwater mussel shells next to the ashes of small fires; and, in some spots, a small pile of pulled grass (PANICUM LOEVINODE) or the coral plant; those were the subtle but consistent signs of human presence on the Narran. This was the only home of our fellow beings in the area, and they left when we arrived. Ducks, which were fairly common, and emus (coming to drink), likely made up their main food source, as nets to catch both types of birds were found near their huts. Youranigh gave me one of their chisels, a small piece of iron attached to a stick with gum and secured with a piece of striped fabric. I instructed him to put it back exactly where he found it. The thermometer read 47° at sunrise; 90° at noon; 95° at 4 p.m.; and 69° at 9 p.m.—with a wet bulb reading of 60°. The average height above sea level of the camps from the 23rd, 24th, and 26th of March was 461 feet.
27TH MARCH.—Pursuing, as well as we could, the course of the Narran, which came more from the northward, we again encamped on its banks after a journey of seven miles, without recognising any indication of the vicinity of the larger stream, which, according to our latitude, we ought by this to have reached. The current here had evidently been more decided, and dry trunks and other FLUVIATILE DEBRIS lay more in masses against whatever had lain in the water's way. Excellent grass clothed the plains over which we had passed during the two last days, and grew abundantly also about the banks of the river; but, in general, a belt of the POLYGONUM JUNCEUM, about 400 or 500 yards wide, grew between the immediate margin and the grassy plains. This shrub was found an infallible guide to the vicinity of the river, when, as sometimes happened, other lines of trees, resembling those on its banks, had led me to a distance from it. The day was cool and rather cloudy, a great novelty to us; for every day had been clear and unclouded, since long before we crossed the Barwan. Abundance of the stones of the quandang fruit (FUSANUS ACUMINATUS) lay at an old fire of the natives, and showed that we were not far from the northern limit of the great clay basin, as the quandang bush grows only upon the lowest slopes of hilly land. Lat. 28° 55' 13" S. Thermometer at sunrise, 70°; at noon, 90°; at 4 p.m., 89; at 9, 70°;—with wet bulb, 61°.
27TH MARCH.—We followed the course of the Narran as best as we could, which flowed more from the north. After traveling seven miles, we set up camp beside it again, without any sign of the larger stream that we should have reached by our latitude. Here, the current was clearly stronger, and dry logs and other river debris were piled up against anything that obstructed the water. The plains we crossed in the last two days were covered with excellent grass, which also grew plentifully along the riverbanks. However, generally, there was a belt of POLYGONUM JUNCEUM, about 400 to 500 yards wide, between the river’s edge and the grassy plains. This shrub reliably indicated the river’s proximity, especially when other lines of trees that looked like those along the banks led me away from it. The day was cool and somewhat cloudy, which was a nice change for us, as we had experienced clear skies every day since long before crossing the Barwan. There were plenty of quandang fruit stones (FUSANUS ACUMINATUS) found at an old native campfire, indicating that we were not far from the northern edge of the great clay basin, since the quandang bush only grows on the lower slopes of hilly areas. Lat. 28° 55' 13" S. Thermometer at sunrise, 70°; at noon, 90°; at 4 p.m., 89°; at 9, 70°;—with wet bulb, 61°.
28TH MARCH.—At 2 a.m., loud thunder was heard in the south-west, where a dark cloud arose and passed round to the northward; a few drops of rain fell. The morning was otherwise clear, with a cooling breeze from S. W. Thermometer at sunrise, 56°. We proceeded, travelling chiefly amongst very luxuriant grass. The river now disappeared as far to the westward of my northerly course on this left bank, as it had left me when on the other bank by unexpected turns to the eastward. I came upon its banks after travelling about eight miles. At the spot where I wished to place the camp I perceived a native, and with Youranigh's assistance, managed to prevent him from running away. He spoke only "Jerwoolleroy," a dialect which my native did not understand at all well. He told us, however, that this was still the Narran, and pointed N. W. to the Balonne. Upon the whole we gathered from him that neither that river nor the Bokhara was far from us. I endeavoured to convince him, by Youranigh's assurances, and our own civility to him, that we meant no harm to any natives, and were only passing through the country. He did not seem afraid, although he had never, until then, seen white men. We encamped near him. The river channel was very narrow, and contained but little water here-abouts. I understood from the native (through Youranigh) that the river here spread into various channels, and that "BARRO" was the name of a river beyond the Culg, which falls into it from the northward; "TOORINGORRA," the lagoon on which we encamped after meeting natives on the 31st March. Near this camp we found a PHYLLANTHUS, scarcely different from P. SIMPLEX; a SESBANIA near S. ACULEATA, but with smaller flowers; and the CHENOPODIUM AURICOMUM, formed a white-leaved shrub, three or four feet high. Thermometer at sunrise, 56°; at noon, 78°; at 4 p.m., 82°; at 9, 61°;—with wet bulb, 56°.
28TH MARCH.—At 2 a.m., loud thunder rolled in from the south-west, where a dark cloud formed and moved northward; a few drops of rain fell. The morning was otherwise clear, with a cool breeze from the S.W. The thermometer at sunrise read 56°. We continued our journey, mostly traveling through very lush grass. The river had now vanished to the west of my northern route, just like it had when I was on the other bank, making unexpected turns to the east. After traveling about eight miles, I found its banks again. At the spot where I wanted to set up camp, I spotted a native. With Youranigh's help, I was able to prevent him from escaping. He only said "Jerwoolleroy," a dialect my native didn't understand very well. However, he informed us that this was still the Narran and pointed north-west towards the Balonne. Overall, we gathered from him that neither that river nor the Bokhara was far from us. I tried to reassure him, with Youranigh's assurances and our own friendliness, that we meant no harm to any natives and were merely passing through the area. He didn't appear scared, even though he had never seen white men before. We set up camp near him. The river channel here was very narrow and contained very little water. I learned from the native (through Youranigh) that the river spread into multiple channels here, and that "BARRO" was the name of a river beyond the Culg that flows into it from the north; "TOORINGORRA," was the lagoon where we camped after encountering natives on the 31st March. Near this camp, we discovered a PHYLLANTHUS that was hardly different from P. SIMPLEX; a SESBANIA close to S. ACULEATA, but with smaller flowers; and the CHENOPODIUM AURICOMUM, which formed a white-leaved shrub about three or four feet high. The thermometer read 56° at sunrise; 78° at noon; 82° at 4 p.m.; and 61° at 9 p.m.—with a wet bulb reading of 56°.
29TH MARCH.—After prayers (the day being Sunday) I sent Mr. Kennedy forward to explore the course of the river, in order to ensure a more direct line for to-morrow's route. Mr. Kennedy was accompanied by one of the men armed, and also by Youranigh, all being mounted. He returned in about four hours, having found the river coming from the northward, and he also reported favourably of the ground. Thermometer at sunrise, 48°; at 4 p.m., 81°; at 9, 51°;—with wet bulb, 47°.
29TH MARCH.—After prayers (it was Sunday), I sent Mr. Kennedy ahead to explore the river's path to make tomorrow's route more direct. Mr. Kennedy was accompanied by one of the men who were armed, and also by Youranigh, and they were all on horseback. He came back in about four hours, having found the river coming from the north and also reported positively about the terrain. The thermometer read 48° at sunrise; 81° at 4 p.m.; and 51° at 9, with a wet bulb temperature of 47°.
30TH MARCH.—The night had been cool and pleasant, Thermometer at sunrise only 42°. The cattle were yoked up early, and we travelled on over fine grassy plains, and with open gravelly ridges on our right. At length, about the sixth mile, these ridges closed on the river, where there was one hill almost clear of trees or bushes. I ascended it, but could only see plains to the westward, and a dense line of river-trees running north. We at length encamped on what appeared to be still the Narran, after a journey of about eight miles.
30TH MARCH.—The night was cool and pleasant, with the thermometer at sunrise only at 42°F. The cattle were yoked up early, and we traveled across beautiful grassy plains, with open gravelly ridges on our right. Finally, around the sixth mile, those ridges came close to the river, where there was one hill almost clear of trees or bushes. I climbed it, but I could only see plains to the west and a dense line of river trees running north. We eventually set up camp on what seemed to be still the Narran, after a journey of about eight miles.
We this day passed a small group of trees of the yellow gum, a species of eucalyptus growing only on the poor sandy soil near Botany Bay, and other parts of the sea-coast near Sydney. Thermometer at sunrise, 42°; at 4 p.m., 83°; at 9, 61°;—with wet bulb, 57°. Mean height of the camps of the 27th, 28th, and 30th, above the level of the sea, 509 feet.
We passed a small group of yellow gum trees today, a type of eucalyptus that only grows in the poor sandy soil near Botany Bay and other coastal areas near Sydney. The temperature was 42°F at sunrise, 83°F at 4 p.m., and 61°F at 9 p.m., with a wet bulb reading of 57°F. The average height of the camps on the 27th, 28th, and 30th above sea level is 509 feet.
31ST MARCH.—The various lines of trees were now so much dispersed across the country, that to follow the line of the Narran, it was necessary to see its ponds and channel as frequently as possible. The course, if not of the river, at least of its ana-branches; and there were besides those, branches of another kind, namely, true branches coming from the main channel, as branches leave the stem of a tree, never to unite with it again. Some of those of this description, so closely resembled in every respect the Narran, that the difference was only to be distinguished by observing the marks of flood on trees, and ascertaining the direction of the current. We had crossed several such, and were rather in a "fix" with some lagoons, when I perceived several native children in one of them. I wished here to intercept some natives who might tell us where was the ford of "Congo," where white men had crossed the Balonne, or where was the river Balonne. The children fled, but two manly voices were heard immediately, and two natives came confidently up to Youranigh and then to me. The eldest seemed about fifty-five years of age; the other was a lad of about twenty. They spoke of "Congo," and the Balonne (BALONGO) as quite at hand, and undertook to conduct us to both. It was quite evident from their pronunciation, that "Baloon" was not the proper native name, but Bal, the termination they gave it of "GO," being an article they very often use, Bal-go being equivalent to THE Balonne; as in speaking of the Barwan, they say "Barwàngo." I had nearly completed the usual short journey when we fell in with these natives, but I was unwilling to lose the advantage of their assistance, and so travelled on under their guidance, full five miles further, before I fixed on a spot for the camp. This was by a splendid piece of water, named by them Tooningora, nearly on a level with the adjacent plains, and covered with ducks. We had passed other fine sheets of water guided by our native friends, and over a rich grassy country remarkably level and free from scrub. It was evidently changed by the vicinity of the larger river. I continued to follow our new friends beyond where I had directed the party to encamp, in expectation of seeing the marked tree at Congo, and the river Balonne. After going forward thus about four miles, we saw five gins running off at a great distance across some open plains, apparently near the river. The eldest of our guides ran after them, and I requested him to assure them that the white men would do no harm, and to tell them not to run away. At length he overtook them. Two appeared to carry unseemly loads across their backs, dangling under large opossum-skin cloaks, and it was evident that these were mummied bodies. I had heard of such a custom, but had not before seen it. I had then but a distant view of these females, as they resumed their flight, and continued it until they reached woods bounding the plain on the westward. The line of Yarra trees of the great Balonne river ran parallel to our march westward, and there also, according to my guides, was "Congo," the ford marked out by my son, and which spot I most anxiously desired to see and identify by his initials. Still my guides led westward towards the woods, and as we approached them, the shout or scream of little Dicky, a native child of the Bogan, follower of my camp, first drew my attention to a black phalanx within the forest, of natives presenting a front like a battalion. Youranigh my interpreter halted and remonstrated: our elder guide ran forward, and on his reaching that body, the sound of gruff voices that arose from it strongly reminded me of Milton's description of Satan's army:
31ST MARCH.—The various lines of trees were now so spread out across the country that to follow the Narran, we needed to see its ponds and channel as often as possible. The path, if not of the river itself, at least of its smaller branches; and besides those, there were also true branches coming from the main channel, just like branches leaving the trunk of a tree, never to join it again. Some of these looked so much like the Narran that the only way to tell them apart was by observing the flood marks on the trees and figuring out the direction of the current. We had crossed several of these and were sort of stuck with some lagoons when I noticed several native children in one of them. I wanted to talk to some natives who might tell us where the ford of "Congo" was, where white men had crossed the Balonne, or where the Balonne river was. The children ran away, but we soon heard two confident voices, and two natives approached Youranigh and then me. The older one looked about fifty-five, while the other was around twenty. They talked about "Congo" and the Balonne (BALONGO) being nearby and agreed to guide us to both. It was clear from how they pronounced it that "Baloon" wasn't the right native name; "Bal" was correct, and the "GO" ending they added was an article they often used, making Bal-go equivalent to THE Balonne; similarly, when mentioning the Barwan, they said "Barwàngo." I had almost finished the usual short journey when we met these natives, but I didn't want to miss the chance to have their help, so I continued on with them for another five miles before I chose a spot for the camp. This was by a beautiful piece of water they called Tooningora, almost level with the nearby plains and covered in ducks. Guided by our native friends, we had passed other lovely stretches of water and traveled over rich, grassy land that was remarkably flat and clear of scrub. The landscape clearly changed due to the proximity of the larger river. I kept following our new friends beyond where I had directed our group to set up camp, hoping to see the marked tree at Congo and the Balonne river. After moving forward about four miles, we spotted five women running off at a distance across some open plains, seemingly near the river. The oldest of our guides ran after them, and I asked him to let them know that the white men meant no harm and to tell them not to run away. Finally, he caught up with them. Two seemed to be carrying unusual loads on their backs, hidden under large opossum-skin cloaks, and it was clear that these were mummified bodies. I had heard of such practices but had never seen it before. I could only see them from a distance as they continued their flight until they reached the woods on the west side of the plain. The line of Yarra trees from the great Balonne river ran parallel to our route westward, and according to my guides, "Congo" was over there, the ford marked out by my son, a spot I was very eager to see and pinpoint by his initials. Still, my guides led us westward toward the woods, and as we got closer, the shout or scream of little Dicky, a native child from the Bogan who was part of my camp, first drew my attention to a group of blacks in the forest, standing like soldiers. Youranigh, my interpreter, stopped and protested: our elder guide ran ahead, and when he reached that group, the rough voices coming from it reminded me strongly of Milton's description of Satan's army.
"Their rising all at once was as the sound
Of thunder heard remote."
"Their sudden appearance was like the sound
Of distant thunder."
Youranigh would not advance another step, although much pressed by the other native remaining with us to do so, but declared that "those fellows were murry coola," (very angry). We therefore retraced our footsteps to the camp, without having seen either the Balongo or Congo. Our guide soon overtook us, accompanied by fourteen of the strange natives, who, all curiosity, passed the night at our camp, and they brought with them a lad named "Jemmy," who spoke a little English, and had visited many of our cattle-stations. He was very intelligible to Youranigh, who but very imperfectly understood the language of the rest. They seemed upon the whole a frank and inoffensive race. Their food consisted of the fish of the river, ducks, and the small indigenous melon, CUCUMIS PUBESCENS, which grew in such abundance, that the whole country seemed strewed with the fruit, then ripe, and of which the natives eat great quantities, and were very fond. It is about the size of a plum only, and in the journal of my first interior journey (in 1831), is mentioned as a cucumber we were afraid to eat. (Vol. I. p. 88.) Latitude of camp, 28° 38' 47" S. Thermometer at sunrise, 42°; at 4 p.m., 83°; at 9, 61°;—with wet bulb, 57°.
Youranigh wouldn't move another step, even though the other native with us urged him to, saying that "those guys were really mad." So, we backtracked to the camp without seeing either the Balongo or Congo. Our guide soon caught up with us, bringing along fourteen curious natives who spent the night at our camp. They also brought a boy named "Jemmy," who spoke a bit of English and had been to many of our cattle stations. He was quite understandable to Youranigh, who only somewhat grasped what the others were saying. Overall, they seemed to be a friendly and harmless group. Their diet included river fish, ducks, and a small local melon, CUCUMIS PUBESCENS, which grew so abundantly that the entire area looked scattered with ripe fruit. The natives ate a lot of it and enjoyed it very much. It's about the size of a plum and was noted in my first journey into the interior (in 1831) as a cucumber we were hesitant to eat. (Vol. I. p. 88.) Latitude of camp, 28° 38' 47" S. Thermometer at sunrise, 42°; at 4 p.m., 83°; at 9, 61°;—with wet bulb, 57°.
1ST APRIL.—The whole party moved off about the usual hour, 7 a.m., still under the guidance of our new acquaintance, towards the Balonne. On our way the natives were very careful to point out how muddy hollows could best be avoided by our drays. I saw seated at a distance, in due form, the tribe to which they belonged; and having directed the party to halt, went up to them. They were seated in three groups; old men on the right, painted red; old women in the centre, painted white; and other women and children on the left. The few strong men who appeared, formed a circle around me, and told me their names as they came up to me. I desired Youranigh to tell them that we were passing that way across the Balonne to a very far-off country, and did not wish to disturb them, etc. When all was said that could be said, and I was about to return, one of the chiefs, "Yarree," said "good night," words which he must have learnt at some cattle station. Although it was only morning, I returned the compliment with all possible gravity, and took my leave. Soon after, we arrived on the bank of the Balonne, as fine a looking river as I have seen in the colony, excepting only the Murray. There was a slight current, and the waters lay in broad reaches, under banks less elevated above the bed than those of the Darling. In breadth the channel surpassed that of the last named river in any part, I believe, of its course.
1ST APRIL.—The whole group set off around the usual time, 7 a.m., still following our new friend, heading towards the Balonne. Along the way, the locals carefully showed us which muddy spots to avoid with our drays. I noticed the tribe they belonged to sitting at a distance in a formal arrangement; so I signaled for the group to stop and approached them. They were organized into three groups: the old men on the right, painted red; the old women in the center, painted white; and the other women and children on the left. A few strong men who were present formed a circle around me and introduced themselves as they came forward. I asked Youranigh to explain that we were passing through to a far-off country via the Balonne and did not mean to disturb them, etc. Once everything that needed to be said was said, just as I was about to leave, one of the chiefs, "Yarree," said "good night," a phrase he must have picked up at some cattle station. Even though it was only morning, I returned the greeting solemnly and took my leave. Shortly after, we arrived at the bank of the Balonne, which was one of the most beautiful rivers I’ve seen in the colony, only second to the Murray. There was a gentle current, and the water spread out in wide stretches, with banks that were not as high above the riverbed as those of the Darling. In width, the channel was wider than any part of the Darling river, I believe, throughout its entire course.
We encamped near a shallow place, which the natives at first said was "Congo," but where we found no marks on the trees. The curiosity of the natives having been gratified, they disappeared; but I must mention that, having missed the elder of the two men who had guided us here since the first evening, I learnt, on inquiring what had become of him, that he had gone back to his little boys, whom he had left at the water-holes where he first met us, six miles back, and for whom he had apparently gathered his little net of melons. Nothing could have been finer than this man's conduct. He had at once come on with us to guide us where we wanted to go; took great pains to make us known to his own tribe, and, I believe, to other assembled tribes at some risk to himself; and then, without claiming my promised gifts, he had returned to his little family, left at such a distance, only that he might do that which was civil, to us strangers. Yet we call these men savages! I fear such disinterested acts of civility on the part of the civilised portion of mankind are rather rare. He had rendered to us, at all events, a very great service; for the danger of sudden collision with the natives was at an end, after our introduction by him to the tribes. In the afternoon, Slater, one of the bullock-drivers, found a good fording-place; and I sent a few men to cut the banks, and fill up a soft part of the river bed with logs, branches, and earth, for the better passage of the drays; a work they completed before night. I rode about five miles beyond the river to the north-west, and met, first with a very broad lagoon full of water, nearly on a level with the plains, and apparently permanent; secondly, I found beyond this, a river or chain of ponds somewhat like the Narran. This I ascertained was called the Càwan by the natives, and that it meandered very much. The country was rather fine. These waters were bordered by well-grown trees, and the plains were covered with good grass. Lat. of our camp, on the Balonne, 28° 25' 38" S. Thermometer at sunrise, 44°; at noon, 75°; at 4 p.m., 79°; at 9, 60;—with wet bulb, 54°. Height of the bed of the Balonne above the level of the sea, 494 feet; an average of three observations.
We set up camp near a shallow area that the locals initially called "Congo," but we found no markings on the trees. Once the locals' curiosity was satisfied, they disappeared. However, I should mention that when I noticed the elder of the two men who had guided us since the first evening was missing, I asked about him and learned he had returned to his young boys, whom he had left at the water-holes where we first met him, six miles back, and for whom he had presumably gathered his small net of melons. This man’s actions were truly commendable. He had immediately come with us to show us the way, took great care to introduce us to his tribe, and I believe he also tried to connect us with other nearby tribes, risking his own safety in the process. Then, without demanding the gifts I had promised him, he went back to his family, left so far behind, just to be polite to us strangers. Yet we label these men as savages! I fear that such selfless acts of kindness are rather uncommon among the more "civilized" people. In any case, he provided us with a significant service because the risk of a sudden clash with the locals was eliminated after he introduced us to the tribes. In the afternoon, Slater, one of the bullock drivers, found a suitable place to cross the river. I sent a few men to shape the banks and reinforce the soft parts of the riverbed with logs, branches, and dirt for easier passage for the drays; they finished this work before nightfall. I rode about five miles north-west of the river and first came across a very wide lagoon filled with water, almost level with the plains, and seemingly permanent. Then, I discovered beyond this a river or series of ponds similar to the Narran. I confirmed this was called the Càwan by the locals and that it meandered quite a bit. The landscape was quite attractive. These waters were lined with well-grown trees, and the plains were covered with lush grass. The latitude of our camp on the Balonne was 28° 25' 38" S. The thermometer readings were 44° at sunrise, 75° at noon, 79° at 4 p.m., and 60° at 9 p.m.—with the wet bulb reading at 54°. The height of the Balonne riverbed above sea level was 494 feet; this is the average from three observations.
2D APRIL.—All the drays and the party crossed the river this morning in good order, and without any accident or much delay, by the little bridge we had made in its bed. While they were crossing, the place seemed to me so favorable for a ford that it might still be possible to find some of the marked trees said to be at "Congo." I again questioned the natives on this point, and one youth undertook to point out some marks made by white men. Mr. Kennedy ran with him on foot up the left bank of the river, and was shown two trees marked, the one with "J. Towns," the other with "Bagot, 1845." Being thus convinced that this ford was really at or near the place called "Congo," where Commissioner Mitchell had crossed, and found the Culgoa, at a distance of only seven miles north-west, I determined to go forward, in the same direction, to that river, taking my track of yesterday, which enabled me to avoid the broad lagoon.
2D APRIL.—This morning, all the carts and the group crossed the river smoothly and without any accidents or significant delays, using the small bridge we had built in its bed. While they crossed, it struck me that this spot was so good for a shallow crossing that we might still find some of the marked trees that were said to be at "Congo." I asked the locals about this again, and one young man offered to point out some markings made by white men. Mr. Kennedy ran along with him on foot up the left bank of the river and was shown two marked trees, one with "J. Towns" and the other with "Bagot, 1845." Being convinced that this crossing was indeed at or near the location called "Congo," where Commissioner Mitchell had crossed and found the Culgoa just seven miles to the north-west, I decided to continue in that direction toward the river, following the path I took yesterday, which helped me avoid the wide lagoon.
On arriving at the "Cawan" we saw two natives fishing in a pond with hoop nets, and Yuranigh went to ask them about the "Culgoa." He returned accompanied by a tall athletic man; the other was this man's gin, who had been fishing with him. There he had left her to take care of his nets, and, without once looking at me or the party, proceeded to conduct us to the Culgoa. I never saw a Spanish or Portuguese guide go with a detachment half so willingly. Yuranigh and he scarcely understood a word of what each other said, and yet the former had the address to overcome the usual difficulties to intercourse between strange natives, and their shyness to white men, and to induce this native thus to become our guide. He took us to the Culgoa, which we made at about seven miles from the Balonne, and I was so much pleased with the willing service and true civility of this native, that I presented him with an iron tomahawk, and I heard him twice ask Yuranigh if it really was meant for him to keep. He then hastened back to his gin, whom he had left five miles off. This river presented as deep a section as, but a narrower bed than, the one we had just left. It had all the characteristics, however, of a principal river, and really looked more important than the Barwan, except that its waters were not then fluent. Gigantic blue gum trees overhang the banks, and the Mimosa grew near the bed of the current. I should say that these and much sand were the chief characteristics of the Culgoa. There were no recent marks of natives' fires, and I was informed that they did not much frequent that part of the river. The grass along the banks was very luxuriant. Latitude 28° 31' 19" south. Thermometer at sunrise, 39°; at noon, 75°; at 4 p.m., 76°; at 9, 50°;—with wet bulb, 46°. The height of this camp above the level of the sea, being forty feet above the bed of the river, 543 feet; from the mean of four observations.
On arriving at the "Cawan," we saw two locals fishing in a pond with hoop nets, and Yuranigh went to ask them about the "Culgoa." He returned with a tall, athletic man; the other was this man's partner, who had been fishing with him. He had left her behind to take care of his nets and, without acknowledging me or the group, began to lead us to the Culgoa. I’ve never seen a Spanish or Portuguese guide accompany a group so eagerly. Yuranigh and this man barely understood each other, yet Yuranigh skillfully overcame the usual barriers in communication between unfamiliar locals and their shyness around white men, convincing this man to be our guide. He took us to the Culgoa, about seven miles from the Balonne, and I was so impressed with this native’s willing service and genuine politeness that I gave him an iron tomahawk. I heard him ask Yuranigh twice if it was really for him to keep. He then hurried back to his partner, whom he had left five miles behind. This river had a deeper section but a narrower bed than the one we had just left. It displayed all the features of a major river and looked more significant than the Barwan, except that its waters weren’t flowing at that moment. Huge blue gum trees shaded the banks, and Mimosa grew near the water. I’d say these and a lot of sand were the main features of the Culgoa. There were no recent signs of native fires, and I was told they didn’t frequent that part of the river much. The grass along the banks was very lush. Latitude 28° 31' 19" south. Thermometer readings at sunrise were 39°; at noon, 75°; at 4 p.m., 76°; at 9 p.m., 50°—with a wet bulb reading of 46°. The height of this camp above sea level, being forty feet above the riverbed, was 543 feet, based on the average of four readings.
3RD APRIL.—The section of this river being forty feet deep, and the banks in general steep, the work necessary to render it passable to our heavy drays could not be accomplished yesterday afternoon. This day, however, our camp was established on the right bank of the Culgoa. Thermometer at sunrise, 35°; at noon, 80°.; at 4 p.m., 77°; at 9, 49°; and with wet bulb, 46°.
3RD APRIL.—The section of this river is forty feet deep, and the banks are generally steep, so we couldn't make it passable for our heavy drays yesterday afternoon. Today, though, we set up our camp on the right bank of the Culgoa. The thermometer read 35° at sunrise, 80° at noon, 77° at 4 p.m., 49° at 9 p.m., and 46° with the wet bulb.
4TH APRIL.—We were now to proceed along the right bank of the Culgoa upwards to the United Balonne, and thence to continue ascending along the right bank of that river also, as far as the direction was favourable to our progress northward. This remained to be ascertained in exploring that river upwards. In gaining the right bank of the Culgoa, we had crossed the vast basin of clay extending from the Bogan on the south, to this river on the north, and westward to New Year's Range and Fort Bourke. That country was liable to be rendered quite impassable, had the rains set in. But even in such seasons we could still travel over the dry, firm ground bounding this basin of clay on the northward, as the left bank of the Bogan was also passable, however rainy the season, indeed more conveniently then than during a dry one. Rain, if it had fallen at this time, had greatly facilitated our exploration of the northern interior; but these rivers we had reached would supply us with water for some degrees to the northward, as I had been informed by the Commissioner of the district, and in our progress so far, I hoped we should arrive at a better watered country.
4TH APRIL.—We were now set to move along the right bank of the Culgoa River toward the United Balonne, and then continue upstream along the right bank of that river as long as it was still favorable for our northward journey. We needed to confirm this while exploring the river further. In reaching the right bank of the Culgoa, we had crossed a vast clay basin stretching from the Bogan in the south to this river in the north, and westward to New Year's Range and Fort Bourke. This area could become completely impassable if heavy rains started. However, even during such times, we could still travel over the dry, firm ground on the northern edge of this clay basin, as the left bank of the Bogan was also passable no matter how rainy it got—actually more convenient then than in dry weather. If it had rained recently, it would have made our exploration of the northern interior much easier; but these rivers we had found would provide us with water for some distance north, as I had been told by the local Commissioner, and I hoped that as we progressed, we would reach an area with better access to water.
Taking a northerly course, we traversed fine grassy land, on which grew luxuriantly the ACACIA PENDULA and other shrubs, that reminded us of the banks of the Bogan, to which country we found here the exact counterpart, only that this was better watered. The course of the Culgoa was more easterly than I had calculated on, for, after going six miles northward, I had to travel at least as many eastward before I again found the river. We encamped on the acute north-western angle of an anabranch biting into the firm soil, and it was evident that we had reached the Balonne Major, or that part above the separation of the Culgoa from the Minor Balonne, both of which we had already crossed, and which ran thus, as from our camp the lines of trees along each of the minor channels were distinctly visible.
Heading north, we traveled across lush grassy land where the ACACIA PENDULA and other shrubs thrived, reminding us of the shores of the Bogan. This area was a perfect match for that country, but better watered. The path of the Culgoa was more to the east than I had expected, as after traveling six miles north, I had to go at least that far east before I found the river again. We set up camp at the sharp north-western bend of an anabranch cutting into solid ground, and it was clear that we had reached the Balonne Major, or the section above where the Culgoa separates from the Minor Balonne, both of which we had already crossed. From our campsite, the rows of trees along each of the smaller channels were clearly visible.
The character of these rivers had been described to me by Commissioner Mitchell, the discoverer thereof. It was late before the drays came in, and Mr. Kennedy was led into the camp quite blind, having been suddenly attacked with purulent ophthalmia, when engaged in the survey of our route, about four miles from the camp. The heat had somewhat abated, but still this complaint, which we had attributed to it, had lately affected many of the party suddenly, as in the case of Mr. Kennedy. Latitude, 28° 27' 11" S. Thermometer at sunrise, 33°; at noon, 83°; at 4 p.m., 88°; at 9, 53°; with wet bulb, 47°.
The characteristics of these rivers were explained to me by Commissioner Mitchell, who discovered them. It was late when the drays arrived, and Mr. Kennedy was brought into the camp completely blind, having been suddenly hit with a severe eye infection while surveying our route, about four miles from camp. The heat had cooled down a bit, but this issue, which we believed was due to the heat, had recently affected several members of the group all at once, just like with Mr. Kennedy. Latitude, 28° 27' 11" S. Thermometer at sunrise, 33°; at noon, 83°; at 4 p.m., 88°; at 9 p.m., 53°; with wet bulb, 47°.
5TH APRIL.—The party halted, and I took a ride to explore the course of the river, proceeding first northward. In that direction I came upon an angle of the Balonne, at about three miles from the camp. Beyond, after passing through much ACACIA PENDULA, I crossed a small plain, bounded by a Casuarina scrub. Partly to ascertain its extent and character, and partly in the hope of falling in with the river beyond, I entered it. I found this scrub full of holes, that obliged me to pursue a very tortuous course, impeded as I was too by the rugged stems and branches. I got through it, only after contending with these impediments for three miles. The country beyond it looked not at all like that back from the river, and I turned to the N.E., pursuing that course some miles; then eastward two miles, and next two miles to the S.E., still without finding any river; but, on the contrary, scrub in every direction. The sun was declining, and I turned at last to the S.W., and in that direction reached an extensive open forest, beyond which I saw at length the river line of trees. I continued to ride S.S.W., and finally south, until I saw our cattle grazing, and the tents, without having regained first, as I wished, my outward track. On the bank of the Balonne we found an apparently new species of ANDROPOGON with loose thin panicles of purplish flowers, and in the scrub I passed through, in my ride, I found a CASUARINA, indeterminable in the absence of flowers or fruit. It produces a gall as large as a hazel nut. Thermometer at sunrise, 37°; at noon, 90°; at 4 p.m., 94°; at 9, 57°; —with wet bulb, 53°.
5TH APRIL.—The group stopped, and I went for a ride to check out the river’s path, heading north first. In that direction, I found a bend of the Balonne, about three miles from camp. After passing through a lot of ACACIA PENDULA, I crossed a small plain surrounded by a Casuarina scrub. I wanted to see how far it went and what it was like, and I also hoped to find the river beyond it, so I went in. I discovered that this scrub was filled with holes, making my route very winding, and the rough trunks and branches didn't help either. I finally made my way through after struggling with these obstacles for three miles. The area beyond looked nothing like what I had seen by the river, so I changed direction to the N.E., went that way for a few miles, then east for two miles, and then another two miles to the S.E., still without spotting any river; instead, there was scrub all around. The sun was setting, so I finally turned to the S.W. and, in that direction, came to a large open forest, where I finally spotted the river lined with trees. I continued to ride S.S.W., and finally south, until I saw our cattle grazing and the tents, not having returned to my original path as I had intended. By the Balonne, we found what seemed like a new type of ANDROPOGON with loose, thin clusters of purplish flowers, and in the scrub I passed through on my ride, I found a CASUARINA that I couldn't identify without flowers or fruit. It produces a gall the size of a hazelnut. Thermometer at sunrise, 37°; at noon, 90°; at 4 p.m., 94°; at 9 p.m., 57°;—with wet bulb, 53°.
6TH APRIL.—Mr. Kennedy's eyes being still very bad, I could not proceed, as the survey of our route was very important, in order to keep our account of longitude correctly. The necks of the cattle were much galled, and I therefore the more willingly halted another day. It was not without some impatience, however, that I did so, as we were approaching a point whence I could set out with horses to the north-west, and leave the cattle to refresh in a depôt on this fine river, which afforded an excellent base for our exploratory operations, in the wholly unknown regions immediately beyond it. This line of exploration I had anxiously wished to pursue in 1831, when obliged to return from the Karaula or Upper Barwan; and whatever had since been ascertained about that part of the interior, confirmed me the more in my first opinion as to the eligibility of that direction. It had occurred to me, on crossing the Culgoa, that by marking deeply on a tree, at each camp, a number of reference, our survey might be more practically useful and available to the colonists, as connecting so many particular localities therewith. I therefore marked that No. I. in Roman numerals; this II., and I shall add in this journal, at the end of the narrative of each day's proceedings, whatever number or mark may be made to distinguish the place of encampment described.
6TH APRIL.—Since Mr. Kennedy's eyes are still very bad, I couldn't move forward, as it's crucial to survey our route to keep our longitude accurate. The cattle's necks are quite sore, so I gladly decided to stop for another day. However, I felt a bit impatient because we were getting close to a point where I could head northwest on horseback and leave the cattle to rest in a depot by this beautiful river, which would serve as an excellent base for our exploration of the completely unknown areas just beyond it. I had really wanted to explore this route back in 1831 when I had to turn back from the Karaula or Upper Barwan; and everything that's been discovered about that part of the interior since then has only reinforced my belief in the potential of that direction. While crossing the Culgoa, I thought it would be useful to mark a reference number on a tree at each campsite, making our survey more practically helpful for the settlers by connecting various locations. So, I marked this as No. I in Roman numerals, this one as II, and I'll add to this journal at the end of each day's account whatever number or mark I use to identify the campsite described.
In the scrub near this, we observed an Acacia, apparently new, a broadleaved, white-looking wattle. There was also a branching Composite, which Sir W. Hooker has determined to be a very distinct and undoubted species of FLAVERIA of which all the other species are natives of the New World.[*] The CAPPARIS LASIANTHA was also found here growing on EXOCARPUS APHYLLA of Brown; it was found by Allan Cunningham and Frazer on Liverpool Plains, also, at Swan River. Thermometer, at sunrise, 44°; at noon, 95°; at 4 p.m., 96°; at 9, 63°;—with wet bulb, 57°. Height above the sea, 497 feet.
In the scrub nearby, we saw an Acacia, which seemed to be new, a broad-leaved, white-looking wattle. There was also a branching Composite, which Sir W. Hooker identified as a very distinct and certain species of FLAVERIA, unlike any other species that are found in the New World.[*] The CAPPARIS LASIANTHA was also discovered here growing on EXOCARPUS APHYLLA by Brown; it was also found by Allan Cunningham and Frazer on Liverpool Plains and at Swan River. The thermometer read 44° at sunrise, 95° at noon, 96° at 4 p.m., and 63° at 9 p.m.—with a wet bulb reading of 57°. The height above sea level was 497 feet.
[* FLAVERIA AUSTRALASICA (Hook. MSS.) foliis lineari-lanceolatis integerrimis basi dilatatis, capitulis densissime globoso-fasciculatis, fasciculis subinvolucratis, bracteis exterioribus praecipue fasciculos superantibus omnibus late amplexantibus.]
[* FLAVERIA AUSTRALASICA (Hook. MSS.) has narrow lance-shaped leaves that are completely smooth at the base, with flower heads that are densely clustered in globular bunches, surrounded by involucre-like clusters, and the outer bracts particularly stand out, all broadly embracing the clusters.]
7TH APRIL.—When all were preparing to set off early this morning, I was informed that two bullocks were missing, and a third fast in the mud on the river bank. The two stray animals were soon found; but it was impossible to bring on the other in the mud, for he was blown, from having drunk too much water, after over-eating himself with grass. Our journey was continued round one angle of the river in my horse's track. Afterwards turning to the N. E., we crossed two miles of open forest land, where the grass was good, and having the river in sight. At length, even on an easterly course we could not keep it longer in view, but got involved in a scrub on soft red sand. Emerging from this on a course of E. S. E., we again got upon open ground, and soon saw the majestic trees of the river in a line circling round to the northward. Coming upon it at an angle where scrubs of rosewood and ACACIA PENDULA crowned the slopes, we encamped on a beautiful spot. The river was magnificent, presenting a body of water of such breadth, as I had only seen in one other river of Australia, and the banks were grassy to the water's edge.
7TH APRIL.—As everyone was getting ready to leave early this morning, I was informed that two bullocks were missing, and a third was stuck in the mud on the riverbank. The two lost animals were quickly found, but we couldn’t pull the other out of the mud since he had bloated after drinking too much water and overeating on grass. We continued our journey, following the path my horse had made along one bend of the river. After a while, we turned northeast and crossed two miles of open forest land where the grass was lush, with the river visible in the distance. Eventually, even on an easterly path, we lost sight of it and got tangled in a scrub on soft red sand. After getting back on course to the east-southeast, we reached open ground again and soon spotted the magnificent trees lining the river curving off to the north. We arrived at a spot with rosewood and ACACIA PENDULA scrubs adorning the slopes, where we set up camp in a beautiful location. The river was stunning, presenting a body of water so wide that I had only seen it in one other river in Australia, and the banks were grassy right up to the water's edge.
This day, "Jemmy," a young native whom we had seen on the Minor Balonne, came to our camp with another youth, and the voices of a tribe were heard in the woods. As Jemmy had not kept his word formerly, having left us suddenly, and was evidently a scamp, I peremptorily ordered him away. I had heard of his having brought gins to my camp at night on the former occasion, and he was very likely to be the cause of mischief, and could not, or at least, would not, render us any service. We desired no further intercourse, at that time, with the natives, as those with us did not understand their language. The misfortunes of Mr. Finch arose through that sort of intercourse with his men, and had arrested my journey fifteen years ago, when I had advanced to within forty miles of this camp, intent on those discoveries I hoped at length to make even now. I had good reason, therefore, to keep the natives at a distance here, at a time, too, when the bodies of six white men were said to be still uninterred in this neighbourhood. A species of CYPERUS with panicled globular heads of flowers was found here in the sloping bank. Thermometer, at sunrise, 47°; at noon, 97°; at 4 p.m. 97°; at 9, 69°; —with wet bulb 57°. Height above the sea 634 feet. Latitude 28° 23' 59" S. (Camp III.)
This day, "Jemmy," a young local we had seen on the Minor Balonne, came to our camp with another young man, and we could hear the voices of a tribe in the woods. Since Jemmy hadn't kept his word before, disappearing on us suddenly and clearly being a troublemaker, I firmly told him to leave. I had heard he brought women to my camp at night previously, and he was likely to cause trouble and couldn't, or at least wouldn't, help us. We wanted to avoid any further interaction with the locals at that time because those with us didn't understand their language. Mr. Finch’s troubles stemmed from that kind of interaction with his men, which had delayed my journey fifteen years ago when I had gotten within forty miles of this camp, eager for the discoveries I hoped to finally make now. I had good reason to keep the locals at a distance, especially considering that there were said to be six unburied bodies of white men nearby. A type of CYPERUS with clustered round flower heads was found here on the sloping bank. Thermometer readings were 47° at sunrise; 97° at noon; 97° at 4 p.m.; and 69° at 9 p.m. with a wet bulb reading of 57°. Height above sea level was 634 feet. Latitude 28° 23' 59" S. (Camp III.)
8TH APRIL.—We continued our journey nearly northward, keeping the river woods in sight, as much as the country permitted. An arm or anabranch, at first containing much water, and coming from the north, was on our right for some miles. In following it, our natives found the tracks of three horses, one only having had shoes on, and two foals, as if proceeding first towards our camp, then returning. The branch from the river became dry and sandy, but still we followed its course. We saw about a mile to the eastward, beyond this dry channel, a splendid sheet of water on a level with the general surface, and having extensive tracts of emerald green vegetation about it. The dry channel obliged me to make a longer journey than I had intended. At length, on finding the requisite water in its bed, I encamped. This was near a pond, on whose sandy margin we saw still the tracks of the three horses that had been there to drink. The scrubs came close to the river with intervals of grassy plain. The ACACIA PENDULA, and its concomitant shrubs, the SANTALUM OBLONGATUM, and others, gave beauty to the scenery, and with abundance of water about, all hands considered this a very fine country. At sunset, thunder-clouds gathered in the S. W., and at about 7 p.m. the storm reached our camp, accompanied by a sudden, very strong gale from the S. E. The lightning was very vivid, and for half an hour it rained heavily. By 8 p.m. it was over, and the serene sky admitted of an observation of Regulus, by which the latitude was found to be 28° 17' 8" S. (No. IV.) Thermometer at sunrise, 61°; at noon, 91°; at 4 p.m. 94°; at 9, 66°; —with wet bulb 63°.
8TH APRIL.—We continued our journey almost due north, keeping the river woods in view as much as the terrain allowed. An arm or anabranch, initially filled with water and coming from the north, was on our right for several miles. As we followed it, our local guides found the tracks of three horses, only one of which had shoes, along with two foals, suggesting they first headed towards our camp and then turned back. The branch from the river grew dry and sandy, but we still followed its path. About a mile to the east, beyond this dry channel, we spotted a beautiful body of water level with the surrounding area, surrounded by vast patches of vibrant green vegetation. This dry channel forced me to take a longer route than I had planned. Eventually, after locating enough water in its bed, I set up camp. This was near a pond, where we noted the tracks of the three horses that had come to drink. The scrubland approached the river, interspersed with grassy plains. The ACACIA PENDULA and its accompanying shrubs, such as SANTALUM OBLONGATUM and others, enhanced the beauty of the landscape, and with plenty of water nearby, everyone agreed it was a very nice area. At sunset, thunderclouds gathered in the southwest, and around 7 p.m., the storm hit our camp, bringing a sudden, powerful gale from the southeast. The lightning was bright, and for half an hour, it poured down rain. By 8 p.m., it had passed, and the clear sky allowed for an observation of Regulus, determining the latitude to be 28° 17' 8" S. (No. IV.) The thermometer read 61° at sunrise, 91° at noon, 94° at 4 p.m., and 66° at 9 p.m., with a wet bulb reading of 63°.
9TH APRIL.—The branches of the river, and flats of Polygonum, obliged me to follow a N. W. course. I did so most willingly, as we had already got further to the eastward than I wished. The arm of the river spread into a broad swamp, in which two of the drays sank, the drivers having taken no notice of a tree I had laid across the track, to show where the carts had been backed out. I made them unload the drays and carry the loads to firm ground. Keeping afterwards along the margin of this swamp for many miles, I perceived abundance of water in it, and passed the burning fires of natives, where their water kids and net gear hung on trees about. At length, upon turning to the eastward, I came upon the main river, where it formed a noble reach, fully 120 yards wide, and sweeping round majestically from N. E. to S. E. We here encamped, after a long journey. The banks were grassy to the water's edge. We saw large fishes in it; ducks swam on it, and, at some distance, a pair of black swans. This surpassed even the reach at camp III., and I must add, that such an enormous body of permanent water could be seen nowhere else in New South Wales save in the river Murray during its floods. The Anthistiria grew abundantly where we encamped, which was in latitude, 28° 13' 34" S. and marked V. Thermometer, at sunrise, 63°; at noon, 94°; at 4 p.m., 97°; at 9, 63°;—with wet bulb, 62°.
9TH APRIL.—The branches of the river and the flat areas of Polygonum forced me to head in a northwest direction. I did this willingly, as we had already gone farther east than I wanted. The river split into a wide swamp where two of the drays got stuck because the drivers ignored a tree I had placed across the path to indicate where the carts had been turned around. I made them unload the drays and carry the loads to solid ground. After that, we followed the edge of the swamp for many miles and noticed a lot of water in it, passing by the smoldering fires of the locals, with their water containers and nets hanging on nearby trees. Eventually, as I turned east, I found the main river, which formed a beautiful stretch, about 120 yards wide, curving elegantly from northeast to southeast. We set up camp here after a long day of travel. The banks were grassy right up to the water. We spotted large fish, ducks swimming around, and, at a distance, a pair of black swans. This location was even better than the stretch at camp III., and I must mention that such a vast body of permanent water couldn’t be found anywhere else in New South Wales except in the Murray River during its flood season. The Anthistiria grew abundantly where we camped, which was at latitude 28° 13' 34" S. Thermometer readings were 63° at sunrise, 94° at noon, 97° at 4 p.m., and 63° at 9 p.m., with a wet bulb reading of 62°.
10TH APRIL.—Pursuing a N. W. course, we crossed small grassy plains, fringed with rosewood and other acacias; but, in order to keep near the river, I was soon obliged to turn more towards the east, as Callitris scrubs were before me. In avoiding these, I again came upon the more open and firm ground adjacent to the river, and saw its course in the line of large Yarra trees, which always point out its banks with their white and gnarled arms. I may here state that the scrubs generally consist of a soft red sandy soil; the land near the river, of clay, which last is by far the best of the two soils for crossing with wheel carriages; the soft red sand being almost as formidable an impediment in some situations as mud. At length, in travelling N. eastward, we came upon a spacious lagoon, extending westward, and covered with ducks. Perceiving, by drift marks, that it came from the West, I kept along its margin, following it as it trended round to N. E., where we arrived at the main channel, about that part whence the waters of the lagoon emanate during high floods. That lagoon presented an excellent place for a cattle-station. Water could never fail, as the main stream was at hand, if even the lagoon dried up, which seemed not at all likely. PSORALEA ERIANTHA was abundant in the bed of the river, along with INDIGOFERA HIRSUTA, and CROTALARIA MITCHELLII.[*] Thermometer, at sunrise, 44°; at noon, 99°; at 4 p.m., 97° at 9, 66°;—with wet bulb, 58°.
10TH APRIL.—Heading northwest, we crossed small grassy plains lined with rosewood and various acacias. However, to stay close to the river, I had to shift more eastward because of some Callitris scrubs in my path. By avoiding these, I once again found myself on more open and solid ground next to the river, visible by the large Yarra trees that always mark its banks with their white, twisted branches. I should mention that the scrubs usually consist of a soft, red sandy soil, while the land near the river is clay, which is far better for crossing with wheeled vehicles; the soft red sand can be just as difficult to navigate in certain spots as mud. Finally, while traveling northeast, we came across a large lagoon that extended westward and was filled with ducks. Noticing the drift marks indicating it flowed from the west, I stuck to its edge as it curved northeast, leading us to the main channel where the lagoon's waters flow out during high floods. That lagoon would be a perfect spot for a cattle station. Water would always be available since the main stream was nearby, even if the lagoon dried up, which seemed unlikely. PSORALEA ERIANTHA was plentiful in the riverbed, along with INDIGOFERA HIRSUTA and CROTALARIA MITCHELLII.[*] Thermometer readings were 44° at sunrise, 99° at noon, 97° at 4 p.m., and 66° at 9, with a wet bulb reading of 58°.
[* C. MITCHELLII (Benth. MS.) erecta, ramulis flavescenti-tomentosis, stipulis parvis subulatis, foliis ovali-ellipticis obtusis retusisve basi angustatis supra glabris subtus calycibusque subsericeo-pubescentitomentosis, bracteolis in pedicello brevissimo minutis setaceis, legumine sessili glabro. Allied to C. RETUSA and SERICEA, but flowers much smaller, in short dense spikes. It agrees in most respects with the short character of C. NOVOE HOLLANDIOE, etc., but the leaf is not articulated on the footstalk, and the stipules exist.]
[* C. MITCHELLII (Benth. MS.) is an upright plant, with yellowish-tomentose branches, small, needle-like stipules, and leaves that are oval to elliptical, blunt or truncate at the tip, narrowing at the base, smooth on top, and slightly covered with silky hairs underneath, along with the calyx. It has tiny bracteoles on a very short pedicel that are hair-like, and the fruit is sessile and smooth. It’s related to C. RETUSA and SERICEA, but has much smaller flowers arranged in short, dense spikes. It mostly matches the brief description of C. NOVOE HOLLANDIOE, etc., but the leaf isn’t jointed at the stalk, and the stipules are present.]
11TH APRIL.—Proceeding due north we had the river close on our right hand, when two miles on. After making a slight detour to avoid a gully falling into it, we continued the same course over open forest land, and, at length, saw an immense sheet of water before us, with islands in it. This was also a lagoon supplied by floods in the Balonne. It was covered with ducks, pelicans, etc. I called it Lake Parachute, no natives being near to give me their name for it. I must here add that the true aboriginal name is not Baloon, however, but Balonne, and this I the more readily adopt to avoid the introduction of a name so inappropriate amongst rivers. I was obliged to turn this lagoon, by moving some way about to my right, for it sent forth a deep arm to the S. W. which lay across my intended route. Continuing to travel northward, we arrived upon the banks of a lagoon, where they resembled those of the main channel, having trees of the same kind and fully as large. The breadth was very uniform, and as great as that of the river, so that it seemed this had once been the bed of the Balonne. We crossed it at a dry part of the swamp, the waters extending and increasing in it to the eastward. In the opposite direction it was equally uniform and continuous, but apparently dry. On crossing this old channel, I turned sharply to the N. E., aware that it is usually at acute angles in a river's course that such overflowings break out. I found it necessary in the present case to turn eastward, and even to the southward of east before I could find the river again. At length we came upon the channel divided amongst ridges of sand, where the waters took a sharp turn and broke thus into separate currents. I was now very desirous to select a camp where the cattle might remain to rest and refresh while I proceeded with a small party to the N. W. This place did not please me, having been too scrubby, the water not well tasted, and the grass dry, therefore liable to be set on fire by the natives, or by accident. A bulbous species of CYPERUS grew on the bank of the Balonne, and in the river we found the common European reed, ARUNDO PHRAGMITES: a Loranthus allied to L. LINEARIFOLIUS, but with broader leaves, grew on some of the trees, and we saw a fine new species of ADRIANIA.[*] (No. VII.) Thermometer, at sunrise, 47°; at noon, 102°; at 4 P. M., 104°; at 9, 69°; with wet bulb, 62°. Average height above the sea, of camps V. VI. and VII., 559 feet.
11TH APRIL.—Heading directly north, we had the river on our right side when, two miles in, we had to make a slight detour to avoid a gully leading into it. We continued our path through open forest land and eventually saw a massive body of water ahead of us, dotted with islands. This was another lagoon, fed by floods from the Balonne. It was teeming with ducks, pelicans, and other birds. I named it Lake Parachute since there were no locals around to provide a name. It’s worth noting that the correct Aboriginal name isn’t Baloon, but Balonne, which I prefer to use to avoid using such an inappropriate name for a river. I had to navigate around this lagoon, moving quite a way to my right, as it extended a deep arm to the southwest that would block my intended route. Continuing north, we reached the banks of a lagoon that resembled those of the main channel, featuring trees of the same type and size. The width was very consistent and as broad as the river, suggesting this had once been the bed of the Balonne. We crossed at a dry section of the swamp, with water expanding to the east. In the opposite direction, it remained equally uniform and continuous but seemed to be dry. After crossing this old channel, I veered sharply to the northeast, realizing that it’s often at sharp angles in a river’s course where such overflow occurs. I found it necessary to turn eastward, even slightly south of east, before I could locate the river again. Eventually, we came across the channel split among sand ridges, where the waters took a sharp turn and flowed into separate currents. I was eager to find a camping spot where the cattle could rest and refresh while I took a small group to the northwest. This location didn’t appeal to me, as it was too scrubby, the water tasted poor, and the grass was dry, making it prone to being set on fire either by natives or accidentally. A bulbous species of CYPERUS grew on the banks of the Balonne, and in the river, we found the common European reed, ARUNDO PHRAGMITES. A Loranthus similar to L. LINEARIFOLIUS but with broader leaves grew on some of the trees, and we spotted a fine new species of ADRIANIA.[*] (No. VII.) Thermometer, at sunrise, 47°; at noon, 102°; at 4 P.M., 104°; at 9, 69°; with a wet bulb reading of 62°. Average height above sea level for camps V, VI, and VII was 559 feet.
[* A. HETEROPHYLLA (Hooker MSS.) foliis ovato-acuminatis grosse sinuatoserratis integris cordatisve trifidis, utrinque bracteisque glaberrimis.]
[* A. HETEROPHYLLA (Hooker MSS.) has leaves that are oval-acuminate, coarsely wavy-toothed, entire, heart-shaped, or three-lobed, and are smooth on both sides with smooth bracts.]
12TH APRIL.—I accordingly put the party in motion at an early hour, and soon came upon the river, where it formed a noble reach of water and came from the westward, a new direction, which, with the sand that had for some days appeared in shallow parts of its bed, raised my hopes that this river might be found to come from the north-west, a direction it maintained for five miles. The breadth was uniform, and the vast body of water was a most cheering sight. The banks were 120 yards apart, the course in general very straight, contributing much to the perspective of the scenery upon it. At one turn, denuded rocks appeared in its bed, consisting of ironstone in a whitish cement or matrix, which might have been decomposed felspar. I at length arrived at a natural bridge of the same sort of rock, affording easy and permanent access to the opposite bank, and at once selected the spot for a dépôt camp, which we established on a fine position commanding long vistas both up and down the river. It was, in fact, a tête-de-pont overlooking the rocky passage which connected the grass on both sides. This was No. VIII., and in latitude 28° 1' 37''. Thermometer, at sunrise, 68°; at noon, 104°; at 4 P. M., 101°; at 9, 74°;—with wet bulb, 64°.
12TH APRIL.—I got everyone moving early in the day and quickly reached the river, where it made a beautiful stretch of water coming from the west, which was a new direction. The sand that had started to show in shallow areas of the riverbed gave me hope that it might come from the northwest, a direction it maintained for five miles. The width was consistent, and the large body of water was very encouraging to see. The banks were 120 yards apart, and the generally straight course greatly enhanced the scenery along it. At one bend, bare rocks were visible in the riverbed, made up of ironstone set in a whitish cement or matrix, which could have been decomposed feldspar. Eventually, I reached a natural bridge of the same type of rock, providing easy and permanent access to the opposite bank. I immediately chose this spot for a supply camp, which we set up in a great location with long views both upstream and downstream. It was essentially a forward position overlooking the rocky passage that connected the grass on both sides. This was No. VIII., situated at latitude 28° 1' 37''. The thermometer read 68° at sunrise, 104° at noon, 101° at 4 P.M., and 74° at 9 P.M.—with a wet bulb at 64°.
13TH APRIL.—Here I could leave the jaded cattle to refresh, while, with a small party on horse-back, I could ascertain the farther course of the river, and explore the country to the north-west where centred all my hopes of discovery. I set on foot various preparations, such as the stuffing of saddles, shoeing of horses, drying of mutton, and, first of all in importance, though last likely to be accomplished, the making a pair of new wheels for a cart to carry water. Thermometer, at sunrise, 47°; at noon, 100°; at 4 p.m., 101°; at 9, 67°;—with wet bulb, 62°.
13TH APRIL.—Here I could let the tired cattle rest while I took a small group on horseback to determine the river's further course and explore the area to the northwest, which held all my hopes for discovery. I began various preparations, like stuffing saddles, shoeing horses, drying mutton, and, most importantly, though it was the last to be done, making a new pair of wheels for a cart to carry water. The thermometer read 47° at sunrise, 100° at noon, 101° at 4 p.m., and 67° at 9 p.m.—with a wet bulb reading of 62°.
15TH APRIL.—This day I sent Mr. Kennedy to examine the country in the direction of 331½°, my intended route, and he returned about 10 P. M., having seen what he considered indications of the river on his right when about twelve miles from the camp, and plains to the left. Upon the whole, I resolved, from what he said of the scrubs he had met with, to travel north-west, that direction being perpendicular to the general course of this river, and therefore the most likely to lead the soonest to higher ground. Thermometer, at sunrise, 68°; at noon, 104°; at 4 p.m., 103°; at 9, 72°;—with wet bulb, 67°.
15TH APRIL.—Today I sent Mr. Kennedy to scout the area heading 331½°, my planned route. He returned around 10 P.M., having noticed what he thought were signs of the river to his right about twelve miles from the camp, and open plains to the left. Overall, based on what he reported about the thickets he encountered, I decided to head northwest, as that direction is perpendicular to the general flow of this river and likely to lead more quickly to higher ground. Thermometer readings: at sunrise, 68°; at noon, 104°; at 4 P.M., 103°; at 9, 72°;—with a wet bulb reading of 67°.
16TH APRIL.—In order better to contend with the difficulty of wanting water, and be better prepared for it, I formed my party rather of infantry than cavalry, taking only two horses, drawing a cart loaded chiefly with water, and six trusty men, almost all old soldiers. We were thus prepared to pass several nights without requiring other water than that we carried with us. I hoped thus to be enabled to penetrate the scrubs, and reach, and perhaps cross, the higher land bounding this great basin. Our first day's progress, being rather experimental, did not extend above ten miles. I had been obliged to send back the shaft horse, and exchange him for a better, as our load of water was heavy. The day was very sultry. Thermometer 105° Fahrenheit, in the shade. We had passed over ground more open than I expected, but by no means clear of scrubs. Thermometer, at sunrise, 64°; at 4 p.m., 105°; at 9, 71°;—with wet bulb, 67°.
16TH APRIL.—To better deal with the issue of water scarcity and be more prepared, I organized my team mainly with infantry instead of cavalry, taking only two horses to pull a cart filled mostly with water and six reliable men, most of whom were seasoned soldiers. This setup allowed us to go several nights without needing extra water beyond what we brought along. I hoped this would help us push into the scrublands and reach, or maybe even cross, the higher terrain that surrounds this vast basin. On our first day, which was somewhat experimental, we only made about ten miles. I had to send back the shaft horse and swap it for a better one since our water load was heavy. The day was extremely hot, with the thermometer reading 105° Fahrenheit in the shade. We covered more open ground than I anticipated, but there were still plenty of scrubs around. The thermometer readings were 64° at sunrise, 105° at 4 p.m., and 71° at 9 p.m., with a wet bulb reading of 67°.
17TH APRIL.—The messenger returned early with two horses, one being my own second charger, which I put as leader to the cart. We then got forward on foot as fast as the men could walk, or rather as fast as they could clear a way for the cart. We passed through much scrub, but none was of the very worst sort. The natives' marks on trees were numerous, and the ground seemed at first to fall westward as to some water-course; and, after travelling about five miles, there appeared a similar indication of water to the eastward of our route. At one place even the white-barked gum trees appeared; but, although they had the character of river trees, we found they grew on an elevated piece of clay soil. After completing about ten miles, I halted for two hours to rest the horses, where there was a patch of good grass, and we gave them some water from our stock. The mercurial column afforded no indication that we were at all higher than our camp overlooking the river, and it seemed, therefore, not improbable that we might meet with some other channel or branch of that prolific river. After resting two hours we continued, passing through woods partly of open forest trees, and partly composed of scrub. Towards the end of our day's journey, we crossed land covered with good grass, and having only large trees on it, so thinly strewed as to be of the character of the most open kind of forest land. Saw thereon some very large kangaroos, and throughout the day we had found their tracks numerous. We finally set up our bivouac a little before sunset, on a grassy spot surrounded by scrub. In this scrub I found the CLEOME FLAVA of Banks, and the strong-smelling AMBRINA CARINATA. A very remarkable whiteness appeared on the leaves of the EUCALYPTUS POPULIFOLIUS, which, on very close examination, appeared to be the work of an insect.[*] On the plains the SALSOLA AUSTRALIS formed a round bush, which, when loose from its very slight root, was liable to be blown about. Thermometer at sunrise, 71°; at 9 P. M, 68°;—with wet bulb, 64°.
17TH APRIL.—The messenger came back early with two horses, one of which was my second charger, which I hitched up as the leader for the cart. We then moved forward on foot as quickly as the men could walk, or rather as quickly as they could make a path for the cart. We went through a lot of scrub, but none of it was particularly bad. There were many signs of the natives on the trees, and at first, the ground seemed to slope westward towards some watercourse; after traveling about five miles, we noticed a similar sign of water to the east of our route. At one point, we even saw white-barked gum trees; however, even though they looked like river trees, we found they were growing on an elevated patch of clay soil. After covering about ten miles, I stopped for two hours to let the horses rest where there was a patch of good grass, and we gave them some water from our stock. The barometer didn’t show that we were any higher than our camp overlooking the river, so it seemed likely we might find another channel or branch of that productive river. After resting for two hours, we moved on, passing through woods that were partly made up of open forest trees and partly of scrub. Toward the end of our day’s journey, we crossed land covered in good grass, with only large trees sparsely scattered throughout, making it resemble the most open type of forest. We saw some very large kangaroos and had found many of their tracks throughout the day. We finally set up camp a little before sunset on a grassy spot surrounded by scrub. In this scrub, I discovered the CLEOME FLAVA of Banks and the strongly scented AMBRINA CARINATA. There was a striking whiteness on the leaves of the EUCALYPTUS POPULIFOLIUS, which, upon close inspection, turned out to be due to an insect.[*] On the plains, the SALSOLA AUSTRALIS formed a round bush, which, when dislodged from its very shallow roots, could easily be blown around. The thermometer read 71° at sunrise and 68° at 9 PM, with a wet bulb of 64°.
[* The following letter from Mr. Westwood to Dr. Lindley relates to specimens of this brought to England:—
[* The following letter from Mr. Westwood to Dr. Lindley is about specimens of this that were brought to England:—
"I am sorry that the state of the specimens from Sir Thomas Mitchell (or rather, I should say, the time when they were gathered) does not allow me to say much about the insect by which they are formed. It is an extremely beautiful production, quite unlike any thing I have yet seen, and is, I have no doubt, the scale of a coccus. It is of a very peculiar form, resembling a very delicate, broad, and flattened valve of a bi-valve shell, such as the genus Iridina, the part where the hinge is being a little produced and raised, and forming the cover of the coccus which secretes the beautiful material just in the same unexplained way as the scale insects form the slender attenuated scales beneath which they are born. I could not discover any insect beneath the specimens of Sir Thomas Mitchell's production in a state sufficient to determine what it really is, as I only found one or two exceedingly minute atoms of shrivelled up insects. It is extremely brittle, and looks more like dried, white, frothed sugar than any thing else."]
"I'm sorry that the condition of the specimens from Sir Thomas Mitchell (or rather, the time when they were collected) doesn't let me say much about the insect they're made from. It's an incredibly beautiful creation, quite different from anything I've seen before, and I believe it's the scale of a coccus. It has a very unique shape, resembling a delicate, wide, and flattened valve of a bivalve shell, like the genus Iridina, with the hinge area being slightly raised and forming the cover of the coccus that secretes the stunning material in the same mysterious way that scale insects create the slender, elongated scales under which they are born. I couldn't find any insect beneath Sir Thomas Mitchell's specimens in a good enough condition to identify what it actually is, as I only found one or two tiny bits of dried-up insects. It's very brittle and looks more like dried, white, frothy sugar than anything else."
18TH APRIL.—A pigeon had flown last evening over our camp in a N. N. E. direction, and as the ground sloped that way, and the men believed that water was there, I rode this morning in that direction, leaving the other horses to feed in the meantime. At two miles from our bivouac I found some hollows in a scrub where the surface consisted of clay, and which evidently at some seasons contained water, although they were then dry. Polygonum grew around them, and I doubt not that after a fall of rain water would remain there some time. On riding two miles beyond, in the same direction, I found open forest land only. The country was well covered with good grass, very open, yet finely wooded. We again proceeded north-west over some fine forest land. The soil was, however, only soft red sand, and made it very heavy work for our horses drawing the watercart.
18TH APRIL.—A pigeon flew over our camp last night heading N.N.E., and since the ground sloped that way, the men thought there might be water there. So this morning, I rode in that direction, leaving the other horses to graze for now. Two miles from our bivouac, I found some depressions in a scrub area where the surface was clay, which clearly held water at times, even though they were dry now. Polygonum was growing around them, and I'm sure that after some rain, water would stay there for a while. Riding another two miles in the same direction, I only found open forest land. The area was well covered with good grass, very open but nicely wooded. We then continued northwest across some beautiful forest land. However, the soil was just soft red sand, making it tough for our horses to haul the water cart.
On passing through a Casuarina scrub, we entered upon a different kind of country as to wood and grass, the soil being much the same, or still more loose and sandy. The surface bore a sterile heathy appearance, and the trees consisted chiefly of a stunted box, growing but thinly. Instead of grass, black, half-burnt roots of a wiry plant appeared, which I afterwards found in flower (SEE INFRÀ), and one small, shrubby, brown bush, very much resembling heath; apparently a Chenopod with heathlike leaves, and globular hairy heads of flowers. The roots of the firstmentioned plant presented much obstruction to our cart-wheels in passing over the soft sand. As I stood awaiting the cart's arrival, some birds drew my attention, as I perceived I had attracted theirs. They descended to the lowest branches of the tree in whose shade I stood, and seemed to regard my horse with curiosity. On my imitating their chirp one fluttered down, and attempted to alight on my horse's ears. On my whistling to them, one whistled some beautifully varied notes, as soft as those of an octave flute, although their common chirp was harsh and dissonant. The male and female seemed to have very different plumage, especially about the head; that on the one having the varying tint of the Rifle bird, the head of the other more resembling in colour, that of the DACELO GIGANTEUS. They were about the size of a thrush, and seemed the sole residents of that particular spot, and I had not seen them elsewhere. The carts came slowly forward, the horses being much distressed. I continued to ride some miles ahead, and passed through a scrub in a clay hollow, to which succeeded another open forest country with more of the soft red sand. The people with the cart could not overtake me, and I returned. Meeting them at a rather bad place, I determined to encamp at some patches of grassy ground somewhat out of our line, in latitude, 27° 43' S. It is remarkable that, according to the barometer, we had not ascended higher than our depôt camp on the river, at a distance of nearly forty miles from it. I had just quitted my horse's back, and had resolved to return, when two horsemen were seen approaching along our track. They were two of our party come from the depôt to bring me a despatch, which had been forwarded by Commissioner Wright, communicating the news of Dr. Leichardt's return from Port Essington, and enclosing the Gazette with his own account of his journey. Thus it became known to us that we could no longer hope to be the first to reach the shores of the Indian Ocean by land. Thermometer, at sunrise, 62°; at 4 p.m., 93°; at 9, 71°;—with wet bulb, 64°.
As we moved through a Casuarina scrub, we entered a different type of landscape with different woods and grasses, though the soil remained similar or even looser and sandier. The ground looked barren and heath-like, and the trees were mostly stunted boxes, growing sparsely. Instead of grass, we found black, half-burnt roots of a wiry plant, which I later identified when it bloomed (SEE INFRÀ), along with a small, shrubby brown bush that looked a lot like heath; likely a type of Chenopod with heath-like leaves and round, hairy flower clusters. The roots of that first plant made it hard to get our cart through the soft sand. While I waited for the cart, some birds caught my attention, and it seemed I had caught theirs. They came down to the lower branches of the tree where I was standing in the shade and seemed curiously interested in my horse. When I imitated their chirp, one of them fluttered down and tried to land on my horse's ears. When I whistled to them, one responded with beautifully varied notes, soft like those of an octave flute, while their usual chirp was sharp and jarring. The male and female had very different feathers, especially around the head; the male's had the changing colors of the Rifle bird, while the female's head looked similar in color to that of the DACELO GIGANTEUS. They were about the size of a thrush and seemed to be the only birds in that spot, as I hadn’t seen them anywhere else. The carts moved slowly, with the horses clearly in distress. I rode a few miles ahead and went through a scrub in a clay hollow, followed by another open forest area with more soft red sand. The people with the cart couldn’t catch up, so I turned back. I met them at a difficult spot and decided to camp on some grassy patches slightly off our route, at latitude 27° 43' S. Interestingly, according to the barometer, we hadn’t climbed higher than our depot camp by the river, which was nearly forty miles away. I had just dismounted my horse and was about to turn back when I spotted two horsemen coming down our trail. They were two members of our party who had come from the depot to bring me a dispatch from Commissioner Wright, sharing the news of Dr. Leichardt's return from Port Essington and including the Gazette with his account of the journey. This meant we could no longer expect to be the first to reach the shores of the Indian Ocean overland. Thermometer readings were 62° at sunrise, 93° at 4 p.m., and 71° at 9 p.m.—with a wet bulb reading of 64°.
19TH APRIL,—I left the men with the cart, to follow while I rode forward along its track, and sat down to peruse the newspapers sent me, until the cart overtook me in the evening, the horses being quite exhausted by the heat and the heavy sand. Thermometer, at sunrise, 61°; at noon, 86°; at 9, 63°;—with wet bulb, 59°.
19TH APRIL,—I left the men with the cart and rode ahead along its path, then sat down to read the newspapers they sent me until the cart caught up to me in the evening. The horses were completely worn out from the heat and the heavy sand. Thermometer, at sunrise, 61°; at noon, 86°; at 9, 63°;—with wet bulb, 59°.
20TH APRIL.—The men who brought the despatches yesterday having been ordered to bring fresh horses this day from the depôt, I sent our tired animals on thither at once, as we could give them but a limited quantity of water. I rode forward also to the camp, and met the fresh horses about half-way. I immediately ordered the repair of the wheels of another light cart, determined to lose no time in exploring a passage towards the head of Carpentaria. Thermometer, at sunrise, 48°; at noon, 95; at 4 p.m., 93°; at 9, 63°;—with wet bulb, 58°.
20TH APRIL.—The men who brought the messages yesterday were instructed to get fresh horses today from the depot, so I sent our tired animals there right away since we could only give them a limited amount of water. I also rode ahead to the camp and met the fresh horses about halfway. I immediately ordered the repairs of another light cart’s wheels, determined to waste no time exploring a route to the head of Carpentaria. Thermometer readings: at sunrise, 48°; at noon, 95°; at 4 p.m., 93°; at 9, 63°;—with wet bulb, 58°.
21ST APRIL.—The cart came in about 9 a.m. The morning was cloudy, for the first time this month, and a slight shower fell. Had three or four days' rain fallen at that time, it would have enabled me to have explored by much less circuitous routes, than along the bank of this great river, the country to the north-west. In this case, the tour from which I had just returned might have been continued, as I wished and intended, had it been possible to find water, to the mountains or higher ground, whatever it might be that formed the limits to this basin on that side. Thermometer, at sunrise, 65°; at noon, 76°; at 4 p.m., 77°; at 9, 60°; —with wet bulb, 53°.
21ST APRIL.—The cart arrived around 9 a.m. The morning was cloudy, the first time this month, and there was a light shower. If three or four days of rain had fallen at that time, I could have explored more direct routes to the northwest instead of following the winding path along the bank of this huge river. In that case, I could have continued the trip I had just returned from, as I wanted and planned, if I had been able to find water, leading to the mountains or higher ground, whatever it might be that set the limits of this basin on that side. Thermometer read 65° at sunrise; 76° at noon; 77° at 4 p.m.; and 60° at 9 p.m.; with a wet bulb reading of 53°.
22D APRIL.—The clouds continued to lower, and a great change in the temperature accompanied this visible change in the sky, but the mercurial column remained uncommonly steady. Arrangements for a concentrated party engrossed my attention so fully this day, with the insertion also of our late work on the general map, that even the newspapers from the colony lay unread. Mr. Kennedy took a ride across the river in a S. S. E. direction, and found a fine grazing country with open forest, as far as he went, which was about twelve miles. On the banks of the Balonne, during my absence, they had found, besides a small bearded CYPERUS, a new creeping PSORALEA [*], and a new species of Acacia, which Mr. Bentham has named A. VARIANS.[*] Thermometer, at sunrise, 41°; at noon, 76°; at 4 p.m., 77°; at 9, 61°;—with wet bulb, 56°. Mean elevation of this camp above the level of the sea, being 50 feet above the river, 623 feet.
22D APRIL.—The clouds were thickening, and there was a noticeable drop in temperature that matched the changes in the sky, yet the mercury in the thermometer stayed unusually steady. I was so focused on preparing for a big gathering today, along with updating our general map, that I didn’t even read any of the newspapers from the colony. Mr. Kennedy rode across the river in a southeast direction and discovered a great grazing area with open forests for about twelve miles. While I was away, they found a small bearded CYPERUS, a new creeping PSORALEA [*], and a new type of Acacia, which Mr. Bentham has called A. VARIANS.[*] The thermometer read 41° at sunrise, 76° at noon, 77° at 4 p.m., and 61° at 9 p.m., with a wet bulb temperature of 56°. The average height of this camp above sea level is 50 feet above the river, totaling 623 feet.
[* P. ERIANTHA (Benth. MS.) prostrata, canescenti-pubescens, foliis pinnatim trifoliolatis, foliolis ovatis oblongisve dentatis, pedunculis elongatis multifloris, floribus inferioribus remotis superioribus approximatis, calycibus pube molli albida dense tomentosis, legumine molliter villoso.]
[* P. ERIANTHA (Benth. MS.) prostrata, covered in soft hairs, with leaves that are pinnately trifoliate, leaflets that are oval or elongated with teeth, long flowering stalks with multiple flowers, lower flowers spaced apart and upper ones closer together, calyxes thickly covered in soft, white hairs, and fruit that is softly hairy.]
[* A. VARIANS (Benth. MS.) glabra, pallida v. glauca, ramulis subangulatis, phyllodiis oblongo-lanceolatis v. inferioribus late obovatis summisve linearibus, omnibus basi longe angustatis apice obtusis v. oblique mucronatis subimmarginatis vix obscure glanduliferis uninervibus tenuiter reticulato-penniveniis, capitulis sub 20-floris solitariis subracemosis v. in racemos foliatos dispositis, calycibus truncatis, legumine glabro crasso sublignoso. Very near A. SALICINA, and possibly a mere variety; but the phyllodia are generally considerably broader, and the inflorescence different.]
[* A. VARIANS (Benth. MS.) glabra, pallida v. glauca, with slightly angled branches, elongated-lanceolate phyllodes, or lower ones that are broadly obovate with narrow, linear tops, all with a long, narrow base, obtuse tips, or slightly obliquely mucronate, almost imperceptibly glandular, uninerved, and thinly reticulated-penniveined. The heads consist of about 20 flowers, arranged either solitarily or in leafy racemes, with truncate calyces and the pods being smooth, thick, and somewhat woody. It is very close to A. SALICINA and could possibly just be a variety; however, the phyllodes are generally much broader, and the inflorescence is different.]
Chapter IV.
ADVANCE WITH A LIGHT PARTY—LEAVING THE REMAINDER WITH THE BULLOCKS AND DRAYS TO REST THREE WEEKS AT ST. GEORGE'S BRIDGE.—DISCOVER A RIVER JOINING THE BALONNE FROM THE NORTH-WEST.—CROSS IT, AND STILL TRACE THE BALONNE UPWARDS.—FINE RIVER SCENERY.—VAST PLAINS EXTENDING TO THE EASTERN HORIZON DISCOVERED FROM A TREE.—TRIBUTARY FROM THE NORTH-WEST—AND RICH PLAINS.—TRACE THIS SMALL RIVER UPWARDS.—EXCELLENT COUNTRY FOR GRAZING PURPOSES.—MOUNTAINS, SEEN AT LENGTH, TO THE NORTHWARD.—NATIVES AT OUR CAMP.—ASCEND MOUNT FIRST VIEW.—MOUNT INVITING.—ASCEND MOUNT RED CAP.—RIDE TO THE BORDERS OF FITZROY DOWNS, AND ASCEND MOUNT ABUNDANCE.—THE BOTTLE TREE.—ASCEND MOUNT BINDÀNGO.—DISCOVERY OF THE RIVER "AMBY."—DANGEROUS FOLLOWERS OF A CAMP.—RECONNOISSANCE TO THE NORTH-WEST.—ASCEND A TRAPITIC RANGE.—A GAP OR GOOD OPENING THROUGH IT FOUND FOR THE CARTS.—SMALL RIVER DISCOVERED BEYOND, CONTAINING ONE POND OF WATER.—THE CHANNEL DISAPPEARS ON OPEN FLATS.—DISCOVER THE RIVER MARAN.—SELECT A POSITION FOR A DEPÔT.—RIDE OF RECONNOISSANCE TO THE NORTHWARD.—RIDE INTO THE WESTERN INTERIOR.—ASCEND MOUNT LONSDALE.—EXTENSIVE VIEW FROM THE SUMMIT.—WATER NOT VERY PLENTIFUL.—RETURN TO THE CAMP.—ASCEND A HIGH POINT TO THE EASTWARD.—VIEW THENCE OF THE SUMMITS OF A RANGE TO THE NORTHWARD.—CAMP VISITED BY HOSTILE NATIVES DURING MY ABSENCE.—ARRIVAL OF MR. KENNEDY WITH THE MAIN BODY OF THE PARTY.—HIS ACCOUNT OF THE HOSTILITY OF THE CHIEF AND TRIBE AT "TAGANDO."—VARIOUS PREPARATIONS MADE FOR AGAIN ADVANCING WITH A LIGHT PARTY.—DEPÔT CAMP ESTABLISHED ON THE MARAN.
ADVANCE WITH A SMALL GROUP—LEAVING THE OTHERS WITH THE OXEN AND WAGONS TO REST FOR THREE WEEKS AT ST. GEORGE'S BRIDGE.—DISCOVER A RIVER JOINING THE BALONNE FROM THE NORTHWEST.—CROSS IT, AND CONTINUE TO FOLLOW THE BALONNE UPSTREAM.—BEAUTIFUL RIVER SCENERY.—ENORMOUS PLAINS STRETCHING TO THE EASTERN HORIZON SEEN FROM A TREE.—A TRIBUTARY FROM THE NORTHWEST—AND FERTILE PLAINS.—TRACE THIS SMALL RIVER UPSTREAM.—EXCELLENT LAND FOR GRAZING.—MOUNTAINS FINALLY SEEN TO THE NORTH.—NATIVE PEOPLE AT OUR CAMP.—CLIMB MOUNT FIRST VIEW.—MOUNT INVITING.—CLIMB MOUNT RED CAP.—RIDE TO THE EDGE OF FITZROY DOWNS AND CLIMB MOUNT ABUNDANCE.—THE BOTTLE TREE.—CLIMB MOUNT BINDÀNGO.—DISCOVERY OF THE RIVER "AMBY."—DANGEROUS FOLLOWERS OF A CAMP.—SURVEY TO THE NORTHWEST.—CLIMB A TRAPITIC RANGE.—FOUND A GAP OR GOOD OPENING THROUGH IT FOR THE CARTS.—A SMALL RIVER DISCOVERED BEYOND, WITH A SINGLE POND OF WATER.—THE CHANNEL VANISHES ON OPEN FLATS.—DISCOVER THE RIVER MARAN.—CHOOSE A SITE FOR A DEPOT.—RIDE TO SURVEY THE NORTH.—RIDE INTO THE WESTERN INTERIOR.—CLIMB MOUNT LONSDALE.—EXTENSIVE VIEW FROM THE SUMMIT.—WATER IS NOT VERY ABUNDANT.—RETURN TO THE CAMP.—CLIMB A HIGH POINT TO THE EAST.—FROM THERE, VIEW THE SUMMITS OF A RANGE TO THE NORTH.—CAMP VISITED BY HOSTILE NATIVES DURING MY ABSENCE.—MR. KENNEDY ARRIVES WITH THE MAIN GROUP.—HIS REPORT ON THE HOSTILITY OF THE CHIEF AND TRIBE AT "TAGANDO."—VARIOUS PREPARATIONS MADE TO AGAIN ADVANCE WITH A SMALL GROUP.—DEPOT CAMP ESTABLISHED ON THE MARAN.
23RD APRIL.—Our little party started at noon. I took with me eight men, two native boys, twelve horses, besides my own two, and three light carts with provisions for ten weeks—determined, if possible, to penetrate northward, into the interior country, and ascertain where the division of the waters was likely to be found. I intended, with this view, to trace upwards the course of the Balonne, until I found mountains to the north-westward of it; then, to endeavour to turn them by the west, and thus acquire some knowledge on that most interesting point, the watershed towards the Gulf. I left instructions with Mr. Kennedy to follow my track with the drays and main body of the party, and to set out on Monday, the 4th of May, when the cattle would have had three weeks' rest.
23RD APRIL.—Our small group set off at noon. I brought along eight men, two local boys, twelve horses, in addition to my own two, and three light carts loaded with supplies for ten weeks—I was determined to head north into the interior and discover where the water divide might be located. To achieve this, I planned to follow the Balonne River upstream until I reached the mountains to the northwest; then, I would try to go around them to the west, gaining insight into that intriguing area, the watershed leading to the Gulf. I left instructions with Mr. Kennedy to follow my path with the drays and the main group and to start on Monday, May 4th, once the cattle had rested for three weeks.
The first few miles of this day's journey were along a clayey flat or hollow, which enabled me to avoid scrubby and sandy ground on each side. I believed its direction (N. E.), to be about parallel to the river. Leaving it at length to make the river, I met with rather a thick scrub; but came upon the river where the banks were very rocky and picturesque. Its course seemed to be from N. E.; but, following another flat of firm clay, I got again into scrub so thick that I turned eastward towards the river, and travelled along its bank until I encamped in lat. 27° 56' 12" S. There was but little water in the bed of the river there; but long islands of sand, water-worn banks, with sloping grassy bergs behind. The bed, in most places, consisted of rock, the same ferruginous conglomerate, or clay ironstone, seen in the same river lower down. Grass was excellent and abundant on the bergs and near the river, but thick scrub crowned these bergs on our side. It was too late to admit of my examining the other. On our way through the scrub this day, we saw the ENOCARPUS SPARTEA of Brown, a leaf-like wing-branched shrub; and the beautiful parasite, LORANTHUS AURANTIACUS, occupied the branches of Eucalyptus. Thermometer, at sunrise, 49°; at 9 p.m., 47°;—with wet bulb, 41°. [* The dates on the map show my camps; the Roman numerals those afterwards taken up by Mr. Kennedy, in following my track with the main body.]
The first few miles of today's journey were along a clay flat or hollow, which let me avoid the brushy and sandy areas on both sides. I thought its direction (N.E.) was pretty much parallel to the river. Eventually leaving it to reach the river, I encountered a thick scrub, but then found the river where the banks were rocky and scenic. Its path seemed to run from N.E.; however, as I followed another flat of solid clay, I again hit thick scrub, prompting me to head east toward the river, traveling along its bank until I set up camp at lat. 27° 56' 12" S. There wasn’t much water in the riverbed there, but there were long sandy islands, worn banks with slopes of grass behind them. The riverbed was mostly made of rock—the same iron-rich conglomerate or clay ironstone observed further down in the river. The grass was excellent and plentiful on the slopes and near the river, but thick scrub covered these slopes on our side. It was too late to check the other side. On our way through the scrub today, we saw the ENOCARPUS SPARTEA of Brown, a leaf-like wing-branched shrub; and the beautiful parasite, LORANTHUS AURANTIACUS, was clinging to the branches of Eucalyptus. The thermometer read 49° at sunrise and 47° at 9 p.m., with a wet bulb at 41°. [* The dates on the map indicate my camps; the Roman numerals represent those later taken by Mr. Kennedy while following my route with the main group.]
24TH APRIL.—Set off early, travelling along the bank. The direction was N. N. W. and N. W. For the first few miles, the scenery was wild and very fine. Masses of rock, lofty trees, shining sands and patches of water, in wild confusion, afforded evidence of the powerful current that sometimes moved there and overwhelmed all. At this time, the outlines were wild, the tints sublimely beautiful. Mighty trees of Casuarinae, still inclined as they had been made to bend before the waters, contrasted finely with erect Mimosae, with prostrate masses of driftwood, and with perpendicular rocks. Then the hues of the Anthistiria grass, of a redbrown, contrasted most harmoniously with the light green bushes, grey driftwood, blue water, and verdure by its margin; all these again —grass, verdure, driftwood, and water—were so opposed to the dark hues of the Casuarinae, Mimosae, and rifted rocks, that a Ruysdael, or a Gains-borough, might there have found an inexhaustible stock of subjects for their pencil. It was, indeed, one continuous Ruysdael.
24TH APRIL.—Set off early, traveling along the riverbank. The direction was N. N. W. and N. W. For the first few miles, the scenery was wild and stunning. Huge rocks, tall trees, shining sand, and patches of water, all in wild disarray, showed the evidence of the strong current that sometimes swept through here and overwhelmed everything. At this time, the outlines were rugged, and the colors were incredibly beautiful. Mighty Casuarina trees, still bent as they had been by the water, contrasted beautifully with upright Mimosas, piles of driftwood, and vertical rocks. The reddish-brown hues of the Anthistiria grass harmonized perfectly with the light green bushes, gray driftwood, blue water, and the greenery by the edge; all these elements—grass, greenery, driftwood, and water—contrasted sharply with the dark tones of the Casuarina, Mimosas, and jagged rocks, offering a never-ending source of inspiration for artists like Ruysdael or Gainsborough. It was truly one continuous masterpiece reminiscent of Ruysdael.
"That artist lov'd the sternly savage air,
And scarce a human image plac'd he there."
"That artist loved the harsh, wild atmosphere,
And hardly included any human figures there."
May the object of our journey be successful, thought I then; and we may also hope that these beauties of nature may no longer "waste their sweetness in the desert air;" and that more of her graces may thus be brought within the reach of art. Noble reaches next extended in fine perspective before us; each for several miles, presenting open grassy margins along which we could travel on firm ground unimpeded by scrub. At length I perceived before me a junction of rivers, and could see along each of them nearly a mile. I had no alternative but to follow up that nearest to me, and found upon its bank many recent encampments of natives; at one of which the fires were still burning. The country was grassy, and so open, as almost to deserve the colonial name of "plain." This channel took me a long way northward, and to the N. N. E.; but finally turned west, and at last south. Its bed was full of sand; and at length we found it quite dry, so that, when I would have encamped, I could find no water. Yet it bore all the character of a large river; marks of high floods, Mimosae, sand, and river driftwood, like the other. It might, and probably did, finally come out of the main channel; but this seemed too remote a contingency for our wants then, and I crossed it, to look for the other. In riding eastward, I found a wide plain bounded by trees that looked like those along the river. No time could be spared for further reconnoissance: I took the party across, and made for the nearest part. My course was first N. E., then East, finally South, in following the various slopes; and it was only after travelling fifteen miles beyond the point where I met with this river, that I reached the bank of the other, at a spot distant only FOUR miles from where I had quitted it. This was only accomplished at forty minutes after 4 p.m., when we had travelled twenty-six miles. As our circuitous route was likely, if followed by Mr. Kennedy with the heavy drays, to cause delay and inconvenience, I resolved to halt next day, and write to him on the subject, explaining how he could most readily fall into my track by crossing the other channel, quitting first the other track, at a spot to be marked by Graham, who took the letter. Nevertheless, it had been imperative on me to follow it up as I had done; because, whether as a separate tributary or an ana-branch only, the right bank was likely to suit us best, provided only that water could have been found in its bed. Near the new river, the INDIGOFERA HIRSUTA of Linnaeus, with its spikes of reflexed hairy pods, was common; and also the MOSCHOSMA POLYSTACHYUM. Lat. 27° 47' 57'' S. Thermometer, at sunrise, 38°; at 9 p.m., 59°;—with wet bulb, 56°.
May we find success in our journey, I thought at that moment; and hopefully, these natural beauties won't "waste their sweetness in the desert air" any longer, allowing more of her grace to come within the reach of art. Noble landscapes stretched out before us in beautiful perspective; each for several miles offered open grassy edges along which we could travel on solid ground, unhindered by brush. Eventually, I noticed a confluence of rivers in front of me and could see nearly a mile along each one. I had no choice but to follow the nearest one and discovered many recent camps of natives along its banks, with some fires still burning. The area was grassy and so open, it could almost be called a "plain." This channel led me a long way northward and northeast, but finally turned west and then south. Its bed was sandy; eventually, we found it completely dry, so that when I tried to set up camp, I couldn't find any water. Still, it had all the characteristics of a large river—signs of high floods, Mimosa trees, sand, and river driftwood, just like the others. It might have eventually branched off from the main channel, but that seemed too uncertain for our needs at the time, and I crossed it to look for the other. Riding eastward, I found a wide plain bordered by trees that resembled those along the river. No time could be wasted on further exploration: I led the group across and headed for the nearest part. My route was first northeast, then east, and finally south, as I followed the various slopes; and it was only after traveling fifteen miles beyond where I encountered this river that I reached the bank of the other one, a spot just four miles from where I had left it. This was accomplished only at forty minutes past 4 p.m., after we had covered twenty-six miles. Since our roundabout route could cause delays and difficulties for Mr. Kennedy with the heavy carts, I decided to stop the next day and write to him about how he could easily find my path by crossing the other channel, first leaving the original track at a spot marked by Graham, who took the letter. Nonetheless, it was essential for me to pursue it as I had, because whether it was a separate tributary or a branch, the right bank was likely to be our best bet, as long as we could find water in its bed. Near the new river, the INDIGOFERA HIRSUTA from Linnaeus, with its clusters of reflexed hairy pods, was common; and so was the MOSCHOSMA POLYSTACHYUM. Latitude 27° 47' 57'' S. Thermometer readings at sunrise were 38°; at 9 p.m., 59°;—with a wet bulb reading of 56°.
25TH APRIL.—
25TH APRIL.
"The dawn is overcast, the morning lowers,
And heavily in clouds brings on the day."
"The dawn is cloudy, and the morning hangs low,
And the day arrives shrouded in thick clouds."
A grateful change in the weather promised rain; but suggested to me a contingency for which I had not provided in my letter to Mr. Kennedy, and Graham was gone. A flood coming down, might fill the channel of the other, and prevent Mr. Kennedy's party from crossing to fall into my track; or, if that should finally prove only an ana-branch, shut me up in an island. On this point I again, therefore, wrote to Mr. Kennedy, and buried my letter at the spot marked by Graham, and according to marks on trees, as I had previously arranged with him. I then instructed him to examine the dry channel far enough upwards (halting his party for the day) to ascertain whether it was a separate river, or an ana-branch; and, in the latter case, to keep along its banks, and so avoid the possible difficulty of crossing it during rainy weather. Thermometer, at sunrise, 65°; at noon, 70°; at 4 p.m., 66°; at 9, 64°;—with wet bulb, 63°. Mean height above the sea, 586 feet.
A welcome change in the weather hinted at rain, but it made me think of a situation I hadn’t considered in my letter to Mr. Kennedy, and Graham was gone. If a flood came down, it could fill the channel of the other river and stop Mr. Kennedy's group from crossing and following my path; or, if it turned out to just be a side branch, it could trap me on an island. So, I wrote to Mr. Kennedy again, buried my letter at the spot marked by Graham, and followed the marks on the trees as I had arranged with him earlier. I then told him to check the dry channel upstream enough (holding his group back for the day) to find out if it was a separate river or a side branch; if it was the latter, to stay along its banks to avoid any potential problems crossing it during rainy weather. The thermometer read 65° at sunrise, 70° at noon, 66° at 4 p.m., and 64° at 9 p.m., with a wet bulb temperature of 63°. The average height above sea level was 586 feet.
26TH APRIL.—Sunday. Corporal Graham returned from the depôt camp at 1 p.m. The sky continued cloudy, and the barometer low. High wind from the west arose about 3 p.m. Thermometer, at sunrise, 63°; at noon, 78°; at 4 p.m., 78°; at 9, 56°;—with wet bulb, 53°.
26TH APRIL.—Sunday. Corporal Graham got back from the depot camp at 1 p.m. The sky stayed cloudy, and the barometer was low. A strong west wind picked up around 3 p.m. The thermometer read 63° at sunrise; 78° at noon; 78° at 4 p.m.; and 56° at 9 p.m.—with a wet bulb reading of 53°.
27TH APRIL.—The party set off early. We found that a river from the north joined the channel we were about to follow up in its course from the east. The northern river contained water in abundance; and I determined to follow it up so long as the course was favourable, and water remained in it. The general course was much the same as that of the first (about 39 E. of N.). The bed and ponds increased; and after following it up about eleven miles, I encamped the party, and rode northward to ascertain if it was likely to change its course. In ten minutes, I came upon a splendid reach, extending north-west as far as I could see it. Lat. of our camp, 27° 42' 42" S. Thermometer, at sunrise, 37°; at noon, 69°; at 4 p.m., 72°; at 9, 57°;—with wet bulb, 55°.
27TH APRIL.—The group set out early. We discovered that a river from the north joined the channel we were about to follow upstream from the east. The northern river had plenty of water, so I decided to follow it as long as the route was good and water was available. The general direction was similar to the first one (about 39 E. of N.). The riverbed and ponds increased, and after heading upstream for about eleven miles, I set up camp for the group and rode north to see if the river was likely to change direction. In ten minutes, I found a beautiful stretch of water extending northwest as far as I could see. Latitude of our camp: 27° 42' 42" S. Temperature at sunrise was 37°; at noon, 69°; at 4 p.m., 72°; at 9 p.m., 57°;—with the wet bulb at 55°.
28TH APRIL.—Masses of a ferruginous rock extended across the river bed like a dyke, in a N. W. and S. E. direction; and as the river here broke through these rocks, changing, at a sharp angle, its course to the S. W., it seemed probable that the general course from above might be parallel to these rocks. Continuing along the bank, we found the reaches large, full of water; the country clear of scrub and covered with luxuriant grass. One singular flat sweeping round to the W. S. W. was covered with the rich grass PANICUM LOEVINODE. The tropical PEROTIS RARA, a delicate grass, producing long purple tufts of reflexed bristles, was also here observed. The general direction of the river was towards the N. W., and whenever it took any turn towards the east, I continued to travel northward, and thus, on three occasions, came upon its bank again, cutting off detours I must otherwise have described in following its course. We encamped on a beautiful spot, the sight of which would have rejoiced the heart of a stockholder. A fresh westerly breeze blew during the day, and we were as free from the annoyance of heat, as if we had been in England during the same month. Latitude 27° 32' 37" S. The direction of the river's course was uncommonly straight, and its long sweeping reaches, full of water, seemed capable of being rendered available for the purpose of forming water communications. The surface of the adjacent country presented a thin deposit of sand, near the river, attesting the great height to which its waters sometimes rise; and minor features of ground near, showed, in their water-worn sections, that they had been wholly deposited by the river. Thermometer, at sunrise, 39°; at 4 p.m., 69°; at 9, 48°;—with wet bulb, 46°.
28TH APRIL.—Masses of iron-rich rock stretched across the riverbed like a dam, running northwest to southeast; as the river broke through these rocks, it made a sharp turn southwest, suggesting that its overall direction upstream might run parallel to these rocks. Continuing along the bank, we encountered wide stretches of water; the area was clear of bushes and covered in lush grass. One unique flat area that curved towards the southwest was blanketed with rich grass called PANICUM LOEVINODE. The delicate tropical grass PEROTIS RARA, known for its long purple tufts of drooping bristles, was also spotted here. The river generally flowed northwest, and whenever it veered east, I continued traveling north, which allowed me to meet the riverbank again on three occasions, avoiding detours I would have otherwise had to describe while following its path. We set up camp in a beautiful spot that would have delighted any stockholder. A cool westerly breeze blew throughout the day, making us feel as comfortable as if we were in England during the same month. Latitude 27° 32' 37" S. The river's course was unusually straight, and its long, water-filled stretches seemed suitable for establishing water routes. The nearby land showed a thin layer of sand close to the river, indicating how high its waters can rise; smaller land features nearby revealed, through their worn sections, that they had been entirely shaped by the river. Thermometer readings at sunrise were 39°; at 4 p.m., 69°; and at 9 p.m., 48°—with a wet bulb reading of 46°.
29TH APRIL.—The tendency of the soft earth of the banks to break into gullies, branching back into impervious scrubs, was such as to prevent me from either seeing much of the river during this day's journey, or pursuing a straight course. At one place I could only follow the grassy margin of the river, by passing between its channel and the berg, all seared as it was with water-worn gullies, and crowned with scrub; but I was soon locked up under these where a bad hole impeded our progress along the river, and I was obliged to back the carts out, the best way I could. While travelling along the margin I perceived a slight current in a gravelly part of the bed. I had previously observed a whitish tinge like that of a fresh in the river water, this day and yesterday, doubtless the product of the late rain, and probably from these clay gullies. After a circuitous journey, we came out on a clear grassy brow over-looking much open country. There I still met with heads of gullies, but could easily avoid them, and after traversing a fine grassy plain, we encamped as near the river as the gullies would allow, in latitude 27° 28' 27". One of the party, John Douglas, from the top of a tree, discovered vast plains in the N. E. extending to the horizon, a river line pursuing a northerly course, and in the N. W. a mass of cloud hung over what he supposed to be mountains. Thermometer, at sunrise, 36°; at 4 p.m., 63°; at 9, 47°; with wet bulb, 44°.
29TH APRIL.—The soft earth of the riverbanks kept breaking into gullies and thick brush, making it hard for me to see much of the river during today’s journey or to maintain a straight path. At one point, I could only follow the grassy edge of the river by squeezing between its channel and the steep banks, which were all worn by water with gulleys and covered in scrub. Soon, I found myself stuck in a bad spot where a deep hole slowed our progress along the river, and I had to back the carts out the best I could. While moving along the edge, I noticed a slight current in a rocky part of the riverbed. Earlier, I had seen a whitish tint in the river water, both today and yesterday, likely from the recent rain, probably washing down from these clay gullies. After a winding journey, we reached a clear grassy rise overlooking a lot of open land. There, I still encountered some gullies but could easily steer clear of them, and after crossing a lovely grassy plain, we set up camp as close to the river as the gullies allowed, at latitude 27° 28' 27". One of the group, John Douglas, climbed a tree and spotted vast plains to the northeast stretching to the horizon, a river heading north, and to the northwest, a cloud mass hanging over what he guessed were mountains. The thermometer read 36° at sunrise, 63° at 4 p.m., and 47° at 9, with a wet bulb reading of 44°.
30TH APRIL.—Obliged to keep at some distance from the river, I came upon open forest land, where gentle undulations took the place of the rugged gullies. Thus we travelled over a beautiful country, due north, with sufficient indications of the river on our right, in the slopes that all fell to that side. There were ponds in some hollows, and we made the river itself at various parts of our route. At length, where it bit on a high scrubby bank, I again proceeded northward and came upon a large lagoon, sweeping round to S. W. and S. S. W., further than we could see. It had on its surface numerous ducks, and a large encampment of native huts appeared at one end. We encamped by this lagoon, in latitude 27° 20' S. Again vast plains and downs to the N. E. were seen by Dicky, our youngest native, from a tree. Thermometer, at sunrise, 27°; at 4 p.m., 65°; at 9, 43°.
30TH APRIL.—Having to stay a bit away from the river, I stumbled upon open forest land, where gentle hills replaced the rugged gullies. So we traveled through a beautiful area, heading due north, with clear signs of the river on our right, as all the slopes went down toward it. There were ponds in some dips, and we crossed the river at various spots along the way. Finally, where it cut into a high, scrubby bank, I continued north and came across a large lagoon, stretching around to S.W. and S.S.W., farther than we could see. It was dotted with numerous ducks, and at one end, there was a big camp of native huts. We set up camp by this lagoon, at latitude 27° 20' S. Our youngest native, Dicky, spotted vast plains and hills to the N.E. from a tree. The thermometer read 27° at sunrise; at 4 p.m., it was 65°; and at 9 p.m., it was 43°.
1ST MAY.—On leaving the lagoon, passing between its head and the river, we were soon enveloped in a thick scrub of Casuarinae, on ground broken into gullies falling to the river. I tried to pass by the lower margin of this, but gullies in the way obliged me to ascend and seek a passage elsewhere. Forcing our way, therefore, through the scrub and out of it, we found outside of it, in an open forest, the box and Angophora, and could go forward without impediment, first to the N. W., afterwards northward, and N. E. At length the woods opened into fine grassy plains, bounded on the east by trees belonging to the river berg. There I saw still the trees we had so gladly got away from, the Casuarina; also the cheering white arms of the Yarra, or blue gum. The prospect before us improved greatly; fine plains presented a clear way to the northward, with the river apparently coming thence, and even round from the N. W. From a tree, Yuranigh descried hills in the N. E. and the plains extending before us. I also perceived, from the wide plain, a distant low rise to the N. W. We crossed two hollows on these grassy plains, each containing deep ponds, and descended towards what seemed a branch of the river; we encamped near it, in latitude 27° 15' 4" S. As we approached this spot, natives were seen first looking at us, and then running off —Yuranigh said he recognized one of them as a countryman of his own. I endeavoured to make him cooey to them, or call them, but they made off, setting fire to the grass. Any information from natives of these parts might have been very useful to us then, and I hoped they would at length come to us. Thermometer, at sunrise, 26°; at 4 p.m., 67°; at 9, p.m., 48°;—with wet bulb, 46°.
1ST MAY.—After leaving the lagoon and going between its head and the river, we quickly found ourselves surrounded by thick scrub of Casuarina trees, on uneven ground with gullies leading down to the river. I tried to navigate along the lower edge, but the gullies forced me to go higher and look for a different path. So, we pushed our way through the scrub and finally emerged into an open forest with box and Angophora trees, allowing us to move forward without any obstacles, first northwest, then north, and finally northeast. Eventually, the woods opened up into beautiful grassy plains, bordered on the east by trees linked to the river bank. I still spotted the Casuarina trees we were so glad to leave behind, along with the refreshing white arms of the Yarra, or blue gum. The view ahead greatly improved; expansive plains offered a clear path northward, with the river seemingly coming from that direction and also from the northwest. From a tree, Yuranigh spotted hills to the northeast and the plains stretching out before us. I too noticed a distant low rise to the northwest from the wide plain. We crossed two valleys on the grassy plains, each containing deep ponds, and descended toward what looked like a branch of the river; we set up camp nearby, at latitude 27° 15' 4" S. As we got closer to this spot, we saw some indigenous people observing us before they ran away—Yuranigh said he recognized one of them as someone from his own homeland. I tried to call out to them, but they fled, setting fire to the grass as they went. Any information from locals in this area would have been really helpful for us at that moment, and I hoped they would eventually come to us. The temperature was 26° at sunrise, 67° at 4 p.m., and 48° at 9 p.m., with a wet bulb temperature of 46°.
2D MAY.—There was a decided difference between the river we were now upon, as well as the country along its banks, and the large river by which we had travelled so far. This was undoubtedly but a small tributary, as its direction seen this day showed, being from the westward, while its waters, meandering in various narrow channels amongst plains, reminded us of some of the finest parts of the south. Which was the principal channel, and which to cross, which to travel by, was rather difficult to determine. The country was very fine. These water courses lay between finely rounded grassy slopes, with a few trees about the water's edge, marking their various courses at a distance. A considerable breadth of open grassy plain, intervened between this river and the woods back from it. At length, sloping stony bergs came near the river's bed, but there the smooth naked water-worn clay was the best ground we could have for wheels, and we thus hugged each bend of the river, passing close to the channel. I hoped thus to find plains on the next change of the river's course. And so it turned out for some way, but the receding bergs guided me, even when only seen at a considerable distance, in shaping my course. Keeping my eye on their yellow slopes, I travelled far along a grassy flat which brought me to a lake containing water like chrystal, and fringed with white lotus flowers. Its western shore consisted of shelving rock. An immense number of ducks floated on its eastern extremity. From this lake, following a grassy flat to the N. W., we at length reached the river, or rather its bed, seared into numerous channels. The lake, and long flat connected with it, appeared to me more like the vestiges of a former channel, than as the mere outlet of surplus waters; nor did it seem that the water is now supplied from the floods of the river. I followed this a few miles further, and then encamped just beyond, where much gravel appeared in the banks. While the men were erecting the tents, I rode some miles to the westward, and found an open iron-bark forest covering it, with much luxuriant grass. This was rather peculiar, as compared with any other part passed through. It was also undulating; and, from a tree ascended by Yuranigh, it was ascertained we were approaching mountains, as he saw one which bore 77°, also a hill to the eastward, in which latter direction (or rather in that of 333°), he saw also an open country. Thermometer, at sunrise, 47°; at 4 p.m., 62°; at 9 P. M 57°; mean height above the sea, 694 feet.
2D MAY.—There was a noticeable difference between the river we were on now and the large river we had traveled along so far. This was clearly just a small tributary, flowing from the west, and its waters winding through various narrow channels among the plains reminded us of some of the best parts of the south. It was quite difficult to determine which was the main channel, which we should cross, and which one we should use for traveling. The landscape was really beautiful. These waterways meandered between gently rounded grassy slopes, dotted with a few trees along the water's edge, marking their paths from a distance. A significant stretch of open grassy plain separated this river from the woods further back. Eventually, sloping rocky banks came close to the riverbed, but the smooth, bare, water-worn clay there was the best surface for wheels, so we stayed close to the river's bends, passing near the channel. I hoped to find plains at the next change in the river's course. And it did turn out that way for a while, but the receding banks guided me, even when they were only visible from a distance, in shaping my route. Keeping an eye on their yellow slopes, I traveled along a grassy flat that led me to a lake with crystal-clear water, surrounded by white lotus flowers. Its western shore was made up of sloping rocks. A huge number of ducks floated on its eastern end. From this lake, I followed a grassy flat to the northwest and eventually reached the river, or rather its bed, carved into multiple channels. The lake and the long flat connecting it seemed more like the remnants of an old channel instead of just an outlet for excess water; it also didn’t seem like the river floods were supplying water to it anymore. I followed this for a few more miles and then set up camp just beyond a spot where a lot of gravel was visible in the banks. While the men were setting up the tents, I rode several miles to the west and found an open ironbark forest covering the area, with plenty of lush grass. This was quite unusual compared to other areas we had passed through. The terrain was also undulating, and from a tree climbed by Yuranigh, it was determined that we were getting closer to the mountains, as he spotted one that bore 77°, as well as a hill to the east, in that direction (or rather at 333°), where he also saw an open landscape. Thermometer at sunrise: 47°; at 4 p.m.: 62°; at 9 P.M.: 57°; average height above sea level: 694 feet.
3RD MAY.—Natives were heard near our camp during the night, and we perceived the smoke of their fires, in the bushes, behind in the morning. Yuranigh went up to them, accompanied by one of the party bearing a green branch, and he prevailed on three of their tribe to come to our tents. One stood amongst the carts and tents, apparently quite absorbed in observation. Intense curiosity in these men had evidently overcome all their fears of such strangers. They were entirely naked, and without any kind of ornament or weapon, offensive or defensive. With steady fixed looks, eyes wide open, and serious intelligent countenances, what passed in their minds was not disguised, as is usual with savages. On the contrary, there was a manly openness of countenance, and a look of good sense about them, which would have gained my full confidence, could we but have understood each other. They asked for nothing, nor did they show any covetousness, although surrounded by articles, the smallest of which might have been of use to them. There must be an original vein of mind in these aboriginal men of the land. O that philosophy or philanthropy could but find it out and work it! Yuranigh plied them with all my questions, but to little purpose; for although he could understand their language, he complained that they did not answer him in it, but repeated, like parrots, whatever he said to them. In the same manner, they followed me with a very exact repetition of English words. He, however, gathered from them that the lake was called "Turànimga," this river "Cogoon," a hill to the eastward "Toolumbà," etc. They had never before seen white men, and behaved as properly as it was possible for men in their situation to do. At length we set out on our journey, and in mounting my horse, which seemed very much to astonish them, I made signs that we were going to the mountains.
3RD MAY.—We heard locals near our camp during the night, and in the morning, we saw the smoke from their fires in the bushes behind us. Yuranigh approached them, accompanied by one of our group holding a green branch, and convinced three members of their tribe to visit our tents. One of them stood among the carts and tents, seemingly absorbed in watching us. Their intense curiosity clearly outweighed any fear of strangers. They were completely naked and had no ornaments or weapons, either offensive or defensive. With steady gazes, wide-open eyes, and serious, thoughtful expressions, their thoughts were not hidden, unlike what is typical with savages. Instead, there was a manly openness and a sensible demeanor that would have fully earned my trust if only we could understand each other. They asked for nothing and showed no greed, even though they were surrounded by items that could have been useful to them. There must be a unique mindset among these Indigenous people. Oh, if only philosophy or philanthropy could uncover and leverage it! Yuranigh asked them all my questions, but it was of little use; he understood their language but complained they just repeated his words back to him like parrots. Similarly, they mimicked my English words very accurately. However, he did manage to learn that the lake was called "Turànimga," this river "Cogoon," and a hill to the east was "Toolumbà," etc. They had never seen white men before and behaved as appropriately as possible given their circumstances. Eventually, we set off on our journey, and when I got on my horse, which seemed to surprise them, I gestured that we were going to the mountains.
Travelling by the river bank was easy, over grassy forest land. The deep ponds were tolerably well filled, but the quantity of water was small, in comparison with that in the Balonne; which the natives seemed to say we had left to the right, and that this was "one of its brothers." Malga scrub crowned the bergs of the river, where they bounded one of these forest flats forming its margin, and the mere sight of that impervious sort of scrub was sufficient to banish all thoughts of making straighter cuts to the north-west. Our course, with the river, was, however, now rather to the west of north-west; and that this was but a tributary to the Balonne, was evident. That river line, as traced by us, pursued a tolerably straight direction between the parallels of 29° and 27°, coming round from nearly north-east to about north. For these last three days we had travelled with this minor channel, to the westward of north-west; in which direction I had, therefore, good reason to expect that we should soon find mountains.
Traveling along the riverbank was easy, across grassy forest land. The deep ponds were fairly full, but the amount of water was small compared to the Balonne, which the locals seemed to indicate we had left to the right, and that this was "one of its brothers." Malga scrub topped the hills by the river where they met one of these forest flats, and just seeing that thick scrub was enough to make us forget about taking a shorter route to the northwest. Our path along the river was now leaning a bit more towards the west of northwest; it was clear that this was just a tributary of the Balonne. The river we followed moved in a fairly straight line between the latitudes of 29° and 27°, coming around from nearly northeast to about north. Over the last three days, we navigated this smaller channel in a westward direction of northwest, and I had good reason to believe we would soon find mountains.
As soon as we arrived at an eligible spot for the camp, I proceeded, with Yuranigh, towards a height presenting a rocky face, which I saw through the trees, and seemed distant about two miles. From that crest, I perceived woody ridges on all sides, but all apparently sloping from the south-west; and a misty valley beyond the nearest of them in the northeast, like the line of the Balonne. But the most interesting sight to me then, was that of blue pics at a great distance to the north-west, the object of all my dreams of discovery for years. No white man had before seen these. There we might hope to find the DIVISA AQUARUM, still undiscovered; the pass to Carpentaria, still unexplored: I called this hill Mount First View, and descended, delighted with what I had seen from its rocky crest. The sides were covered with Malga scrub. The rock was felspathic, apparently allied to those already seen in the Balonne. Lat. 27° 2' 57" S. Thermometer, at sunrise, 45°; at 4 p.m., 68°; at 9 p.m., 45°;—with wet bulb, 43°.
As soon as we reached a suitable campsite, I went with Yuranigh toward a rocky hill I spotted through the trees, which seemed about two miles away. From that peak, I could see wooded ridges all around, all sloping down from the southwest, and a misty valley beyond the closest one to the northeast, resembling the line of the Balonne. But what fascinated me the most was the sight of blue peaks far off to the northwest, the goal of my dreams of discovery for years. No white man had seen these before. We might find the DIVISA AQUARUM, still undiscovered, and the route to Carpentaria, still unexplored. I named this hill Mount First View and happily descended from its rocky summit, thrilled by what I had seen. The sides were covered with Malga scrub. The rock was felspathic, seemingly related to those already seen in the Balonne. Lat. 27° 2' 57" S. Thermometer, at sunrise, 45°; at 4 p.m., 68°; at 9 p.m., 45°;—with wet bulb, 43°.
4TH MAY.—An Australian morning is always charming,—amid these scenes of primaeval nature it seemed exquisitely so. The BARITA? or GYMNORHINA, the organ-magpie, was here represented by a much smaller bird, whose notes, resembling the softest breathings of a flute, were the only sounds that met the ear. What the stillness of even adds to such sounds in other climes, is felt more intensely in the stillness of morning in this. "The rapture of repose that's there" gratifies every sense; the perfume of the shrubs, of those even that have recently been burnt, and the tints and tones of the landscape, accord with the soft sounds. The light red tints of the ANTHISTIRIA, the brilliant green of the MIMOSA, the white stems of the EUCALYPTUS, and the deep grey shadows of early morning, still slumbering about the woods, are blended and contrasted in the most pleasing harmony. The forms in the soft landscape are equally fine, from the wild fantastic tufting of the Eucalyptus, and its delicate willow-like ever-drooping leaf, to the prostrate trunks of ancient trees, the mighty ruins of the vegetable world. Instead of autumnal tints, there is a perpetual blending of the richest hues of autumn with the most brilliant verdure of spring; while the sun's welcome rays in a winter morning, and the cool breath of the woods in a summer morning, are equally grateful concomitants of such scenes. These attach even the savage to his woods, and might well reclaim the man of crime from thoughts likely to disturb the harmony of human existence.
4TH MAY.—An Australian morning is always beautiful, and among these ancient landscapes, it felt especially so. The BARITA or GYMNORHINA, known as the organ-magpie, was represented by a much smaller bird, whose notes, sounding like the softest whispers of a flute, were the only sounds in the air. The stillness of the morning amplifies such sounds more intensely than the calm of evening does elsewhere. "The rapture of repose that's there" delights every sense; the fragrance of the shrubs, even those recently burned, and the colors and tones of the landscape blend harmoniously with the gentle sounds. The light red hues of the ANTHISTIRIA, the vibrant green of the MIMOSA, the white trunks of the EUCALYPTUS, and the deep grey shadows of early morning still lingering in the woods combine in the most pleasing way. The shapes in the gentle landscape are equally lovely, from the wild, whimsical tufting of the Eucalyptus and its delicate, willow-like drooping leaves to the fallen trunks of ancient trees, the mighty remnants of the plant world. Instead of autumn colors, there's a constant mix of the richest autumn shades with the brightest spring greenery; while the warm sunshine on a winter morning and the cool breeze of the woods on a summer morning are equally pleasant companions in these scenes. These natural wonders even draw the savage to his woods and could easily redeem a wrongdoer from thoughts that might disrupt the peace of human life.
Following up the little river with more confidence now, since I had seen whence it came, I proceeded more directly north-west. Thus I found myself on a small creek, or chain of ponds, from the west and southwest, so that I crossed it and made for some open ground, between ridges clothed with dense Malga scrub. We thus crossed a low ridge, and descended towards a fine open country, on which pigeons were numerous, and traces of natives. It was also sloping to the northward, and I had no doubt that we had passed into a valley which I had observed yesterday from Mount First View, and had supposed it contained a larger river. In the open ground, I found a small rocky knoll which I named Mount Minute. From its summit, I recognised Mount First-Sight, bearing 128° 30'. We next passed through some scrub, and came to a hollow full of Acacia pendula. Following this down we arrived at a chain of ponds, and these led to an open grassy valley, in which we found our old friend, the river, still pursuing, steadily, a north-west course. Travelling along the bank, for a mile or two, we found that these now consisted of fine open forest flats; and at length encamped on the margin, after a journey of about twelve miles. Near our camp, I saw natives on the opposite bank, first standing in mute astonishment, then running away. I held up a green bough, but they seemed very wild; and, although occasionally seen during the afternoon, none of them would approach us. We found on the banks of this river, a purple-flowered CALANDRINIA, previously unknown.[*] Lat. 26° 57' 39" S. Thermometer, at sunrise, 25°; at 4 p.m., 70°; at 9, 37°;—with wet bulb, 34°.
Following the little river with more confidence now that I had seen where it came from, I headed more directly northwest. This led me to a small creek, or a series of ponds, coming from the west and southwest. I crossed it and aimed for some open ground between ridges filled with dense Malga scrub. We crossed a low ridge and descended into a beautiful open area, where pigeons were abundant and signs of native inhabitants were visible. The land sloped to the north, and I was sure we had entered a valley that I had seen yesterday from Mount First View, which I thought contained a larger river. In the open ground, I discovered a small rocky hill that I named Mount Minute. From its peak, I recognized Mount First-Sight, positioned at 128° 30'. After that, we went through some scrub and reached a hollow full of Acacia pendula. Following it down, we arrived at a series of ponds, which led us to an open grassy valley, where we found our old friend, the river, still flowing steadily northwest. Traveling along the bank for a mile or two, we noticed that the area now consisted of fine open forest flats, and eventually, we set up camp at the edge after a journey of about twelve miles. Near our camp, I spotted some natives on the opposite bank, who initially stood in silent amazement before running away. I held up a green branch, but they seemed very afraid; although I occasionally saw them in the afternoon, none of them came close to us. On the banks of this river, we found a purple-flowered CALANDRINIA that was previously unknown. Lat. 26° 57' 39" S. Thermometer, at sunrise, 25°; at 4 p.m., 70°; at 9, 37°;—with wet bulb, 34°.
[* C. BALONENSIS (Lindl. MS.); foliis angustis obovato-lanceolatis alternis oppositisque, racemis secundis multifloris caulibus multo longioribus, floribus (conspicuis) polyandris.]
[* C. BALONENSIS (Lindl. MS.); with narrow, obovate-lanceolate leaves that are alternately and oppositely arranged, with much longer racemes that are densely flowered, and conspicuous polyandrous flowers.]
5TH MAY.—The three last nights had been cold, each, in succession, colder than the former. This morning the thermometer stood at 19° E., yet the water was not frozen, nor did our natives, sleeping in the open air, seem to feel it. Hence, it was obvious that, in a dry atmosphere, extreme cold can be more easily borne than in one that is moist. So, also, in the opposite extreme of heat and drought, we had been so accustomed to a higher temperature than 100° F., that any degree under that felt refreshing. Our journey this day by the side of the little river was still very straight towards the N. W. We met with rocks at the westerly bends; from which side it was also joined by a small tributary, with ponds and hollows containing marks of flood, and beds of the POLYGONUM ACRE. Still, however, the main channel could be distinguished from these, and the open forest flats along its banks became more and more extensive and open as we ascended this channel,—leading so directly where we wished to go.
5TH MAY.—The last three nights were chilly, each one colder than the last. This morning the thermometer read 19° E., yet the water wasn’t frozen, and our locals, who were sleeping outdoors, didn’t seem affected by the cold. This clearly showed that in a dry atmosphere, extreme cold is more tolerable than in a humid one. Similarly, during hotter and drier weather, we had gotten used to temperatures above 100° F., so anything below that felt refreshing. Our journey today along the small river continued straight towards the N.W. We encountered rocks at the western bends; it was also joined by a small tributary, with ponds and depressions showing signs of flooding and areas of POLYGONUM ACRE. Still, the main channel was distinguishable from these, and the open forest areas along its banks became wider and more open as we moved up this channel, guiding us directly to our destination.
Hills were occasionally seen back from it, chiefly covered with scrub, but some were grassy and seemed fit for sheep. Others were clothed with callitris, and there the woods were open enough to be travelled through. I rode to the summit of one and recognized two of the points seen from Mount First Sight. At one sharp turn of the river rugged rocks had to be removed to make a way for the carts, but this was soon done. Beyond, there was a noble reach of water in a rocky bed, traversed by a dyke of felspathic rock, which exhibited a tendency to break into irregular polygons, some of the faces of which were curved; its strike was E. and W. We encamped on open forest land in lat. 26° 54' 16" S. It was only during the last two days that I could perceive in the barometer, any indication that we were rising to any higher level above the sea than that of the great basin, in which we had journeyed so long, and the difference was still but trifling, as indicated by not more than six or seven millimetres of the Syphon barometer; our actual height above the sea being 737 feet. Thermometer, at sunrise, 19°; at 4 p.m., 67°.
Hills occasionally appeared in the distance, mostly covered in brush, but some were grassy and seemed suitable for sheep. Others were covered with callitris trees, and there the woods were open enough to travel through. I rode to the top of one and recognized two of the landmarks seen from Mount First Sight. At one sharp bend in the river, rugged rocks had to be cleared to make way for the carts, but this was quickly done. Beyond that, there was a beautiful stretch of water in a rocky bed, crossed by a dyke of feldspathic rock that tended to break into irregular polygons, some of which had curved faces; its direction was east to west. We set up camp on open forest land at latitude 26° 54' 16" S. It was only during the last two days that I could see in the barometer any sign that we were gaining elevation above sea level compared to the vast basin we had traveled through for so long, and the difference was still minimal, indicated by no more than six or seven millimeters on the siphon barometer; our actual height above sea level was 737 feet. The thermometer read 19° at sunrise and 67° at 4 p.m.
6TH MAY.—The banks of the Cogoon became more open, and the slopes less abrupt as we advanced. They frequently consisted of a mixture of sand, at a height of twenty feet above its bed; where it occupied a section of considerable width, as much, perhaps, as 100 yards between bank and bank. On these rounded off banks or bergs of forest land, Youranigh drew my attention to large, old, waterworn, trunks of trees, which he showed me had been deposited there by floods. As they were of a growth and size quite disproportioned to other trees there, I was convinced that they were the debris of floods; and, consequently, that a vast body of water sometimes came down this channel. This native was taciturn and observant of such natural circumstances, to a degree that made his opinion of value in doubtful cases. Such, for instance, as which of two channels, that might come both in our way, might be the main one; thus my last resource, when almost "in a fix," was to "tomar el parecer," as they say in Spain, of this aboriginal, and he was seldom wrong. At length, the cheering expanse of an open country appeared before us, and a finely shaped hill, half-covered only, with bushes. On reaching an elevated clear part, I saw extensive downs before me. The river turned amongst woods to the eastward, and I continued on our route to the north, sure of meeting with it again, as some fine forest ridges hemmed in the valley to the eastward. Besides the hill already mentioned (which I named Mount Inviting), there was a curious red cone some miles to the westward, crowned with a bit of rock, on which I longed to plant my theodolite. After crossing the plain, we entered an open scrub of Acacia pendula which gradually changed to an open forest, within which I met with a chain of ponds, and encamped in lat. 26° 46' S. I immediately set out, with a man carrying my theodolite, for Mount Red Cap, distant from our camp about six miles. This little red cone had a very singular appearance, as we approached it from the east. A dark tinted scrub of flat-topped trees enveloped its base, on the outside of which the light and graceful Acacia pendula also grew on the grassy plain. I found the red rock to be the common one of the country, in a state of decomposition. It was hollowed out by some burrowing animal, whose tracks had opened ways through the thick thorny scrub, enabling us to lead our horses to near the top. From the apex, I obtained an extensive view of the country then before us, in many parts clear of wood to the verge of the horizon, and finely studded with isolated hills of picturesque form, and patches of wood. Looking backward, or in the direction whence we had come, our valley appeared hemmed in by more continuous ridges; and, towards the extremity of them, I could just recognise Mount First View, this being one of the distant cones I had seen from it. I took as many angles as the descending sun permitted, and then retraced our horses' tracks to the camp. Thermometer, at sunrise, 20°; at 9 p.m., 47°. Height above the sea, 747 feet.
6TH MAY.—As we moved forward, the banks of the Cogoon became wider and the slopes less steep. They were often made up of a mix of sand, about twenty feet above the riverbed, occupying a significant width—perhaps as much as 100 yards from bank to bank. On these rounded banks or hillocks of forest land, Youranigh pointed out large, old, water-worn tree trunks, which he explained had been left there by floods. Their size and growth were noticeably larger than other trees in the area, convincing me that they were remnants from flooding and indicating that a large volume of water occasionally flowed through this channel. This native was quiet yet observant of natural details, making his insights valuable in uncertain situations. For instance, when faced with two potential paths, I often relied on his judgment to determine which was the main one; he was rarely mistaken. Eventually, an encouraging stretch of open country came into view, featuring a well-shaped hill that was only partially covered in bushes. Upon reaching a clear, elevated spot, I saw expansive plains before me. The river curved through woods to the east, while I continued on our northern route, confident I would encounter it again, with impressive forested ridges containing the valley to the east. Besides the previously mentioned hill, which I named Mount Inviting, there was a striking red cone a few miles to the west, topped with a bit of rock where I longed to set up my theodolite. After crossing the plain, we entered an open scrub area of Acacia pendula that gradually transitioned into an open forest containing a chain of ponds, where we set up camp at lat. 26° 46' S. I quickly set out, with a companion carrying my theodolite, towards Mount Red Cap, about six miles from our camp. As we approached from the east, this small red cone had a distinctly unusual look. A dark scrub of flat-topped trees surrounded its base, while the light and elegant Acacia pendula grew on the grassy plain outside. I discovered that the red rock was a common type in the region, breaking down over time. It had been tunneled by a burrowing creature, whose paths through the thick, thorny scrub allowed us to lead our horses near the top. From the summit, I got a vast view of the landscape ahead of us, much of which was free of trees, dotted with isolated hills of picturesque shapes and patches of woods. Looking back, the valley we came from appeared enclosed by more continuous ridges, and I could barely make out Mount First View at the far end—one of the distant cones I had seen from there. I took as many angles as the setting sun would allow and then retraced our horses' steps back to camp. The thermometer read 20° at sunrise and 47° at 9 p.m. The height above sea level was 747 feet.
7TH MAY.—Pursuing a N. W. course, we crossed a fine tract of open forest, then a plain, beyond which we entered a scrub of Acacia pendula, in which pigeons and quail were very numerous. Turning northward, now anxious again to see the river, on approaching this open country, we found what we considered the highest branch of it, in a chain of ponds skirting the wood bounding the plains. Halting the party, I continued my ride a mile and a half further northward, to the summit of a clear ridge. From thence I saw an open country to the northward, with some little wood. On my right, or to the eastward, a double topped hill sate in the centre of this fine open country, and from the abundance of good pasturage around it, I named it Mount Abundance. We continued still to follow the now attenuated channel upwards, and found it to come from the west, and even south-west, leaving the extreme corner of the open downs, and leading us into a scrub. There, it formed two branches, in neither of which could we find any water, and had consequently to return to the last of its ponds, situated exactly at the close of the open country towards the S. W. There, we encamped in latitude 26° 42' 27" S., thankful that we had been enabled by its means to advance thus far, and to discover so fine a tract of country as that watered by it. Thermometer, at sunrise, 48°; at 4 p.m., 68°; at 9, 30°.
7TH MAY.—Heading northwest, we crossed a beautiful stretch of open forest, then a plain, before entering a scrub of Acacia pendula, where we saw plenty of pigeons and quail. Turning north again, eager to catch sight of the river, we approached this open land and found what we believed was the highest branch of it, a series of ponds lining the edge of the woods bordering the plains. I stopped the group and rode another mile and a half north to the top of a clear ridge. From there, I could see open land to the north with a few small woods. To my right, or to the east, a double-topped hill sat in the middle of this lovely open area, and because of the lush pastures surrounding it, I named it Mount Abundance. We continued to follow the now thin channel upward, discovering it came from the west and even southwest, skirting the farthest corner of the open downs and leading us into a scrub. There, it split into two branches, but we couldn't find any water in either, so we had to go back to the last pond, located right at the end of the open land towards the southwest. We set up camp there at latitude 26° 42' 27" S., grateful that we had made it this far and uncovered such a beautiful area of land that it watered. The thermometer read 48° at sunrise; 68° at 4 p.m.; and 30° at 9.
8TH MAY.—This morning Fahrenheit's thermometer stood at 21° in my tent, a degree of cold I should never have expected to have seen indicated from my own sensations, or from the state of the pond, which was not frozen, neither was there any hoar frost. The sun rose in splendour; pigeons cooed, and birds were as merry as usual in the woods. The business of the day was most exciting; I was to ride over the fine open country to the westward of Mount Abundance, and there look still for a higher branch of the river, or A river; confident that so fine a region could not be deficient in water, but more confident from what I had seen of the range to which we had approached so near. Riding to the N. N. E. in about two hours we came upon the identical river we had so long followed up. It was accompanied, as usual, by the Acacia pendula; had its rounded bergs; reedy water holes; and an open strip along the left bank. Crossing it I rode over towards an elevated part of the open downs, in hopes to obtain a sight of what the country was beyond, but I found that to be impossible, as it seemed boundless. So, turning, I ascended an elevated north-eastern extremity of Mount Abundance, and from it beheld the finest country I had ever seen in a primaeval state. A champaign region, spotted with wood, stretching as far as human vision, or even the telescope, could reach. It was intersected by river lines from the north, distinguishable by columns of smoke. A noble mountain mass arose in the midst of that fine country, and was so elongated in a S. W. and N. E. direction, as to deserve the name of a range.
8TH MAY.—This morning, Fahrenheit's thermometer read 21° in my tent, a level of cold I never would have guessed based on my own feelings or the state of the pond, which wasn’t frozen, and there was no frost. The sun rose brilliantly; pigeons cooed, and the birds were as cheerful as usual in the woods. The day’s activities were quite exciting; I was set to ride across the beautiful open land to the west of Mount Abundance, looking for a higher branch of the river, or A river; confident that such a lovely area must have water, and even more so from what I had observed of the nearby range. Riding northeast for about two hours, we came upon the very river we had been following for so long. It was lined, as always, with the Acacia pendula; had its rounded banks; reedy waterholes; and an open stretch along the left bank. After crossing it, I headed towards an elevated part of the open downs, hoping to see what lay beyond, but that proved impossible, as it seemed endless. So, I turned and climbed an elevated northeast tip of Mount Abundance, from which I saw the most beautiful landscape I had ever encountered in a pristine state. A rolling region, dotted with trees, stretching as far as the eye could see, or even through a telescope. It was crossed by river lines from the north, identifiable by columns of smoke. A majestic mountain mass rose in the center of that splendid area, extended in a southwest and northeast direction, deserving the title of a range.
A three-topped hill appeared far to the north of the above, and to the S. E. of the first described, another mass, also isolated, overlooking that variegated land of wood and plain. To the S. E. of all these, the peaks of a very distant range were just visible. I determined to name the whole country Fitzroy Downs, and to identify it, I gave the name of the Grafton Range to the fine mass in the midst of it. In hopes of obtaining an elevated view over the country to the westward, I endeavoured to ascend the northern summit of Mount Abundance, but although the surface to near the top was tolerably smooth, and the bush open, I was met there by rugged rocks, and a scrub of thorny bushes so formidable as to tear leathern overalls, and even my nose. After various attempts, I found I was working round a rocky hollow, somewhat resembling a crater, although the rock did not appear to be volcanic. The trees and bushes there were different from others in the immediate vicinity, and, to me, seemed chiefly new. It is, indeed, rather a curious circumstance, but by no means uncommon, that the vegetation on such isolated summits in Australia, is peculiar and different from that of the country around them. Trees of a very droll form chiefly drew my attention here. The trunk bulged out in the middle like a barrel, to nearly twice the diameter at the ground, or of that at the first springing of the branches above. These were small in proportion to their great girth, and the whole tree looked very odd. These trees were all so alike in general form that I was convinced this was their character, and not a LUSUS NATUROE. [A still more remarkable specimen of this tree was found by Mr. Kennedy in the apex of a basaltic peak, in the kind of gap of the range through which we passed on the 15th of May, and of which he made the accompanying drawing.]
A three-peaked hill appeared far to the north of the area mentioned above, and to the southeast of the first one described, there was another isolated mass overlooking the diverse land of woods and plains. To the southeast of all these features, the peaks of a very distant mountain range were barely visible. I decided to name the entire region Fitzroy Downs, and to identify it, I designated the large mass in the middle as the Grafton Range. Hoping for a better view of the area to the west, I tried to climb the northern summit of Mount Abundance, but despite the fairly smooth surface near the top and the open bush, I encountered rugged rocks and dense thorny scrub that was tough enough to tear my leather pants and even scratch my nose. After several attempts, I realized I was circling around a rocky hollow that somewhat resembled a crater, although the rock didn't appear to be volcanic. The trees and bushes there were different from those in the immediate area and seemed mostly new to me. It’s quite interesting, though not uncommon, that the vegetation on such isolated summits in Australia is unique and different from the surrounding landscape. Trees with very unusual shapes particularly caught my eye here. Their trunks bulged in the middle like barrels, nearly double the diameter at the ground compared to where the branches started above. These branches were small relative to their massive girth, making the entire tree look quite strange. These trees all seemed very similar in general form, leading me to believe this was their true character, not an anomaly. [A more remarkable example of this tree was found by Mr. Kennedy at the top of a basalt peak in the gap of the range we passed through on May 15th, and he made the accompanying drawing.]
These trees grew here only in that almost inaccessible, crater-like hollow, which had impeded me in my attempt to reach the summit.[*] Leaving the horses, however, I scrambled through the briars and up the rocks to the summit, but found it, after all this trouble, too thickly covered with scrub to afford me the desired view to the westward, even after I had ascended a tree on the edge of the broad and level plateau, so thickly covered with bushes. On returning and descending eastward towards the open country, I found a much more practicable way down than that by which I had ascended. Returning to the valley of the Cogoon, I passed between the two summits, and found a good open passage to the westward between the brigalow. Thermometer, at sunrise, 20°; at noon, 70°; at 4 p.m., 68°; at 9, 30°. Height above the sea 1043 feet.
These trees only grew in that almost inaccessible, crater-like hollow, which had made it hard for me to reach the summit.[*] Leaving the horses behind, I climbed through the thorny bushes and up the rocks to the top, but after all that effort, I found it was too covered with scrub to give me the view I wanted to the west, even after I climbed a tree on the edge of the wide, flat plateau that was also thick with bushes. When I came back down heading east toward the open country, I discovered a much easier way down than the path I took to climb up. As I returned to the Cogoon valley, I went between the two peaks and found a nice clear passage to the west through the brigalow. The thermometer read 20° at sunrise, 70° at noon, 68° at 4 p.m., and 30° at 9. The elevation above sea level was 1043 feet.
[* This remarkable plant constitutes a new and very curious genus of Sterculiads. It agrees with STERCULIA in the position of the radicle with respect to the hilum, but it is, otherwise, a BRACHYCHITON, with which it more especially corresponds in the singular condition of the seeds. These are placed, six together, in the interior of long-stalked, ovate, mucronate, smooth, deep brown follicles, of a tough papery texture, and lined with a thin fur of stellate hairs. The seeds themselves are also closely covered with starry hairs, which are so entangled that they hold the seeds together firmly; these hairs, however, are absent from the upper half of the seed, whose thin brittle vascular primine is shining, smooth, and marked with a brown nipple, the remains of the foramen. Within the primine lies the bony crustaceous secundine, which is quite loose, and seems as if it were independent of the primine. Eventually the end of the thin brittle primine breaks like an eggshell and the secundine falls out. The seeds themselves, remaining attached to each other and to the follicle, resemble six deep cells, or may be rather compared to half a dozen brown eggshells, placed on the broad end, from which the young have escaped through the point.
[* This impressive plant represents a new and interesting genus of Sterculiads. It shares similarities with STERCULIA in the positioning of the radicle relative to the hilum, but otherwise, it is a BRACHYCHITON, particularly resembling it in the unique structure of the seeds. These seeds are grouped together in sets of six inside long-stalked, ovate, pointed, smooth, deep brown follicles, which have a tough, papery texture and are lined with a thin layer of star-like hairs. The seeds themselves are also thoroughly covered with these starry hairs, which are so tangled that they keep the seeds tightly together; however, these hairs are absent from the upper half of the seed, where the thin, fragile vascular primine is shiny, smooth, and marked with a brown nipple, which is the remnant of the foramen. Inside the primine is the loose, bony crustaceous secundine, which appears to be separate from the primine. Eventually, the end of the thin, brittle primine breaks like an eggshell, and the secundine falls out. The seeds, which remain connected to each other and to the follicle, resemble six deep cells, or could be more accurately compared to half a dozen brown eggshells placed on their broad ends, from which the young have emerged through the pointed end.
Sir Thomas Mitchell has named the genus after Sir Henry T. De la Beche, as president of a Society which has greatly encouraged him in his Australian researches; and in honour of a science which has occasionally thrown some light on his dark and difficult path. It may be scientifically described as follows:—
Sir Thomas Mitchell named the genus after Sir Henry T. De la Beche, who was the president of a Society that has strongly supported him in his Australian research, and in recognition of a science that has sometimes illuminated his challenging and complex journey. It can be scientifically described as follows:—
DELABECHEA.
DELABECHEA.
CHAR. GEN. CALYX 5-fidus, valvatus. ANTHEROE congestae. STYLI. ... STIGMATA. ... FOLLICULI coriaceo-papyracei, 6-spermi, longè stipitati, intus stellato-pubescentes. SEMINA albuminosa, albumine bipartibili cotyledonibus foliaceis parum adhaerente, pube stellari basi vestita, inter se et fundo folliculi cohaerentia; PRIMINÂ laxâ, tenui, fragili, apice foramine incrassato notatâ, SECUNDINÂ crustaceâ, demum liberâ chalazâ magnâ circulari notatâ. EMBRYONIS radicula hilo contraria.
CHAR. GEN. CALYX 5-fidus, valvatus. ANTHEROE congestae. STYLI. ... STIGMATA. ... FOLLICULI coriaceo-papyracei, 6-spermi, longè stipitati, intus stellato-pubescentes. SEMINA albuminosa, albumine bipartibili cotyledonibus foliaceis parum adhaerente, pube stellari basi vestita, inter se et fundo folliculi cohaerentia; PRIMINÂ laxâ, tenui, fragili, apice foramine incrassato notatâ, SECUNDINÂ crustaceâ, demum liberâ chalazâ magnâ circulari notatâ. EMBRYONIS radicula hilo contraria.
DELABECHEA RUPESTRIS.
DELABECHEA RUPESTRIS.
ARBOR grandis, trunco in dolii speciem tumescente. LIGNUM album, laxum, mucilagine repletum, vasis porosis (bothrenchymate) maximis faciem internam cujusque zonae occupantibus, radiis medullaribus tenuibus equidistantibus. FOLIA lineari-oblonga, acuminata, integerrima, in petiolum filiformem ipsis duplbreviorem insidentia, subtus pallida et quasi vernice quâdam cinereâ obducta. INFLORESCENTIA axillaris, trichotoma, tomentosa, foliis brevior. CALYX valvatus, utrinque tomentosus.
ARBOR grandis, trunk swollen like a barrel. The wood is white, loose, filled with mucilage, occupying the inner surface of each zone with large porous vessels (bothrenchymate) and thin, evenly spaced medullary rays. The leaves are linear-oblong, pointed, completely unblemished, resting on a thread-like petiole that is half the length of the leaves, pale underneath and covered with a sort of grayish varnish. The inflorescence is axillary, branched in threes, and hairy, shorter than the leaves. The calyx is valvate, hairy on both sides.
The wood of the tree has a remarkably loose texture: it is soft, and brittle, owing to the presence of an enormous quantity of very large tubes of pitted tissue, some of which measure a line and half across; they form the whole inner face of each woody zone. When boiling water is poured over shavings of this wood a clear jelly, resembling tragacanth, is formed and becomes a thick viscid mass; iodine stains it brown, but not a trace of starch is indicated in it. No doubt the nutritious quality of the tree is owing to the mucilage, which is apparently of the same nature as that of the nearly allied Tragacanth tree of Sierra Leone (STERCULIA TRAGACANTHA).
The wood of the tree has a surprisingly loose texture: it's soft and brittle, due to the presence of a huge amount of very large tubes of pitted tissue, some of which are about an inch and a half wide; they make up the entire inner surface of each woody layer. When boiling water is poured over shavings of this wood, a clear jelly, similar to tragacanth, forms and turns into a thick, sticky mass; iodine turns it brown, but there's no sign of starch in it. The tree's nutritional value is likely due to the mucilage, which seems to be similar to that of the closely related Tragacanth tree from Sierra Leone (STERCULIA TRAGACANTHA).
It is not a little remarkable that the barrel-like form of the trunk should be almost exactly paralleled by another Sterculiad, the CHORISIA VENTRICOSA of Nees, called by the Brazilian Portuguese PAO BARRIGUDO. It seems, however, that a tendency to a short lumpish mode of growth is common among the order, as is indicated by the Baobab of Senegal, which is almost as broad as it is long, and the great buttress trees, or Silk-Cottons of tropical America. —J. L.]
It’s pretty remarkable that the barrel-like shape of the trunk closely resembles another Sterculia, the CHORISIA VENTRICOSA of Nees, known in Brazilian Portuguese as PAO BARRIGUDO. However, it appears that a trend toward a short, chunky growth form is common in this order, as shown by the Baobab of Senegal, which is nearly as wide as it is long, and the large buttress trees, or Silk-Cotton trees, found in tropical America. —J. L.
9TH MAY.—The thermometer stood at 19° in my tent this morning, yet no ice appeared on the adjacent pool; for this reason, we named that branch of the river Frosty Creek. In order to leave a more direct track for Mr. Kennedy to follow with the drays, I made the carts return about two miles to the spot where we first made these ponds. There I had a trench cut across the track to the camp we had quitted, and also buried a letter for Mr. Kennedy, in which I instructed him to avoid that detour which might have otherwise led him into scrubs. We then prolonged our track from the south, northward across the open downs. I travelled in the direction of the meridian, and most of our route, this morning, marked a due north line. We came, at length, upon a watercourse which I took for our river, as the banks were finely rounded, the ponds full of water, and the woods quite open. The scenery was parklike and most inviting. The watercourse, soon, however, dwindled into a mere chain of ponds, and these at last were found to contain no water, when we had completed our day's journey. Open downs surrounded us, and fortunately I could still distinguish my rocky position of yesterday, where I had noted that the general direction of the river channel we had now again left, bore N. W. We were still much to the southward of the line so observed, apprehending, as I did think then, that some tempting plains might take us too far along some western tributary. Riding in search of water, I perceived a column of smoke to the northward; and, taking the party in that direction, we found, in the first valley we fell in with, a chain of ponds, and in one of these water enough for our use, whereupon I gladly encamped. This day we discovered a new EUCALYPTUS which casts its bark in small angular pieces.[*] Latitude, 26° 33' 34" S. Thermometer, at 4 P. M., 74°; at sunset, 63°. Height above the sea, 1299 feet.
9TH MAY.—The thermometer read 19° in my tent this morning, yet there was no ice on the nearby pool; for this reason, we named that section of the river Frosty Creek. To create a more direct route for Mr. Kennedy to follow with the carts, I had the carts go back about two miles to the location where we first created these ponds. There, I had a trench dug across the path to the camp we had left, and I also buried a letter for Mr. Kennedy, instructing him to avoid a detour that could have led him into dense brush. We then extended our route from the south, heading northward across the open plains. I traveled in a direction toward the north, and most of our journey this morning followed a straight north line. Eventually, we came across a watercourse that I assumed was our river, as the banks were nicely rounded, the ponds were full of water, and the woods were quite open. The landscape was park-like and very inviting. However, the watercourse soon shrank into just a series of ponds, which we later found to be dry by the end of our day’s journey. Open plains surrounded us, and fortunately, I could still recognize the rocky spot from yesterday, where I had noted that the general direction of the river channel we had just left was N.W. We were still quite south of the observed line, as I suspected at the time that some tempting plains might lead us too far along some western tributary. While searching for water, I noticed a column of smoke to the north; and following that direction with the group, we found, in the first valley we came across, a string of ponds, and in one of these, there was enough water for our needs, so I happily set up camp. Today, we discovered a new EUCALYPTUS that sheds its bark in small angular pieces.[*] Latitude, 26° 33' 34" S. Thermometer, at 4 P.M., 74°; at sunset, 63°. Height above sea level, 1299 feet.
[* E. VIMINALIS (Hook. MS.); foliis alternis glaucis lineari-lanceolatis breviter tenuiter petiolatis subfalcatis utrinque acuminatis reticulatovenosis, nervis lateralibus marginem prope, racemis paucifloris axillaribus, calyce turbinato in pedicellum brevem attenuato.]
[* E. VIMINALIS (Hook. MS.); with alternate, bluish, linear-lanceolate leaves that are short, slender, petiolate, somewhat falcate, and pointed at both ends, having a net-like vein structure and lateral veins close to the margin, in few-flowered axillary racemes, with a turbinate calyx that tapers into a short pedicel.]
10TH MAY.—Continued nearly northwards, over fine open forest land. The sprinkling of mountains of peculiar forms here and there, and the open country, which showed a bluey distance, were new features in the scenery, and most pleasing to us, so long accustomed to travel through a level woody country. The visible possibility of overlooking the country from any eminence, is refreshing at all times, but to an explorer it is every thing; besides he is not half so much in danger of wanting water, when in the neighbourhood of mountains: with these sentiments I went forward this morning, even although rather despairing of seeing more of our friendly river. We crossed two chains of dry ponds, apparently some of its highest sources. Still I travelled steadily towards a fine mountain before us, over open downs, but with scrubs on either side. Reaching a dry bushy hill S. E. of the mountains, about the time we should have encamped, I perceived that the country sloped most to the eastern side of it, which was rather out of my course; for the sake of finding water more readily I got into a water-course falling that way, and followed it down. This, opening soon into grassy flats, enabled us to avoid the scrubs. The welcome white-trunked Eucalyptus next over-hung the holes of the water-course, and the valleys spread into beautiful open plains, gracefully fringed with Acacia pendula. Still, the ponds were dry. I crossed a bare grassy eminence, and, where several channels met, I saw luxuriant white trunks; heard and saw many cockatoos of the same colour (PSITTACUS GALERITUS); and found there an abundant pond of water, beside which we encamped. On some of the Eucalyptus trees grew a beautiful Loranthus, which was new to us; it proved to be one formerly discovered by the indefatigable Allan Cunningham, but only now described by Sir William Hooker.[*] Thermometer, at sunrise, 28°; at 4 P. M., 76°; at 9, 38°;—with wet bulb, 34°.
10TH MAY.—We continued heading nearly north over beautiful open forest land. The scattered mountains with unique shapes and the open landscape, which appeared to fade into a bluish distance, were new and pleasing features in the scenery, especially since we were so used to traveling through flat, wooded areas. Being able to see far from any high point is always refreshing, but for an explorer, it’s everything; plus, you're much less likely to run out of water when you're near mountains. With these thoughts in mind, I pressed on this morning, even though I felt a bit hopeless about seeing more of our friendly river. We crossed two chains of dry ponds, which seemed to be some of its highest sources. I kept moving toward a nice mountain in front of us, across open downs, while scrubs bordered us on either side. When I reached a dry, bushy hill southeast of the mountains, around the time we usually would set up camp, I noticed the land sloped more to the eastern side of it, which was somewhat off my path. To find water more easily, I decided to follow a watercourse heading that way. This soon opened up into grassy flats, allowing us to avoid the scrubs. The welcome white-trunked Eucalyptus trees grew over the holes of the watercourse, and the valleys opened into beautiful plains, elegantly lined with Acacia pendula. However, the ponds were still dry. I crossed a bare grassy hill, and where several channels met, I saw lush white trunks; I heard and saw many cockatoos of the same color (PSITTACUS GALERITUS); and I found a large pond of water there, beside which we set up camp. Some of the Eucalyptus trees had a beautiful Loranthus that was new to us; it turned out to be one previously discovered by the tireless Allan Cunningham, but only now described by Sir William Hooker.[*] Thermometer at sunrise: 28°; at 4 P.M.: 76°; at 9: 38°;—with a wet bulb: 34°.
[* L. NUTANS (All. Cunn. in Hook. Herb.) totus incano-glaucescens, foliis oblongis ellipticis sublanceolatis obtusis coriaceis obscure trinerviis tenui-rubro-marginatis basi in petiolum mediocrem attenuatis, pedunculis axillaribus longitudine petiolorum racemosis compositis, floribus ternis nutantibus, calycibus globoso-campanulatis ore contracto, petalis linearibus.—Two varieties, a narrow-leaved and a broad-leaved, were subsequently discovered; that now described was the narrow-leaved form.]
[* L. NUTANS (All. Cunn. in Hook. Herb.) is entirely a grayish-blue color, with long, elliptical, slightly lance-shaped, blunt, thick leaves that are darkly three-veined and have thin red margins, gradually narrowing to a medium petiole at the base. The flowers grow in clusters from the axils, about the same length as the petioles, and are drooping, with three flowers per cluster. The calyx is globular-bell-shaped with a contracted mouth, and the petals are linear. — Two varieties were later found: a narrow-leaved and a broad-leaved one; what’s described here is the narrow-leaved form.]
11TH MAY.—I ascended the mountain accompanied by two men with axes, and one carrying my theodolite. The summit was covered with thick scrub interlaced with vines, but my horse could push his way almost any where. I fortunately found a rock near the summit, and, on throwing down a few of the trees about it, obtained an extensive view over the country to the northward. Open downs surrounded the mountain. Beyond these, valleys, also clear of trees, or thinly wooded, fell on one side to the S. E., on another side, other valleys fell to the N. W., leaving a rather elevated tract between; which appeared to connect this mountain with a range just dimly visible, bearing nearly north. The valley descending towards the N. W., seemed to me to be the head of a river likely to pass through a remarkable gap in a flat range, beyond which the view did not extend. To the westward a woody, and rather level country appeared, from which I thought I saw ridges, with plains or downs between them, descending towards the N. W. river.
11TH MAY.—I climbed the mountain with two guys carrying axes and one with my theodolite. The top was covered in thick bushes tangled with vines, but my horse could navigate almost anywhere. Luckily, I found a rock near the summit, and after clearing away some of the trees around it, I got a wide view of the land to the north. The mountain was surrounded by open grasslands. Beyond those, valleys that were either treeless or sparsely wooded dropped off, one to the southeast and another to the northwest, leaving a higher area in between that seemed to connect this mountain with a range that was barely visible to the north. The valley going down towards the northwest looked like the source of a river that probably flowed through a notable gap in a flat range, beyond which I couldn't see. To the west, I saw a wooded and relatively flat area, from which I thought I could make out ridges with plains or grasslands in between, heading towards the northwest river.
Anxious to discover the division of the waters, I carefully levelled my theodolite and swept the northern horizon, but found, to my surprise, that the country to the westward was lower than the hill on which I stood, and that the ridge northward with the gap in it, was lower still, the only greater elevation visible being the lofty mass bearing about due north. Could this be all the obstruction I was prepared to open a pass through? Could the hidden mystery of the division between the northern and southern waters be here? Far in the east, a river line was evident from columns of smoke, as well as from the termination of various lateral ranges, between my position and the great mountain to the northward. That was, probably, still the Balonne falling southward. Here I had found an interior river that would, at all events, lead north-west, and this I resolved to follow. On this mountain there grew, in several spots, the remarkable trees I had first seen on Mount Abundance; some of them much resembling bottles, but tapering near the root. On descending and returning to the camp, which was about five miles from the hill, I found eight natives, who had come frankly forward to the party during my absence. I was very glad to see them, and gave to an old man, a tomahawk to express my sentiments, and welcome the strangers, for little could be understood by our native, of their speech, or by them, of his. We did, however, make out from them, that the hill I had just returned from, was "Bindango;" its lesser brother to the westward of it, Bindyègo; and the ponds or creek beside which we were then encamped, "Tagàndo;" all very good sonorous names, which I was glad to adopt at once in my notes and map. These natives were coloured with iron-ochre, and had a few feathers of the white cockatoo, in the black hair of their foreheads and beards. These simple decorations gave them a splendid holiday appearance, as savages. The trio who had visited us some days before, were all thoughtful observation; these were merry as larks, and their white teeth, constantly visible, shone whiter than even the cockatoo's feathers on their brows and chins. Contrasted with our woollen-jacketted, straw-hatted, great-coated race, full of work and care, it seemed as if nature was pleased to join in the laugh, at the expense of the sons of art. Sun never shone upon a merrier group of mortals than these children of nature appeared to be. One amongst them was a fine powerful fellow, whose voice sounded so strongly, that it seemed as if his very whisper might be heard half a mile off. The old man remained by our fire all night; the others who, as I understood, were all his sons, had departed about 11 p.m., having left their gins in the vicinity. Thermometer, at sunrise, 22°; at noon, 76°; at 4 p.m., 59°; at 9, 35°.
Eager to find out how the waters were divided, I carefully leveled my theodolite and scanned the northern horizon. To my surprise, I found that the land to the west was lower than the hill I was on, and the ridge to the north, with a gap in it, was even lower. The only higher ground I could see was a tall mass directly north. Could this be the only obstacle I was meant to create a pass through? Could the secret of the division between the northern and southern waters be right here? Far to the east, a river was visible from columns of smoke and the ends of various lateral ranges between where I was and the great mountain to the north. That was probably still the Balonne running south. Here I had discovered an internal river that would lead northwest, and I decided to follow it. On this mountain, there were several noteworthy trees that resembled those I first saw on Mount Abundance, some looking much like bottles, but narrowing near the base. When I descended and returned to the camp, about five miles from the hill, I found eight natives who had approached the group while I was away. I was pleased to see them and gave an old man a tomahawk to show my appreciation and welcome the newcomers, as our native didn’t understand their language, nor they his. We were able to communicate that the hill I had just come from was "Bindango;" the smaller hill to the west was "Bindyègo;" and the ponds or creek where we were camping were called "Tagàndo;" all beautiful names that I quickly added to my notes and map. These natives were painted with iron-ochre and had a few white cockatoo feathers in their black hair on their foreheads and beards. These simple decorations gave them a striking festive look. The three who had visited us days before were more serious; these ones were very cheerful, and their bright white smiles shone even brighter than the cockatoo feathers on their brows and chins. Compared to our wool-jacketed, straw-hatted, coat-wearing group, busy with work and worries, it seemed like nature was sharing in the laughter at the expense of the civilized. The sun had never shone on a happier group of people than these children of nature appeared to be. One among them was a strong guy whose voice was so loud that even his whispers seemed to carry half a mile away. The old man stayed by our fire all night, while the others, who I understood were all his sons, left around 11 p.m., having left their wives nearby. The thermometer read 22° at sunrise, 76° at noon, 59° at 4 p.m., and 35° at 9 p.m.
12TH MAY.—I took a ride in the direction where I hoped to find a river flowing towards the interior, according to my observations at Mount Bindango. I rode over an open plain, or open forest country, soon found the dells marked by water-courses, and, at length, the channel of a river, with the Yarra trees. Following this new channel downwards a short way, I found the beds of the ponds moist, and seven emus, running from one a-head of me, first indicated the situation of a large pond; from which three wood-ducks also waddled away as I approached it. This water was only fifteen miles from where I had left the party encamped, to which I hastened back with the tidings of a discovery that was likely to expedite so much our momentous journey. Thermometer, at sunrise, 30°; at noon, 81°; at 4 p.m., 59°; at 9, 52°;—with wet bulb, 51°. Height above the sea, 1168 feet.
12TH MAY.—I took a ride in the direction where I hoped to find a river flowing inland, based on my observations at Mount Bindango. I rode across an open plain or forested area, quickly found the dells marked by watercourses, and eventually discovered the channel of a river, lined with Yarra trees. Following this new channel downstream for a short distance, I noticed the beds of ponds were moist, and seven emus, running ahead of me, indicated a large pond's location; three wood-ducks also waddled away as I approached. This water was only fifteen miles from where I had left the group camped, so I hurried back with news of a discovery that could greatly speed up our important journey. The thermometer read 30° at sunrise, 81° at noon, 59° at 4 p.m., and 52° at 9 p.m.—with a wet bulb temperature of 51°. The height above sea level was 1168 feet.
13TH MAY.—I buried a letter here for Mr. Kennedy. This day the party crossed the dividing ground, which I found to be elevated only 1563 feet above the sea, and consisting, as already stated, of fine open grassy downs, sprinkled with Acacia pendula and other shrubs. One or two knolls projected, however, and resembled islands in a sea of grass. I rode to one and found it consisted wholly of trap-rock in nodules. This was the first trap I had seen during the journey beyond the Barwan, and from their aspect I thought that other minor features of the mountains Bindango and Bindyègo, which I had not leisure to examine then, also consisted of this rock. The little knoll I did visit, was about one hundred yards in diameter at its base on the plains, and was covered with trees wholly different from those in the adjacent forest, namely, CALLITRIS PYRAMIDALIS, EUCALYPTUS (Iron-bark species), etc. We next descended to a separate system of drainage, apparently falling to the north-west. Instead of following rivers upwards, as we had hitherto been doing, and finding them grow less, or taking a tributary for a main channel, we were now to follow one downwards, with the prospect of finding it to increase as we proceeded. The relief from the constant apprehension of not falling in with water was great, as each day's journey was likely to show additional tributaries to our new found river, and, of course, to augment the supply. The old native at Tagàndo, had pointed much to the north-west, frequently repeating the word "MARAN;" whether that was, or what was, the name of this river, remained to be ascertained. A sweet breeze from the N. W. met us as we descended the slopes, and thus it was that white men first passed in that direction, "AL NACIMIENTO DE LA ESPECERIA." Thermometer, at sunrise, 26°; at noon, 75°; at 4 p.m., 64°; at 9, 43°. Height of camp above the sea, 1226 feet.
13TH MAY.—I buried a letter here for Mr. Kennedy. Today the group crossed the dividing ground, which I found to be only 1,563 feet above sea level, made up of nice open grassy downs, dotted with Acacia pendula and other shrubs. One or two small hills stood out, looking like islands in a sea of grass. I rode to one and found it entirely made of trap-rock in nodules. This was the first trap I had seen during the journey past the Barwan, and based on their appearance, I thought that other minor features of the mountains Bindango and Bindyègo, which I didn’t have time to examine at the moment, also consisted of this rock. The little hill I visited was about 100 yards in diameter at its base on the plains and was covered with trees completely different from those in the nearby forest, specifically CALLITRIS PYRAMIDALIS, EUCALYPTUS (Iron-bark species), etc. We then descended to a different drainage system, seemingly flowing to the northwest. Instead of moving upstream as we had been doing and finding the rivers getting smaller, or taking a tributary for the main channel, we were now heading downstream, expecting to find the river getting larger as we went. The relief from the constant worry of not finding water was significant, as each day’s journey was likely to reveal more tributaries to our newly discovered river, and, of course, increase the supply. The old native at Tagàndo had pointed a lot to the northwest, often repeating the word "MARAN;" whether that was, or what was, the name of this river still needed to be figured out. A sweet breeze from the N.W. greeted us as we descended the slopes, making it so that white men first passed in that direction, "AL NACIMIENTO DE LA ESPECERIA." Thermometer reading at sunrise: 26°; at noon: 75°; at 4 p.m.: 64°; at 9 p.m.: 43°. Height of the camp above sea level: 1,226 feet.
14TH MAY.—The left bank of the river being rather steep and broken, I crossed it, determined to pursue a N. W. course, so long as I found the country open, thinking I might easily fall in with the river about the time I wished to encamp, believing its course would be towards the gap. We passed through some scrub, but chiefly over good forest land. When we had travelled on about ten miles, I saw hills nearly clear of wood before me, and halted the party while I went forward to look at the country in that direction. I soon overlooked a deep dell, full of the richest grass, and wooded like a park. The fall of the enclosing ranges showed me, however, that our river might be further to the westward than I had thought at all likely. On returning to the party, I found they had been called to by natives in our rear, one of whom was formally seated in advance, prepared for a ceremonious interview; and I accordingly went forward to him with the green bough, and accompanied by Yuranigh. We found him in a profuse perspiration about the chest, (from terror, which was not, however, obvious in his manner,) and that he had nothing at all to say to us after all; indeed his language was wholly unintelligible to my native, who, moreover, apprised me that he was the big bully from the tribe at our former encampment, then distant some twenty-five miles. He handled my hat, asked for my watch, my compass, and was about to examine my pockets, when Yuranigh desired him to desist, in a tone that convinced him we were not quite at his mercy. I thought he said that the river was called the "Amby," and something about the "Culgoa!" It then, for the first time, occurred to me, from a gesture of this man's arm, that this might be only a tributary to the Culgoa after all. We bade him adieu as civilly as we could, but he hung upon our rear for a mile or two, and I perceived that he had brought with him his whole tribe after us. Nothing more unfortunate can befall an explorer, than to be followed by a wild tribe like this, as I had experienced in former journies. The gift of the tomahawk had done all this mischief, and how it would end, was a thought which caused me some anxiety. The tall savage had set his heart upon our goods and chattels, and it was not in human nature for him to desist from his aggressive purpose, if we could not, in some way, contrive to cheek the pursuit. I knew instinctively, by the first sound of a loud whisper of his at "Tagando" at night, near our tents, that there was no music in this man's soul. We soon arrived at a ridge of ferruginous sandstone, whereof the strike tended S. S. W. and the dip was to the eastward. A gradual ascent brought us to the verge of a low ridge, which was steep towards the N. W., and a rocky knoll (of red sand-stone) afforded me a view of the gap I had seen from Bindango, and hills about it. I perceived, with great disappointment, that the structure of the country was not according to my anticipations. The river course seemed marked out by plains far to the south-west, and all the valleys and watercourses fell FROM the gap in that direction, and not TO the gap. Still the country about that opening looked very inviting. Picturesque hills, clothed with grass and open forest, especially on their summits, and dells between them, yellow or red with rich ripe grass, indicated a spot of the finest description; and through the gap lay my destined line of route, to the north-west, river or no river. Just then, however, we wanted water, but on following a little channel about a mile downwards, we found in it a spacious pond, and encamped. I rode three miles further down this channel, which there turned SOUTHWARD, so that I despaired of my newly discovered river Amby being of any further utility now; but I was almost convinced that it would have brought me into this very country, had I come round by Fort Bourke. Latitude 26° 17' 8" S. Thermometer, at sunrise, 35°; at 4 p.m., 80°; at 7 p.m., 71°; at 9, 48°. Height above the sea, 1150 feet.
14TH MAY.—The left bank of the river was pretty steep and rough, so I crossed it, planning to head northwest as long as the land stayed open. I thought I could easily find the river around the time I wanted to set up camp, believing it would flow toward the gap. We moved through some scrub but mostly over good forest land. After traveling about ten miles, I saw hills mostly clear of trees ahead of me, so I paused the group while I went to check out the area in that direction. I quickly spotted a deep valley filled with lush grass and trees, looking like a park. However, the slope of the surrounding ranges made me realize that our river might be further west than I had initially thought. When I returned to the group, I found they were being approached by locals behind us, one of whom was sitting formally in front, ready for a serious conversation. I approached him with a green branch and Yuranigh at my side. He was sweating heavily from fear, although it wasn't obvious in his behavior, and after all that, he didn’t have anything to say to us; his language was completely unintelligible to my native companion, who pointed out that he was the bully from the tribe near our last camp, about twenty-five miles away. He handled my hat, asked for my watch and compass, and was about to check my pockets when Yuranigh told him to stop in a tone that made it clear we weren’t entirely under his control. I thought I heard him mention that the river was called "Amby" and something about the "Culgoa!" It then, for the first time, struck me—based on the way he gestured—that this might just be a tributary of the Culgoa after all. We said goodbye as politely as we could, but he followed us for a mile or two, and I noticed he had brought along his entire tribe. Nothing could be worse for an explorer than being trailed by a wild tribe like this, as I had learned from past journeys. The trouble had started with a gift of a tomahawk, and it made me anxious to think about how it would end. The tall savage had set his sights on our belongings, and it was human nature for him not to back down from his aggressive intentions unless we could somehow put a stop to the chase. I instinctively knew, from hearing a loud whisper from him saying "Tagando" at night near our tents, that this man had no good intentions. We soon reached a ridge of iron-rich sandstone, angled S.S.W. and dipping to the east. A gradual climb took us to a low ridge, steep on the northwest, and a rocky knoll of red sandstone gave me a view of the gap I'd seen from Bindango, along with the hills around it. To my disappointment, the landscape wasn’t what I had expected. The river’s path seemed to stretch marked by plains far to the southwest, and all the valleys and water courses sloped away from the gap in that direction, not toward it. Yet, the area around that opening looked very appealing. Picturesque hills covered in grass and open forest—especially on their peaks—along with valleys between them, golden or reddish with rich ripe grass, suggested a spot of the highest quality; and through the gap lay my planned route north-west, with or without a river. Just then, however, we were in need of water, but after following a small channel for about a mile down, we found a large pond and set up camp there. I rode three miles further down the channel, which then turned south, making me doubtful that my newly discovered river Amby would be of any further use now. Still, I was almost certain it would have brought me into this very area had I come around by Fort Bourke. Latitude 26° 17' 8" S. Thermometer, at sunrise, 35°; at 4 p.m., 80°; at 7 p.m., 71°; at 9, 48°. Height above sea level, 1150 feet.
15TH MAY.—My servant Brown drew my attention, early this morning, to natives occasionally peeping at us from a hill overlooking our camp. Some time after, I perceived a figure resembling a large black quadruped, with head erect like a lion, prowling about, amongst the long grass beside my after breakfast tree. Taking my glass, I recognized the identical big savage of yesterday.
15TH MAY.—My servant Brown pointed out to me early this morning that some locals were occasionally peeking at us from a hill overlooking our camp. After a while, I noticed a figure that looked like a large black animal, with its head held high like a lion, moving around in the tall grass near my post-breakfast tree. Grabbing my binoculars, I identified it as the same big savage from yesterday.
Hamlet might here have exclaimed—
Hamlet might have said—
"What a piece of work is man!
... ..... how infinite in faculties!
In form and action how like a quadruped!
In apprehension, how like a devil!"
"What an incredible creation man is!
... ..... so limitless in abilities!
In shape and behavior, so much like a quadruped!
In understanding, so similar to a devil!"
There the fate of Mr. Darke[*] doubtless awaited me; and this was to be the result of my spontaneous gift of a tomahawk to the old man! This savage had evidently been watching us all night, and his party were concealed behind the hill. Our only remaining little dog, Procyon, had been very restless during the night, when these people were, probably, drinking at the pond near us. My rifle (fortunately I now think) was in the case, but I fired a carbine so that the fellow should hear the bullet whistle near him into the long grass; and at the same time shouted, expressive of my disgust at his conduct, making the men join in a loud JEERING cheer as he galloped off, still on all-fours, towards his camp. My horse was standing saddled for a ride of reconnoissance in a different direction, and, as it was not desirable that these people should know either where I went, or even that I was absent, I took this opportunity of frightening them away from our rear, and covering my ride the other way. With this intention, I immediately mounted, rode first to the tree, with my rifle in hand, and, accompanied by one of the men and Yuranigh, both mounted, I next examined their camp behind the hill, whence I found that a great number had just retired, leaving even their opossums still roasting on the fire;—they having, in a very brief interval, by rapid strides, retired to a considerable distance, where I heard their shouts in the woods, calling their gins together for a precipitate retreat—aware that we were now justly offended. I then set out, passing behind some hills on the opposite side of our camp, and proceeded with the business of the day, through woods in an opposite direction. I found a low flat-topped range, extending nearly W. N. W., and consisting of black ferruginous sandstone. It was broad and of peculiar structure, so that it might well have been considered a dividing feature. Parallel to it on the south, a line of pointed hills of trap or basalt, extended so as to give birth, in the valley intervening, to the watercourse by which we were encamped. On one of these Mr. Kennedy afterwards found the Bottle tree, represented at page 154. I at length reached the gap in this range, and in it discovered a most favourable and curious opening to the country westward. Passing, then, into that region, I eagerly sought a watercourse, soon found one, and followed it down to Yarra trees and dry ponds; its first direction having been, as usually remarked in the commencement of various other channels, to the N. W. Following this downwards, I found the valley to improve, and two retreating emus drew our attention to a particular spot, where we found water, at length, in a pond. But the course of this little river had come round to S. W., and the ridges enclosing its tributaries from the eastward, being apparently in the same direction, I was still rather at a loss, but determined to bring forward my little party to this pond, and then to reconnoitre the country beyond. The XEROTES LEUCOCEPHALA was just coming into flower, and the country seemed to contain much good grass. Thermometer, at sunrise, 38°; at noon, 82°; at 4 p.m., 82°; at 9, 43°.
There, Mr. Darke's fate was certainly waiting for me, all because I spontaneously gave the old man a tomahawk! This savage had clearly been watching us all night, and his group was hidden behind the hill. Our only remaining little dog, Procyon, had been very restless throughout the night, likely while these people were drinking at the pond nearby. Luckily, my rifle was in its case, so I fired a carbine to let the guy hear the bullet whizzing past him into the long grass. At the same time, I shouted out my disgust at his behavior, which made the men join in with a loud mocking cheer as he scrambled off, still on all fours, back to his camp. My horse was saddled and ready for a reconnaissance ride in a different direction, and since it wasn't ideal for these people to know where I was going or even that I was missing, I took this chance to scare them away from our rear while I covered my ride the other way. With this in mind, I quickly got on my horse and rode first to the tree with my rifle in hand. Accompanied by one of the men and Yuranigh, both on horseback, I then checked out their camp behind the hill. I discovered that many had just left, even leaving their opossums roasting on the fire; they had quickly fled to a considerable distance, and I could hear their shouts in the woods calling the women for a hasty retreat—realizing we were justifiably angry. I then headed out, going behind some hills on the opposite side of our camp, and continued with the day's tasks through the woods in the other direction. I found a low flat-topped range stretching nearly W.N.W., made of black ferruginous sandstone. It was broad and uniquely structured, making it a notable feature. South of it, a line of pointed hills of trap or basalt extended, giving rise to the watercourse by which we were camped. Mr. Kennedy later found the Bottle tree on one of these hills, as shown on page 154. Eventually, I reached the gap in this range and discovered a very favorable and interesting opening to the westward. Moving into that area, I eagerly searched for a watercourse, soon found one, and followed it down to Yarra trees and dry ponds; its first direction had been, as often noted at the beginning of various other channels, to the N.W. As I followed it downward, the valley began to improve, and two retreating emus caught our attention to a specific spot where we finally found water in a pond. However, this little river's course had turned to S.W., and the ridges enclosing its tributaries from the east seemed to follow the same direction. I was still somewhat confused but decided to bring my small party to this pond and then scout the area beyond. The XEROTES LEUCOCEPHALA was just starting to bloom, and the land appeared to have plenty of good grass. The thermometer read 38°F at sunrise, 82°F at noon, 82°F at 4 p.m., and 43°F at 9 p.m.
[* This gentleman was killed by natives when obeying the calls of nature behind a tree.]
[* This man was killed by locals while taking a bathroom break behind a tree.]
16TH MAY.—We pursued a tolerably straight and level route with the carts, from the camp to the Pass. The trap hills appearing successively on the right hand, rendered the scenery more than ordinarily picturesque, while the probable future utility of this pass, gave them still more importance in my estimation. We found a more direct route than along the creek, to my pond of yesterday, where we encamped, thankful to find water at such a convenient distance, during such a dry season. Lat. 26° 15' 24" S. Thermometer, at sunrise, 27°; at 4 p.m., 83°; at 9, 49°. Height above the sea, of the Pass, 1458 feet;—of this camp, 1256 feet.
16TH MAY.—We followed a fairly straight and flat path with the carts from the camp to the Pass. The rugged hills appearing on the right made the scenery unusually beautiful, and the potential usefulness of this pass made them even more significant to me. We discovered a more direct route than along the creek to the pond I visited yesterday, where we set up camp, grateful to have water so close by during such a dry season. Latitude 26° 15' 24" S. The thermometer read 27° at sunrise; 83° at 4 p.m.; and 49° at 9 p.m. The elevation of the Pass is 1458 feet; this camp stands at 1256 feet.
17TH MAY.—Another reconnoissance seemed indispensable, before I could move the carts. Taking the direction of an opening in the sandstone ranges before us, I found that our little creek turned (as I hoped it would), to the W. and N. W., having on all sides broken ranges enveloping valleys of good open forest land. Some of the tops of these ranges were clear of timber, and bore a heavy crop of grass. I ascended one, and found it was capped with trap rock in amygdaloidal nodules. This height afforded me an extensive view northward, where the country appeared to be chiefly flat and thinly wooded. A low range of hills broke the horizon, and presented some favourable points, and I thought I could trace the course of our little river, through an extensive intervening woody flat. I descended from the hill, and followed the little river down, but could find no more water in its ponds. There were the Yarra trees, and fine grassy flats on its banks; and I came to a fine looking piece of rising ground, on the right bank, where the grass was on fire. We sought the inhabitants of the woods, but could discover none. I now found our creek turning towards the south, and that its channel disappeared in a spacious open flat. While thus perplexed, and under an apprehension that our further progress northward in such a season would be found impossible, I perceived a dense line of trees, skirting a grassy flat, and rode towards it, observing, that any where else I should have said we were approaching a large river. I next perceived steep sloping earthy banks; then, below these, a deep section of rock, and at length, dark green reeds, and the blue surface of extensive reaches of water. I had left my party at a pond that could not have lasted long,—here I saw at once secure, a firm footing thus far into the interior. Whence the river came, or whither it went, was of less importance; thus far we had water. The river was fully as large as the Darling, and I very soon saw that its course was from N. to S.; but in that case, we could, by following it upwards, penetrate far on our way into the interior, and at its sources probably fall in with other streams, flowing where we wished to go. I followed the course downwards about two miles, and passed through native camps just deserted, the water vessels and other gear of the natives having been left suspended on trees near their fires. I found that the river turned sharp under the rocky extremities of sandstone spurs from the S., and that its final course was an enigma not to be solved without much more research. I returned to my camp, glad that I could take the party forward to a permanent supply of water. Thermometer, at sunrise, 29°; at noon, 78°; at 4 p.m. 75°; at 9, 49°.
17TH MAY.—Another reconnaissance seemed necessary before I could move the carts. Heading towards an opening in the sandstone hills ahead of us, I discovered that our little creek turned (as I hoped it would) to the west and northwest, surrounded on all sides by broken ranges enclosing valleys with good open forest land. Some of the tops of these ranges were free of trees and covered in thick grass. I climbed one and found it topped with trap rock in amygdaloidal nodules. This height gave me a wide view to the north, where the landscape appeared mainly flat and sparsely wooded. A low range of hills broke the horizon, presenting some favorable points, and I thought I could trace the course of our little river through a wide, wooded flat. I came down from the hill and followed the little river downstream but found no more water in its ponds. There were Yarra trees and nice grassy flats along its banks, and I reached a nice piece of elevated land on the right bank, where the grass was on fire. We searched for the inhabitants of the woods but found none. I then noticed our creek turning south, with its channel disappearing into a large open flat. While feeling puzzled and worried that further movement north would be impossible this season, I spotted a dense line of trees bordering a grassy flat and rode towards it, noting that anywhere else I would have said we were nearing a large river. Next, I noticed steep, sloping earthen banks; below these was a deep section of rock, and finally, dark green reeds and the blue surface of expansive stretches of water appeared. I had left my group at a pond that couldn't have lasted long—here I found, at least, a secure footing this far into the interior. Whether the river flowed from or toward somewhere was less important; we had water for now. The river was at least as big as the Darling, and I soon saw that its course ran from north to south; following it upstream could help us venture deeper into the interior and possibly connect with other streams heading where we wanted to go. I followed the course downstream for about two miles and passed through native camps recently vacated, with their water containers and other belongings left hanging on trees near their fires. I noticed that the river bent sharply under the rocky ends of sandstone spurs from the south, leaving its final path a mystery that would require much more investigation. I returned to my camp, happy that I could lead the group to a reliable water supply. Thermometer reading at sunrise: 29°; at noon: 78°; at 4 p.m.: 75°; at 9:00 p.m.: 49°.
18TH MAY.—Leaving a buried letter for Mr. Kennedy we proceeded to trace, with our cart-wheels, the best route I could find for the heavy drays coming forward with him. The soil was sandy, but in other respects the country was good: consisting chiefly of open forest, and being well covered with grass. Another gap enabled me to pass very directly on to the newly-discovered river, and it seemed that this, and the other gap behind it, were almost the only openings in the ranges from which we had descended. Both led in the direction of our route, and the pond we had just left was ascertained to be the only one in the little channel. I sought a good position for a depôt camp on the newly-discovered river, and found one extremely favourable, on a curve concave to the N. W., overlooking, from a high bank, a dry ford, on a smooth rocky bed; and having also access to a reach of water, where the bottom was hard and firm. We approached this position with our carts, in the midst of smoke and flame; the natives having availed themselves of a hot wind to burn as much as they could of the old grass, and a prickly weed which, being removed, would admit the growth of a green crop, on which the kangaroos come to feed, and are then more easily got at. Latitude of this camp, 26° 12' 47" S. Thermometer, at sunrise, 40°; at 4 p.m., 78°; at 9, 57°.
18TH MAY.—After leaving a hidden letter for Mr. Kennedy, we set out to find the best route for the heavy drays coming with him, using the tracks from our cart wheels. The soil was sandy, but overall the area was good, mainly consisting of open forest and abundant grass. Another gap allowed me to head straight to the newly-discovered river, and it seemed that this and the other gap behind it were nearly the only openings in the ranges we had come down. Both openings aligned with our route, and the pond we had just left was confirmed to be the only one in the small channel. I looked for a suitable spot for a depot camp by the newly-discovered river and found an excellent location on a north-western curve, overlooking a dry crossing on a smooth rocky bed, with access to a stretch of water where the bottom was solid and firm. We approached this spot with our carts, surrounded by smoke and fire; the locals had taken advantage of a strong wind to burn as much of the old grass and prickly weeds as they could, allowing for the growth of green crops that attract kangaroos, making them easier to catch. Latitude of this camp: 26° 12' 47" S. Thermometer readings: at sunrise, 40°; at 4 p.m., 78°; at 9 p.m., 57°.
19TH MAY.—I could now venture to halt a day without any apprehensions about leaving sufficient water for the party who were following us; and I had recently obtained many angles I wished to put together, in order to learn the character of the country, which required much study. That I should have overlooked an extensive country, without perceiving any indication of a large river flowing through it, almost at my feet, seemed a singular circumstance, and I was still as little aware of its ultimate course. I found on laying down my work on paper, that the chief elevations ran, in a continuous line, nearly due north from Mount Red Cap, Bindango, and Bindyègo, to the high ranges nearer the coast. That the nascent stream on the western side of Bindango (the Amby), and flowing first N. W., turned towards the S. W. within a range of basaltic rock, which was a branch from the main stem between Bindango and the northern range. Thus, upon the whole, this seemed but one side, and that the south-eastern, of the basin of the river we had discovered. Where was the other? The marks of flood were not high. The waters were full of fish, but they would not take the bait. Thermometer, at sunrise, 46°; at noon, 73°; at 4 p.m., 76°; at 9, 65°.
19TH MAY.—I could now afford to take a day off without worrying about leaving enough water for the group following us; plus, I had recently gathered many angles that I wanted to piece together to understand the landscape, which required a lot of study. It seemed strange that I had overlooked such a vast area without noticing any signs of a large river flowing right beneath me, and I still had no idea of its final path. When I plotted my work on paper, I discovered that the main elevations ran in a continuous line, nearly due north from Mount Red Cap, Bindango, and Bindyègo, to the high ranges closer to the coast. The small stream on the western side of Bindango (the Amby), which initially flowed northwest, turned southwest within a stretch of basalt rock, branching from the main line between Bindango and the northern range. Overall, this appeared to be just one side, specifically the southeastern side, of the river basin we had found. But where was the other side? The flood marks weren’t very high. The waters were teeming with fish, but they wouldn’t bite. Thermometer readings: at sunrise, 46°; at noon, 73°; at 4 p.m., 76°; at 9, 65°.
20TH MAY.—The sky was wholly overcast, and drizzling rain afforded us some grounds for hoping that the great impediment to our exploration during this dry season, was at an end. The temperature underwent a sudden change, and this day was the coldest as yet experienced during the journey; the thermometer at noon being only 48°. F. Yuranigh contrived to catch three fishes, of a kind wholly different from those of the rivers in the south; leaving it doubtful, again, whether this river could belong to the system of the Barwan. Thermometer, at sunrise, 53°; at noon, 48°; at 4 p.m., 45°; at 9, 45°.
20TH MAY.—The sky was completely cloudy, and the light rain gave us some hope that the major barrier to our exploration during this dry season was coming to an end. The temperature dropped suddenly, making this the coldest day we had experienced on the journey so far; the thermometer read only 48°F at noon. Yuranigh managed to catch three fish, which were completely different from those in the rivers to the south, again raising doubt about whether this river was part of the Barwan system. Thermometer: at sunrise, 53°; at noon, 48°; at 4 p.m., 45°; at 9 p.m., 45°.
21ST MAY.—The morning being clear, frosty, and serene, induced me to ride towards an elevated point, about thirteen miles to the north-west, in hopes of obtaining a view of more distant mountains. Crossing the river near our camp I met with no obstruction, but found open forests, and a good grassy country throughout; the soil being, however, rather too loose and sandy, for the easy passage of wheel carriages. I crossed three channels of water-courses all dry, but evidently receptacles of water in ordinary seasons. They now contained a most luxuriant crop of oat-grass (Anthistiria). The hill was rocky and open on the summit, the chief trees being very remarkable; especially a species of FICUS, of a unique kind, but not in fruit, closely resembling the English ash; but growing wholly on rock. Bottle trees (DELABECHEA) grew also in a romantic nook, such as they seem to delight in, in the neighbourhood of minor shrubs, equally strange. The rock consisted of a sandstone with vegetable impressions, such as I had never seen on the sandstone of the ranges. From this summit, the crests of very distant ranges appeared to the northward; the highest bearing nearly north, by compass, and apparently distant 70 or 80 miles. The course of the river, or at least of a river, judging by a line of smoke, came from the north-westward, between that mountain, and others to the westward of it. More to the right, or eastward, the horizon presented flat-topped ranges; increasing in elevation as they receded from that side of the country whence we had come. That sort of level horizon seemed always to bound our view to the southward, the little gap was the only relieving blue break in the whole of that side. The eye ranged over a vast extent of country, however, at its base, extending eastward, where open plains or downs shone bright in the remote distance; in which direction, much smoke arose from fires of the natives. I returned from the hill but little wiser than I went, except that I had observed the strata dipping southward, and that we might, therefore, still look for their synclinal line to the northward; and beyond that, for the heads of other rivers. These hills, overlooking the valley of the river, resembled rocky bergs, at a distance of ten or twelve miles west of it. They, however, partly formed a small range, and belonged to an extensive tract of sandstone country; which, on the south, was broken into gullies, falling towards the river. Thermometer, at sunrise, 27°; at noon, 54°; at 4 p.m., 55°; at 9, 30°.
21ST MAY.—The clear, frosty, and calm morning encouraged me to ride to a high point about thirteen miles northwest, hoping to see more distant mountains. I crossed the river near our camp without any obstacles and found open forests and plenty of good grassland; however, the soil was a bit too loose and sandy for easy travel with wheeled vehicles. I crossed three dry water channels, which clearly held water during normal seasons. They were now filled with a lush crop of oat-grass (Anthistiria). The hill was rocky and had an open summit with some remarkable trees, especially a unique species of FICUS that looked a lot like the English ash but grew entirely on rock and wasn’t bearing fruit. Bottle trees (DELABECHEA) also thrived in a picturesque spot surrounded by other strange shrubs. The rock consisted of sandstone with plant impressions that I had never seen on the sandstone from the ranges. From this summit, I could see the crests of far-off ranges to the north, the highest pointing nearly north by compass, approximately 70 or 80 miles away. The course of a river, or at least a river, could be inferred by a line of smoke rising from the northwest between that mountain and others to the west. To the east, I saw flat-topped ranges that rose in elevation the further they got from where we had come. That flat horizon seemed to continuously limit our view to the south, with a small break being the only blue relief in that direction. However, the view expanded over a vast area at its base, stretching eastward, where bright open plains or downs shone in the far distance, with a lot of smoke rising from native fires. I returned from the hill not much wiser than when I set out, except that I had noticed the strata dipping southward, suggesting we could still look for their synclinal line to the north and beyond that for the heads of other rivers. These hills overlooking the valley of the river looked like rocky formations about ten or twelve miles west of it. They partly formed a small range and were part of a larger expanse of sandstone, which on the south side was eroded into gullies leading down to the river. Thermometer readings were 27° at sunrise, 54° at noon, 55° at 4 p.m., and 30° at 9 p.m.
22D MAY.—This morning, the thermometer in my tent stood at 20°; and in the open air, at 12°. The river was frozen, and the grass was white with hoar-frost. The soil appearing so sandy in the country before us, I resolved to form a depôt with our drays and heavy equipment here, and to await their arrival before I proceeded further with the carts. The spot was eligible in every respect; and in awaiting the arrival of Mr. Kennedy with the drays, I could have time to investigate more extensively the character of the surrounding country. I was, indeed, rather apprehensive that the drays could not reach without difficulty even this point; and I was resolved, on their arrival, to make some arrangement for continuing the journey, without dragging them any further through the heavy sand. It was most irksome, during the finest of weather, thus to be obliged to remain comparatively inactive, in the middle of such a journey, when horses and light carts might have enabled me to have pursued it to a conclusion, without such delays. Thermometer, at noon, 54°; at 4 p.m., 55°; at 9, 27°.
22D MAY.—This morning, the thermometer in my tent was at 20°, and in the open air, it was 12°. The river was frozen, and the grass was covered in frost. The ground looked very sandy in the area ahead, so I decided to set up a depot with our wagons and heavy gear here, and wait for their arrival before I moved on with the carts. The spot was suitable in every way; plus, while waiting for Mr. Kennedy and the wagons, I could take some time to explore the surrounding area more thoroughly. I was somewhat worried that the wagons might struggle to even reach this point; and I planned, when they arrived, to figure out a way to continue the journey without dragging them any deeper into the heavy sand. It was really frustrating to have to stay relatively inactive during such nice weather in the middle of our journey when horses and light carts could have allowed me to complete it without these delays. The thermometer read 54° at noon, 55° at 4 p.m., and 27° at 9 p.m.
23D MAY.—The river seemed to cut its way through rocky ranges, and to receive many tributaries; had, in some places, bergs, and margins of ancient gravel and sedimentary strata; in others, rocky escarps of great height, presented sections of rocks through which it passed. Its further course downwards, seemed accessible for some way from this camp; and, in awaiting the arrival of the drays, I resolved to explore it. With this view, I this day proceeded westward to head the gullies falling to it from the other bank, from the sandstone country already mentioned. I ascended by an extremity of the hill, to the rocky crest without difficulty, or much deviation from my intended course. On reaching the western side of the rough scrubby table of the range, I found the descent gradual, through an open forest: traversed two flats, having in them the Yarra gums, but no water-course, the surface very sandy. Here grew the ACACIA CONFERTA, a small shrub just coming into flower; the XANTHORRHOEA MIMOSA (with rough bark), yellow gum, black-butted gum, iron-bark, and stringy bark. The woods astonished my native companion Yuranigh; who remarked that they were trees belonging to the sea coast at Sydney. But deep rocky ravines prevented me from exploring the country, in the direction in which I should have expected to find the river. At length, we approached a valley, in which was a deep channel with rocky banks; but quite dry, and very sandy. It ran to the southward; in which direction I turned with it, to follow it to its junction with the main river; but it pursued a very tortuous course, and our time did not admit of my going far enough that day, and I returned to the camp, resolved to extend this interesting search on a greater scale subsequently. I had seen, from the furthest point I reached, that the same table land to the southward, extended west; and it therefore appeared to me probable that the river would be found at its base. In the evening we heard, at a short distance from our camp, the songs of females or children; as if the overflowing of their animal spirits. I had seen their smoke in a part of the range I passed this day, to which I feared they had fled on our approach, hearing our guns, and in terror of strangers. I was, therefore, glad to find that they had no longer any dread of us, and had returned to THEIR home, the river bank. These people had no clothing,—the mercury stood at 19° and 20° F.; the means of subsistence open to them, had been scarcely enough to have kept white men alive, even with the aid of their guns. Yet, under such circumstances, and with such strange visitors so close to them, these human beings were so contented and happy, that the overflowings of their hearts were poured forth in song! Such is human nature in a wild state. Their happiness was not such as we could envy; on the contrary, I was so solicitous that we should not disturb it, that, much as I wished to learn the original name of this interior river, and something about its course, I forbade any of the party from taking any notice of these, its original inhabitants. Our last intercourse with the natives, had also taught me to bear ever in mind aesop's fable of the camel. Thermometer, at sunrise, 12°; at noon, 52°; at 4 p.m., 56°; at 9, 32°.
23D MAY.—The river appeared to carve its path through rocky ranges and took in many tributaries. In some areas, there were icebergs and edges of ancient gravel and sedimentary layers; in other spots, steep rocky cliffs showcased layers of rock it flowed through. Its further path downward seemed accessible for a while from this camp, and while waiting for the drays, I decided to explore it. With this in mind, I headed west to find the gullies flowing from the opposite bank of the sandstone region I had mentioned. I climbed the edge of the hill to the rocky peak without much trouble or straying from my route. Upon reaching the western side of the rough, bushy plateau, I found the descent gradual through an open forest. I crossed two flat areas featuring Yarra gums, but no watercourse, the ground was very sandy. Here, I found ACACIA CONFERTA, a small shrub just starting to flower; the XANTHORRHOEA MIMOSA (with rough bark), yellow gum, black-butted gum, iron-bark, and stringy bark. The woods amazed my native companion Yuranigh, who remarked that these were trees native to the coastal regions of Sydney. However, deep rocky ravines obstructed my exploration in the direction where I expected to find the river. Eventually, we came across a valley with a deep channel bordered by rocky banks, but it was completely dry and very sandy. It flowed southward, so I followed it to see where it joined the main river, but it took a very winding path, and I didn’t have enough time to go far that day, so I returned to the camp, planning to continue this fascinating search in greater depth later. From the farthest point I reached, I could see that the same plateau continued to the south and west; it seemed likely that the river would be found at its base. In the evening, we heard the sounds of women or children singing nearby, as if expressing their joyful spirits. I had seen their smoke in a part of the range I passed earlier, and I worried they had run away at our approach, frightened by our guns and the presence of strangers. So, I was glad to discover that they no longer feared us and had returned to their home by the riverbank. These people had no clothing—the thermometer read 19° and 20° F.; the resources available to them would have barely kept white men alive, even with the help of their guns. Yet, despite these conditions and our strange presence nearby, these humans were so content and joyful that their hearts overflowed in song! Such is human nature in its natural state. Their happiness was not something we could envy; on the contrary, I was so concerned about not disturbing their peace that, despite my wish to learn the original name of this inland river and some details about its course, I instructed everyone not to engage with these indigenous people. Our last interaction with the natives had also reminded me to keep in mind Aesop's fable about the camel. Thermometer readings: at sunrise, 12°; at noon, 52°; at 4 p.m., 56°; at 9, 32°.
24TH MAY.—I proceeded, with two men bearing axes, to a hill about two miles S. W. of our camp, one of the extremities of the range already mentioned, (which I call River Head Range). We passed, at no great distance from our camp, those natives whose song we had heard last evening, but without taking any notice of them, except by slightly waving my hand. One tall female stooped amongst the long grass, and several others, male and female, endeavoured to hide themselves in a similar manner, as they beheld, probably for the first time, a white man on horseback, followed by others bearing a saw and axes. On the summit, grew the Malga tree; which is an acacia of such very hard wood, that I was obliged to be content to cut off the top branches only of a tree on the summit I had endeavoured to cut down, and to erect a sort of platform on the remainder, whence I took my angles. Up the river, there appeared some open plains, and a level horizon, in the direction of its apparent course. Thermometer, at sunrise, 11°; at noon, 65°; at 4 p.m., 67°; and at 9, 30°.
24TH MAY.—I went with two men carrying axes to a hill about two miles southwest of our camp, one end of the range I’ve previously mentioned (which I call River Head Range). We passed by, not far from our camp, those locals whose song we heard last night, but we didn’t interact with them, just gave a slight wave. One tall woman bent down in the long grass, and several others, both men and women, tried to hide themselves similarly, as they probably saw a white man on horseback for the first time, followed by others with a saw and axes. At the top, there was a Malga tree, which is an acacia with such hard wood that I could only manage to cut off the top branches of a tree I tried to fell, and I set up a sort of platform on the remainder, from which I took my measurements. Up the river, there were some open plains and a flat horizon in the direction it seemed to be flowing. The thermometer read 11° at sunrise, 65° at noon, 67° at 4 p.m., and 30° at 9 p.m.
25TH MAY.—Protracting the observed angles I endeavoured to fix, if possible, some prominent points, whereby I might obtain some knowledge of the structure of the surrounding country. The result of my work was a conviction that the course of the river was parallel to the projecting extremities of the low range beyond it (River Head Range), and that its basin had extensive ramifications, back amongst the sandstone cliffs on this side. But the course downwards still remained a question, which diminished in its importance, as I discovered the upper course to come from where it was my wish to go. I resolved, nevertheless, while thus awaiting the arrival of the drays, to extend my ride of the 23RD MAY, and ascertain whether it could turn westward under the southern cliffs, the only direction in which it was likely to be available to us, downwards, at this time. Thermometer, at sunrise, 17°; at noon, 70°; at 4 p.m. 68°; and at 9, 38°.
25TH MAY.—While measuring the angles, I tried to identify some key points to help me understand the layout of the area around me. From my work, I became convinced that the river's path ran parallel to the edges of the low ridge beyond it (River Head Range), and that its basin extended significantly into the sandstone cliffs on this side. However, the downward course remained uncertain, which was becoming less important as I learned that the river's upper part flowed from the direction I wanted to go. Still, while waiting for the arrival of the supplies, I decided to expand my ride from the 23RD MAY to see if the river could turn westward under the southern cliffs, since that was the only likely direction for us to go down at this time. The thermometer read 17° at sunrise; 70° at noon; 68° at 4 p.m.; and 38° at 9 p.m.
26TH MAY.—Taking with me two men and Yuranigh, mounted, I retraced my former track to the westward, and on proceeding beyond the dry river bed, where I had previously been, I entered amongst sandstone gullies, where one grassy flat extended nearly in the direction I wished to pursue; and this brought me to a sort of table-land, covered with an open forest of iron-bark (with the common leaf). The rock consisted here of the same felspathic sort characterising most of the hills of the Barwan basin; the soil sterile, bearing, in lieu of the ordinary grass, the stiff, hard leaved, glutinous TRIODIA PUNGENS. But this was better than scrub, and, further on, I perceived through a forest on the western slopes, the blue distance and yellow plains of an open country. As plains usually accompany rivers, I believed I was approaching the river I was in search of. We crossed a deep watercourse falling to the S.E.b.S., and entered on a noble flat of firm rich soil, whereon grew luxuriantly, the ACACIA PENDULA (not previously seen by us in that region), and the two best kinds of grass, ANTHISTIRIA and PANICUM LOEVINODE. Then we came to a good pond of water, with recent footmarks of natives, and, at about a mile beyond, we reached the open downs. They extended eastward as far as we could see between the range on the S., under which I had expected to find the river, and the rocky country over which we had come. Westward, the downs were bounded by several very picturesque isolated conical hills,—the southern sandy ranges on the S., still continuing westward like a limit to all this interior open country. Yet through that barrier the river had found a course, and instead of its overlooking the river, I found that the ground rose towards it, and I hastened four or five miles further westward, in hopes still to see it beyond the open downs, but I saw nothing like it. Kangaroos showed their heads occasionally amid the long grass: the air was all astir with pigeons, and traces of native inhabitants were numerous. As the sun was then near setting, we hastened back to the pond, and lay down beside it for the night, which happened to be a mild one. Thermometer, at sunrise, 20°; at noon, 72°; at 4 p.m., 71°; at 9, 44°.
26TH MAY.—I took two men and Yuranigh with me on horseback and retraced my previous route to the west. After moving past the dry riverbed I had visited before, I entered some sandstone gullies, where a grassy flat stretched almost in the direction I wanted to go. This led me to a sort of plateau covered with an open iron-bark forest (with the usual leaves). The rock here was the same type of feldspar that characterized most of the hills in the Barwan basin; the soil was barren, only supporting the tough, sticky TRIODIA PUNGENS instead of regular grass. However, this was better than scrubland, and further on, I caught a glimpse through a forest on the western slopes of the blue horizon and yellow plains of open country. Since plains usually accompany rivers, I thought I was getting closer to the river I was looking for. We crossed a deep watercourse flowing southeast and entered a magnificent flat with rich, firm soil, where we found the ACACIA PENDULA (which we hadn't seen before in this area) and the two best types of grass, ANTHISTIRIA and PANICUM LOEVINODE. Then we discovered a good pond of water, with fresh footprints from natives, and about a mile beyond that, we arrived at the open downs. They stretched eastward as far as we could see between the southern range, where I had expected to find the river, and the rocky land we had come across. To the west, the downs were bordered by several picturesque isolated conical hills, while the southern sandy ranges continued westward like a boundary to this entire open interior. Yet, through that barrier, the river had found a path, and instead of overlooking the river, I found that the ground rose towards it. I hurried four or five more miles west, still hoping to see it beyond the open downs, but I found nothing resembling it. Kangaroos occasionally peeked out from the tall grass; the air was alive with pigeons, and there were plenty of signs of native inhabitants. As the sun was setting, we hurried back to the pond and settled down beside it for the night, which turned out to be quite mild. Thermometer readings were 20° at sunrise, 72° at noon, 71° at 4 p.m., and 44° at 9 p.m.
27TH MAY.—We rode nearly westward towards a conical hill, which I had seen on the evening before, and named Mount Lonsdale. This peak appeared to me then to promise an extensive view to the W. and S.W., and in that expectation I was not disappointed. I also fortunately recognised two of my fixed points, at distances of thirty-two and fortytwo miles respectively, besides an elevated extremity of the continuous range on the S., which I had previously intersected, and here determined to be only five miles off, bearing about S.E.b.S. I could now see not only westward, but to the southward of S.W., for nearly twenty miles over a long flat, containing indeed, a line of ACACIA PENDULA scrub, such as accompanies lines of water drainage, but no river. All the country in sight more to the northward seemed to fall that way, or southward, and although it seemed possible that a cross line of valley and blue mist at the far extremity of the flat might be the river, it was much more probable, from the general slope of the country, that it was only another tributary coming from the north.[*] Such was Yuranigh's opinion too, who alone stood on that peak with me, and who there reminded me of the fate of the rivers Macquarie and Narran, and maintained that rivers were not to be found every where. "Where then is our river, Mr. Yuranigh?" "Bel me know," was the reply. I could soon have found this out, however, had it been an object for our journey northward. It was enough to know then that it did not turn into that interior country, which was open, and looked much lower, and how much further the fine valley extended beyond the twenty miles, an adjacent woody hill prevented me from seeing. The land around me was fair to look on; nothing could be finer than the forms of the hills—half clear of wood, the disposition of open grassy downs and vales—or the beauty of the woods. Water was not wanting, at least there seemed to be enough for the present inhabitants, and to an admirer of nature there was all that could be desired. Deeply impressed with its sublime and solitary beauty, I sketched the scene, and descended from that hill, resolved to follow the river upwards, as more favourable, in that direction, to the chief object of my mission. I named the hill overlooking that lonely dale, Mount Lonsdale, in honour of my valuable geological friend. We reached the dépot camp in the evening, and found all well, only that a very tall and powerful native had been reconnoitring our position during the day, from various trees commanding a view of it; probably only from curiosity. These visits, however, always happened to be made, as it would appear, when some portion of the party was absent, as on this occasion. Thermometer, at sunrise, 34°; at noon, 79°; at 4 p.m., 68°; at 9, 59°; with wet bulb, 50°.
27TH MAY.—We rode almost directly west toward a conical hill I had noticed the night before, which I named Mount Lonsdale. This peak seemed to promise a wide view to the west and southwest, and I wasn’t let down. I also recognized two of my reference points, one thirty-two miles away and the other forty-two miles away, plus a high end of the continuous range to the south that I had previously crossed, and I estimated that it was only five miles away, to the southeast. Now I could see not just to the west but also southwest for nearly twenty miles over a flat area, which had a line of ACACIA PENDULA scrub, typical of areas near water drainage, but there was no river. The land to the north seemed to slope down toward that direction or southward, and while it might have been possible that a valley and blue mist at the far end of the flat was a river, it was much more likely, given the general slope of the land, that it was just another tributary coming from the north. Yuranigh, the only one with me on that peak, shared this view and reminded me of the fates of the Macquarie and Narran rivers, insisting that rivers aren’t found everywhere. "So where is our river, Mr. Yuranigh?" I asked. "Bel me know," he replied. I could have figured it out if our journey northward depended on it. At that moment, it was enough to know that it didn’t lead into that open, lower interior country, and I couldn’t see how much further the beautiful valley extended beyond the twenty miles because a nearby wooded hill blocked my view. The land around me was beautiful; the hills, partly clear of trees, the arrangement of open grassy downs and valleys, and the lovely woods were all breathtaking. Water was not lacking; there seemed to be enough for the current inhabitants, and for anyone who appreciated nature, it had everything one could wish for. Deeply moved by its grand and solitary beauty, I sketched the scene and descended from the hill, resolved to follow the river upstream, which seemed more favorable for the main objective of my mission. I named the hill overlooking that lonely valley Mount Lonsdale, in honor of my good geological friend. We reached the depot camp in the evening and found everything well, except that a very tall and strong native had been watching our position throughout the day from various trees with a view of it; probably just out of curiosity. These visits always seemed to happen when part of our group was away, like today. Thermometer readings were 34° at sunrise; 79° at noon; 68° at 4 p.m.; and 59° at 9 p.m., with a wet bulb reading of 50°.
[* Probably the Nive. See infra.]
Probably the Nive. See infra.
28TH AND 29TH MAY.—My ride westward had enabled me to intersect more points to the northward; but this was certainly the most intricate country I had ever either to survey or explore; for neither by laying down points on a map, nor by overlooking it from high summits, could I gain a satisfactory knowledge of its structure. Upon the whole, however, I was convinced that the downward course of the river, above our depôt camp, was in a favourable direction for the continuation of our journey. The arrival of the drays and the rest of the party was now an important desideratum; for I had resolved to establish them in a dephere, and continue the journey with a smaller party and the horses; the sandy soil beyond the river, appearing almost impassable for the absurdly heavy drays, with which the party had been equipped. They had now had nearly time sufficient to come thus far, making due allowance for sand and other obstructions. In the mean while I determined to extend my reconnoissance northward from a commanding height, distant fourteen miles, and bearing 27½° E. of N. from my camp. Thermometer, at sunrise, 47°; at noon, 85°; at 4 p.m., 79°: at 9, 65°.
28TH AND 29TH MAY.—My ride west allowed me to connect with more points to the north, but this was definitely the most complicated area I had ever surveyed or explored. Neither plotting points on a map nor viewing it from high peaks gave me a clear understanding of its layout. Overall, though, I was convinced that the river's flow above our camp was heading in a good direction for continuing our journey. The arrival of the drays and the rest of the team was now crucial; I had decided to set them up in a specific place while I continued on with a smaller group and the horses. The sandy soil beyond the river looked nearly impossible for the heavy drays that had been brought along. They had now had nearly enough time to make it this far, accounting for the sand and other obstacles. Meanwhile, I planned to extend my reconnaissance north from an elevated spot fourteen miles away, at a bearing of 27½° E. of N. from my camp. The thermometer read 47° at sunrise, 85° at noon, 79° at 4 p.m., and 65° at 9 p.m.
30TH MAY.—I proceeded, accordingly, to the hill, over a tract of excellent open forest land, which extended to its base. The summit consisted of trap-rock in nodules, and, towards the highest point, was much broken. On the most elevated part of the summit, grew one of those remarkable trees, first seen by me on Mount Abundance. I had since seen them in various solitary singular situations; two on the Hogs'- back crest of Bindango; two or three near the summit of various other heights. The girth of this was thirty feet at its greatest circumference, and only sixteen at the ground. There was only one companion of the same kind, a very young one, beside this; which in locality, form, and quality, seems to be as remarkable a tree, amongst trees in general, as the kangaroo is remarkable amongst other animals. Of its quality, much, I am sure, remains to be said, when it becomes better known; the wood being so light, moist, and full of gum, that a man, having a knife or tomahawk, might live by the side of one without other food or water; as if nature in pity for the most distressed of mortals, hiding in solitary places, had planted even there this tree of Abundance. The wood must contain a great portion of mucilage, for, on chewing it, it seems to contain as much nutritious matter, as fibre. The pods contain a great number of seeds which are eaten by the natives, and also by many birds; and, from the circumstance of my having found one pod half-eaten by a bird on a rock, the very apex of a lofty summit, the solitary locality of this tree may, perhaps, be considered at least partly owing to its seeds being the favourite food of some birds inhabiting such places, each seed probably requiring to be picked out of the thick shell, in order that it may grow.[*] The view the hill afforded me was most gratifying and satisfactory. I saw again Mounts Bindango, Bindyego and Abundance, to the southward; the cone I had lately visited in the west, (Mount Lonsdale): the course of the river downwards, marked by open plains in the S. W.; and, an extensive rather level country lay to the northward, beyond which, at great distances, the summits of lofty mountains were just visible. Through the wide champagne country intervening, the river's course seemed marked by a line of smoke; a hot wind was then blowing, and the natives are in the habit of burning off the old grass on such occasions. The river seemed to come from the mountains, nearly from the N.N.W.; so that the prospect of finding water in that direction, or towards these mountains, was all I could desire. Here I intersected various lofty distant summits seen on the 21st instant, and could thus connect the whole trigonometrically with back angles to Bindango, Mount Abundance, etc. In the eastward, a range of tabular masses, some almost clear of wood, extended apparently to the coast ranges; and seemed to be also connected with those stretching towards Bindango, and separating the basin of the upper Balonne from this interior country. A hill similar to that on which I stood, but of less height, lay on the interior side of it, having a remarkable conic summit clear of bushes. The valley at the base of these two hills contained a fine crop of ANTHISTIRIA; and there was also a chain of ponds, where natives had been encamped not long before, but in which no water then remained.
30TH MAY.—I went to the hill, crossing a stretch of beautiful open forest land that reached its base. The top was made of nodules of trap-rock and was quite rugged near the peak. At the highest part of the summit stood one of those amazing trees I first saw on Mount Abundance. Since then, I had spotted them in various isolated spots; two on the Hogs'-back crest of Bindango and two or three near the tops of several other peaks. This tree's circumference measured thirty feet at its widest point and only sixteen at the base. There was just one other of the same kind nearby, a very young one, which, in terms of location, shape, and characteristics, appears to be as exceptional among trees as the kangaroo is among animals. I believe there's still much to be discovered about its qualities as it becomes better known; the wood is so light, moist, and filled with gum that a person with a knife or tomahawk could survive beside it without any other food or water, as if nature, in compassion for the most unfortunate of souls hiding in secluded places, had even planted this tree of Abundance there. The wood likely has a significant amount of mucilage because, upon chewing it, it seems to contain as much nutritious material as fiber. The pods are full of seeds that natives and many birds eat; given that I found one pod half-eaten by a bird on a rock at the very top of a tall summit, perhaps the tree's solitary location is due in part to its seeds being a favorite food for some birds that live in such remote areas, with each seed likely needing to be picked out of the thick shell for it to grow.[*] The view from the hill was incredibly pleasing and fulfilling. I could see Mounts Bindango, Bindyego, and Abundance to the south; the cone I had visited recently to the west (Mount Lonsdale); the river's course flowing downwards, marked by open plains in the southwest; and a vast, relatively flat area to the north, beyond which, at great distances, the peaks of tall mountains were faintly visible. Through the wide open country in between, the river's path appeared marked by a trail of smoke; a hot wind was blowing, and the natives tend to burn off the old grass during such times. The river seemed to flow from the mountains nearly from the north-northwest, making the prospect of finding water in that direction or towards those mountains just what I wanted. Here I intersected various distant, tall peaks I had seen on the 21st, allowing me to triangulate everything back to Bindango, Mount Abundance, etc. To the east, a range of flat-topped hills, some almost devoid of trees, stretched towards the coastal ranges; they seemed to connect with those extending towards Bindango, separating the basin of the upper Balonne from the interior country. A hill similar to the one I stood on, but shorter, was on the interior side, featuring a distinct conic peak free of bushes. The valley at the base of these two hills had a fine crop of ANTHISTIRIA; there was also a chain of ponds where natives had camped not long ago, although there was no water left in them at that time.
[* A new genus, since named Delabechea.]
[* A new genus, now called Delabechea.]
On returning to the camp in the evening, I learnt that soon after I left it in the morning, two natives came boldly up, painted white, bearing, each, several spears and four or five bommerengs. They were followed by two females bearing loads of spears. The men were got immediately under arms, forming a line before the tents, and Corporal Graham beckoned to the natives to halt. They pointed after me, and by very plain gestures motioned to the party to follow me, or to begone. Finding the men before the tents made the same signs to them, and stood firm, the principal speaker edged off towards a man at a distance, in charge of the horses. Graham got between, so as to cover the man and the horses, when they advanced more boldly upon him, quivering their poised spears at him, at a distance of only ten or twelve paces. At length the foremost man turned round, and by slapping his posteriors, gave him to understand by that vulgar gesture, his most contemptuous defiance: this induced the old soldier to discharge his carbine over the head of the savage, who first sprung some feet into the air, and then ran off with all the others. Soon after, the same native was seen creeping up the steep bank, so as to approach the camp under the cover of some large trees, the rest following, and he was again met by our party. He then seemed to recite with great volubility a description of the surrounding territory, as he continually pointed in the course of his harangue to various localities, and in this description he was prompted by the female behind, who also, by rapid utterance and motions of the arm, seemed to recite a territorial description. Finding, however, that his speech made no impression on the white strangers, and that they still beckoned them to depart; he stuck a spear into the ground, and, by gestures, seemed to propose that, on the one side, the ground should be occupied by the strangers, and on the other side, by them. Graham apparently assenting to this, they seemed more satisfied and departed. There were two deep reaches; one above, the other below, our camp. The upper one was deepest, largest, and more remote from our party, and most within reach of the natives. I gave strict orders that no man should go there; nor that the cattle should be allowed to feed there; that it should, in fact, be left wholly to the natives; that no ducks should be shot, that no men should fish there. Nothing could be more reasonable than the proposal of this native, nor more courageous than his appearance before our more numerous party, with his spears and open defiance; and I was determined to take every precaution to avoid a collision with his small tribe, and prevent, during our probably long residence here, our people from doing them any harm. Thermometer, at sunrise, 22°; at noon, 60°; at 4 p.m., 63°; at 9, 31°.
On returning to the camp in the evening, I learned that shortly after I left in the morning, two locals came right up, painted white, each carrying several spears and four or five boomerangs. They were followed by two women carrying bundles of spears. The men quickly took up arms, forming a line in front of the tents, and Corporal Graham signaled for the natives to stop. They pointed after me and made very clear gestures, either asking the group to follow me or to leave. Finding the men in front of the tents made the same gestures and stood firm, the main speaker moved toward a man nearby in charge of the horses. Graham got in between to shield the man and the horses, as they advanced more boldly toward him, brandishing their spears from just ten or twelve paces away. Eventually, the lead man turned around and slapped his backside to show his contempt, which prompted the old soldier to fire his carbine over the head of the savage. The man jumped several feet into the air and then ran off with the others. Soon after, the same native was seen creeping up the steep bank to approach the camp under the cover of some large trees, followed by the others, and he was met again by our group. He then seemed to excitedly describe the surrounding area, continuously pointing to different locations, and this description was prompted by the woman behind him, who also appeared to share a territorial overview with quick speech and arm motions. However, noticing that his words had no effect on the white strangers and that they kept signaling for them to leave, he stuck a spear into the ground and gestured to propose that one side be occupied by the strangers while the other side be theirs. Graham apparently agreed to this, and they seemed more satisfied and left. There were two deep spots; one above and one below our camp. The upper one was deeper, larger, and farther from our group, but closer for the natives. I gave strict orders that no one should go there, that the cattle should not be allowed to graze there, that it should really be left entirely to the natives; no ducks should be shot, and no one should fish there. Nothing could have been more reasonable than the native's proposal, nor more courageous than his appearance before our larger group, armed and defiant; and I was determined to take all precautions to avoid a clash with his small tribe and prevent our people from harming them during our likely long stay here. Thermometer readings: at sunrise, 22°; at noon, 60°; at 4 p.m., 63°; at 9, 31°.
1ST JUNE.—The sound of a distant shot about noon, which proceeded from the Doctor firing at a bird, gave us the first notice of the approach of the other party. Soon after, Mr. Kennedy came in, measuring the line; and, subsequently, the drays, and the whole of the men in good health. The cattle had got refreshed without delaying me, and I could now again proceed with a good supply of stores, leaving them again in depôt here. Mr. Kennedy had examined the river, about which I had written to him, for twelve miles up, and found that it was a separate river, coming from the N.W., and that in all its bed no water could be found. The tribe of Tagando had been troublesome to him, as I feared they would, after their attempt upon us. The following account of their visit to Mr. Kennedy is from his own notes:—"At 1 p.m., an old native, accompanied by five younger men, approached the camp, each carrying a green bough, and when within forty yards, they sat down in a line, the old man (probably their chief) taking up his position about four yards in advance of the rest. Sir Thomas Mitchell having mentioned, in a communication I received here, that the natives had been friendly to him, I was anxious to preserve that good feeling, but at the same time to keep them at a distance, according to my instructions. I therefore went up to them with a green bough, and endeavoured by signs to make them leave:—finding that of no avail, I presented the chief with an old hat, and gave to each a piece of bread. After they had eaten it, I raised the old man with my right hand, and taking another in my left, I led them away in the direction whence they had come, broke off a green branch, gave a portion to each, and bid them farewell. As the others still remained in statu quo, I went through the same ceremony with them until they were all on their path homewards. Having heard nothing more of them for some time, I flattered myself that I had succeeded in giving them a friendly hint that we did not wish them beside us; but I soon discovered my mistake, for at 4 p.m. a large number of natives, accompanied by two or three gins and children, came boldly up and encamped within a few yards of the tents, and two hundred more were reported to me by Mortimer as being at a short distance in their rear. I gave strict orders that no man should go near them, and I mustered the party myself at 8 p.m. Shortly afterwards, three or four natives came down to our fires, and on the men saying that they would not be made to leave, I put my hand upon their shoulders, and shewed them their own camp. One tall young native in particular, wearing an opossum cloak, exhibited a strong inclination to resist. I continued to watch their movements until half-past eleven, p.m. up to which time they were talking very earnestly, continually repeating the words "white fellow." I had not retired to my tent five minutes when I heard Baldock (one of the two men on watch) several times desire the natives to go back, who, as it appeared, would insist on coming forward to our fires. Serjeant Niblet then called me, saying he thought "all was not right," that the natives refused to keep away, and that he had seen the fire sticks of others approaching from several directions. On turning out, I found them making a line of fires within twenty-five yards or less of our tents, and the grass on fire, the old man urging them on in their mischievous work. I called to them in the language of some of the aborigines, to go away quickly, using the words "Yau-a-ca-burri!" but seeing that they still drew nearer with their fires, to the imminent danger of the camp, I desired the men, who by this time had got ready with their arms, to charge them with a shout, but not to fire until they received orders. We succeeded in making them run; when, to add to their alarm, one or two shots were fired in the air. In their haste, they left the old hat I had given them, an iron tomahawk, and a few other implements, behind them, all of which I caused to be left untouched, in order to show them that we had only objected to their intrusion. All being quiet, and the cattle brought close to the camp, I added a third man to the morning watch, and no more was heard of the natives." This was a specimen of the treacherous nature of their mode of warfare, and very characteristic of the aborigines, but by no means so creditable to them, as the conduct of our neighbours at this camp, where the arrival of the other party was likely to convince them still more, that they could not induce us to quit that position, until we thought proper to do so. I had instructed Mr. Kennedy to continue the numbering of the camps; but as the drays could not keep pace with mine, only some of my camps have been so numbered, the others marked being those where his party had passed the night. This depôt camp was, thus, No. XXIX, and the numbers of such others of mine as have been marked between this and VIII., shall be added to this journal, and the whole marked on the map. A new species of CALLITRIS appeared among the trees, the ACACIA STENOPHYLLA, and the large leaved variety of ACACIA DECORA, further removed than usual from the common form, and approaching, in some respects, to A. RUBIDA. Among the bushes was the beautiful little A. CONFERTA, remarkable for its little heath-like leaves, and among the grasses was remarked an abundance of a new annual SPOROBOLUS with extremely minute flowers.[*] Thermometer, at sunrise, 18°; at noon, 64°; at 4 p.m., 64°; at 9, 30°.
1ST JUNE.—Around noon, we heard a distant gunshot, which was the Doctor shooting at a bird. This was our first sign that the other group was approaching. Shortly after, Mr. Kennedy came by to check the line, followed by the drays and the rest of the men, all in good health. The cattle had rested without slowing me down, and I could now proceed with enough supplies, leaving some stored here. Mr. Kennedy investigated the river, which I had written to him about, for twelve miles upstream and found that it was a separate river coming from the northwest, with no water in its entire bed. The Tagando tribe had caused him problems, just as I had feared after their attempt on us. His own notes describe their visit:—"At 1 p.m., an old native, with five younger men, approached the camp, each carrying a green branch. When they were within forty yards, they sat in a line, with the old man (likely their chief) sitting about four yards ahead of the others. Since Sir Thomas Mitchell had mentioned in a message I received that the natives had been friendly to him, I wanted to maintain that good feeling but also keep them at a distance, per my instructions. So, I walked up to them with a green branch and tried to signal for them to leave: finding this approach unsuccessful, I gave the chief an old hat and each of them a piece of bread. After they ate it, I lifted the old man with my right hand while taking another in my left and guided them back in the direction they came from, breaking off a green branch to share with each and bidding them farewell. As the others stayed put, I repeated the same process until they were all heading home. After not seeing them for a while, I thought I had successfully hinted that we didn’t want them nearby, but soon realized I was mistaken. At 4 p.m., a large group of natives, along with two or three women and children, boldly approached and set up camp just a few yards from our tents, while Mortimer reported that another two hundred were a short distance behind them. I ordered everyone to stay away from them and gathered the team myself at 8 p.m. Shortly after, three or four natives came to our fires, and when the men insisted they wouldn’t leave, I placed my hand on their shoulders and pointed out their camp. One tall young native, dressed in an opossum cloak, seemed particularly resistant. I kept an eye on them until half-past eleven, p.m., during which time they spoke passionately, often repeating the phrase "white fellow." I hadn’t been in my tent for five minutes when I heard Baldock (one of the two men on watch) telling the natives repeatedly to go back, as they seemed intent on approaching our fires. Serjeant Niblet then called me, saying he felt "all was not right," that the natives didn’t want to keep their distance, and that he had seen fire sticks from others approaching from different sides. When I stepped out, I found them setting up a line of fires within twenty-five yards of our tents and the grass on fire, with the old man encouraging them in their mischief. I called out in the language of some natives to quickly go away, using the words "Yau-a-ca-burri!" but noticing they still came closer with their fires, threatening the camp, I instructed the men, who were now armed, to charge them with a shout but not to shoot until given the command. We managed to scare them off, and to heighten their alarm, one or two shots were fired into the air. In their haste, they left behind the old hat I had given them, an iron tomahawk, and a few other tools, which I ordered to be left untouched to show them that we only objected to their intrusion. With everything quiet and the cattle brought close to camp, I added a third man to the morning watch, and we didn’t hear any more from the natives." This incident showcased the treacherous nature of their warfare, typical of the aborigines, but certainly not as commendable as the behavior of our neighbors at this camp, where the arrival of the other group was likely to make them even more aware that we wouldn’t leave until we decided to. I had instructed Mr. Kennedy to continue numbering the camps; however, as the drays couldn’t keep up with mine, only some of my camps are numbered, while others marked are those where his party stayed overnight. This depot camp was, therefore, No. XXIX, and the numbers of my other camps marked between this and VIII. will be added to this journal and displayed on the map. A new type of CALLITRIS appeared among the trees, as well as the ACACIA STENOPHYLLA, and a large-leafed variety of ACACIA DECORA, which was further from its usual form and resembled A. RUBIDA in some ways. Among the bushes was the beautiful A. CONFERTA, noted for its small heath-like leaves, and among the grasses, we observed an abundance of a new annual SPOROBOLUS with very tiny flowers.[*] The thermometer read 18° at sunrise, 64° at noon, 64° at 4 p.m., and 30° at 9 p.m.
[* S. PALLIDUS (Lindl. MS.) foliis planis glabris ligulâ nulla nisi squamulâ quâdam, paniculâ effusâ ramis brevibus alternis verticillatisque scabriusculis, paleis truncatis alterâ 3-nervi alterâ binervi.]
[* S. PALLIDUS (Lindl. MS.) has flat, smooth leaves with no ligule, just a certain scale, and a loose panicle with short branches that are arranged alternately and in whorls, slightly rough, with truncated chaff, one with 3 veins and the other with 2.]
2D JUNE.—Two half-boats were mounted on frames, and fixed over two of the light carts, and other preparations made for the prosecution of the journey with a small party. My plan was to reduce each man's ration of flower from 7lbs. to 4lbs. per week: to allow a larger quantity of mutton: some gelatine and barley, dried potatoes, etc. With my party, I now proposed to take forward a portion of the sheep, as not requiring carriage, and Mr. Stephenson, a man to assist him, and the shepherd, formed the only addition to the number with which I had advanced to this point. Mr. Kennedy had brought me a dispatch from Commissioner Mitchell, accompanied by some newspapers, in which I read such passages as the following:—"Australia Felix and the discoveries of Sir Thomas Mitchell now dwindle into comparative insignificance." "We understand the intrepid Dr. Leichardt is about to start another expedition to the Gulf, keeping to the westward of the coast ranges," etc., etc. Not very encouraging to us, certainly; but we work for the future. Thermometer, at sunrise, 11°; at noon, 67°; at 4 p.m., 67°; at 9, 30°.
2D JUNE.—Two small boats were set up on frames and secured to two of the light carts, along with other preparations for continuing the journey with a small group. My plan was to cut each person's flour ration from 7 lbs. to 4 lbs. per week: to allow for a larger amount of mutton, some gelatin and barley, dried potatoes, etc. I now proposed to take some of the sheep along since they didn’t need to be transported, and Mr. Stephenson, a man to help him, and the shepherd were the only additions to the group I had brought this far. Mr. Kennedy had delivered a dispatch from Commissioner Mitchell, along with some newspapers, in which I found comments like: “Australia Felix and the discoveries of Sir Thomas Mitchell now seem relatively unimportant.” “We hear the brave Dr. Leichhardt is about to begin another expedition to the Gulf, sticking to the west of the coastal ranges,” etc., etc. Not exactly encouraging for us, but we work for the future. Thermometer, at sunrise, 11°; at noon, 67°; at 4 p.m., 67°; at 9, 30°.
3D JUNE.—This day one of the party caught several fishes in the river, which appeared to be of the same species as the Eelfish, or Plotosus tandanus described in the journal of my first journey (Vol. i. p. 95). It is therein stated to be an Asiatic form of fish, on the authority of Mr. Wm. M'Leay, but in other respects this was identical with one in the Barwan. The course downwards of the new river, which we even now believed to be called the Maran, from what we had gathered from the natives, was thus almost proved to be towards the southern rivers. I instructed Mr. Kennedy to employ the party in digging, and fencing in, and daily watering, a garden; also, to make a stockyard wherein to lodge the cattle at night, as this would leave more men disposable for the immediate protection, if necessary, of the camp and stores. I also gave him very particular instructions as to the natives, that no intercourse should be allowed between them and the men; that he should, nevertheless, use them very civilly, and endeavour to obtain some information, if possible, respecting the final course of the Maran, etc. Thermometer, at sunrise, 16°; at noon, 69°; at 4 p.m., 66°; at 9, 34°.
3D JUNE.—Today, one of the team caught several fish in the river, which looked like the Eelfish, or Plotosus tandanus mentioned in the journal of my first trip (Vol. i. p. 95). It's noted there to be an Asian type of fish, according to Mr. Wm. M'Leay, but otherwise, it was identical to one found in the Barwan. The direction of the new river, which we now thought was called the Maran based on what we learned from the locals, seemed to be heading towards the southern rivers. I directed Mr. Kennedy to have the team work on digging, fencing, and watering a garden every day; he was also to create a stockyard to keep the cattle in at night, as this would allow more men to focus on protecting the camp and supplies if needed. I also gave him specific instructions regarding the locals: no interactions were to be allowed between them and the men; however, he should still treat them politely and try to gather information about the final path of the Maran, etc. Thermometer readings: at sunrise, 16°; at noon, 69°; at 4 p.m., 66°; at 9, 34°.
Chapter V.
CROSS THE MARANOA WITH A LIGHT PARTY.—SEND BACK FOR ONE DRAY AND THE FRESHEST TEAM.—JUNCTION OF A RIVER FROM N.N.W.—FOLLOW UP THE MINOR BRANCH.—A DAY'S RAIN, AND RECONNAISSANCE TO THE N.W.—HOSTILE TRIBE.—HOW DISPERSED.—CROSS POSSESSION CREEK.—ARRIVE AT A SMALL RIVER FROM THE WEST.—CROSS IT, AND REACH ANOTHER.—AGAIN RIDE TO THE N.W.—DETERMINE TO FOLLOW THE FIRST RIVER DOWN-WARDS.—AGAIN ARRIVE ON THE MARANOA.—CROSS THE SECOND RIVER FROM THE WEST.—ASCEND A SMALL ROCKY HILL.—MOUNT OWEN AGAIN RECOGNIZED.—TRAVEL IN THAT DIRECTION.—THROUGH SCRUBS, AND OVER SANDY GROUND.—AGAIN WANT WATER.—TURN TO THE MARANOA.—FIND ITS CHANNEL DRY.—ASCEND MOUNT OWEN.—RIDE OF RECONNAISSANCE. —DISTANT MOUNTAINS.—ADVANCE WITH THE PARTY.—ASCEND MOUNT P. P. KING.—THE RIVER WARREGO DISCOVERED.—IT TURNS TO THE S.W.,—THE PARTY CROSSES IT. —MOUNT FARADAY.—THE PYRAMIDS.—RIVER SALVATOR.—THE SALVATOR JOINS THE NOGOA.—COURSE OF THE NOGOA, N.E.—CROSS IT AND CUT THROUGH TEN MILES OF SCRUB, IN A N.W. DIRECTION.—THE RIVER CLAUDE DISCOVERED.—FINE OPEN DOWNS.—BALMY CREEK, AND VERY DIFFICULT COUNTRY.—TOWER ALMOND.—MOUNT MUDGE.—LINE OF RIVER SEEN TO THE NORTHWARD.
CROSS THE MARANOA WITH A SMALL GROUP.—SEND BACK FOR A WAGON AND THE FRESHEST TEAM.—A RIVER JOINING FROM THE N.N.W.—FOLLOW THE SMALLER BRANCH.—A DAY OF RAIN, AND RECONNAISSANCE TO THE N.W.—HOSTILE TRIBE.—HOW DISPERSED.—CROSS POSSESSION CREEK.—ARRIVE AT A SMALL RIVER FROM THE WEST.—CROSS IT AND REACH ANOTHER.—RIDE AGAIN TO THE N.W.—DECIDE TO FOLLOW THE FIRST RIVER DOWNSTREAM.—ARRIVE AGAIN AT THE MARANOA.—CROSS THE SECOND RIVER FROM THE WEST.—CLIMB A SMALL ROCKY HILL.—MOUNT OWEN RECOGNIZED AGAIN.—TRAVEL IN THAT DIRECTION.—THROUGH THICK BRUSH AND OVER SANDY GROUND.—NEED WATER AGAIN.—TURN TO THE MARANOA.—FIND THE CHANNEL DRY.—CLIMB MOUNT OWEN.—GO ON A RECONNAISSANCE RIDE.—DISTANT MOUNTAINS.—PROCEED WITH THE GROUP.—CLIMB MOUNT P. P. KING.—DISCOVER THE WARREGO RIVER.—IT TURNS S.W.—THE GROUP CROSSES IT.—MOUNT FARADAY.—THE PYRAMIDS.—SALVATOR RIVER.—THE SALVATOR JOINS THE NOGOA.—NOGOA FLOWS N.E.—CROSS IT AND CUT THROUGH TEN MILES OF THICK BRUSH, HEADING N.W.—DISCOVER THE CLAUDE RIVER.—NICE OPEN DOWNS.—BALMY CREEK, AND VERY DIFFICULT TERRAIN.—TOWER ALMOND.—MOUNT MUDGE.—SEE THE LINE OF RIVER TO THE NORTH.
4TH JUNE.—EVERY preparation having been made, I bade Mr. Kennedy adieu, for at least four months, and crossed the Maranwith my party and light carts. It was not without very much regret that I thus left this zealous assistant, and so large a portion of my men, behind, in departing on a hazardous enter prise, as this was likely to be, where the population might be numerous. Anxiety for the safety of the party left, predominated with me, for whatever might be the danger of passing and repassing through these barbarous regions, that of a party stationary for a length of time in one place, seemed greater, as they were more likely to be assailed by assembled numbers, and more exposed to their cunning and treachery. I gave to Mr. Kennedy the best advice I could, and we parted in the hope of a happy meeting, at the period of my return—a hope, I must confess, I could not indulge in then, with any degree of pleasure, looking forward to the many difficulties we were prepared to encounter, and considering the state of my own health.
4TH JUNE.—After making all the necessary preparations, I said goodbye to Mr. Kennedy for at least four months and crossed the Maran with my team and light carts. It was with great regret that I left this dedicated assistant and a large part of my crew behind as I set off on a risky venture, which was likely to be challenging given the potentially large local population. My main concern was for the safety of the group I was leaving behind; while there were dangers in traveling through these hostile areas, I felt that the risk for a group staying put for an extended period was even greater, as they would be more susceptible to attacks from larger numbers and more vulnerable to their deceit and trickery. I provided Mr. Kennedy with the best advice I could, and we parted with hopes of a happy reunion when I returned—a hope that, I must admit, I couldn’t embrace with much optimism at that time, given the many challenges we were preparing to face and my own health concerns.
The sandy bed of the river was difficult to cross with the carts, and delayed us an hour. A different adjustment of the loads was necessary; therefore I was obliged to turn out of my intended route for this day, and go into a bight of the river for water, in making a much shorter journey. This was only of six miles from the depôt camp. Amongst the waterworn pebbles in the bed of the river, we found various portions of coal and the rocky sections in parts of the banks resembled its concomitant strata. Thermometer, at sunrise, 16°; at 9 p.m., 40°.
The sandy riverbed was tough to cross with the carts, causing us to be delayed by an hour. We needed to rearrange the loads, which meant I had to stray from my planned route for the day and head into a bend of the river to get water, resulting in a much shorter journey. This was just six miles from the depot camp. Among the water-worn pebbles on the riverbed, we found various pieces of coal, and the rocky parts of the banks looked like the layers that usually accompany it. Thermometer readings were 16° at sunrise and 40° at 9 p.m.
5TH JUNE.—The ground was sandy, and several gullies descending to the river occasioned difficulties which tried the mettle of our horses, and convinced me that we now carried too much weight for them. I accordingly sent back Edward Taylor and another man with a note to Mr. Kennedy, and with directions to pick out ten good bullocks, and bring forward one of the drays as soon as possible. We met with various dry channels of tributaries so deep and rocky, that they seemed, at first sight, like the main river. I wished to reach the bank of this, at a favourable point to encamp at, and await the arrival of the expected dray. But there gullies rendered the access difficult. Sand and callitris covered the intermediate ground, and augmented the impediments the horses had to contend with. After crossing three rather important channels, I turned to the N. E., and fortunately came upon the river, where the ground was very open, and the acclivities gentle. The bed of the river was full of water, forming a long reach covered with a red weed, the course from north to south, straight. Height above the sea, 1190 feet. This we marked XXXI., last camp being XXX. Thermometer, at sunrise, 24°; at 4 p.m., 70°; at 9, 43°.
5TH JUNE.—The ground was sandy, and several gullies leading down to the river caused difficulties that tested our horses' endurance and made me realize we were carrying too much weight for them. I decided to send Edward Taylor and another guy back with a note to Mr. Kennedy, instructing them to choose ten good bullocks and bring one of the carts forward as soon as they could. We encountered various dry channels of tributaries that were so deep and rocky they looked like the main river at first. I wanted to get to the riverbank at a good spot to set up camp and wait for the expected cart. However, the gullies made access tough. The ground was covered in sand and callitris, adding to the challenges the horses had to face. After crossing three fairly significant channels, I turned northeast and luckily found the river, where the ground was very open and the slopes were gentle. The riverbed was full of water, creating a long stretch filled with a red weed that ran straight from north to south. Height above sea level was 1190 feet. We marked this as XXXI., the last camp being XXX. The thermometer read 24° at sunrise, 70° at 4 p.m., and 43° at 9 p.m.
6TH JUNE.—Taylor arrived early with a fine team and strong dray, confident in being able to keep up with the carts, and lightly loaded, of course, that he might cross heavy sand, or deep gullies. I employed the time usefully, in adapting Mr. Kennedy's measurements to my map. I had now measured bases, besides those of latitude for my trigonometrical work, and I should not have regretted even a day longer in camp, to have had more time to protract angles, but time was too precious, as my men were voluntarily on very reduced rations. The DODONOEA HIRTELLA of Miquel was the only novelty found here. Latitude 26° 6' 25" S. Thermometer, at sunrise, 30°; at noon, 75°; at 4 p.m., 76°; at 9, 50°.
6TH JUNE.—Taylor arrived early with a great team and a strong wagon, confident he could keep up with the lighter carts, which were, of course, only lightly loaded so they could get over heavy sand and deep ditches. I used the time productively by adapting Mr. Kennedy's measurements to my map. I had now measured bases, in addition to those of latitude for my trigonometric work, and I wouldn't have minded staying a day longer in camp to have more time to plot angles, but time was too valuable, as my men had voluntarily reduced their rations. The DODONOEA HIRTELLA of Miquel was the only new find here. Latitude 26° 6' 25" S. Thermometer, at sunrise, 30°; at noon, 75°; at 4 p.m., 76°; at 9, 50°.
7TH JUNE.—We set off at a better pace this morning, and kept it up, as we found the ground firmer, and less broken. Several hollows with water-courses in them, lay in our way, but presented no serious impediment. At length, I saw some of the heads of River-Head Range, and a long ridge appeared before us. On ascending it obliquely, following up the smooth clay floor of a water-course, I found myself gradually entangled in a bad scrub of brigalow and rosewood. After cutting our way through it, for a mile and a half, I sought on the other side for any hollow leading off water, and found one which brought us into an open forest flat with a fine chain of ponds. The Acacia pendula appeared on its skirts; and, at length, abundance of water, also, in the ponds. The grass was so luxuriant near one of these, that I encamped beside it, without seeking the river, to which these ponds seemed adjacent. Thermometer, at sunrise, 36°; at 4 p.m., 85°; at 9, 70° (XXXII.). Height above the sea, 1309 feet.
7TH JUNE.—We started off at a better pace this morning and managed to keep it up since the ground was firmer and less uneven. There were several hollows with watercourses in our path, but they didn't cause any serious obstacles. Eventually, I spotted some peaks of the River-Head Range, and a long ridge came into view. As I climbed it at an angle, following the smooth clay bottom of a watercourse, I found myself gradually getting stuck in a tough area of brigalow and rosewood. After hacking our way through it for a mile and a half, I looked for any hollow that led to water on the other side and found one that took us into an open forest flat with a nice chain of ponds. The Acacia pendula was growing on its edges, and soon there was plenty of water in the ponds as well. The grass was so lush near one of these that I set up camp beside it without searching for the river, which seemed to be close by. The thermometer read 36° at sunrise, 85° at 4 p.m., and 70° at 9 (XXXII.). The height above sea level was 1309 feet.
8TH JUNE.—The country beyond this camp in a northerly direction was very fine. The Acacia pendula, open forests, and gently undulating country intersected by chains of ponds then dry, were its characteristics. At length, we reached the river bank, and could travel along it to the west. Just there, I perceived the junction of a river (perhaps the main channel) from the N. N. W. It seemed full of water, whereas that which I was obliged to follow, being the most westerly, was nearly dry, although its banks were boldly broken, and precipitous. Its course came round even from S. W., and deep ravines and water-courses coming into it, obliged me to travel to the southward of that bearing in order to avoid them. We thus, at length, came into a fine open grassy country, tolerably level, and could resume a north-west course. In that direction, we crossed a water-course from the S. W., and came to another in a deeper valley, where we saw natives, who did not run away. There was a water-hole nearest to our side, and one from which a native was ascending when I approached. I directed the men (having encamped here) to keep the cattle from that water-hole, if possible, anxious to avoid giving any offence on this delicate point to the natives of these forests. Thermometer, at sunrise, 36°; at 4 p.m., 85°; at 9, 70°. (XXXIII.)
8TH JUNE.—The area north of this camp was really beautiful. The open forests of Acacia pendula and the gently rolling landscape, dotted with chains of ponds that were mostly dry, defined the scenery. Eventually, we reached the riverbank and could travel west along it. Right there, I noticed the intersection of a river (maybe the main channel) coming from the N.N.W. It looked full of water, unlike the river I had to follow, which was almost dry, though its banks were steep and rugged. Its path curved around from the S.W., and deep ravines and streams feeding into it forced me to travel south of that direction to avoid them. Finally, we arrived in a lovely open grassy area, fairly flat, and we were able to head northwest again. In that direction, we crossed a stream coming from the S.W. and reached another in a deeper valley, where we encountered some locals who didn’t run away. There was a waterhole closest to us, and one from which a native was climbing out as I approached. I instructed the men (after setting up camp here) to keep the cattle away from that waterhole if possible, as I wanted to avoid offending the local people regarding this sensitive issue. Thermometer, at sunrise, 36°; at 4 p.m., 85°; at 9, 70°. (XXXIII.)
9TH JUNE.—The sky being overcast, and rain likely to fall, I considered that the bullocks' necks might be galled by the yokes in wet weather; and, being in some doubt about finding water in the direction in which I wished now to travel, I set out with two men on horseback to explore the country to the N. W., leaving the party to enjoy a day's rest. Little rain fell, and the ride was very pleasant. A perfume like that of hay, but much more fragrant, arose from the moistened vegetation, and I found a beautiful country of open forest with ACACIA PENDULA in graceful clumps. A few miles on, we were suddenly hailed from behind a few bushes, by about twenty-five natives, painted red. We halted and endeavoured to talk to them, but not a word was intelligible to Yuranigh, who was with me. In vain he inquired about rivers, or water, in his language, and in vain they bawled to us in theirs: so, after this unintelligible parley at some distance, (for they would not come close up,) we rode on. We came at length on a sandy country with much Callitris, but the whole surface was undulating, and we crossed several chains of deep ponds, all falling to our right, or eastward; some containing water. At length, I perceived on the right, a deeper valley, and found in it a little river with a rocky bed, and coming from the N. N. W. At two miles further, along my N. W. course, I found it crossed it, coming from W. S. W., and here I turned, well pleased to find an abundant supply of water, and a good country in the best direction for our interior journey. The river ran chiefly on rock, and the water was plentiful. Having returned to the camp, in the evening, after sunset we were called to by a numerous tribe of natives, assembled on the opposite steep bank of the chain of ponds, over which we had encamped. By the particular cooey, I recognised the same party we had seen in the morning. Their language was now loud and angry, and war was evidently their purpose; from experience I judged it best to nip the evil in the bud, and ordered five men under arms, who were first formed in line before the tents, and with whom, at the bugle's sound, I advanced steadily up the opposite bank, as our only reply to all their loud jeering noise. They set up a furious yell on our approach, and advanced to the brow of the cliff, as if prepared to defend it; but as we silently ascended, they fell off, and, by the time we gained the height, they had retired to a considerable distance, still shouting vociferously. Two, however, were seen drawing round our left flank, in a little gully, followed by a female carrying spears. I discharged my rifle over their heads, upon which they hastened to their fellows. On firing another shot over the dark noisy mass before us, they became suddenly quite silent, probably persuaded that we were really in earnest. We marched through their camp, made a feint, by descending into a gully, of coming upon them unawares, and continued there, until silence and darkness secured our peaceful occupation of the ground. Thus I prevented a night of alarms and noise, which might have been kept up until morning, and until they had worked themselves into that sort of frenzy, without which I do not think they have courage to fight Europeans; and having once got their steam up, they were sure to have followed us, and gathered a savage population in our rear. Lat., 25° 54' 17" S. Thermometer, at sunrise, 56°; at 4 p.m., 70; at 9, 50°. (XXXIII.)
9TH JUNE.—The sky was overcast, and rain was likely, so I thought the bullocks' necks might get chafed by the yokes in wet weather. Unsure if I’d find water in the direction I wanted to go, I set out with two men on horseback to explore northwest, leaving the group to take a day off. Little rain fell, and the ride was enjoyable. A scent similar to hay, but much more fragrant, came from the damp vegetation, and I discovered a lovely area of open forest with ACACIA PENDULA in elegant clumps. A few miles later, we were suddenly called to from behind some bushes by about twenty-five natives, painted in red. We stopped and tried to talk to them, but Yuranigh, who was with me, couldn’t understand a word. He asked about rivers or water in his language, and they yelled at us in theirs, but none of it made sense. After this confusing exchange from a distance (since they wouldn’t approach us), we continued on. Eventually, we arrived in a sandy area with a lot of Callitris, but the whole surface was uneven. We crossed several chains of deep ponds, all flowing to our right, or eastward; some contained water. Eventually, I noticed a deeper valley on the right and found a small river with a rocky bed coming from the north-northwest. Two miles further along my northwest route, I found it crossed, coming from the west-southwest, and I was pleased to discover an abundant water supply in a good area for our interior journey. The river mostly flowed over rock, and there was plenty of water. Upon returning to camp in the evening, after sunset, we were called out to by a large group of natives gathered on the steep bank opposite the chain of ponds where we were set up. From their unique call, I recognized them as the same group we had seen in the morning. Their voices were loud and angry now, and it was clear they were preparing for a fight. From experience, I knew it was best to address the issue immediately, so I ordered five armed men to form a line in front of the tents. With a bugle signal, I advanced steadily up the opposite bank as our only response to their loud taunts. They let out a furious yell as we approached and moved to the edge of the cliff, seemingly preparing to defend it. However, as we ascended silently, they retreated to a considerable distance, still shouting loudly. Two, however, were spotted moving around our left flank in a small gully, followed by a woman carrying spears. I fired my rifle over their heads, prompting them to hurry back to their group. When I fired another shot over the dark, noisy crowd before us, they suddenly fell silent, likely realizing we were serious. We marched through their camp, made a feint by dropping into a gully to catch them off guard, and stayed there until silence and darkness secured our peaceful presence on the ground. This way, I avoided a night of alarms and noise that could have continued until morning, potentially working them up into a frenzy without which I don’t think they’d have the courage to fight Europeans; once riled up, they would have followed us and gathered a hostile group behind us. Lat., 25° 54' 17" S. Thermometer, at sunrise, 56°; at 4 p.m., 70; at 9, 50°. (XXXIII.)
10TH JUNE.—We advanced at an early hour, crossing Possession Creek, for so we called it (and which proved rather an impediment, until we filled a hollow with logs), and followed my horse's tracks of yesterday. Thus we reached the little river in good time, notwithstanding much heavy sand in the way of our carts, and encamped at the furthest point I had previously visited. Thermometer, at sunrise, 30°; at 4 p.m., 75°; at 9, 39°. Height above the sea, 1240 feet. (XXXIV.)
10TH JUNE.—We set out early, crossing Possession Creek, as we named it (which turned out to be quite a hassle until we filled a dip with logs), and followed the tracks my horse made yesterday. We reached the small river in good time, despite the heavy sand slowing down our carts, and set up camp at the farthest point I had been to before. Thermometer reading at sunrise, 30°; at 4 p.m., 75°; at 9 p.m., 39°. Height above sea level, 1240 feet. (XXXIV.)
11TH JUNE.—Keeping along the bank of the rocky river, we were obliged to turn southward, and even S.S.E., such was the direction whence the river came. I therefore encamped the party, after a journey of only 3½ miles, and proceeded to explore again, towards the N. W. I thus came upon the rocky river where the rock formed a bridge affording an easy means of crossing it, and this I valued more, as being the only passable place I had seen in it, so deep and rocky was the bed elsewhere. The strata at this bridge dipped N. N. E., a circumstance which induced me to travel westward instead of N. W., in hopes to cross thereby sooner, a synclinal line, and so arrive at the sources of some northern river. We passed through some scrub, and attained, by gradual ascent, considerable elevation. The country in general consisted of open forest, and contained grass in great abundance. At nine miles, I came upon a chain of ponds falling northward, and in which were two good ponds of water, whereupon I returned to the camp. Thermometer, at sunrise, 38°; at 9 p.m., 38°. Height above the sea, 1287 feet. (XXXV.)
11TH JUNE.—Sticking close to the bank of the rocky river, we had to head southward, even S.S.E., due to the direction the river flowed. I set up camp after a journey of only 3½ miles and went to explore again toward the N.W. I soon came across the rocky river where a rock formed a bridge that made it easy to cross, which I appreciated because it was the only spot I found that was passable; the riverbed was otherwise too deep and rocky. The layers at this bridge sloped N.N.E., which made me decide to travel west instead of N.W., hoping to cross a synclinal line sooner and reach the sources of a northern river. We went through some scrub and gradually gained some height. The landscape mainly featured open forest and had plenty of grass. After nine miles, I found a chain of ponds flowing northward, with two good ponds of water, and then I headed back to camp. The thermometer read 38° at sunrise and 38° at 9 p.m. The elevation above sea level was 1287 feet. (XXXV.)
12TH JUNE.—The rock about the river here was deeply impressed with ripple marks, and also dipped N.N.E. or northward. It consisted of a yellow sandstone in thin strata, covered in some parts with beds of waterworn pebbles. These consisted chiefly of quartz, felspar, and a silicious petrifaction of woody appearance. We proceeded along my horse track of yesterday. In crossing what seemed a principal ridge on which grew brigalow scrub (through which we had, in parts, to cut a way), we came upon a fine specimen of the Bottle Tree (DELABECHEA); near it grew the GEIJERA PARVIFLORA, which did not attain a greater height than 10 feet. I found by the syphon barometer that our height above the sea was here 1579 feet. By the same gauge I found that two other ridges further on were still higher (1587 feet). In the afternoon, the sky became overcast with dark, round, heavy clouds, and in the evening, slight showers fell. Thermometer, at sunrise, 20°; at noon, 74°; at 4p.m., 73°; at 9, 60°. The wind and clouds came from the west.
12TH JUNE.—The rock by the river here had deep ripple marks and sloped toward the N.N.E. or north. It was made up of yellow sandstone in thin layers, with some areas covered in waterworn pebbles. These pebbles were mostly quartz, feldspar, and a siliceous fossil that looked like wood. We followed the horse track I made yesterday. While crossing what seemed to be a main ridge covered in brigalow scrub (which we had to cut through in some places), we found a nice example of the Bottle Tree (DELABECHEA); nearby was the GEIJERA PARVIFLORA, which didn’t grow taller than 10 feet. I checked our altitude with the siphon barometer and found we were 1579 feet above sea level. The same gauge showed that two other ridges ahead were even higher (1587 feet). In the afternoon, the sky became cloudy with thick, dark clouds, and in the evening, light rain started to fall. The thermometer read 20° at sunrise, 74° at noon, 73° at 4 p.m., and 60° at 9. The wind and clouds came from the west.
13TH JUNE.—The line of ponds we were upon might turn to the northward; nevertheless I was unwilling to follow them down, and again lose westing, until I had made another attempt to penetrate to the N. W. The morning was rainy, and, as in such weather travelling was likely to gall the necks of the bullocks, I halted the party, and took a ride in that direction. I encountered much soft sand and scrubs of brigalow, rosewood, and Callitris. Scrubs of the latter were most dense and continuous. I fell in with a goodly little river at five miles; its course there was from S. W. to N. E. Beyond it, I found the country still more sandy, although intersected by one or two water-courses falling to the northward. The furthest one, at fifteen miles from our camp, had in it ponds containing no water. It seemed near the source, and that we had almost reached the crest of some dividing feature. A thunder-storm then burst over us, and the time of day did not admit of going further. I therefore returned, convinced that I could not in that direction make much progress.* Thermometer, at sunrise, 49°; at noon, 57°; at 4 p.m., 54°; at 9, 48°.
13TH JUNE.—The line of ponds we were on might head to the north; still, I didn’t want to follow them down and lose our westward progress until I tried again to move northwest. It was a rainy morning, and since traveling in such weather would likely cause discomfort for the bullocks, I stopped the group and took a ride in that direction. I encountered a lot of soft sand and scrubby areas of brigalow, rosewood, and Callitris. The areas with Callitris were particularly dense and continuous. I came across a nice little river after five miles; its flow was from southwest to northeast. Beyond that, the land was even sandier, though it had one or two watercourses flowing north. The furthest one, fifteen miles from our camp, had ponds that were dry. It seemed close to the source, and we were almost at the top of some dividing feature. Then a thunderstorm struck us, and it was too late in the day to go any further. I decided to head back, convinced that I wouldn’t make much progress in that direction. * Thermometer, at sunrise, 49°; at noon, 57°; at 4 p.m., 54°; at 9, 48°.
[* This was unfortunate: it will be seen by the map, that ten miles further would have taken me to the river Warregin a direct line to the head of the river Victoria, avoiding the mountains.]
[* This was unfortunate: as shown on the map, traveling ten more miles would have taken me to the Warregin River, creating a direct route to the head of the Victoria River, without having to go over the mountains.]
14TH JUNE.—A drizzling rain continued, and the barometer indicated a change; hence I hoped the rain would last until the water-holes were filled. The day being Sunday, I gave the party another day of rest, and took that opportunity of laying down on my map, the recently discovered rivers and water-courses. It was only after I had done so, that I began to think the water-course we were encamped upon, was worth following down. The evening was clear, and I ascertained the latitude to be 25° 47' 28" S. Thermometer, at sunrise, 52°; at noon, 55°; at 4 p.m., 57°; at 9, 38° (XXXVI.). Height above the sea, 1528 feet.
14TH JUNE.—It kept drizzling, and the barometer showed a change, so I hoped the rain would continue until the water holes were full. Since it was Sunday, I gave the team another day to rest and used that time to mark the recently discovered rivers and waterways on my map. It was only after I finished that I started to think that the watercourse we were camped by was worth following downstream. The evening was clear, and I figured the latitude to be 25° 47' 28" S. The thermometer read 52° at sunrise, 55° at noon, 57° at 4 p.m., and 38° at 9 p.m. (XXXVI.). The height above sea level was 1528 feet.
15TH JUNE.—In following down this chain of ponds, we found its channel became a well-formed river, with abundance of water in it, a few miles below our camp. The course thus far was northward; and I saw in one part of it rocks dipping to the westward. I was in expectation that it would have continued northward, when it suddenly turned towards the S.S.W. I thereupon crossed it, and resumed my N.W. course. My path was thus again crossed by our river flowing northward: we had then travelled 12½ miles, and I encamped on its banks. The whole of the day's journey, with little exception, had been over heavy sand, and, but for the rain that had fallen, it must have greatly distressed the horses and oxen. As it was, they got over it wondrous well. In a pond of this river, Mr. Stephenson caught a great number of the harlequin fish, a circumstance almost proving that this was a tributary to the Maran. We found this day a new narrow-leaved TRISTANIA[*], thirty feet high, with bark thick, soft, and fibrous. A smooth narrow-leaved variety of ACACIA HOLOSERICEA was loaded with spikes of crooked sickle-shaped pods. Among the herbage was observed the TEUCRIUM ARGUTUM of Brown; and the XEROTES LEUCOCEPHALA grew in the light dry sand. Novelty in the plants, animals, and fishes, was now to be expected; the weather was cool and pleasant, and our travelling equipment tolerably efficient. Thermometer, at sunrise, 30°; at 4 p.m., 58°; at 9 p.m., 46° (XXXVII.). Height above the sea, 1827 feet.
15TH JUNE.—As we followed this chain of ponds, we found that its channel turned into a well-formed river with plenty of water a few miles below our camp. Up to this point, the course had been northward, and I noticed some rocks sloping to the west. I expected the river to continue northward, but it suddenly shifted to the S.S.W. I crossed it and continued on my northwest path. Again, my route intersected with the river flowing north: we had traveled 12½ miles and camped on its banks. Most of the day's trek had been through heavy sand, and if it hadn't rained, it would have really stressed the horses and oxen. Thankfully, they handled it surprisingly well. In a pond along this river, Mr. Stephenson caught a lot of harlequin fish, which suggests this might be a tributary to the Maran. We discovered a new narrow-leaved TRISTANIA[*] that was thirty feet high, with thick, soft, fibrous bark. A smooth, narrow-leaved variety of ACACIA HOLOSERICEA was full of spikes of crooked, sickle-shaped pods. Among the vegetation, we spotted TEUCRIUM ARGUTUM from Brown, and XEROTES LEUCOCEPHALA grew in the light dry sand. We could now expect to see new plants, animals, and fish; the weather was cool and pleasant, and our traveling gear was decent. The thermometer read 30° at sunrise, 58° at 4 p.m., and 46° at 9 p.m. (XXXVII.). We were at an elevation of 1827 feet above sea level.
[* T. ANGUSTIFOLIA (Hook. MS.); foliis angusto-linearibus mucronatoacuminatis supra glabris subtùs subsericeis marginibus arcte revolutis, paniculis terminalibus folio brevioribus calycibusque incano-tomentosis. These specimens were in fruit. It is very distinct from every other species.]
[* T. ANGUSTIFOLIA (Hook. MS.); with narrow, linear leaves that are sharply pointed, smooth on top and softly hairy underneath, with edges tightly rolled, terminal inflorescences shorter than the leaves, and calyxes covered in grayish hairs. These specimens were in fruit. It is very distinct from every other species.]
16TH JUNE.—Proceeding nearly north-west, we met with the little river I had discovered a few miles beyond my camp of the 13th and 14th instant. The distance of this point from the camp we had left this morning was about 2½ miles. We crossed it, and turned to the westward, and even south-west, to avoid it. Over its extreme south-western bend there was a little rocky hill, which I ascended, and thence saw a mountain I had intersected from the high station east of the depôt. It now bore 12° west of north, and I directed my course towards it, as well as the country would permit. We crossed several sandy ranges on which the callitris was, as usual, the chief tree, as it was also on the soft heavy sand between them. Occasionally, the lowest parts where water would take its course, consisted of firm clay, and we took advantage of such flats, when their direction was favourable. I was at length under the necessity of encamping on one of these, where there was no water, nor any to be found in it after I had followed it down four miles. In my search for water, I found a curious new PHEBALIUM.[*] Thermometer, at sunrise, 43°; at 9 p.m., 54°. Height above the sea, 1646 feet.
16TH JUNE.—We headed almost north-west and came across the small river I had found a few miles past my camp from the 13th and 14th. The distance from the camp we left this morning was about 2.5 miles. We crossed the river and then turned west and even south-west to avoid it. There was a small rocky hill at its far south-west bend, which I climbed, and from there I spotted a mountain I had seen from the high spot east of the depot. It was now positioned 12° west of north, and I aimed to head towards it as best as the terrain would allow. We crossed several sandy ridges, where the callitris tree was the main type, just like it was on the soft, heavy sand between those ridges. Occasionally, the lowest areas where water would flow were made of hard clay, and we took advantage of those flats when they were headed in a beneficial direction. Eventually, I had to set up camp on one of these flats, where there was no water, and I couldn't find any after following it for four miles. During my search for water, I discovered an interesting new PHEBALIUM.[*] The thermometer read 43° at sunrise and 54° at 9 p.m. We were at an elevation of 1646 feet above sea level.
[* P. GLANDULOSUM (Hook. MS.); foliis angusto-lineari-cuneatis retusis canaliculatis marginibus revolutis subtus ramulisque argenteo-lepidotis superne (praecipue) grosse glandulosis nudis, corymbis terminalibus parvis sessilibus fusco-lepidotis, calycibus subtruncatis, petalis ovatis concavis. Allied to P. SQUAMULOSUM and P. ELOEAGNOIDES, but very distinct, especially in the presence of the large semipellucid hemispherical glands, seen more or less in various parts of the plant, but very conspicuous on the upper side of the leaves.]
[* P. GLANDULOSUM (Hook. MS.); with narrow, wedge-shaped leaves that are notched and have channelled surfaces, with rolled edges and a silvery scale-like appearance underneath, while the branches above (especially) are densely covered with large, transparent, hemispherical glands. It has small, sessile, terminal clusters that are brown and scaly, with slightly truncated calyxes and oval, concave petals. It is related to P. SQUAMULOSUM and P. ELOEAGNOIDES, but is very distinct, particularly due to the presence of the large, translucent, hemispherical glands that can be found in different parts of the plant but are especially prominent on the upper side of the leaves.]
17TH JUNE.—Pursuing a course in the direction of the mountain already mentioned, I met with much heavy sand on which grew thick forests of callitris, frequently quite impervious to our carts except at open places amongst which we had to wind, as they permitted. The ground was undulating, and there was clay in the hollows, but the direction of these ran across my intended route, falling all to the east-ward. We at length attained what seemed the highest of these ridges, and on the summit I ascertained its elevation to be 1833 feet above the sea. Beyond it, we came to a flat of firmer surface, consisting of clay, and, as we greatly wanted water, I followed it down to the north-east. I found it soon hemmed in by sandstone rocks; but we travelled still on a broad grassy flat which fell into one still broader, through which ran a continuous but dry channel coming from the north-west. After following this downwards about a mile, we crossed towards an opening between the sandstone cliffs beyond it; this opening terminated under shelving rocks. Ascending at another place, with my horse, I found a table-land above, and an open forest country. I succeeded in getting the carts and dray up at a rocky point, and travelled thence E.S.E., anxious now to find the Maran, convinced by a deep ravine on our right, that it could not be far off. We descended by a gently inclined part of the sandstone to a dry watercourse lined with brigalow, and which soon guided us to the river. Here, however, the bed was dry and full of sand, of spacious and uniform breadth, and with grassy sloping banks. The course was towards S.W., and I followed it upwards, in hopes soon to meet with a pond. No water, however, was to be seen, when a rocky precipitous bank before us, and the sun setting in the west, obliged me to encamp the party. I hastened up the dry channel, followed by all the horses and the bullocks. We found some rain water on a level piece of rock, about two miles from the camp, which was scarcely enough for the horses, and afforded a few gallons for our kegs; nor could I find more, although I continued my search upwards until dusk; the bullocks had therefore to pass a second night without drinking. The bed and banks of this river were of very uniform extent throughout; averaging, in width about 100 feet; in height of banks from 30 to 50 feet. The course was straight, and it seemed as if a few dams might have sufficed to render it navigable, or at least to have retained a vast supply of water; for although the bed was sandy, the bottom was rocky, and the banks consisted of stiff clay. These being covered with rich grass, and consisting of good soil, water alone was wanting to make the whole both valuable and useful. Yet this was not so scarce amongst the gullies and tributaries, nor in the channel itself, lower down. I found, growing in the bed, the ALPHITONIA EXCELSA of Reissek, collected by Allan Cunningham and Frazer along the Brisbane and upper part of Hunter's River; also a remarkable kind of Brome grass I had never seen on the Darling. Thermometer, at sunrise, 36°; at 9 p.m., 61°.
17TH JUNE.—As I made my way toward the mountain I mentioned earlier, I encountered a lot of heavy sand where thick forests of callitris thrived. These forests often made it impossible for our carts to pass, except in the open areas where we could navigate through. The ground was uneven, with clay in the dips, but those dips ran across my planned route, all heading east. Eventually, we reached what appeared to be the highest ridge, and from the top, I measured its elevation at 1833 feet above sea level. Beyond this ridge, we discovered a flatter, firmer area made of clay, and since we were in desperate need of water, I decided to follow it to the northeast. I soon found it pinched between sandstone rocks; yet we continued on a wide grassy flat that sloped down into an even broader expanse, with a continuous dry channel flowing from the northwest. After following this channel for about a mile, we crossed towards an opening between the sandstone cliffs ahead, which ended under some overhanging rocks. Climbing up at another spot with my horse, I discovered a plateau above and an open forest region. I managed to get the carts and the dray up to a rocky point and then headed E.S.E., eager to find the Maran, convinced by a deep ravine on our right that it couldn't be too far away. We went down a gradual slope of sandstone to a dry watercourse lined with brigalow, which eventually led us to the river. Here, however, the riverbed was dry and filled with sand, broad and even, with grassy sloping banks. The direction was southwest, and I followed it upstream, hoping to find a pond soon. However, there was no water in sight, and with a rocky, steep bank ahead and the sun setting in the west, I had to set up camp. I rushed up the dry channel, with the horses and the bullocks following along. We found a small amount of rainwater on a flat rock about two miles from the camp, which was barely enough for the horses and yielded only a few gallons for our kegs. I couldn’t find more water despite searching upstream until dusk; thus, the bullocks had to go another night without drinking. The riverbed and banks were consistently wide, averaging about 100 feet across and standing 30 to 50 feet high. The course was straight, and it seemed that a few dams could have made it navigable, or at least held a considerable amount of water. Even though the bed was sandy, the bottom was rocky, and the banks were made of tough clay. These areas were covered in rich grass and made up of good soil; with just water, the whole region could have been both valuable and useful. However, water wasn’t as scarce among the gullies and tributaries, nor in the channel itself further down. I found the ALPHITONIA EXCELSA that Reissek collected, which had also been gathered by Allan Cunningham and Frazer along the Brisbane and upper parts of Hunter's River; I also discovered a kind of Brome grass I had never encountered before on the Darling. The thermometer read 36° at sunrise and 61° at 9 p.m.
18TH JUNE.—Drizzling rain had fallen during the night, which greatly refreshed the grass for the cattle. Early this morning, I sent Corporal Graham and another man, up the river, in search of water; and the bullock-driver with his cattle down the river, with orders to go on until he fell in with some. Others of the party were directed to search amongst the rocky crevices nearer to our camp. I set out with Yuranigh for the summit of the mountain already mentioned, which, according to my survey, lay about seven miles off to the N.W. My ride to it was unimpeded by gullies; and, on ascending it, I obtained a most extensive view, embracing lofty ranges to the eastward and south-east. A line of volcanic cones (of which this was one) extended from these ranges in the direction of about N.E.b.N. But, besides these elevated summits, little could be seen of the adjacent country: nothing of the sandstone gullies, by which the party was then shut in. I could only imagine one bluey tint in a long line of ravines, to be over the bed of the Maran, which seemed thus to pass through the line of cones, and to come from high ranges about the 25th parallel. The country to the northward was still hidden from my sight by a portion of the old crater which was higher than that I had ascended. The western interior was visible to a great distance bounded by low ranges; some of which seemed to have precipitous sides, like cliffs, towards the west. Lines of open plains, and columns of smoke, indicated a good country, and inhabitants. I recognised, from this station, that eastward of the depôt camp, to which, from the peculiar interest then attaching to that distant spot, I now named Mount Kennedy after the officer in charge of the party there. I could now intersect many of the summits observed therefrom; thus adding extensively to the general map, and checking my longitude, by back angles into the interior. I was now at a loss for names to the principal summits of the country. No more could be gathered from the natives, and I resolved to name the features, for which names were now requisite, after such individuals of our own race as had been most distinguished or zealous in the advancement of science, and the pursuit of human knowledge; men sufficiently well-known in the world to preclude all necessity for further explanation why their names were applied to a part of the world's geography, than that it was to do honour to Australia, as well as to them. I called this hill Mount Owen; a bald-forest hill to the N.E. of it, Mount Clift; a lofty truncated cone, to the eastward of these, the centre of a group, and one of my zero points, Mount Ogilby; a broad-topped hill far in the north-west, where I wished to continue my route, Mount Faraday; a high table land intervening, Hope's Table Land; the loftiest part of the coast ranges, visible on all sides, Buckland's Table Land, etc. etc. The part of Mount Owen on which I stood, consisted of basalt, which had crystallised cubically so as to form a tottering pile on the summit, not unlike the ruins of a castle, "nodding to its fall," and almost overhanging their base. Curious bushes grew amongst these rocks, unlike those in the lower country; amongst them, a climber, resembling a worm, which wholly enveloped a tree. On returning to the camp, I learnt that the bullock-driver had found a spacious basin in a rocky part of the bed, some miles down the river; having thereat watered his cattle and returned; also, that Corporal Graham had met with a pond ten miles higher up the river than our camp: thus it was evident that many miles intervened between these two ponds in the river. The other men left at the camp had fortunately found in the crevice of a rock beyond the river-channel, enough of water for the horses and themselves. But, had this river-channel contained much more water, I could not have followed it in its upward course, and so go to the north-east, instead of the north-west; neither had this been possible from the precipitous rocks overhanging it at almost every turning. I had found, in Mount Owen, a nucleus, which was a key to these sandstone gullies radiating about it, and I had also perceived from it that towards Mount Faraday, the north-western interior was tolerably clear of mountainous obstructions; three small or very distant cones, seemed the principal features beyond it. I wished much to have explored a route for our carts in that direction; but it was necessary that I should first establish the party near water. I accordingly determined to conduct it along the range towards Mount Owen next day, as far as might be necessary, in order to turn off to the right, and encamp, overlooking some rocky gully within a convenient distance of Mount Owen; and, again to explore these recesses for water, or send for it to Corporal Graham's pond in the main channel. Mr. Stephenson gathered near this camp two beautiful and delicate ferns, the ADIANTUM HISPIDULUM, and ADIANTUM ASSIMILE, the Australian maiden's hair. The ACACIA IXIOPHYLLA, and ACACIA CUNNINGHAMII, on the rocky cliffs; occurred with an Exocarpus, probably a variety of E. SPARTEA, and a new Eucalyptus.[*] Thermometer at sunrise, 56°; at noon, 69°; at 4 p.m., 63°; at 9, 55°. Height above the sea, 1578 feet; and above river bed 40 feet.
18TH JUNE.—Light rain had fallen overnight, refreshing the grass for the cattle. Early this morning, I sent Corporal Graham and another man up the river looking for water, and the bullock-driver with his cattle down the river, with instructions to keep going until he found some. Others in the group were tasked with searching the rocky crevices closer to our camp. I set out with Yuranigh for the summit of the mountain I had mentioned earlier, which, according to my survey, was about seven miles to the northwest. My ride there was clear of gullies, and upon reaching the top, I got a vast view, with high ranges to the east and southeast. A line of volcanic cones (of which this was one) stretched from these ranges towards about northeast by north. Besides these high peaks, little of the surrounding country was visible; I could only make out a bluish tint in a long line of ravines, indicating the bed of the Maran River, which appeared to flow through the line of cones, coming from high ranges near the 25th parallel. The area to the north was still hidden from my view by a part of the old crater that was taller than where I had climbed. The western interior was visible for quite a distance, bordered by low ranges, some of which looked steep like cliffs toward the west. Open plains and columns of smoke indicated good land and inhabitants. From this point, I realized that east of the depot camp, which I found particularly interesting, I would now call Mount Kennedy after the officer in charge of that party. I could now cross many of the peaks I had observed from there, thus greatly contributing to the general map and checking my longitude through back angles into the interior. I struggled to find names for the main summits of the area. I couldn’t gather any more names from the locals, so I decided to name the features needing names after individuals from our own race who had been significant or passionate in advancing science and the pursuit of human knowledge; people well-known enough that their names’ association with parts of the world’s geography required no further explanation other than honoring Australia and them. I named this hill Mount Owen; a bald-forest hill to the northeast, Mount Clift; a tall truncated cone to the east of these, central to a group and one of my key points, Mount Ogilby; a broad-topped hill far to the northwest, where I planned to continue my route, Mount Faraday; a high tableland in between, Hope's Table Land; the highest part of the coast ranges, visible on all sides, Buckland's Table Land, etc. The part of Mount Owen I stood on was made of basalt, crystallized in cubic shapes, forming a shaky pile at the top, somewhat resembling the ruins of a castle, "nodding to its fall," and nearly overhanging its base. Strange bushes grew among these rocks, different from those in the lower areas; among them was a climber resembling a worm, fully enveloping a tree. When I returned to camp, I learned that the bullock-driver had discovered a large basin in a rocky section of the riverbed a few miles down, allowing him to water his cattle before returning. Corporal Graham had also found a pond ten miles upstream from our camp, making it clear that several miles separated these two ponds in the river. The other men left at the camp had fortunately found enough water in a crevice of a rock beyond the river channel for the horses and themselves. However, if this river channel had contained much more water, I couldn’t have followed its upward course and headed northeast instead of northwest; nor would that have been possible due to the steep rocks overhanging at nearly every turn. I found, at Mount Owen, a central point that was key to the sandstone gullies spreading around it, and I also realized from there that toward Mount Faraday, the northwestern interior was fairly free of mountainous barriers; three small or very distant cones appeared to be the main features beyond it. I really wanted to explore a route for our carts in that direction, but it was essential first to settle the party near water. Therefore, I decided to guide the group along the range towards Mount Owen the next day as far as necessary to turn off to the right and camp, overlooking some rocky gully within a convenient distance of Mount Owen; and to explore these recesses for water or send for it from Corporal Graham’s pond in the main channel. Mr. Stephenson found two beautiful and delicate ferns near this camp, the ADIANTUM HISPIDULUM and ADIANTUM ASSIMILE, the Australian maiden’s hair. The ACACIA IXIOPHYLLA and ACACIA CUNNINGHAMII grew on the rocky cliffs; along with an Exocarpus, probably a variation of E. SPARTEA, and a new Eucalyptus.[*] Thermometer at sunrise, 56°; at noon, 69°; at 4 p.m., 63°; at 9 p.m., 55°. Height above sea level, 1578 feet; and above riverbed, 40 feet.
[* E. POPULIFOLIA (Hook. MS.); foliis rhombeo-triangularibus obtusissimis longius petiolatis coriaceis minute punctatis (punctis pallidis) reticulatovenosis. This species is remarkable in the size and shape of its petiolated leaves. The branches bear turbinated woody excrescences (galls), each with two or more, generally three, sharp angles, and as many unequal projecting wings, altogether exactly resembling the fruit of some BEGONIÀ.]
[* E. POPULIFOLIA (Hook. MS.); with long, petiole leaves that are rhombus-triangular and very blunt, tough, and finely dotted (with pale dots) that have a net-like vein pattern. This species stands out due to the size and shape of its petiolate leaves. The branches have rounded woody growths (galls), each featuring two or more, usually three, sharp angles, along with several uneven projecting wings, all resembling the fruit of certain BEGONIÀ.]
19TH JUNE.—Another dewy night had providentially refreshed the grass for our thirsty animals. We ascended, at a very favourable point, the sandstone table-land, and travelled for some miles along my horse's track towards Mount Owen, turning round the heads of gullies which broke abruptly in steep rocks both to our right and left. Then, turning to the right, where a branch of the high land projected eastward towards the river, we encamped on its extreme eastern point, overlooking a grassy valley, hemmed in by precipitous cliffs, yet easily accessible to our horses and cattle, from the point on which we had encamped. I had already found a deep hole in a rock on the right, containing water sufficient for the men and horses for several days, and, on riding down the valley while they pitched the tents, I found a large pond only a mile from the camp. The valley contained many still larger, but all, save this one, were dry. Grass grew there in great abundance, and of excellent quality. Pigeons were numerous of that species (GEOPHAPS SCRIPTA) which is so great a luxury; the most delicate food, perhaps, of all the feathered race. The highest of the sandy tableland crossed this day appeared (by Captain King's subsequent calculations) to be 1863 feet. That of the camp over the cliffs, 1840 feet above the sea, the height of these cliffs above the bed of the river being thus about 300 feet. Thermometer, at sunrise, 50°; at 4 p.m., 65°; at 9, 61°.
19TH JUNE.—Another dewy night had thankfully refreshed the grass for our thirsty animals. We climbed a favorable spot on the sandstone tableland and traveled for several miles along my horse's track toward Mount Owen, going around the heads of gullies that dropped steeply into rocks on both sides. Then, turning right, where a branch of high land jutted eastward toward the river, we set up camp at its far eastern point, overlooking a grassy valley surrounded by steep cliffs, but easily accessible for our horses and cattle from where we had camped. I had already found a deep hole in a rock on the right with enough water for the men and horses for several days. While they set up the tents, I rode down the valley and discovered a large pond just a mile from the camp. The valley had many even larger ponds, but all except this one were dry. The grass grew there in abundance and was of excellent quality. There were many pigeons of that species (GEOPHAPS SCRIPTA), which is considered such a luxury; perhaps the most delicate food among all birds. The highest point of the sandy tableland we crossed today was calculated later by Captain King to be 1863 feet. The height of our camp over the cliffs was 1840 feet above sea level, making these cliffs about 300 feet taller than the riverbed. The thermometer read 50° at sunrise; 65° at 4 p.m.; and 61° at 9 p.m.
20TH JUNE.—I set out (with two men and Yuranigh) to explore the country beyond Mount Owen. From its base I observed some open forest land, and a less broken country, in a direction much further to the westward than the course I had previously selected, which was N.N.W. I now proceeded W.N.W. towards that open forest land. We found the country open for some miles, then, entering a flat or valley, I descended gradually between sandstone rocks, to a valley in which a chain of deep ponds led to the north-west. On following this down, I found it turned more and more to the westward, and at length to the south-west, whereupon I quitted its bed and cliffy banks, and, following up a ravine from the other side, again endeavoured to pursue my intended course. We crossed, at the head of the ravine, a sandstone range, and descended by another valley which led first northward, but terminated in joining a spacious grassy flat with dry ponds in it. I endeavoured to trace this downwards for several miles in a rainy evening, and found at last, to my disappointment, that this also turned to the S.W. This flat was broad and hemmed in by low rocky points of ground, of very uniform shape. Many marks of natives appeared on the trees, and, in good seasons, it must be one of their favourite spots. I left it, however, when darkness and heavy rain obliged me to look for shelter in a gloomy forest to the westward. By the time we arrived at this, we could see no grassy spot for our horses, nor any sort of cover for ourselves. Douglas found, at length, a fallen tree, and under this, covered with a few boughs, we lay down on the wet earth for the night, being ourselves as wet, yet wanting withal, water for ourselves and horses. Thermometer, at sunrise, 54°; at noon, 69°; at 4 p.m., 67°; at 9, 57°.
20TH JUNE.—I set out (with two men and Yuranigh) to explore the area beyond Mount Owen. From its base, I spotted some open forest land and a less rugged landscape, much further west than the route I had originally planned, which was N.N.W. I now headed W.N.W. towards that open forest land. We found the land clear for several miles, then, as we entered a flat or valley, I gradually descended between sandstone rocks to a valley with a chain of deep ponds leading to the northwest. Following this, I noticed it turned increasingly westward and finally to the southwest, prompting me to leave its bed and steep banks, and climb up a ravine from the other side, trying again to stick to my intended route. At the head of the ravine, we crossed a sandstone range and descended into another valley that initially headed north but eventually opened into a wide grassy flat with dry ponds scattered around. I tried to follow this downward for several miles on a rainy evening and found, to my disappointment, that it also veered S.W. This flat was wide and bordered by low rocky points of land, all very similar in shape. Many signs of natives were evident on the trees, and during good seasons, it must be one of their preferred spots. However, I left when darkness and heavy rain forced me to seek shelter in a gloomy forest to the west. By the time we arrived, we couldn’t find any grassy area for our horses or any kind of cover for ourselves. Eventually, Douglas found a fallen tree, and under this, covered with a few branches, we lay down on the wet ground for the night, ourselves soaked yet lacking water for both us and our horses. The thermometer read 54° at sunrise; 69° at noon; 67° at 4 p.m.; and 57° at 9.
21ST JUNE.—The rain had abated to my great disappointment, for we should have been amply compensated for wet jackets, by the sight of well filled ponds of water, the want of which was the great impediment to this journey. The sky was still overcast, and the wet bushes were unavoidable. On I travelled north-west, until we approached some fine open forest hills, the bare tops of which, just visible from the foot of Mount Owen, had first drawn me in that direction. One tempting peak induced me to approach it, and to think of an ascent. In a rugged little water-course in its bosom, we found water enough for our horses, the product of last night's rain. The view from the summit, made up for the deviation from my route. A group of the most picturesque hills imaginable lay to the northward, and were connected with this, the whole being branches from the Table Land of Hope. Some appeared of a deep blue colour, where their clothing was evergreen bush. Others were partly of a golden hue, from the rich ripe grass upon them. The sun broke through the heavy clouds and poured rays over them, which perfected the beauty of the landscape. I recognised, from this apex, my station on Mount Owen, and several hills I had intersected from it. Amongst others, the three remarkable cones to the westward of Mount Faraday, apparently a continuation of the line of summits I have already mentioned. This hill consisted of amygdaloidal trap in nodules, the crevices being filled with crystals of sulphate of lime, and there were many round balls of ironstone, like marbles or round shot, strewed about. A red ferruginous crust projected from the highest part, and, on this summit, the magnetic needle was greatly affected by local attraction, and quite useless. Fortunately, I had also my pocket sextant, and with it took some valuable angles. On descending, I heartily enjoyed a breakfast, and named the hill which gave us the water, Mount Aquarius. Returning towards Mount Owen, by a more direct route, I arrived at the head of a gully which led tolerably direct until we found our track, in the creek I had run down on the preceding day. But night was approaching, and we had water enough in a rocky hollow, and also a cavern before which a large fire gave such warmth, that, in passing the night there in my cloak, I was quite insensible to a frost without, which, at the camp, at 4 p.m., had lowered the mercury in Fahrenheit's thermometer to 22°, or 10° below the freezing point.
21ST JUNE.—The rain had faded away, much to my disappointment, because we would have been well rewarded for our wet jackets with the sight of fully filled ponds, which were the main obstacle on this journey. The sky was still cloudy, and the damp bushes were unavoidable. I continued traveling northwest until we reached some beautiful open forest hills, the bare tops of which, barely visible from the foot of Mount Owen, had first drawn me in that direction. One appealing peak tempted me to get closer and consider climbing it. In a rugged little watercourse nestled within it, we found enough water for our horses, thanks to last night's rain. The view from the summit made up for going off my planned route. A group of the most picturesque hills imaginable lay to the north and were connected to this one, all being branches from the Table Land of Hope. Some appeared a deep blue where they were covered in evergreen bush, while others had a golden hue from the lush ripe grass. The sun broke through the heavy clouds, casting rays over the landscape, enhancing its beauty. From this peak, I recognized my position on Mount Owen and several hills I had crossed from there, including the three distinct cones to the west of Mount Faraday, seemingly a continuation of the summits I previously mentioned. This hill was made of amygdaloidal trap in nodules, with crevices filled with crystals of gypsum, and there were many round ironstone balls scattered around, resembling marbles or round shot. A red iron-rich crust projected from the summit, and at this height, the magnetic needle was significantly affected by local attraction, rendering it useless. Luckily, I also had my pocket sextant and used it to take some useful angles. Upon descending, I thoroughly enjoyed a breakfast and named the hill that provided us with water Mount Aquarius. Heading back toward Mount Owen via a more direct route, I arrived at the head of a gully leading fairly straight until we found our trail in the creek I had followed the day before. But night was coming, and we had plenty of water in a rocky hollow, and a cave where a large fire provided enough warmth that, while passing the night there in my cloak, I was completely oblivious to the frost outside, which had dropped the mercury in the Fahrenheit thermometer to 22°, or 10° below the freezing point, at the camp around 4 p.m.
22D JUNE.—Our provisions being out, I hastened back to the camp, determined to explore in a more northerly direction, according to my original intention. Water was only to be found in so dry a season, in the neighbourhood of mountains, or in rocky gullies likely to retain a passing shower. In our way back, I ascended the north-western shoulder of Mount Owen, and was much more inclined to take a northerly route, from the appearance of the mountains on that side. The view from that summit to the northward, was very grand; I saw more plainly the line of the Maranfrom its upper sources. Two mighty masses of table-land seemed the highest of all. One I had already seen and named Buckland's Table Land. I could here distinguish the apex of Mount Aquarius, and fix it in my map. I perceived a hollow part of the range immediately to the northward, and a sort of hiatus amongst the peaks in the broken country beyond, through which I hoped to find a way. I hastened to the camp to prepare for a "raid" of a whole week, if necessary, in that direction. Thermometer, at sunrise, 27°; at noon, 52°; at 4 p.m., 55°; at 9, 59°.
22D JUNE.—Running low on supplies, I quickly returned to the camp, determined to head north, as I originally planned. Water was only available in such a dry season near mountains or in rocky gullies that might catch a quick rain. On the way back, I climbed the north-western side of Mount Owen and felt more inclined to take a northern route based on how the mountains looked over there. The view from that peak to the north was breathtaking; I could see the course of the Maran more clearly from its upper sources. Two massive plateaus appeared to be the highest of all. One of them I had previously seen and named Buckland's Table Land. From here, I could spot the peak of Mount Aquarius and mark it on my map. I noticed a dip in the range just to the north and a sort of gap among the peaks in the rough terrain beyond, through which I hoped to find a path. I rushed back to the camp to get ready for a week-long "expedition," if needed, in that direction. Thermometer readings were 27° at sunrise, 52° at noon, 55° at 4 p.m., and 59° at 9.
23D JUNE.—Returning early by the foot of Mount Owen, I travelled nearly northward through a fine open forest, in which we saw a large kangaroo entirely black. Rocky gullies next came in my way, and, in avoiding those on the left, others falling to the right, or to the Maran, showed me that this was a dividing feature. I knew it was continuous to Mount Clift from my former observations, and therefore followed it by keeping between the heads of gullies breaking to each side, until I found one favourable for a descent to the left. Below, we found a broad, grassy, valley, extending about W.N.W., and in it, deep ponds, which sometimes evidently held much water, although they were then dry. This soon, however, turned to the south-west, evidently to join the channel I had before explored. Quitting it, therefore, much disappointed, I ascended sandstone cliffs and pushed through scrubs, determined to proceed directly north-ward, until I met with valleys falling north-west. We thus passed just under the most easterly part of Hope's Table Land, and came, about sunset, to a hollow containing ponds, in two of which we found water. Here we gladly bivouacked for the night. ZAMIAS grew here, and were numerous higher up the valley. Thermometer, at sunrise, 26°; at noon, 54°; at 4 p.m., 50°; at 9, 40°.
23RD JUNE.—I returned early from the base of Mount Owen and headed nearly north through a beautiful open forest, where we spotted a large kangaroo that was completely black. Soon, I encountered rocky gullies, and as I avoided those on the left, I noticed others on the right, or towards the Maran, indicating that this was a notable feature. I remembered it connected to Mount Clift from my previous observations, so I followed it while keeping between the heads of the gullies on each side until I found one that was suitable for a descent to the left. Below, there was a wide, grassy valley stretching about W.N.W., containing deep ponds that likely held a lot of water, even though they were dry at the moment. This valley then turned southwest, clearly aiming to join the channel I had explored before. Feeling disappointed, I left it and climbed up sandstone cliffs, pushing through scrubs as I was determined to head directly north until I found valleys sloping northwest. We passed just below the easternmost part of Hope's Table Land and reached a hollow with ponds around sunset, where we found water in two of them. We were happy to set up camp for the night here. ZAMIAS were growing in this area, and there were many higher up the valley. The thermometer read 26° at sunrise; 54° at noon; 50° at 4 p.m.; and 40° at 9 p.m.
24TH JUNE.—The hoar-frost had stiffened the grass, and the water was frozen so that the horses cared not to drink. I proceeded N. N. W., in which direction a beautiful cone rose to a great height, and sharp apex. Stony hills of trap appearing also in that line, I turned northward, and, after crossing a level tract of high ground, much like a dividing feature, (especially as seen from Mount Owen,) I entered a valley descending to the northwest. It fell rapidly, contained large water holes, and in two of these, at length, an abundant supply of water. The course, throughout all its windings, was towards the north-west, and this I, at the time, thought, might be a northern water. I therefore returned, anxious to bring the party thus far, at all events, and resolved to follow this little river down. We arrived, on our way back, in the evening of the same day, in the valley I had quitted in the morning, having followed down a water-course from the end of Hope's Table Land, under which I had passed, in search of a good way for the carts. Although we had seen promising ponds of water in this little channel, we could find none in the lower part, having in the expectation of finding some, rode on until darkness prevented me from going further. We were thus obliged to pass the night (a very cold one) without water, and almost without fuel. I missed the comfortable cavern where I had slept a few nights before, especially when I arose here in the night to mend the fire, and found we had no more wood at hand. I learnt afterwards that at the camp, the thermometer at 4 p.m. had been as low as 17° of Fahrenheit.[*] Thermometer, at sunrise, 21°; at noon, 51°; at 4 P. M. 49°; at 9, 29°.
24TH JUNE.—The frost had hardened the grass, and the water was frozen, so the horses didn't want to drink. I headed northwest, where a beautiful, tall cone rose sharply in the distance. As I noticed rocky hills along the way, I turned north. After crossing a flat area of high ground that resembled a divide (especially from Mount Owen), I entered a valley that sloped down to the northwest. It dropped steeply and had large water holes, with two of them eventually offering a good supply of water. The path wound its way north-west, and at that time, I thought it could lead to a northern water source. I decided to head back, eager to bring the group this far, and resolved to follow this small river downstream. On our way back, we arrived that evening in the valley I had left in the morning, after tracing a watercourse from the end of Hope's Table Land, which I had crossed looking for a better route for the carts. While we had seen promising ponds in this little stream, we found none further down, continuing on in hopes of discovering some until darkness stopped us. We had to spend a very cold night without water and almost no fuel. I really missed the cozy cave where I had slept a few nights before, especially when I got up in the night to tend the fire and realized we had no more wood nearby. I later learned that at the camp, the thermometer had dropped to 17°F at 4 p.m. Thermometer readings: at sunrise, 21°; at noon, 51°; at 4 P.M., 49°; at 9, 29°.
[* This was 15° degrees below the freezing point, and shows how much more easily cold may be endured in a dry atmosphere than where there is moisture, as instanced in the following extract from a despatch of Captain James C. Ross (in command of the Antarctic Expedition), dated 7th April, 1841, and published in the Tasmanian Journal.
[* This was 15° degrees below freezing, and it shows how much more bearable cold can be in a dry environment compared to a humid one, as demonstrated in the following excerpt from a dispatch by Captain James C. Ross (in charge of the Antarctic Expedition), dated April 7, 1841, and published in the Tasmanian Journal.]
"With a temperature of 20° below the freezing point, we found the ice to form so rapidly on the surface, that any further examination of the barrier in so extremely severe a period of the season being impracticable, we stood away to the westward, for the purpose of making another attempt to approach the magnetic pole, and reached its latitude (76° S.) on the 15th February."]
"At a temperature of 20° below freezing, we noticed that ice formed so quickly on the surface that any further examination of the barrier during such a harsh time of year was impossible. So, we headed west to make another attempt to get closer to the magnetic pole and reached its latitude (76° S.) on February 15th."
25TH JUNE.—Continuing our ride as soon as day-light permitted, ten minutes brought us to a pond containing plenty of water under a shelving rock, and here we alighted to breakfast, which was pleasant enough, but not so gratifying as the position of this pond, which would enable me to bring the carts through these valleys, to this convenient intermediate stage in the way to the Northern river. The next question was, whether the route to the eastward, descending into these valleys near Mount Clift, or that by my first route, when I discovered this rocky country, should be preferred; and I returned towards our camp this morning by the eastern gullies, in hopes to find an easy descent nearer to Mount Clift than at the point where I before came down. But I found them much more acclivitous and rocky. We at length, with difficulty, got our horses up a rocky point, on which grew a thick scrub of "blackwood," as Yuranigh called it, an acacia having many tough stems growing thickly together from one root, and obstructing the passage, and covering the ground with its half-fallen and fallen timber. Our passage along the range thence towards Mount Owen, having been too much to the eastward, brought us upon the bend of a gully falling to the Maran; a wild and impracticable looking dell as ever was seen. On regaining our track near Mount Owen, and returning along it to the camp, I found that another pond had been discovered in the valley, by Felix Maguire, who on two occasions, had dreamt of water, risen, and walked directly to where he found it! However that might have been, this man had a happy knack in finding water. In the neighbourhood of this camp some interesting plants were collected; viz. NOTHOCHLOENA DISTANS, GRAMMITIS RUTOEFOLIA, CHEILANTHES TENUIFOLIA, ADIANTUM HISPIDULUM and ASSIMILE, all ferns, together with HOVEA LANCEOLATA, the weedy SPHOERANTHUS HIRTUS, GREVILLEA FLORIBUNDA, a low shrub, occupying the ravines. Besides these we observed a small species of SIDA in the sandy soil of forests, the DOODIA CAUDATA Br., a verdant fern, and the SOLANUM FURFURACEUM with lilac flowers, and small red berries. A shrub loaded with succulent drupes, seated in reddish cups, appeared to be a new species of VITEX, but its genus was uncertain, there being no flowers. What is here called GREVILLEA FLORIBUNDA may have been an allied species, for the leaves were more downy, almost tomentose above. In addition to this a new species of the common genus DODONOEA, frequently met with afterwards, was now producing its flowers.[*] Thermometer, at sunrise, 12°; at noon, 50°; at 4 p.m. 51°; at 9, 22°.
25TH JUNE.—We continued our ride as soon as it was light enough, and within ten minutes we reached a pond with plenty of water under a sloping rock. We stopped here for breakfast, which was nice, but not as satisfying as the location of the pond, which would allow me to bring the carts through these valleys to this convenient midway point on the way to the Northern river. The next decision was whether to take the eastern route, descending into these valleys near Mount Clift, or the path I first took when I discovered this rocky area. I retraced my steps toward our camp this morning through the eastern gullies, hoping to find an easier descent closer to Mount Clift than where I previously came down. However, I found them to be much steeper and rockier. Eventually, we struggled to get our horses up a rocky outcrop, where there was a thick growth of "blackwood," as Yuranigh referred to it, an acacia with many tough stems densely clustered together from a single root, making it hard to pass and littering the ground with its half-fallen and fallen timber. Our route along the range towards Mount Owen veered too much to the east, leading us to a bend in a gully dropping down to the Maran; it was a wild and seemingly impossible ravine. After getting back on our path near Mount Owen and making our way back to the camp, I discovered that Felix Maguire had found another pond in the valley. He had dreamt of water twice, gotten up, and walked straight to where he found it! Regardless of how that happened, this guy had a talent for locating water. Nearby this camp, we collected some interesting plants, including NOTHOCHLOENA DISTANS, GRAMMITIS RUTOEFOLIA, CHEILANTHES TENUIFOLIA, ADIANTUM HISPIDULUM, and ASSIMILE, all ferns, in addition to HOVEA LANCEOLATA, the weedy SPHOERANTHUS HIRTUS, and GREVILLEA FLORIBUNDA, a low shrub found in the ravines. We also noted a small species of SIDA in the sandy soil of forests, the DOODIA CAUDATA Br., a lush fern, and the SOLANUM FURFURACEUM with lilac flowers and small red berries. A shrub full of juicy drupes, sitting in reddish cups, seemed to be a new species of VITEX, though its genus was uncertain since there were no flowers. What is referred to here as GREVILLEA FLORIBUNDA may have been a related species, as its leaves were fluffier, almost covered in fine hairs on the top. Additionally, a new species from the common genus DODONOEA, which we encountered later, was now flowering.[*] Thermometer readings were 12° at sunrise; 50° at noon; 51° at 4 p.m.; and 22° at 9.
[* D. MOLLIS (Lindl. MS.); molliter pubescens, ramulis subteretibus, foliis obovatis acutis truncatis rotundatis retusis tridentatisque, capsulis tetragonis trigonisque pubescentibus apteris.]
[* D. MOLLIS (Lindl. MS.); soft pubescent, with slightly rounded branches, leaves that are obovate, pointed, truncate, rounded, and notched with three teeth, and capsules that are pubescent, quadrangular and triangular without wings.]
26TH JUNE. The party moved forward, at length, with the certainty of finding water for at least three days' journey, and of a hopeful water- course being before us. Passing by the foot of Mount Owen, I observed the barometer which gave an elevation of 2083 feet: the summit might be 700 feet higher. My plan of route was, to enter the little river that turned to the south-west (as I had found it did, on the 20th,) and to travel along its valley upwards, until I reached the pond near which I had bivouacked on the 25th. This we accomplished most successfully before sunset, encamping beside the large pond already mentioned, near which were two others. The earth by the margin was so soft that neither the horses nor bullocks could approach the water; they could only be watered out of buckets; but the water was excellent, and water of any quality, in abundance too, was to us rather uncommon good fortune, and quite cheering, even when surrounded by soft mud. Thermometer, at sunrise, 14°; at noon, 48°; at 4 p.m. 47°; at 9, 37°.
26TH JUNE. The party moved ahead, confident we would find water for at least a three-day journey, and hopeful about the waterway ahead. As we passed by the base of Mount Owen, I checked the barometer, which indicated an elevation of 2083 feet; the peak might be about 700 feet taller. My route plan was to follow the little river that flowed southwest (as I discovered it did on the 20th) and travel upstream through its valley until I reached the pond where I had camped on the 25th. We accomplished this successfully before sunset, setting up camp beside the large pond mentioned earlier, which was near two smaller ponds. The ground along the edge was so soft that neither the horses nor the bullocks could get close to the water; they could only be watered from buckets. However, the water was excellent, and having an ample supply of good-quality water was quite a rare stroke of luck and very uplifting, even with the soft mud all around. The thermometer read 14° at sunrise, 48° at noon, 47° at 4 p.m., and 37° at 9 p.m.
27TH JUNE. We had next to trace up a grassy valley which seemed to come directly from the vicinity of that in which I had found water and bivouacked on the 24th. It formed an excellent line, and we found it possible to keep this fine firm level surface, until we had approached to within two miles of that spot. Leaving a little hill of trap to the left, and some brigalow scrub on the right, we reached the old ground and encamped. The small ponds had evaporated, but, in the frosty night, the cattle were not likely to require water, as they had been watered on the way, about 3 p.m., at a rocky well in the valley. We had now traced with our wheels, a good way through a country much broken and shut up by sandstone gullies; but which contained also many rich valleys, and extensive hilly tracts of trap rock, on which the grass was very luxuriant, apparently available for either sheep or cattle. Immediately to the westward of this camp (marked XXXVIII.) an extensive valley was bounded by the fine trap range of Hope's Table Land; which range was open along the summit, and contained springs, in various ravines along its sides. In these ravines, we first saw the arborescent Zamia, and various remarkable shrubs; the MYOPORUM CUNNINGHAMII of Swan River, forming a shrub six feet high, with white fragrant flowers. Thermometer, at sunrise, 20°; at 9 p.m., 29°. Height above the sea, 2064 feet.
27TH JUNE. Next, we followed a grassy valley that seemed to lead directly from near where I found water and set up camp on the 24th. It provided a great path, and we managed to maintain a smooth, firm surface until we were about two miles from that spot. Leaving a small hill of trap on the left and some brigalow scrub on the right, we reached familiar ground and set up camp. The small ponds had dried up, but since it was a chilly night, the cattle probably wouldn’t need water, as they had been watered earlier around 3 p.m. at a rocky well in the valley. We had covered a good distance through rough terrain marked by sandstone gullies, but it also had many fertile valleys and large hilly areas of trap rock, where the grass was very lush and seemed suitable for either sheep or cattle. Just west of this camp (marked XXXVIII.) was a large valley bordered by the beautiful trap range of Hope's Table Land; this range had an open summit and contained springs in various ravines along its slopes. In these ravines, we first encountered the tree-like Zamia and several remarkable shrubs; the MYOPORUM CUNNINGHAMII from Swan River, which grows into a six-foot-high shrub with white fragrant flowers. The thermometer read 20° at sunrise and 29° at 9 p.m. The height above sea level was 2064 feet.
28TH JUNE.—Severe frost whenever the sky was clear, seemed the ordinary weather of that country, at that season; showing, as the barometer also indicated, that we were at a great height above the sea. I sent the party forward, guided by Yuranigh, along my former track, to the ponds in the newly discovered channel, falling north-west; and I proceeded myself, accompanied by Mr. Stephenson, to the summit of the fine cone already mentioned. From this, I beheld a splendid and extensive view of the mountains further northward. Most of the summits I had previously intersected, and many others, very remarkable, just appeared over an intermediate woody range, through which I was at a loss to discover where our supposed northern river would pass. Far in the north-west, I could just distinguish the tops of curiously broken hills arising from a much lower country; and therein I hoped to find, whatever might be the final course of our river, a passage to the north-west, and water. The most important feature in that scene seemed to me to be a grey misty tint, as if it marked a valley descending from the highest eastern mountains, towards the curiously broken summits in the northwest. Bare crests of similar hills, appeared to arise throughout the whole extent of that valley. Under those lofty mountains, at such elevation, in such a clime, with these romantic hills, that valley must be a paradise if watered well, as I hope it is. So flowed the "spring" of hope at least, as it was fed by the scene then before me. The cone we had ascended consisted of trap rock, much resembling that of Mount Aquarius; but, at its base, and on its sides, I found in large masses, the very compact felspathic rock which characterises the valley of the Darling. This has been considered a very fine-grained sandstone; but it is evidently an altered rock. Here, in contact with trap, it possessed the same tendency to break into irregular polygons, some of the faces of which were curved; and I observed one mass which had been so tossed up, that its lower side lay uppermost, inclined at an angle of about 60°. That this is a hypogene rock, sometimes in contact with granite as well as with trap, is evident at Oxley's Table Land, and other places. I was glad to find it here, as affording a prospect of meeting with better soil than the loose sand we had seen so much of. We here found the grey, prickly SOLANUM ELLIPTICUM. I named this cone Mount P. P. King; and, I have since ascertained, by that officer's register and calculations, the height of this summit above the sea, to be 2646 feet; and the height of this camp, 2159 feet. Thermometer, at sunrise, 25°; at 4 p.m., 55°; at 9, 25°. (XXXIX)
28TH JUNE.—Whenever the sky was clear, there was a harsh frost, which seemed typical weather for that area during this season; the barometer also confirmed that we were at a high altitude. I sent the team ahead, guided by Yuranigh, along my previous route to the ponds in the newly discovered channel, flowing northwest, while I continued on with Mr. Stephenson to the top of the impressive cone mentioned earlier. From here, I had a breathtaking and expansive view of the mountains further north. Most of the peaks I had crossed earlier, along with many other striking ones, just peeked above an intervening wooded range, through which I struggled to figure out where our supposed northern river might flow. Far to the northwest, I could barely make out the tops of strangely shaped hills rising from a much lower landscape; I hoped this area would provide a passage to the northwest and water, regardless of where our river ultimately went. The most significant feature in that scene appeared to be a gray, misty hue, as if indicating a valley descending from the highest eastern mountains towards the uniquely sculpted peaks in the northwest. Bare summits of similar hills rose throughout that entire valley. Under those towering mountains, at such altitude, in this climate, with these picturesque hills, that valley must be a paradise if it is well-watered, as I hoped it was. This was the "spring" of hope at least, as it was nourished by the view before me. The cone we climbed was composed of trap rock, resembling that of Mount Aquarius; however, at its base and on its sides, I discovered large masses of very dense felspathic rock which characterizes the Darling Valley. This has been regarded as fine-grained sandstone, but it is clearly an altered rock. Here, in contact with trap, it showed the same tendency to fracture into irregular polygons, some of which had curved faces; I noted one mass that had been so upturned that its lower side was facing upward, tilted at about a 60° angle. That this is a hypogene rock, sometimes found alongside granite and trap, is evident at Oxley's Table Land and other locations. I was pleased to find it here, as it suggested better soil than the loose sand we had encountered frequently. We also found the gray, prickly SOLANUM ELLIPTICUM. I named this cone Mount P. P. King; and I later confirmed, through that officer's records and calculations, that the height of this summit above sea level is 2646 feet, while the height of this camp is 2159 feet. Thermometer readings at sunrise were 25°; at 4 p.m., 55°; and at 9, 25°. (XXXIX)
29TH JUNE.—Crossing a small tributary which was full of water (coming from Hope's Table Land), we continued to travel along the left bank of the newly found river. Rocky precipices overhanging it, obliged me to make some détours, and to pass through some scrubs; but still we regained the banks of the river, although our progress was not considerable. Its general course was still north-west, to the spot selected for my second camp on its banks. The channel was now broad; the banks high, rounded, and grassy; in some places, rocky. Water in the channel was rarely to be seen, but at the junction of tributaries, where recent temporary showers seemed to have fallen. By careful observation, I ascertained the variation of the needle to be 8° 4' E. here. Thermometer, at sunrise, 25°; at 4 p.m., 68°; at 9, 53°. Height above the sea, 1914 feet. (XL.)
29TH JUNE.—After crossing a small, water-filled tributary from Hope's Table Land, we continued our journey along the left bank of the newly discovered river. Rocky cliffs that loomed above forced me to take some detours and navigate through some brush, but we eventually managed to get back to the riverbank, even though our progress was slow. The river continued to flow northwest toward the spot I had chosen for my second campsite. The channel was now wide, with high, rounded, grassy banks that were rocky in some areas. Water in the channel was hard to find except at the points where tributaries met, where recent short rains seemed to have occurred. By carefully checking, I found that the magnetic variation was 8° 4' E. The thermometer read 25° at sunrise, 68° at 4 p.m., and 53° at 9 p.m. We were 1914 feet above sea level. (XL.)
30TH JUNE.—The course of the river was now found to turn to the southward of west; and, even in that direction, rugged cliffs covered with scrub greatly impeded our progress. I endeavoured to conduct the carts along the bed of the river, soft and sandy as it was; but we did not proceed far in it, before rocks, fallen trees, and driftwood, obliged us to abandon that course as speedily as we could. Then, ascending a projecting eminence, we plunged into the scrubs; but, even in a southwest direction, we came upon the river. Pursuing its course along the bank, southward, I arrived near the base of a fine open forest hill; and, directing the party to encamp, I hastened to its summit. I there obtained a view of most of the mountains of the eastern range formerly observed, and enough of the fixed points, to enable me to determine the position of this. In the south-west, a line of open forest, and a vast column of smoke seemed too plainly to mark the further course of our river; but, towards the north-west, I saw much to reconcile me to this disappointment. Summits of broken and uncommon aspect, beyond an intervening woody range, there indicated a much lower and different kind of country, as if that was, indeed, the basin of a system of northern waters; the woody intervening range appearing to be the division between them. As our last explored river again turned southward, it seemed reasonable to expect, beyond that very continuous range, rivers pursuing a different course. This range was plainly traceable from the high mountains more to the eastward, and was continuous westward to three remarkable conical hills, beyond which, the view did not extend. On the same range, a fine tableshaped mountain appeared nearly north. This I had already intersected from other stations, and named Mount Faraday. The hill on which I stood consisted of trap-rock, and seemed to be almost the western extremity of Hope's Table Land. A copious spring was afterwards found by Mr. Stephenson, in a valley to the eastward of this summit. That ravine was extensive; and in it grew various remarkable trees. The bottle-tree (Delabechea) grew more gregariously than we had ever seen it, in the stony banks of the channel of the torrent from the hills. One thorny tree or shrub (first seen at the base of Mount P. P. King) again appeared here; it was, generally, in a withered state; had a leaf somewhat like the human hand, and a pod containing two peas of a bright scarlet colour, about the shape and size of a French bean. This, sometimes grew to a tree as much as a foot in diameter; and the natives, who, like Nature herself, may be said to do nothing in vain, had cut one down, and carried off the whole of the trunk. The wood was of a leaden colour. This proved to be a new species of ERYTHRINA, or coral tree.[*] By our last day's journey, we had lost two miles of northing, and had thus recrossed the 25th parallel of south latitude. I therefore determined to cross our friendly little river, and look for another beyond the range to the northward. Thermometer, at sunrise, 44°; at noon, 68°; at 4 p.m., 65°; at 9, 38°. Height above the sea, 1732 feet. (XLI.)
30TH JUNE.—The river now curved south of west, and even in that direction, steep cliffs covered in scrub made our progress difficult. I tried to navigate the carts along the riverbed, which was soft and sandy, but we quickly ran into rocks, fallen trees, and driftwood, forcing us to abandon that route as quickly as we could. Then, climbing a slight rise, we pushed into the scrub; however, even heading southwest, we came back to the river. Following its course along the bank to the south, I arrived near the base of a beautiful open forest hill. I directed the group to set up camp and hurried to the top. From there, I had a view of most of the mountains in the eastern range I had seen before, and enough fixed points to determine our location. To the southwest, a line of open forest and a large column of smoke clearly marked the river's path. But to the northwest, what I saw helped me reconcile my disappointment. The peaks of broken and unusual shapes, beyond a woody range, indicated a much lower and different type of terrain, as if this was the basin of a system of northern waters, with the woody range acting as a divider. Since our last explored river turned south again, it seemed reasonable to expect that beyond this continuous range, other rivers would flow in a different direction. This range was clearly visible from the high mountains further east and continued westward to three distinctive conical hills, beyond which the view didn't extend. On the same range, a large table-shaped mountain appeared nearly to the north. I had already intersected this from other locations and named it Mount Faraday. The hill I was standing on was made of trap rock and seemed to be almost the western edge of Hope's Table Land. A plentiful spring was later discovered by Mr. Stephenson in a valley east of this summit. That ravine was expansive and had various remarkable trees. The bottle-tree (Delabechea) grew in greater numbers here than we had ever seen, along the stony banks of the torrent channel from the hills. One thorny tree or shrub (first seen at the base of Mount P. P. King) reappeared here; generally, it was wilted, had leaves somewhat resembling a human hand, and pods containing two bright scarlet peas, about the shape and size of a French bean. This tree could grow to about a foot in diameter; the natives, who, much like Nature herself, do nothing without purpose, had cut one down and taken the entire trunk. The wood was leaden-colored. This turned out to be a new species of ERYTHRINA, or coral tree.[*] From our last day’s journey, we had lost two miles of northing, crossing back over the 25th parallel of south latitude. Therefore, I decided to cross our friendly little river and search for another one beyond the range to the north. Thermometer readings were 44° at sunrise, 68° at noon, 65° at 4 p.m., and 38° at 9. Height above sea level was 1732 feet. (XLI.)
[* E. VESPERTILIO (Benth. MS.); glaberrima, caule fruticoso aculeato, foliorum petiolo elongato, foliolis trilobis lobo medio recto acutiusculo lateralibus multo majoribus falcato-divaricatis obtusissimis.—Although no flowers were seen, the genus of this shrub is well indicated by the pod and the general habit. The leaflets are often above four inches broad and not two inches long, not unlike the form of a bat with its wings extended.]
[* E. VESPERTILIO (Benth. MS.); very smooth, woody stem with thorns, elongated petioles, leaflets that are trilobed with a straight middle lobe that’s slightly sharp and much larger, broad and blunt lateral lobes that are curved away from each other.—Although no flowers were observed, the type of this shrub is clearly indicated by the pod and its overall appearance. The leaflets are often over four inches wide and less than two inches long, resembling the shape of a bat with its wings spread.]
1ST JULY.—With that view, I rode towards Mount Faraday, anxious to look into the valley beyond it. After a two hours' ride, I passed under its western summit, and still pressed forward, in hopes of seeing at length into the valleys beyond. I thus entered a very thick scrub, so impervious that I was obliged to turn westward, until I came upon sandstone gullies into one of which I descended. Following this downwards, I found it fell to the westward, and in a hollow part of its rocky bed I came to some clear water. But this was inaccessible, even to my horse, nor could I take him further down that wildly broken gully; therefore we backed out, and ascended as we could. Then riding southward in search of one more accessible, I at length, descended into a grassy valley, which ran northwest, and gave promise of something still better. I could not follow it then without provisions, having none with me, and I therefore hastened back to the camp, resolved to take with me men and provisions sufficient to enable me to explore this further. In the scrub I passed through on my way back, I found various very remarkable shrubs new and strange to me. One grew on a large stalk, from which leaves radiated without other or any branches. These leaves, hanging gracefully around the stem, gave to this shrub the resemblance of the plume of a staff-officer. The outer side of each leaf was dark and shining, the inner white and woolly. Rarely these tall stems separated into two. Other branches there were none. Some very beautiful new acacias also grew there. One, in particular, with leaves exactly similar to those of the silver-leaved ironbark, was very remarkable, a broad rough-leaved FICUS, with opposite leaves not unlike those of the New Holland Upas. The white-flowered lead-wort (PLUMBAGO ZEYLANICA) and the TRIODIA PUNGENS were abundant among the grasses. A downy Dodonaea, with triangular leaves, was producing its small flowers[*], and a scrubby bush with hard narrow leaves and globular fruit the size of a rifle-ball, proved to be a new CAPPARIS.[**] Thermometer, at daybreak, 35°; at 9 p.m., 38°.
1ST JULY.—With that in mind, I rode towards Mount Faraday, eager to check out the valley beyond it. After a two-hour ride, I passed under its western peak and kept going, hoping to finally see into the valleys ahead. I entered a thick brush that was so dense I had to turn west until I came across some sandstone gullies, one of which I decided to descend into. Following it downward, I noticed it sloped to the west, and in a hollow part of its rocky bed, I found some clear water. However, it was too difficult to reach, even for my horse, and I couldn’t take him any further down that rugged gully; so we turned back and climbed out as best we could. Then, riding south in search of a more accessible path, I eventually descended into a grassy valley that ran northwest, promising something even better. I couldn’t explore it then since I had no provisions with me, so I hurried back to camp, determined to bring men and enough supplies to continue my exploration. In the brush I passed through on my way back, I found several remarkable shrubs that were new and strange to me. One had a large stalk with leaves radiating directly from it, without any branches. These leaves hung gracefully around the stem, giving the shrub the appearance of a plume on a staff-officer's cap. The outer side of each leaf was dark and shiny, while the inner side was white and fuzzy. Rarely, these tall stems branched into two. There were no other branches. I also spotted some very beautiful new acacias there. One, in particular, had leaves that were exactly like those of the silver-leaved ironbark and was quite remarkable, along with a broad, rough-leaved FICUS that had opposite leaves similar to those of the New Holland Upas. The white-flowered leadwort (PLUMBAGO ZEYLANICA) and the TRIODIA PUNGENS were abundant among the grasses. A downy Dodonaea with triangular leaves was producing small flowers[*], and a scraggly bush with hard, narrow leaves and round fruit the size of a rifle bullet turned out to be a new CAPPARIS.[**] The thermometer registered 35° at dawn and 38° at 9 p.m.
[* D. TRIANGULARIS (Lindl. MS.); molliter pubescens, foliis obtriangularibus tridentatis, pedunculis masculis axillaribus subsolitariis.]
[* D. TRIANGULARIS (Lindl. MS.); softly hairy, with somewhat triangular, three-pronged leaves, and male flower stalks that are solitary and situated in the axils.]
[** C. LORANTHIFOLIA (Lindl. MS.) ramosa, inermis, ramulis tomentosis, foliis lineari-oblongis obtusis coriaceis glabris sesqui-pollicaribus aveniis, pedunculis solitariis axillaribus tomentosis foliis brevioribus, stipite duplo longiore, fructu sphaerico tuberculato glabro.]
[** C. LORANTHIFOLIA (Lindl. MS.) ramosa, unarmed, with hairy branches, leaves that are linear-oblong, blunt, leathery, hairless, and about an inch and a half long, with solitary hairy axillary flower stalks shorter than the leaves, a stem that is twice as long, and a smooth, tuberculated spherical fruit.]
2D JULY.—Returning with two men and Yuranigh to the valley where I had been yesterday, I followed it downwards, and soon found that it widened very much, and contained large dry ponds, with the traces of a deep current of water at some seasons. At length, the rocky precipices seemed to recede, and formed occasionally bold headlands of most picturesque outline. Two, that towered above the woods before us, resembled pyramids, and I saw an open country beyond them, from which other summits of extraordinary form seemed to emerge. Yet we had found no moisture in the ponds, and lamented that a country, in every other respect so fine, should be without water. Further on, I perceived reeds in the hollow of the valley, and Yuranigh said there must be a spring, upon which he walked in amongst them, but still found the earth dry. The reeds at length covered an extensive flat, and looked, at the lower part of the flat, so green, that I sent Corporal Graham to examine that point. He emerged from the reeds with a face that, at a distance, made Douglas, my other man, say, "He has found water." He had found A RUNNING STREAM, to which he had been guided by its own music, and taking a tin pot, he brought me some of it. The water was clear and sparkling, tasting strongly of sulphur, and Yuranigh said that this was the head of a river that NEVER DRIED UP. In this land of picturesque beauty and pastoral abundance, within eighty miles of the tropics, we had discovered the first running stream seen on this journey. I returned, determined to bring the party thus far, and with the intention of passing that night where we had found water in a rock about six miles back, that we might sooner reach the camp next day. At that spot we had also the benefit of a cavern, before which, a good fire being made, we defied the frost of a very cold night, the thermometer having been registered at the camp, at 3 a.m., as low as 7°. In the scrubs we had passed through in the morning, a variety of the ACACIA PODALYRIIFOLIA, with grey velvety leaves, was scarcely in flower; and I observed a beautiful new species of STENOCHILUS with large tubular flowers.[*] The ACACIA FALCATA appeared also on the sandstone ground above the gullies, and a broad-leaved form of the EREMOPHILA MITCHELLII. The moon shone brightly, and the rock being full of silver mica, the splendour of the scene imparted to my eye and mind then a degree of gratification far beyond any associations of the richest furniture of a palace. We found it impossible to get our horses to the water; but we hit upon an expedient which answered even better than a bucket,—my Mackintosh cloak.
2D JULY—Returning with two men and Yuranigh to the valley where I had been yesterday, I followed it downhill and soon noticed that it widened significantly, containing large dry ponds with signs of a deep water current during some seasons. Eventually, the rocky cliffs seemed to pull back, occasionally forming bold headlands with striking outlines. Two of these, standing tall above the woods ahead, looked like pyramids, and I could see open land beyond them, where other uniquely shaped peaks appeared to rise. Still, we hadn’t found any moisture in the ponds and lamented that a place so beautiful in every other way was without water. Further down, I noticed reeds in the valley, and Yuranigh mentioned there might be a spring, so he walked among them but found the ground still dry. The reeds eventually covered a vast flat area and looked so green in the lower part that I sent Corporal Graham over to check it out. He came out from the reeds with a face that made Douglas, my other companion, say, “He has found water.” He had discovered A RUNNING STREAM, guided by its sound, and after grabbing a tin pot, he brought some back to me. The water was clear and sparkling, with a strong sulfur taste, and Yuranigh said this was the source of a river that NEVER DRIED UP. In this gorgeous and lush land, just eighty miles from the tropics, we had found the first running stream on this journey. I went back, determined to bring the group to this spot and planned to spend the night where we had found water in a rock about six miles back, so we could reach camp sooner the next day. That location also had a cave where, after making a good fire, we braved the frost of a very cold night, with the thermometer at the camp dropping as low as 7° at 3 a.m. In the brush we had gone through that morning, there was a variety of ACACIA PODALYRIIFOLIA, with gray velvety leaves, that was barely in bloom; and I spotted a beautiful new species of STENOCHILUS with large tubular flowers. The ACACIA FALCATA was also present on the sandstone ground above the gullies, along with a broad-leaved form of EREMOPHILA MITCHELLII. The moon shone brightly, and the rock sparkled with silver mica, giving me a sense of satisfaction that outshone the richest decorations of a palace. We found it impossible to get our horses to the water, but we came up with a solution that worked even better than a bucket—my Mackintosh cloak.
[* S. CURVIPES (Benth. MS.) glaber, foliis lanceolatis integerrimis basi in petiolum angustatis pedicellis recurvis, calycis foliolis latis acuminatis, corollae glabrae ventricosae laciniis acutis inferiore ultra medium solutâ.—Flowers large and thick on recurved pedicels 4 to 6 lines long. Calycine leaves broader than in all the other species.]
[* S. CURVIPES (Benth. MS.) glaber, with smooth, lance-shaped leaves that are completely unbroken and narrow at the base into the petiole, has recurved flower stalks, wide, pointed sepals, and a smooth, swollen corolla with sharp lobes that are free below the middle. —Flowers are large and thick on recurved flower stalks that are 4 to 6 lines long. Calyx leaves are broader than in all the other species.]
3D JULY.—In returning, we looked for a good line of approach, and found an easy way for the carts to descend into the valley. On arriving at the camp, I learnt that a large pond had been discovered in a rocky part of the river, about a mile below our camp. Thermometer, at sunrise, 14°; at noon, 60; at 4 p.m., 61°; at 9, 26°. Height of camp above the sea, 1800 feet. (XLII.)
3D JULY.—On our way back, we searched for a good route and found an easy path for the carts to go down into the valley. When we got to camp, I found out that a large pond had been discovered in a rocky area of the river, about a mile downstream from our camp. The thermometer read 14° at sunrise, 60° at noon, 61° at 4 p.m., and 26° at 9 p.m. The camp was at an elevation of 1800 feet above sea level. (XLII.)
4TH JULY.—The clouds had gathered, and it rained heavily this morning. Nevertheless, the party moved off, crossing the river where the banks had been cut to facilitate the passage. With Yuranigh's assistance we hit upon an excellent line of route, availing ourselves of a grassy valley descending from Mount Faraday, just so far as to avoid the rocky crooked part, and then crossing and cutting through a piece of scrub directly to the point of easy ascent, we thus made a good road into the valley, and arrived in good time, notwithstanding the rain, at the rock of my bivouac. The night-sky cleared up, and I found our latitude (by Arcturus) to be 24° 54' 12" S. Thermometer, at sunrise, 43°; at 4 p.m., 49°; at 9, 38°. Height above the sea, 1437 feet. (XLIII.)
4TH JULY.—The clouds had gathered, and it rained heavily this morning. Still, the group set off, crossing the river where the banks had been cut to make it easier to pass. With Yuranigh's help, we discovered a great route, taking advantage of a grassy valley descending from Mount Faraday, just enough to avoid the rocky, winding section. We then crossed and made our way through a patch of scrub directly to an easy ascent point, creating a good path into the valley, and arrived on time despite the rain at the site of my camp. The night sky cleared up, and I determined our latitude (using Arcturus) to be 24° 54' 12" S. The thermometer read 43° at sunrise, 49° at 4 p.m., and 38° at 9 p.m. The height above sea level was 1437 feet. (XLIII.)
5TH JULY.—Another frosty night succeeded the day of rain, and froze our tents into boards, not easily to be packed up this morning. We proceeded along our horses' track, and the beautiful headland which appeared quite isolated, and just such as painters place in middle distance, I named Mount Salvator. We encamped on a slight elevation of the right bank of the reedy rivulet, near the pyramids. Our prospects had suddenly brightened, when instead of following chains of dry ponds, we had before us a running stream, carrying life and nourishment towards the country we were about to explore. The whole aspect of the country seemed new to us. The barometer showed we were rapidly descending, and I expected that our living stream would soon join that greater stream, the basin of which I thought I could trace in the line of mist seen from Mount P. P. King on the 28th June. The course of this river, unlike the others, curved round from N.W. towards north, and having its origin in mountains equidistant between Cape York and Wilson's Promontory, it was reasonable to suppose that we had at length crossed the division between northern and southern waters. That between eastern and western waters was still to be discovered, and in a country so intricate, and where water was so scarce then, the course of rivers afforded the readiest means of determining where that division was. If the general course of this river was found to be to the eastward of north, we might safely conclude that the dividing ground was on the west or to the left of our route; if to the westward of north, it might be to the eastward, or on the right of our route, and this seemed the more probable from the line of a river flowing north-westward, which I had seen the valley of, from Mount P. P. King. Latitude 24° 50' 2". S. Thermometer, at sunrise, 16°; at noon, 50°; at 4 P. M., 49°; at 9, 38°. Height above the sea, according to sixteen observations, 1421 feet. (XLIV.)
5TH JULY.—After a rainy day, we had another frosty night that turned our tents into rigid boards, making them hard to pack up this morning. We followed the trail our horses had left, and I named a beautiful, seemingly isolated headland Mount Salvator, just like something you'd see in a painting. We set up camp on a slight rise along the right bank of a grassy stream, near the pyramids. Our outlook improved suddenly; instead of navigating dry ponds, we now had a flowing stream that brought life and nourishment to the land we were about to explore. Everything around us felt new. The barometer indicated we were dropping in elevation, and I anticipated that this stream would soon join a larger river, which I thought I could trace from the mist I had seen from Mount P. P. King on June 28th. Uniquely, this river curved from the northwest toward the north, originating from mountains roughly halfway between Cape York and Wilson's Promontory. It seemed reasonable to assume we had finally crossed the divide between northern and southern waters. The divide between eastern and western waters was still to be found, and in such a complex landscape, where water was scarce back then, the rivers provided the easiest way to identify that divide. If the overall flow of this river leaned to the east of north, we could confidently say that the divide lay to the west or to the left of our path; if it flowed to the west of north, then it might be to the east or on the right of our route. This latter seemed more likely considering the line of a river flowing northwest that I had observed from Mount P. P. King. Latitude 24° 50' 2". S. Thermometer readings: at sunrise, 16°; at noon, 50°; at 4 P.M., 49°; at 9 P.M., 38°. Height above sea level, based on sixteen observations, was 1421 feet. (XLIV.)
6TH JULY.—A number of small bushes of CRYPTANDRA PROPINQUA appeared amongst the rocks; back from the valley, and in the woods below, we found an acacia, apparently, but distinct from, A. DECORA (Reichb.) VAR. MACROPHYLLA; it approached A. AMOENA, but the stem was less angular, and the phyllodia bore but one gland. A large tree with long hoary leaves, and flat round capsules, proved to be a fine new BURSARIA, at a later season found in flower. See October 10th.* A Loranthus also was found here, which Sir William Hooker has since described.[**] Travelling along the bank of this stream, we found it flowing, and full of sparkling water to the margin. The reeds had disappeared, and we could only account for the supply of such a current, in such a country, at such a season, by the support of many springs. We made sure of water now for the rest of our journey; and that we might say of the river "Labitur et labetur in omne volubilis aevum." The hills overhanging it surpassed any I had ever seen in picturesque outline. Some resembled gothic cathedrals in ruins; others forts; other masses were perforated, and being mixed and contrasted with the flowing outlines of evergreen woods, and having a fine stream in the foreground, gave a charming appearance to the whole country. It was a discovery worthy of the toils of a pilgrimage. Those beautiful recesses of unpeopled earth, could no longer remain unknown. The better to mark them out on my map, I gave to the valley the name of Salvator Rosa.[***] The rocks stood out sharply, and sublimely, from the thick woods, just as John Martin's fertile imagination would dash them out in his beautiful sepia landscapes. I never saw anything in nature come so near these creations of genius and imagination. Where we encamped, the river was very deep, the banks steep and muddy, so that the use of a bucket was necessary in watering the cattle. Notwithstanding every precaution, one animal walked into the river, and could not be got out without great difficulty. The only fish we caught in this river were two enormous eels, beautifully spotted. Large shells of the UNIO genus lay abundantly on the banks, about the old fires of the natives. These were larger than either those found on the Darling, or those of the Maran; and although such freshwater mussles seem to have but one shape, a peculiarity in these was pointed out to me by Yuranigh, who said they much resembled the impressions left by a black-fellow's foot, (which is much broader at the toes than at the heel). We here met with a new species of BORONIA, resembling B. ANETHIFOLIA, of which many varieties afterwards occurred. It grows about two feet high, and had solitary pale purple flowers.[****] A new species of ACACIA with straight, oblong, shining leaves, also grew here.[*****] In the valley we found ERECHTITES ARGUTA, a weed resembling European groundsel; on the rocks, a small slender shrub with white flowers; and in the sandy scrub, the LEUCOPOGON CUSPIDATUS formed a small shrub. Thermometer, at sunrise, 16°; at noon, 50°; at 4 p.m., 49°; at 9, 38°. (XLV.) Height above the sea, 1270 feet.
6TH JULY.—We came across several small bushes of CRYPTANDRA PROPINQUA among the rocks; further back from the valley, in the woods below, we found an acacia that seemed to be different from A. DECORA (Reichb.) VAR. MACROPHYLLA; it was similar to A. AMOENA, but the stem was less angular, and the phyllodia had only one gland. A large tree with long, grayish leaves and flat, round capsules turned out to be a lovely new BURSARIA, which we later saw in flower. See October 10th.* We also discovered a Loranthus here, which Sir William Hooker has since described.[**] As we traveled along the bank of this stream, we found it flowing with sparkling water right to the edge. The reeds had disappeared, and the only reason we could think of for a current like this in such a place at this time of year was numerous springs supporting it. We were now confident about having water for the rest of our journey, and we could say of the river, "Labitur et labetur in omne volubilis aevum." The hills rising above it were more picturesque than anything I had ever seen. Some looked like gothic cathedrals in ruins; others resembled forts; other formations were perforated, and when mixed and contrasted with the flowing lines of evergreen woods and a beautiful stream in the foreground, it gave the whole area a charming appearance. This discovery was worth the effort of a pilgrimage. Those stunning, uninhabited valleys could no longer stay a secret. To mark them on my map, I named the valley Salvator Rosa.[***] The rocks stood out sharply and impressively from the thick woods, just as John Martin's fertile imagination would depict them in his beautiful sepia landscapes. I had never seen anything in nature so closely resemble these creations of genius and imagination. Where we set up camp, the river was deep, with steep, muddy banks, requiring us to use a bucket to water the cattle. Despite all precautions, one animal wandered into the river and could only be retrieved after considerable difficulty. The only fish we caught in this river were two massive, beautifully spotted eels. Large shells from the UNIO genus were plentiful along the banks, around the old fires of the natives. These were larger than those found on the Darling or those from the Maran; and although freshwater mussels seem to have just one shape, Yuranigh pointed out a peculiarity in these that reminded him of the impressions made by an Indigenous person's foot, which is much broader at the toes than at the heel. We also encountered a new species of BORONIA that resembled B. ANETHIFOLIA, of which many varieties would later occur. It grows about two feet tall and had solitary pale purple flowers.[****] A new type of ACACIA with straight, oblong, shiny leaves also grew here.[*****] In the valley, we found ERECHTITES ARGUTA, a weed like European groundsel; on the rocks, a small slender shrub with white flowers; and in the sandy scrub, the LEUCOPOGON CUSPIDATUS formed a small shrub. Thermometer readings at sunrise were 16°; at noon, 50°; at 4 p.m., 49°; and at 9, 38°. (XLV.) Height above sea level, 1270 feet.
[* B. INCANA (Lindl. MS.); arborea, inermis, foliis oblongo-linearibus supra glabris subtus incanis, paniculâ terminali tomentosâ, floribus distantibus.]
[* B. INCANA (Lindl. MS.); tree-like, thornless, with long and narrow leaves that are smooth on top and grayish underneath, featuring a fuzzy terminal cluster of flowers that are spaced apart.]*
[** L. SUBFALCATUS (Hook. MS.); ramis dichotomis patentibus, foliis oppositis linearibus lineari-lanceolatisve obtusis subfalcatis glabris trinerviis, floribus axillaribus binis arcte pendentibus brevissime pedicellatis, calycis contracti cylindracei ore dilatato, petalis 6 linearibus glaberrimis supra medium coalitis.]
[** L. SUBFALCATUS (Hook. MS.); with widely spreading, forked branches, opposite leaves that are linear or linear-lanceolate, blunt, slightly curved, smooth, and with three main veins, flowers that grow in pairs in the axils, hanging short on very short stems, a contracted cylindrical calyx with a widened opening, and 6 very smooth linear petals fused together above the middle.]
[*** "His soul naturally delighted in scenes of savage magnificence and ruined grandeur; his spirit loved to stray in lonely glens, and gaze on mouldering castles."—ALLAN CUNNINGHAM (THE POET).]
[*** "He naturally found joy in wild, stunning landscapes and decayed splendor; his spirit enjoyed wandering through secluded valleys and staring at crumbling castles."—ALLAN CUNNINGHAM (THE POET).]
[**** B. BIPINNATA (Lindl. MS.) glabra vel pilosa, foliis bipinnatis pinnatisque, foliolis linearibus subteretibus obtusis, floribus subsolitariis axillaribus foliis brevioribus 8-andris.]
[**** B. BIPINNATA (Lindl. MS.) glabrous or hairy, with bipinnate and pinnate leaves, linear, slightly rounded leaflets, and flowers that are mostly solitary in the axils of shorter leaves, 8-androus.]
[***** A. EXCELSA (Benth. MS.) glabra, ramulis subangulatis, phyllodiis falcato-oblongis obtusiusculis mucronulatisve basi angustatis subcoriaceis nitidis multinervibus venulosis eglandulosis, pedunculis solitariis geminisve capitulo dense multifloro brevioribus vel brevissimis. Very near A. VENULOSA, Cunn.; but smooth, the phyllodia shining, 2 to 3 inches long, 6-9 lines broad, the flower heads usually almost sessile.]
[***** A. EXCELSA (Benth. MS.) glabra, with slightly angular branches, has phyllodes that are falcate-oblong, somewhat blunt-tipped and narrow at the base. These phyllodes are somewhat leathery, shiny, multi-veined, and feature small glands. The flower stems can be solitary or in pairs, and the flower heads are densely multi-flowered, shorter or very short. It is very similar to A. VENULOSA, Cunn.; however, it is smooth, with shiny phyllodes that are 2 to 3 inches long and 6-9 lines wide, and the flower heads are usually almost sessile.]
7TH JULY.—Continuing along the eastern margin of the reeds, we soon found that the river expanded into a lake covered with them, and that in one or two spots there also grew the "Balyan" of the Lachlan, (a bulrush mentioned in my former journals). We listened, and still heard the current of water amongst these reeds. From the margin of this lake the hills, rocks, and woods, on the opposite shore, presented a most charming morceau of picturesque scenery. Our route was through an open forest which skirted the reedy margin, over very firm ground, and in a general direction about north-west. At length we approached the northern limits of the reedy lake, no river being visible flowing out of it, as we had reason to expect. We found there, however, only a dry channel, which bore the marks of a considerable stream at some seasons. Following this dry channel down, I found its course turned to the northward, and even to the north-east. When we were disposed to encamp, I could find no water in the bed, nor were we better off when we had encamped, until Corporal Graham dug between two rocks therein, and, fortunately, found a spring. Thus, in one day vanished the pleasing prospect we had enjoyed in the morning, of a stream flowing in the direction of our intended route. This might be, I then thought, the tributary to a larger river, which I still hoped would be found to flow westward from the coast ranges, and, finally, take the desired north-west direction. Thermometer, at sunrise, 23°; at 4 p.m., 58°; at 9, 25°. (XLVI.) Height above the sea, 1191 feet.
7TH JULY.—Continuing along the eastern edge of the reeds, we soon discovered that the river widened into a lake filled with them, and in one or two spots, there were also the "Balyan" of the Lachlan (a type of bulrush I mentioned in my earlier journals). We listened and could still hear the flow of water among these reeds. From the edge of this lake, the hills, rocks, and woods on the opposite shore created a beautiful scene. Our route took us through an open forest that bordered the grassy edge, over very solid ground, generally heading northwest. Eventually, we reached the northern edge of the reed-filled lake, but found that no river was visible flowing out, as we had expected. What we found instead was only a dry channel, which showed signs of being a significant stream during certain seasons. Following this dry channel, I noticed its course turned northward and even northeast. When we were ready to set up camp, I couldn’t find any water in the channel, and our situation didn’t improve even after we set up camp until Corporal Graham dug between two rocks and, luckily, found a spring. Thus, in one day, the lovely view we had enjoyed in the morning of a stream flowing in the direction of our intended route vanished. I thought this could be a tributary to a larger river, which I still hoped would be found flowing westward from the coastal ranges and, eventually, take the desired northwest direction. Thermometer, at sunrise, 23°; at 4 p.m., 58°; at 9, 25°. (XLVI.) Height above the sea, 1191 feet.
8TH JULY.—Entertaining this opinion, I still should have followed this river down, had I not been impeded by gullies as deep as itself falling into it, and which obliged me to cross to the left bank. There a thick brigalow scrub grew to the very margin, and this was seared by rugged gullies. A deep and continuous channel, entering from the westward, induced me to turn in that direction so far, that I at length determined to penetrate at once, if possible, to the north-west, expecting that there I might intercept our river, if it should turn in that direction, or, if not, cross some range into a more open country. The whole day was lost, however, in toiling through a brigalow scrub. Various water-courses crossed our route, but all descending towards the river we had left. The scrub was so thick that we could only pass where accidental openings admitted us, and by this sort of progress, until within an hour of sunset, I found we had travelled about nine miles, and had gained only half a minute of latitude. Having penetrated, on foot, and with difficulty, about two miles ahead of the party, in pursuing the course of a small watercourse, I found that even this turned south-east, evidently to fall into the reedy basin we had previously explored; therefore, I determined on an immediate retreat out of that labyrinth of scrub, back to our friendly river. It was comparatively easy to return through the opening we had made by cutting down much of the brush as we advanced, so that by twilight we reached a good grassy spot about half way to the river, and near it, found some good ponds of water. A pigeon, flying almost in my face, first drew my attention to the hollow where we afterwards found the water. It was in soft mud, however, in which one of the bullocks got bogged, and could only be taken out by the whole strength of the party dragging him with ropes. Thermometer, at sunrise, 18°; at 4 p.m., 54°; at 9, 25°. Height above the sea, 1241 feet.
8TH JULY.—Thinking this way, I would have followed the river down if I hadn’t been blocked by deep gullies that dropped into it, forcing me to cross to the left bank. There, a dense brigalow scrub grew right up to the edge, seared by rough gullies. A deep and continuous channel coming from the west made me turn that way, and eventually, I decided to head northwest, hoping to catch the river if it curved that way, or at least cross some hills into a more open area. However, the entire day was wasted struggling through the brigalow scrub. Several watercourses crossed our path, all flowing toward the river we had left behind. The scrub was so thick that we could only move where there were random openings, and because of this progress, just an hour before sunset, I realized we had covered about nine miles but only gained half a minute of latitude. After pushing on foot, and with difficulty, about two miles ahead of the group while following a small watercourse, I discovered it also turned southeast, clearly entering the reedy basin we had explored before. So, I decided to retreat immediately from that maze of scrub back to our friendly river. It was relatively easy to return through the path we’d made by cutting down much of the brush as we went, and by twilight, we reached a nice grassy spot about halfway to the river. Near it, we found some good ponds of water. A pigeon, flying right in front of me, first attracted my attention to the hollow where we later found the water. Unfortunately, it was in soft mud, and one of the bullocks got stuck, needing the entire group to pull it out with ropes. Thermometer readings were 18° at sunrise, 54° at 4 p.m., and 25° at 9 p.m. Height above sea level was 1241 feet.
9TH JULY.—The cattle were so much exhausted by drawing through the scrub, and I had so much to do at my map, that I gave to the cattle and the party, a day's rest. Latitude, 24° 34' 12" S. Thermometer, at sunrise, 14°; (in my tent, 18°;) at 9 p.m., 48°.
9TH JULY.—The cattle were really worn out from pulling through the brush, and I had a lot to work on with my map, so I gave the cattle and the group a day off. Latitude, 24° 34' 12" S. Thermometer, at sunrise, 14°; (in my tent, 18°;) at 9 p.m., 48°.
10TH JULY.—Returning, still along our old track, towards a slight eminence, three miles from our camp, I there set the party to work, to cut a way across the gully, which had first obliged me to turn westward. While the men were so employed, I rode about five miles northward, but met with no opening or water-course admitting of a passage in that direction. On the contrary, I returned, on intercepting one running S. E. towards our river. The party had taken all things across when I rejoined them, and we travelled along the left bank of the gully, chiefly through open forest land, until we approached the river. Scrub, and muddy gullies, obliged us to cross the river soon after we reached its banks. Water appeared more abundant in its bed here, and we encamped on the border of a small plain, hemmed in by brigalow scrub, in latitude 24° 33' 25" S. Thermometer, at sunrise, 23°; at noon, 58°; at 4 p.m., 62°; at 9, 29°. Height (XLVII.) above the sea, 1192 feet.
10TH JULY.—As we continued along our familiar path toward a small hill three miles from our camp, I had the team start clearing a way across the gully that had first forced me to head west. While they worked, I rode about five miles north but found no openings or waterways that would allow us to pass in that direction. Instead, I came back after spotting a stream flowing southeast toward our river. By the time I rejoined the team, they had moved everything across, and we traveled along the left bank of the gully, mainly through open forest, until we got close to the river. Thick brush and muddy gorges made us cross the river soon after reaching its banks. Water was more plentiful here, and we set up camp on the edge of a small plain surrounded by brigalow scrub, at latitude 24° 33' 25" S. The thermometer read 23° at sunrise, 58° at noon, 62° at 4 p.m., and 29° at 9 p.m. Our elevation (XLVII.) above sea level was 1192 feet.
11TH JULY.—We travelled along the right bank of the river, through a fine open forest, until our route, in a N. E. by N. direction, was again impeded by the river. We had now descended from the upper sources of this river, at least 1000 feet according to the barometer. We had seen, in a large pond, a fish called mullet, which abounds in the rivers falling to the eastern coast, but which I had never seen in those falling westward. It was also obvious that there was no coast range between us and the coast, and consequently that a very decided break, at least, occurred in it, about the latitude of 25° S. This was more apparent to me on crossing the river, and sending Yuranigh up a tree, about three miles beyond. He could see no mountains to the northward or north-east, but only the high table land already seen to the eastward, in which direction he could trace the course of the river. I hastened back to the party, directed them to encamp, and proceeded with two men and Yuranigh in a N. W. direction, carrying provisions for a long ride. We plunged into the sea of Brigalow—
11TH JULY.—We traveled along the right bank of the river, through a lovely open forest, until our N.E. by N. route was again blocked by the river. We had now descended from the river's upper sources by at least 1000 feet according to the barometer. We spotted a fish called mullet in a large pond, which is common in the rivers flowing to the eastern coast, but I had never seen it in those flowing westward. It was clear that there was no coastal range between us and the coast, which meant there was a significant break in it around the latitude of 25° S. This became even more apparent when I crossed the river and sent Yuranigh up a tree about three miles ahead. He could see no mountains to the north or northeast, just the high plateau we had seen to the east, where he could trace the river's course. I hurried back to the group, instructed them to set up camp, and then continued with two men and Yuranigh in a NW direction, carrying supplies for a long ride. We plunged into the sea of Brigalow—
"——And we did buffet it,
With lusty sinews throwing it aside,
And stemming it with JACKETS ALL IN TATTERS."
"——And we pushed it away,
With strong muscles throwing it aside,
And stopping it with JACKETS ALL IN TATTERS."
After working out our way thus, for about ten miles, our toils were rewarded with a scene of surpassing beauty, that gradually opened to us. That long-lost tree, the graceful Acacia pendula, received us in the foreground, and open plains, blended with waving lines of wood, extended far into bluey distance, beyond which an azure coronet of mountains of romantic forms, terminated the charming landscape.
After making our way for about ten miles, we were rewarded with a stunning scene that gradually came into view. The long-lost tree, the elegant Acacia pendula, greeted us in the foreground, and open fields, mixed with gently rolling lines of trees, stretched far into the blue distance, beyond which a crown of blue mountains with romantic shapes finished off the beautiful landscape.
"Far in the west, the long, long vale withdrawn,"
"Way out west, the long, long valley is secluded,"
included columns of smoke, marking out the line of a river, which, with its dark and luxuriant woods, pervaded the whole scene; perhaps the finest I ever had the good fortune to discover. I beheld it from a perfectly clear and grassy hill of rich black soil, on which we had emerged, through a fringe of Acacia pendula. I could not advance beyond that spot, until I had taken bearings and angles on the peaks and summits before me. To the north-west, an apparent opening, seen between these masses, seemed to indicate the bed of another river. On completing my observations we rode forward across the plain, towards the woody vale, the sun being then near setting. A solitary emu ran towards us, from a great distance, apparently encouraged by the mere appearance of quadrupeds, which, although new to it, seemed to have no terrors for it. I could not allow the men to fire at it, partly, I believe, from a sense of shame that we should thereby appear to take unfair advantage, and prove ourselves more brutal than the quadrupeds, whom nature had indulgently destined to carry us on their backs. The open down we traversed, consisted of rich black mould, in which there was fossil wood in great abundance, presenting silicified fragments so curiously wooden as to be only distinguishable from wood, by their detached and broken character. Such fossils are not uncommon in Australia, on plains of rich black earth, which is a constant concomitant. Their geological history may be simple, and would probably be very interesting, if philosophy could but find it out. We found, further on, a channel full of water, with reeds about the bed of it. There had been a current in it a short time previously, and, indeed, we had seen the remains of recent rain, in some hollows in the Brigalow scrub. The river came from the westward, and thus might have afforded the means of travelling in that direction, had other directions been found impracticable. We made our fire in a hollow near the water, not wishing either to alarm or attract the natives; and thus we passed the night pleasantly enough, with a large fire before us. Thermometer, at sunrise, 18°; at 4 p.m., 65°; at 9, 30°.
included columns of smoke, outlining the path of a river which, with its dark and lush woods, filled the entire landscape; perhaps the best one I had ever been lucky enough to discover. I viewed it from a clear, grassy hill of rich black soil, where we had emerged through a fringe of Acacia pendula. I couldn't move beyond that spot until I had taken bearings and angles on the peaks and summits ahead of me. To the northwest, an apparent opening seen between these masses seemed to indicate the bed of another river. After finishing my observations, we rode forward across the plain toward the wooded valley, with the sun nearly setting. A solitary emu ran toward us from a great distance, seemingly encouraged by the sight of quadrupeds, which, although new to it, seemed to pose no threat. I couldn't let the men shoot at it, partly out of a sense of shame that we would appear to take unfair advantage and prove ourselves more brutal than the animals that nature had kindly allowed to carry us on their backs. The open downs we crossed were composed of rich black soil, abundant with fossil wood, presenting silicified fragments that looked so much like wood they could only be distinguished by their broken and detached nature. Such fossils are not uncommon in Australia, found on plains of rich black earth, which are typically associated. Their geological history may be simple, yet could probably be very interesting if only philosophy could uncover it. Further on, we found a channel full of water, surrounded by reeds. There had been a current in it recently, and indeed, we had seen remnants of recent rain in some hollows in the Brigalow scrub. The river flowed from the west, which could have allowed for travel in that direction if other routes had proven impractical. We made our fire in a hollow near the water, wanting to avoid alarming or attracting the natives; thus we spent the night enjoyably enough, with a large fire in front of us. Thermometer readings: at sunrise, 18°; at 4 p.m., 65°; at 9 p.m., 30°.
12TH JULY.—Returning to the camp, I sought and found, with the assistance of Yuranigh, a more open way through the scrub for our carts, than that by which we had penetrated to the good country. I had directed Mr. Stephenson to examine, during my absence, the western shore of the reedy lake of Salvator, in order to ascertain whether it had any outlet in that direction; but he returned without having reached the base of the remarkable rocky range to the westward; thus leaving it still uncertain, although the direction of the river since discovered, left little reason for supposing that any waters from the valley of the Salvator, could escape to the westward. Thermometer, at sunrise, 11°; in my tent, 15°; at noon, 67° at 4 p.m., 65°; at 9, 35°. Height above the sea, 1107 feet.
12TH JULY.—When I got back to the camp, I looked for and found, with Yuranigh's help, a clearer path through the scrub for our carts than the one we took to get to the good land. I told Mr. Stephenson to check out the western shore of the reedy lake of Salvator while I was away to see if it had an outlet in that direction; however, he came back without reaching the base of the striking rocky range to the west, leaving it still uncertain. Though, given the direction of the recently discovered river, there’s little reason to think any waters from the Salvator valley could flow to the west. The thermometer read 11° at sunrise; 15° in my tent; 67° at noon; 65° at 4 p.m.; and 35° at 9. Height above sea level is 1107 feet.
13TH JULY.—After marking this camp XLVIII., we quitted the river Salvator, and travelled along our track of yesterday, or nearly N. W., but deviating from this track occasionally, where broken ground or thick scrub was to be avoided. The highest part of the scrubby land we crossed, was 1310 feet above the sea. We arrived in good time at the river, where I had previously slept, and there encamped. On the plains adjacent, the ACACIA PENDULA grew, as on those near the Bogan; and we saw also various new and curious grasses, and some very singular shrubs in the scrub. The banks of the river were steep, and consisted of soft clay. I employed the party to make a bridge across it, and this was well completed before sunset. Thermometer, at sunrise, 23°; at noon, 65°; at 4 p.m. 68°; at 9, 40°. Height above the sea, 951 feet. (XLIX.)
13TH JULY.—After marking this camp XLVIII., we left the Salvator River and traveled along the same path as yesterday, heading roughly northwest, but occasionally detouring to avoid rough terrain or thick underbrush. The highest point of the scrubby land we crossed was 1,310 feet above sea level. We reached the river where I had previously rested and set up camp there. On the nearby plains, the ACACIA PENDULA was growing, just like those near the Bogan; we also spotted various new and interesting grasses and some very unusual shrubs in the underbrush. The riverbanks were steep and made of soft clay. I had the team build a bridge across it, and it was well done before sunset. Thermometer readings were 23° at sunrise, 65° at noon, 68° at 4 p.m., and 40° at 9 p.m. Height above sea level was 951 feet. (XLIX.)
14TH JULY.—Crossing the river, (which I called the Claude), we travelled, first, through an open forest, and then across one of the richest plains I had ever seen, and on which the ANTHISTIRIA AUSTRALIS, and PANICUM LOEVINODE, the two best Australian grasses, grew most abundantly. The soil was black; the surface quite level. There might have been about a thousand acres in the first plain we crossed, ere we arrived at another small river, or water-course, which also contained water. We soon reached the borders of other very extensive plains and open downs, apparently extending far to the eastward. On our left, there was a scrub of Acacia pendula. The undulating parts of the clear land, were not so thickly covered with grass as the plains, not because the soil was bad, but because it was so loose, rich, and black, that a sward did not so easily take root and spread upon it, from its great tendency to crack, after imbibing moisture, on its subsequent evaporation. All this rich land was thickly strewed with small fragments of fossil wood, in silex, agate, and chalcedony. Many of the stones, as already observed, most strikingly resembled decayed wood, and in one place the remains of an entire trunk lay together like a heap of ruins, the DILAPIDATED remains of a tree! I obtained even a portion of petrified bark; but specimens of this were rare. The elevation of the highest part of these downs, was 1512 feet above the sea.
14TH JULY.—After crossing the river, which I named the Claude, we traveled through an open forest and then across one of the richest plains I had ever seen, filled with ANTHISTIRIA AUSTRALIS and PANICUM LOEVINODE, the two best Australian grasses, growing abundantly. The soil was black and completely level. There were about a thousand acres in the first plain we crossed before we reached another small river or watercourse that also had water. We soon arrived at the edges of other vast plains and open downs that seemed to stretch far to the east. On our left was a thicket of Acacia pendula. The undulating parts of the clear land had less grass cover than the plains, not because the soil was poor, but because it was so loose, rich, and black that grass did not easily take root and spread due to its tendency to crack after absorbing moisture and then drying out. The rich land was scattered with small pieces of fossil wood, including silex, agate, and chalcedony. Many of the stones resembled decayed wood, and in one spot, the remains of an entire trunk lay together like a pile of ruins, the dilapidated remains of a tree! I even found a piece of petrified bark, although those specimens were rare. The highest point of these downs was 1512 feet above sea level.
Crossing an open forest hill, which had hitherto bounded our view to the westward, I perceived a deep grassy valley on our right, sloping towards a much lower country, but I still travelled westward, in hopes to find an open country, beyond a low woody range on which we had at length arrived. I soon, however, perceived rocky gullies before me, and having halted the party to examine them, I found they were quite impassable. Such an unexpected obstacle, on the horizon of the fine open country, yet UNDER that smooth horizon, was certainly as singular as it was unexpected, and I returned to descend into the deep grassy valley I had seen on our right, which seemed open and inviting. We therein also found some large ponds of water, and encamped. While the men were pitching the tents I rode down the valley about two miles, and found that the direction of the water-course was about north-east. Such a direction was not very favourable for us, and I resolved to look at the country beyond the limits of this valley to the westward, before we followed it further. Latitude, 24° 17' 42" S. Thermometer, at sunrise, 19°; at 4 p.m., 66°; at 9, 49°. (L.) 1279 feet above the sea.
Crossing an open forested hill that had previously limited our view to the west, I noticed a deep grassy valley to our right, sloping down towards a much lower area. However, I continued westward, hoping to find open land beyond a low wooded ridge that we had finally reached. Soon, though, I spotted rocky gullies ahead, and after stopping the team to inspect them, I discovered they were completely impassable. This unexpected barrier, on the edge of what appeared to be beautiful, open country, was as unusual as it was surprising. I decided to head down into the deep grassy valley I had noticed earlier, which seemed welcoming. We also found some large ponds of water there and set up camp. While the men were setting up the tents, I rode down the valley for about two miles and noticed that the watercourse flowed roughly north-east. This direction was not very ideal for us, so I decided to check the area beyond this valley to the west before we continued further. Latitude, 24° 17' 42" S. Thermometer, at sunrise, 19°; at 4 p.m., 66°; at 9, 49°. (L.) 1279 feet above sea level.
15TH JULY.—Following up a flat which came from the N. W., I proceeded about five miles amid overhanging precipices, until, at length, mighty rocks rendered it quite impossible to push my horse further. Leaving him in a hollow, I ascended a rocky point, which was barely accessible with Yuranigh's assistance, and, on reaching an elevated summit, I saw still worse gullies before us, amongst which I could perceive no feature affording any cue to their final outlet, nor any characteristic of the structure of these labyrinths. I looked in vain for the rugged summits I had seen peeping over the plains when first discovered, and could not then be convinced (as I found long afterwards, on completing my map), that they were then under my feet. The highest parts seemed to extend south-westward. To cross such a region with our carts, was quite impossible, and I could only return, and, however reluctantly, follow down the valley in which we had encamped, until it should afford access to a more open country. The banks of the watercourse were steep, the bottom was sandy. The course was very tortuous, alternately closing on rocky precipices, at each side of the valley. Thus we were obliged to cross at every turning, and the steep banks rendered each crossing a difficult operation, occasioning so much delay, that after crossing ten times, evening obliged us to encamp, although our direct distance from the last camp did not exceed five miles. We had, at each crossing, cut the banks, filled up hollows with logs, etc. The general direction, I ascertained to be N.E. Water was found providentially near the spot, where the approach of night had obliged us to encamp; this having been the first water we had seen during that day's laborious journey. Thermometer, at sunrise, 21°; at 4 p.m., 65°; at 9, 44°.
15TH JULY.—Following a flat area that came from the northwest, I traveled about five miles through towering cliffs until huge rocks made it impossible to go any further with my horse. I left him in a hollow and climbed up a rocky point, which was only possible with Yuranigh's help. Once I reached a high summit, I saw even worse gullies ahead, and there was nothing to indicate where they led, nor any sign of how these maze-like structures were formed. I searched in vain for the rugged peaks I had spotted on the plains when I first arrived, and I couldn't convince myself (as I later confirmed when finishing my map) that they were right beneath me. The highest parts seemed to stretch southwest. It was completely impossible to navigate this area with our carts, so I had no choice but to head back and, reluctantly, make my way down the valley where we had camped, hoping to reach a more open area. The banks of the watercourse were steep, and the bottom was sandy. The path was very winding, often closing in on rocky cliffs on either side of the valley. This forced us to cross at every turn, and the steep banks made each crossing a challenging task, causing so much delay that after crossing ten times, we had to set up camp for the night, even though we hadn't traveled more than five miles from our last campsite. At each crossing, we cut into the banks and filled in hollows with logs, etc. I determined that our general direction was northeast. Fortunately, we found water near where we had to camp for the night; it was the first water we had seen during that exhausting day. The thermometer read 21° at sunrise, 65° at 4 p.m., and 44° at 9 p.m.
16TH JULY.—After some examination of the valley before us, I considered it best, upon the whole, to travel in the bed of the river itself, and thus avoid the frequent necessity for crossing with so much labour and delay: the sandy bed was heavy for the wheels, and therefore distressing to the animals, and one or two rocky masses obliged us to work out of it, to get round them. The whole day was consumed in proceeding thus about 5½ miles, and in an easterly direction. The closing in of the valley lower down, seemed to shut us from further progress even so, and I encamped, rather at a loss how to proceed. Just then Mr. Stephenson came to inform me that he had seen, from a rocky point on the left, an opening to the north-west, and level ground beyond it. I therefore determined to accompany him next day, and to reconnoitre the country in that direction. By digging in the bed of the creek, water was again obtained by Corporal Graham. Some extremely fragrant shrubs were discovered in these rocky recesses, especially one, which filled the air with perfume to a great distance around. It seemed to be a EUCALYPTUS without flowers or fruit, but with a powerful odour of balm, and formed a bush five feet high, growing on sandstone rocks, having a narrow leaf, and rather thorny stalk. The lower leaves were also rough.[*] There was another bush, with leaves of the same shape, and glossy, but having a perfume equally strong of the lime.[**] We regretted much, that neither the seed, flower, nor fruit of these interesting shrubs could be obtained at that season. In that valley, we saw also the DAUCUS BRACHIATUS, an inconspicuous weed, and MYOPORUM CUNNINGHAMII. The soft leaved ACACIA PODALYRIOEFOLIA began to indicate its flowering season, and we found a magnificent new crimson CALLISTEMON with its young flowers and leaves wrapped in wool.[***] A new DODONOEA with wingless, 3-cornered, 3-celled fruit[****]; a new species of AOTUS, with narrow hoary leaves[*****], and one of the forest trees was a splendid new GEIGERA, with broad lance-shaped leaves.[******] The PLATYZOMA MICROPHYLLUM, a very singular and little known fern, with narrow leaves and small orbicular leaflets, was also there, with the ACACIA FALCATA, ACACIA EXCELSA, and a shaggy-leaved variety of the AJUGA AUSTRALIS, the Australian bugle. The BRUNONIA SERICEA, with its scabious-like heads of flowers, was common; and the blue flowered HARDENBERGIA MONOPHYLLA was observed among the grass. Thermometer, at sunrise, 25°; at 9 p.m., 41°.
16TH JULY.—After looking over the valley in front of us, I figured it was best to travel in the riverbed itself to avoid the constant hassle of crossing it, which took a lot of effort and time. The sandy riverbed was tough on the wheels, which made it hard on the animals, and a couple of rocky sections forced us to work our way around them. We spent the whole day moving about 5½ miles in an easterly direction. The valley narrowing further down seemed to block our path, so I set up camp, feeling uncertain about how to move forward. Just then, Mr. Stephenson came to tell me he had spotted an opening to the northwest and flat land beyond it from a rocky point on the left. So, I decided to join him the next day to scout that area. Corporal Graham dug in the creek bed and found water again. Some really fragrant shrubs were discovered in those rocky areas, especially one that filled the air with a strong scent. It appeared to be a eucalyptus without flowers or fruit, but it had a strong balsam smell and grew as a five-foot bush on sandstone rocks, with narrow leaves and a somewhat thorny stem. The lower leaves were rough. There was another bush with the same shape and glossy leaves but had a scent similar to lime. We regretted that we couldn’t gather any seeds, flowers, or fruit from these interesting shrubs that season. In that valley, we also spotted the inconspicuous weed Daucus brachiatus and Myoporum Cunninghamii. The soft-leaved Acacia podalyriifolia was starting to show signs of flowering, and we found a striking new crimson Callistemon with its young flowers and leaves covered in wool. A new Dodonaea with wingless, three-cornered, three-celled fruit; a new species of Aotus with narrow, greyish leaves; and one of the forest trees was a magnificent new Geigera with broad lance-shaped leaves. The Platyzoma microphyllum, a unique and little-known fern with narrow leaves and small round leaflets, was also present, along with the Acacia falcata, Acacia excelsa, and a shaggy-leaved variety of Ajuga australis, the Australian bugle. Brunonia sericea, with its scabious-like flower heads, was common, and we noticed blue-flowered Hardenbergia monophylla among the grass. The thermometer read 25° at sunrise and 41° at 9 p.m.
[* E. MELISSIODORA (Lindl. MS.); ramis ferrugineo-tomentosis scabris, foliis utrinque papillis rubiginosis scabris ovato-oblongis obtusis supra basim peltatis (floribus fructibusque ignotis).]
[* E. MELISSIODORA (Lindl. MS.); branches covered in rusty, hairy scabs, leaves on both sides with reddish-brown scabs, oval to oblong and blunt at the top, with a peltate base (flowers and fruits unknown).]
[** E. CITRIODORA (Hook. MS.); ramis angulatis fuscis minute tuberculatis, foliis lato-lanceolatis petiolatis pinnulatis patenti-parallelo-venosis viridibus (non glaucis). Sir Wm. Hooker has ventured to name this EUCALYPTUS, though without flower or fruit, from the deliciously fragrant lemon-like odour, which exists in the dry as well as the recent state of the plant.]
[** E. CITRIODORA (Hook. MS.); with angular, dark brown branches covered in tiny bumps, broad-lanceolate, petiolated, pinnate leaves that are green (not glaucous) and have widely parallel veins. Sir Wm. Hooker has taken the bold step of naming this EUCALYPTUS, even without flowers or fruit, because of the wonderfully fragrant lemon-like scent that is present in both the dried and fresh states of the plant.]
[*** C. NERVOSUM (Lindl. MS.); ramis pallidis, foliis ovato-lanceolatis quinque-nerviis mucronatis junioribus tomentosis, rachi calycibusque lanatis.]
[*** C. NERVOSUM (Lindl. MS.); with pale branches, ovate-lanceolate leaves that are five-nerved and pointed, younger ones are hairy, with a woolly rachis and calyces.]
[**** D. TRIGONA (Lindl. MS.); ramulis subpilosis, foliis obovato-lanceolatis parum pilosis integerrimis vel utrinque unidentatis, capsulis 3- locularibus trigonis apteris.]
[**** D. TRIGONA (Lindl. MS.); with slightly hairy branches, the leaves are obovate-lanceolate, somewhat hairy, perfectly whole or with a single notch on either side, and the capsules are three-chambered, triangular, and wingless.]
[***** A. MOLLIS (Benth. MS.); undique molliter tomentoso-villosus, ramis crectis-rigidis, foliis sparsis anguste oblongis margine revolutis, calycis vix bilabiati dentibus subaequalibus, ovario breviter stipitato villosissimo.—Near A. PASSERINOÏDES Meisn., but differing in the narrow and longer leaves, the calyx and ovary.]
[***** A. MOLLIS (Benth. MS.); softly hairy all around, with upright and stiff branches, scattered narrow oblong leaves with curled edges, a calyx with almost equal lobes, and a very short-stalked, furry ovary. — Similar to A. PASSERINOÏDES Meisn., but differing in the narrow and longer leaves, the calyx, and the ovary.]
[****** G. LATIFOLIA (Lindl. MS.); foliis ovato-lanceolatis longe petiolatis subtus obscure pubescentibus junioribus convolutis.—This appears to differ from G. SALICIFOLIA in its long-stalked leaves.]
[****** G. LATIFOLIA (Lindl. MS.); with ovate-lanceolate leaves that are long-stalked, slightly hairy underneath, and curled in the younger ones.—This seems to be different from G. SALICIFOLIA due to its long-stalked leaves.]
17TH JULY.—Our ride this morning soon led amongst different scenes. By merely turning to the left we came upon a flat, in which another water-course, similar to that we had been tracing (Balmy Creek), came from the west, apparently out of that inaccessible country, across which I had previously looked in vain for a passage. Several other gullies joined this water-course, and seared the flat, which consisted of a deep clay deposit, in almost every direction. After crossing these, we found a fine broad opening between rocky precipices of most picturesque forms. This gap I called Stephenson's Pass; it led into a spacious glen surrounded on all sides but the N.W. by mountains such as I have described, recalling to my memory the most imaginative efforts of Mr. Martin's saepia drawing, and showing how far the painter's fancy may anticipate nature. But, at the gorge of this valley, there stood a sort of watch-tower, as if to guard the entrance, so like a work of art, that even here, where men and kangaroos were equally wild and artless, I was obliged to look very attentively, to be quite convinced that the tower was the work of nature only. A turret with a pointed roof, of a colour corresponding, first appeared through the trees, as if it had been built on the summit of a round hill. On a nearer approach the fine tints of the yellowish grey rocks, and the small pines climbing the sides of a hill abruptly rising out of a forest of common trees, presented still a very remarkable object. I named the valley "Glen Turret," and this feature "Tower Almond," after an ancient castle, the scene of many early associations, and now quite as uninhabited as this. Passing through Glen Turret, we ascended the nearest summit on the right, and from it beheld a prospect most cheering, after our toils amid rocky ravines. On the westward, the rocky range seemed to terminate abruptly towards the north, in an elevated point, which seemed to command an extensive view over the unknown W. and N.W. Out of that region two isolated mountain masses arose from an open country, and were clothed with open forests to their summits. Further eastward, masses of mountain in the extreme distance appeared covered, also, with open forests, and presented finely rounded outlines, not likely to impede our passage, in any direction. But towards the N.W. our view was not so extensive; like the uncertain future, it still lay hid. The retrospect was very extensive, including Mount Faraday in the extreme distance, and which thus afforded me a valuable back angle for the correction of our longitude from any errors of detailed survey. The lofty mass of Buckland's Table Land still overlooked all from the E., and I could here again intersect its three principal points. The view back to the Pass was very fine, for the rocks and wood were so blended on the bold summits, as to present sublime studies for the artist. Far to the westward, an interior line of cliffy range resembled a sea beach, presenting a crescent, concave on that side, apparently the limit to the basin of the Nogoa, and the dividing range between eastern and western waters. Our Pass seemed to be the only outlet through the labyrinths behind us. Even the open plains beyond them were visible in a yellow streak above the precipices. Far beyond these plains, Mount Faraday was distinctly visible, on the horizon of the landscape. Thermometer, at sunrise, 29°; at 9 p.m., 43°. (LI.) 1234 feet above the sea.
17TH JULY.—Our ride this morning quickly took us through various landscapes. By simply turning left, we encountered a flat area with another watercourse, similar to the one we had been following (Balmy Creek), coming in from the west, seemingly from that inaccessible region where I had previously looked in vain for a passage. Several other gullies fed into this watercourse, cutting into the flat, which was made up of a deep clay deposit, in almost every direction. After crossing these, we stumbled upon a beautiful wide opening between rocky cliffs of incredibly picturesque shapes. I named this gap Stephenson's Pass; it led into a spacious valley surrounded on all sides except the northwest by mountains like the ones I’ve described, reminding me of the most imaginative work of Mr. Martin's sepia drawing, showcasing how far an artist's imagination can surpass nature. However, at the entrance of this valley stood a sort of watchtower, almost like a piece of art, that made me look closely to be fully convinced it was a natural formation. A turret with a pointed roof, blending in color, first appeared through the trees, as if it had been built on top of a round hill. As we approached, the beautiful shades of the yellowish-grey rocks and the small pines climbing up the sides of a hill abruptly rising from a forest of common trees remained a striking sight. I named the valley "Glen Turret," and this feature "Tower Almond," after an ancient castle linked to many early memories, and now just as uninhabited as this area. Passing through Glen Turret, we climbed the nearest peak to the right, and from there, we had an uplifting view after our struggles in the rocky ravines. To the west, the rocky range appeared to end abruptly to the north at a high point, which seemed to provide an extensive view over the unknown west and northwest. From that region, two isolated mountain formations rose from an open area, adorned with open forests all the way to their summits. Further eastward, distant mountain ranges also appeared covered with open forests, featuring nicely rounded outlines, likely not to obstruct our passage in any direction. However, towards the northwest, our view was less extensive; like the uncertain future, it remained hidden. The view back was quite broad, including Mount Faraday far in the distance, giving me a valuable reference point to correct our longitude from any survey errors. The towering mass of Buckland's Table Land still loomed over everything from the east, and I could once again mark its three main points. The view back to the Pass was stunning, as the rocks and trees blended on the dramatic summits, providing extraordinary subjects for an artist. Far to the west, a line of cliffs resembled a seashore, forming a crescent that was concave on that side, seemingly marking the limit of the Nogoa basin and the dividing range between eastern and western waters. Our Pass seemed to be the only outlet through the maze behind us. Even the open plains beyond were visible as a yellow streak above the cliffs. Far beyond those plains, Mount Faraday was clearly visible on the horizon. Thermometer at sunrise: 29°; at 9 p.m.: 43°. (LI.) 1234 feet above sea level.
18TH JULY.—By retracing our horses' footsteps, the carts were soon brought to the base of the same hill; deep gullies in the clay having obliged us to pass close under it, and, indeed, to cross two of its elevated extremities. We found the country beyond, in a N.W. direction, tolerably open, and we encamped in a valley containing abundance of grass, and near to our camp, water was found in a chain of ponds descending to the eastward. A new SUAEDA, with short leaves, and the habit of a dwarf Tamarisk, was found this day.[*] Latitude, 24° 6' 47" S. Thermometer, at sunrise, 31°; at noon, 65°; at 4 p.m., 69°; at 9, 44°. (LII.)
18TH JULY.—By following the path our horses took, the carts were quickly brought to the base of the same hill; deep ruts in the clay forced us to pass close under it and even cross two of its higher points. We found the area ahead, toward the northwest, fairly open, and we set up camp in a valley filled with plenty of grass, and near our campsite, we discovered water in a series of ponds flowing to the east. A new SUAEDA, with short leaves and a shape similar to that of a dwarf Tamarisk, was identified this day.[*] Latitude, 24° 6' 47" S. Thermometer, at sunrise, 31°; at noon, 65°; at 4 p.m., 69°; at 9, 44°. (LII.)
[* S. TAMARISCINA (Lindl. MS.); fruticosa, ramosissima, foliis brevibus cylindraceis imbricatis obtusissimis, axillis lanatis, floribus solitariis sessilibus.]
[* S. TAMARISCINA (Lindl. MS.); shrubby, extremely branched, with short cylindrical leaves that are tightly packed and very blunt, with woolly axils, and flowers that are solitary and sessile.]
19TH JULY.—With the intention to lose no opportunity of getting further to the westward, I travelled on towards the base of the most northern summit of the range in the west; but I was, at length, so shut up by gullies and scrubby extremities near its base and all radiating from it, and becoming very deep, that I took the party aside into a grassy ravine near, where I directed the men to encamp, and hastened myself to the summit. From it, the view westward was not so extensive as I expected. Something like precipitous slopes to some channel or water-course, apparently falling either S. W. or N. E., formed the most promising feature; but, although my object was to have travelled in that direction, the scrub seemed too thick to admit of a passage. Open forest land appeared to the N. E., and there, the gently undulating features, although much lower than the range on whose northern extremity I then stood, seemed nevertheless to form a connection between it and some higher ranges of open forest land, that appeared between me and the coast. Through one wide opening in these, about east, I saw some broken hills, at a very great distance, say seventy or eighty miles. The ridgy-connected undulations formed the heads of some valleys sloping to the south-east, whereof the waters would evidently join those of the Balmy Creek, while others, rising on the north-west side, seemed to belong to a separate basin, and to form a river falling to the north-west. This river was indicated only by slopes meeting and interlacing in a valley. To the left or westward of that supposed river channel, a mighty isolated mountain mass shut out any view of the further course of the water of the valley formed between it and these slopes; but, as the very lowest point of the whole horizon, as indicated by the spirit-level of the theodolite, lay in that direction, I determined to pursue that bearing, (10° W. of N.) through the open forest country that intervened. I found that the mountain commanding this view, was elevated 2247 feet above the sea, according to the Syphon barometer, and in using this instrument, I could not forget Colonel Mudge, who had kindly taught me its use; I therefore named that summit Mount Mudge. In the gravel at the base of the hill, were water-worn pebbles of trap and basalt. The rock of which the range itself consisted, seemed to be a calcareous grit, with vegetable impressions, apparently of GLOSSOPTERIS BROWNII. On descending to the camp, I was informed that the cattle-watering party came suddenly upon two natives, one of whom was a placid old man, the other middle-aged. Corporal Graham did all he could to allay their fears, and convince them that they were in no danger from such strangers. The elder at length handed his little bundle to the younger and sat down, on seeing the Corporal's green bough; meanwhile the other walked on. When Graham took the old man's hand, and shook it, also patting him on the back, and expressing a friendly disposition only, the poor helpless man of the woods burst into tears, finding himself incapable of either words or deeds suitable for a meeting so uncommon. They could not relieve him from this state of alarm, so readily as by leaving him sitting, and moving on, which they did. In the scrubs near this camp, Mr. Stephenson discovered a very remarkable tree, apparently a casuarina, having long drooping leaves, hanging like long hair from its upper boughs[*]; and in the stony gullies a DODONAEA allied to D. SALSOLIFOLIA A. CUNN., from Van Diemen's Land, but the leaves slenderer, and three or four times longer[**]. Although we were approaching the tropics, the weather was most cool and pleasant. A delicious breeze played amongst the woods, and welcomed us to the Torrid Zone. Until now, during every clear night the air had been frosty. Latitude, 24° 6' 50" S. Thermometer, at sunrise, 34°; at noon, 68°; at 4 p.m., 61°; at 9, 47°.
19TH JULY.—Wanting to make the most of every chance to head further west, I traveled toward the base of the northernmost peak of the western range. Eventually, though, I found myself surrounded by deep gullies and thick scrub near its base that radiated out from it, so I took the team to a grassy ravine nearby and told them to set up camp while I hurried up to the summit. From the top, the view to the west wasn’t as extensive as I had hoped. There were steep slopes leading to a channel or watercourse that seemed to drop either southwest or northeast, which looked promising. However, since I wanted to travel in that direction, the dense scrub made it impassable. To the northeast, there was open forest land, and the gently rolling terrain, although much lower than the range I was standing on, seemed to connect it to some higher ranges of open forest that were visible between me and the coast. Through a wide opening to the east, I spotted some broken hills in the distance, about seventy or eighty miles away. The ridge-like undulations marked the heads of valleys sloping to the southeast, whose waters would likely flow into Balmy Creek, while others rising on the northwestern side seemed to belong to a separate basin that formed a river flowing northwest. This river was indicated only by the slopes coming together in a valley. To the left, or west of the supposed river channel, a large isolated mountain blocked any view of the water’s path in the valley created between it and these slopes. However, since the lowest point of the horizon, as indicated by the spirit level of the theodolite, lay in that direction, I decided to head that way (10° W. of N.) through the open forest that lay ahead. I found that the mountain providing this view was 2247 feet above sea level, according to the syphon barometer, and while using this instrument, I couldn’t help but remember Colonel Mudge, who had kindly shown me how to use it; thus, I named that peak Mount Mudge. In the gravel at the base of the hill were water-worn pebbles of trap and basalt. The rock that made up the range seemed to be a calcareous grit with fossilized plant impressions, apparently of GLOSSOPTERIS BROWNII. When I returned to camp, I learned that the cattle-watering team had unexpectedly come across two natives, one an elderly man and the other middle-aged. Corporal Graham did his best to calm them and reassure them they were in no danger from such strangers. Eventually, the elder handed his small bundle to the younger and sat down when he saw the Corporal’s green branch; meanwhile, the younger man continued walking. When Graham took the old man’s hand and shook it, patting him on the back and showing only friendliness, the poor old man of the woods burst into tears, feeling overwhelmed and unable to find the words or actions appropriate for such an unusual encounter. They couldn’t ease his alarm quickly and decided the best move was to leave him sitting and continue on, which they did. In the scrubs near the camp, Mr. Stephenson discovered a striking tree, likely a casuarina, with long drooping leaves that hung down like hair from its upper branches[*]; in the rocky gullies, there was a DODONAEA related to D. SALSOLIFOLIA A. CUNN. from Van Diemen's Land, but with thinner leaves that were three to four times longer[**]. Although we were getting closer to the tropics, the weather remained cool and pleasant. A nice breeze flowed through the woods, welcoming us to the Torrid Zone. Until now, on every clear night, the air had been frosty. Latitude, 24° 6' 50" S. Thermometer, at sunrise, 34°; at noon, 68°; at 4 p.m., 61°; at 9, 47°.
[* See page 285.]
[* See page 285.]
[* D. FILIFOLIA (Hook. MS.); foliis sparsis ramis binis ternisve lineariangustissimis elongatis subrugosis viscosis glabris utrinque canaliculatis falcatis, fructibus trialatis.]
[* D. FILIFOLIA (Hook. MS.); with scattered leaves on two or three elongated, very narrow, wrinkled, sticky, smooth branches that are channelled on both sides and sickle-shaped, with three-sided fruits.]
Chapter VI.
THE PARTY DESCENDS INTO A VALLEY FALLING NORTHWARD.—COMES UPON A CHAIN OF PONDS.—THE HEAD OF THE RIVER BELYANDO.—FOLLOW IT DOWN, THROUGH MUCH WATER SCARCE AT FIRST, IN ITS BED.—RANGE OF HILLS VISIBLE TO THE EASTWARD.—CROSS THE TROPIC OF CAPRICORN.—MOUNT NARRIEN.—OPEN PLAINS, WEST OF THE RIVER.—WATER MORE PLENTIFUL.—NEW PLANTS DISCOVERED. —DRY CHANNEL OF A LARGE RIVER JOINS FROM S.W.—CROSS IT AND PROCEED N.W.—FROM A HEIGHT OBTAIN A VIEW OF THE NORTHERN HORIZON.—MUCH BRIGALOW SCRUB TRAVERSED.—REACH THE RIVER BY MOONLIGHT.—FOLLOW THE CHANNEL MORE CLOSELY.—COME UPON LARGE REACHES OF WATER.—ANOTHER DRY CHANNEL JOINS FROM W.S.W.—RIDE OF RECONNAISSANCE BEYOND IT, TO THE NORTH-WEST.—CROSS FINE DOWNS.—LIMESTONE IN A THICK SCRUB.—ENTER THICK BRIGALOW.—NIGHT WITHOUT WATER.—NEXT DAY MEET WITH THE RIVER.—ITS COURSE BEING EASTWARD OF NORTH, DETERMINE TO RETURN.—NATIVES.—RETRACE OUR TRACK TO THE PYRAMIDS, IN ORDER TO EXPLORE MORE TO THE WESTWARD.—PREPARE TO DEPART, WITH TWO MEN AND YURANIGH.—WRITE DESPATCH TO THE COLONIAL GOVERNMENT.
THE PARTY MOVES DOWN INTO A VALLEY DIRECTED NORTHWARD.—ENCOUNTERS A SERIES OF PONDS.—THE SOURCE OF THE RIVER BELYANDO.—FOLLOW IT DOWNSTREAM, WITH WATER BEING SCARCE AT FIRST IN ITS CHANNEL.—A RANGE OF HILLS IS VISIBLE TO THE EAST.—CROSS THE TROPIC OF CAPRICORN.—MOUNT NARRIEN.—OPEN PLAINS TO THE WEST OF THE RIVER.—WATER IS MORE ABUNDANT.—NEW PLANTS ARE DISCOVERED.—A DRY CHANNEL OF A LARGE RIVER JOINS FROM THE SOUTHWEST.—CROSS IT AND CONTINUE NORTHWEST.—FROM AN ELEVATED POSITION, GET A VIEW OF THE NORTHERN HORIZON.—TRAVERSE A LOT OF BRIGALOW SCRUB.—REACH THE RIVER UNDER MOONLIGHT.—FOLLOW THE CHANNEL MORE CLOSELY.—COME ACROSS LARGE POOLS OF WATER.—ANOTHER DRY CHANNEL JOINS FROM THE WEST-SOUTHWEST.—TAKE A RECONNAISSANCE RIDE BEYOND IT TO THE NORTHWEST.—CROSS NICE DOWNS.—LIMESTONE IN DENSE SCRUB.—ENTER THICK BRIGALOW.—SPEND THE NIGHT WITHOUT WATER.—THE NEXT DAY, ENCOUNTER THE RIVER.—ITS COURSE GOING EASTWARD OF NORTH, DECIDE TO TURN BACK.—MEET NATIVES.—TRACE OUR PATH BACK TO THE PYRAMIDS TO EXPLORE MORE TO THE WEST.—GET READY TO LEAVE WITH TWO MEN AND YURANIGH.—WRITE A REPORT TO THE COLONIAL GOVERNMENT.
20TH JULY.—AFTER a little trouble with the gullies and brigalow scrub, on first setting off, we came upon fine undulating open forest land, and crossed many a gully and small water-course, all declining towards the N.E. A very remarkable flat-topped hill appeared on our right, resembling a wart, on one of these ridges; to the northward it was precipitous, and seemed to consist of a very red rock. At length, after crossing a ridge rather broader than the rest, with some brigalow scrub upon it, and one or two specimens of that tree of solitary places, the bottle tree, (DELABECHEA) we arrived at valleys and water-courses descending to the southward of west, into a valley turning to the N.W. One, at length, on our right, taking the direction in which I was proceeding, viz., 10° W. of N., I followed it down, and thus entered a broader valley leading N.W. Following this, on a wide flat of open forest, we found at length a fine pond of water in it, and encamped beside it, after a journey of about twelve miles. This valley seemed to continue to the base of the lofty isolated mountain already mentioned, where a lower valley crossed it, falling either to the northward or southward. This I left in pleasing uncertainty until next morning, for I had remarked in that locality, when I stood on Mount Mudge, a long line of grey mist running north and south. I named the large mountain beyond that valley, Mount Beaufort, in honour of my scientific friend at the Admiralty. Thermometer, at sunrise, 40°; at noon, 66°; at 4 p.m., 73°; at 9, 62°. (LIII.)
20TH JULY.—After a bit of trouble with the gullies and brigalow scrub at the start, we came across some beautiful, rolling open forest land and crossed several gullies and small streams, all flowing northeast. A striking flat-topped hill appeared on our right, resembling a wart on one of the ridges; to the north, it was steep and seemed to be made of very red rock. Eventually, after crossing a ridge that was broader than the others, with some brigalow scrub on it, and one or two examples of that tree found in solitary places, the bottle tree (DELABECHEA), we arrived at valleys and water courses heading southwest into a valley that turned northwest. Finally, one on our right, following the direction I was heading, which was 10° west of north, I followed it down and entered a wider valley leading northwest. Continuing on this wide flat of open forest, we finally found a nice pond of water and set up camp beside it, after traveling about twelve miles. This valley seemed to extend to the base of the previously mentioned tall, isolated mountain, where a lower valley intersected, flowing either north or south. I left this with pleasant uncertainty until the next morning, as I had noticed in that area, when I was on Mount Mudge, a long line of gray mist running north and south. I named the large mountain beyond that valley Mount Beaufort, in honor of my scientific friend at the Admiralty. Thermometer, at sunrise, 40°; at noon, 66°; at 4 p.m., 73°; at 9, 62°. (LIII.)
21ST JULY.—On following downwards the chain of ponds and broad valley, we came upon the bed of a river, running to the N.N.E. We gladly turned in that direction, and after it had received various tributaries from the south, I found it took the course I had foreseen it must from Mount Mudge. We saw water in the channel, and now again I believed that we had at length discovered the head of a northwestern river. The soil consisted of firm clay, and tributaries occasionally impeded our journey. We got amongst brigalow scrub, and could find no water in looking for the channel of the river, which we knew must still have been on our left. Ponds in the scrub could not easily be identified as channels. I met with no better success on turning to the left, and encamped amongst the brigalow, where I found some grass. On riding westward I came upon arid stony ground, on which many of the trees were dead, apparently from drought, and so near the Tropic such a scene was by no means encouraging. On turning my horse, he trod on an old heap of fresh watermussles, at an old fireplace of the natives. This was a cheering proof that water was not distant, which was further indicated by the flight of two native companions, from the N.W. We had encamped on a flat of clay, on which salsolaceous bushes, such as grew on similar plains on the Bogan, had been growing, but were then all withered from drought. The very grass seemed parched and useless. I never saw vegetation so checked by drought. A longer continuance was likely to kill all the trees, and convert the country into open downs. I determined, before I ventured further, to send the cattle to a pond four miles back, next morning, and to examine the country before us. Latitude, 23° 48' 36". Thermometer, at sunrise, 57°; at noon, 69°; at 4 p.m., 75°; at 9, 48°.
21ST JULY.—As we followed the chain of ponds and the wide valley, we stumbled upon a riverbed flowing to the N.N.E. We happily headed in that direction, and after it picked up various tributaries from the south, I realized it was taking the route I had anticipated from Mount Mudge. There was water in the channel, and I finally felt we may have discovered the source of a northwestern river. The ground was solid clay, but tributaries occasionally slowed us down. We entered brigalow scrub and struggled to find water while searching for the river channel, which we knew had to still be on our left. Ponds hidden in the scrub were hard to identify as channels. I had no better luck when I turned to the left, so I set up camp among the brigalow, where I managed to find some grass. As I rode west, I came across dry, rocky ground with many dead trees, seemingly from drought, and being so close to the Tropic made this scene quite discouraging. When I turned my horse around, it stepped on an old pile of freshwater mussels at an old native fireplace. This was a reassuring sign that water wasn’t far away, further supported by the sight of two native companions flying off to the N.W. We had camped on a clay flat where salsolaceous bushes, similar to those found on the Bogan, had been growing but were now all withered from the drought. Even the grass looked parched and useless. I had never seen vegetation so affected by drought. If this continued, it would likely kill all the trees and turn the land into open plains. I decided that before going any further, I would send the cattle to a pond four miles back the next morning and inspect the land ahead. Latitude, 23° 48' 36". Thermometer, at sunrise, 57°; at noon, 69°; at 4 p.m., 75°; at 9, 48°.
22D JULY.—Having sent bullocks, horses, and sheep back to the water, I went forward on the bearing of 30° W. of N. I soon fell in with the united channel of the river, and found in it abundant ponds of water, the direction of the course being as favourable as could be wished. From these ponds I perceived a clear hill to the westward, which I hastened to ascend, and from its summit I beheld some fine mountains to the northward, although an easterly wind and sea air brought a haze over them, which soon obscured some of my points. But I saw enough to relieve me of all anxiety at that time about the want of water. A promising valley from the mountains in the eastward, came due west, and from it arose the smoke of many natives' fires. Lines of other rivers, from other ranges, were partly visible beyond, until the haze obscured the outlines of mountains still more remote. The bright prospects of this morning were a pleasing contrast to the temporary difficulties of yesterday. Such is human life in travelling, and so it was in war at Salamanca this day thirty-four years back. We encamped after a short journey on the bank of the river. Latitude, 24° 46' 46". Thermometer, at sunrise, 49°, at noon, 74°; at 4 p.m., 73°; at 9, 64°. (LIV.)
22D JULY.—After sending the cattle, horses, and sheep back to the water, I continued on a path that was 30° west of north. I soon encountered the main channel of the river and discovered plenty of water in the ponds, with a route as favorable as I could have hoped for. From these ponds, I spotted a clear hill to the west, which I quickly climbed. From the top, I saw some beautiful mountains to the north, although an easterly wind and sea air brought a haze that soon hid some of my view. However, I saw enough to ease my worries about the lack of water at that time. A promising valley from the mountains in the east stretched directly west, and I noticed the smoke from many campfires of the locals. Lines of other rivers from different ranges were partially visible in the distance until the haze further obscured the outlines of more distant mountains. The bright scenery of that morning was a nice change from the temporary challenges of the day before. Such is life on the road, and it was similar during the war at Salamanca thirty-four years ago on this day. We set up camp after a short journey by the riverbank. Latitude, 24° 46' 46". Thermometer readings: at sunrise, 49°; at noon, 74°; at 4 p.m., 73°; at 9, 64°. (LIV.)
23D JULY.—The water in the adjacent pond was trodden into mud, so that none remained for the horses and bullocks this morning. Accordingly, on arriving at a pond about two miles on, we gave water to all, that they might better bear the privation in the afternoon, should we not fortunately find more. The river had a singular tendency to spread into little channels within a belt of brigalow scrub. The little holes formed by these channels were almost all dry, while the withered state of the grass, and even of the forest trees, showed that rain had long been due, and we therefore hoped some would fall before our return. When we had travelled about twelve miles, keeping as close to the river line as the scrub would permit, and crossing one or two fine rising grounds covered with a very open forest, and consisting of large gravel, I found a pond, and encamped near it, on a plain of almost naked clay. Amongst the water-worn pebbles, of which the rising ground consisted, there were, besides the ingredients of the Barwan gravel, many of trap and basalt. Very old and dry grass only, could be had for the cattle. In the pond were small fishes of a different form from any we had seen, having a large forked tail, only two or three spikes in the dorsal fin, and a large jet-black eye within a broad silvery ring. Mr. Stephenson found three crabs, apparently identical with those about the inlets near Sydney. Latitude, 23° 37' 51". S. Thermometer, at sunrise, 46°; at noon, 73°; at 4 p.m. 80; at 9, 55°. (LV.)
23rd JULY.—The water in the nearby pond had been trampled into mud, leaving nothing for the horses and oxen this morning. So, when we reached a pond about two miles ahead, we provided water for everyone to help them cope with the lack in the afternoon, in case we didn’t manage to find more. The river tended to spread into small channels within a belt of brigalow scrub. Most of the little holes created by these channels were nearly dry, and the wilted grass, along with the forest trees, indicated that rain had been overdue, so we hoped some would fall before we returned. After traveling about twelve miles, staying as close to the riverbank as the scrub allowed, and crossing a couple of nice rising grounds covered with sparse forest and large gravel, I discovered a pond and set up camp nearby on a nearly bare clay flat. Among the water-worn pebbles that made up the rising ground, there were many of trap and basalt, along with the components of Barwan gravel. The only available grass for the cattle was very old and dry. The pond contained small fish that looked different from any we had seen before; they had large forked tails, only two or three spines in the dorsal fin, and big jet-black eyes surrounded by broad silver rings. Mr. Stephenson found three crabs that appeared to be the same as those near the inlets around Sydney. Latitude, 23° 37' 51". S. Thermometer readings: at sunrise, 46°; at noon, 73°; at 4 p.m. 80; at 9, 55°. (LV.)
24TH JULY.—The morning was overcast by heavy clouds, and the air was balmy and mild, reminding us of the spring season near Sydney. Lightning had been seen to the northward during the night. In following the little wayward channel downward, we met with much brigalow scrub, and crossed two apparently important tributaries. In one of them was a good large pond. We had some trouble with an ana-branch, resembling the main channel, which we had twice to cross at a distance of two miles. With the last tributaries, plains and an open forest country became neighbours to the river; and where we encamped beside it, no scrub was to be seen, and the water lay in a deep broad reach, nearly half a mile in length, with ducks upon it. Towards evening, the unwonted sound of thunder was heard in the west, reminding us, at this season of the year, that we were near the Tropic. In the same direction, two distant storms exhausted themselves, and most likely giving birth to young grass where they fell. During the night, much thunder was heard, and also early next morning, to the northward. Latitude, 23° 31' S. Thermometer, at sunrise, 56°; at noon, 75°; at 4, p.m., 82°; at 9, 66°. (LVI.)
24TH JULY.—The morning was cloudy, and the air was warm and pleasant, reminding us of springtime near Sydney. We saw lightning in the north during the night. As we followed the winding channel downwards, we encountered a lot of brigalow scrub and crossed two significant tributaries. One of them had a large pond. We faced some challenges with a side branch that looked like the main channel, which we had to cross twice, two miles apart. Near the last tributaries, the plains and open forest land bordered the river, and where we set up camp beside it, there was no scrub in sight. The water stretched in a deep, broad reach, nearly half a mile long, with ducks on it. In the evening, we heard the unusual sound of thunder coming from the west, reminding us that we were approaching the Tropic at this time of year. In that direction, two distant storms dissipated, probably promoting new grass growth where they rained down. Throughout the night, we heard quite a bit of thunder, and again early the next morning from the north. Latitude, 23° 31' S. Thermometer readings: at sunrise, 56°; at noon, 75°; at 4 p.m., 82°; at 9 p.m., 66°. (LVI.)
25TH JULY.—There was no hill or other geographical feature near our route, whereby it might have been possible to mark there the limit of Tropical Australia. We were the first to enter the interior beyond that line. Three large kangaroos hopping across a small plain, were visible, just as we entered these regions of the sun. The air was extremely fragrant; the shrubs and grass being still moist with the thunder-shower. The course of the river continued favourable, and the country seemed to improve as we advanced, opening into plains skirted by scrubs of rosewood, and drooping shrubs whose verdure was most refreshing to the eye, after just having passed through dry and withered brigalow. At eight miles a large lagoon appeared on our left, on which we saw many ducks, and at nine miles we encamped where the grass seemed good, finding that water was at hand now, in the river bed, wherever we required it. Latitude, 23° 25' 26" S. Thermometer, at sunrise, 45°; at noon, 77°; at 4 p.m., 85°; at 9, 53°. (LVII.)
25TH JULY.—There was no hill or other geographical feature near our route that could mark the boundary of Tropical Australia. We were the first to venture into the interior beyond that line. Three large kangaroos hopping across a small plain were visible just as we entered this sunlit region. The air was incredibly fragrant; the shrubs and grass were still moist from the thunderstorm. The river's course continued to be favorable, and the landscape seemed to improve as we moved forward, opening into plains bordered by rosewood scrubs and drooping shrubs, whose greenery was a refreshing sight after just passing through the dry and withered brigalow. At eight miles, a large lagoon appeared on our left, where we saw many ducks, and at nine miles we set up camp where the grass looked good, discovering that water was readily available in the riverbed whenever we needed it. Latitude, 23° 25' 26" S. Thermometer readings: at sunrise, 45°; at noon, 77°; at 4 p.m., 85°; at 9 p.m., 53°. (LVII.)
26TH JULY.—The river appearing to pursue a W. N.W. course, I set out in that direction, attracted there, also, by some open plain separated by scrub from the river. We travelled on, a good many miles, when, instead of the firm clay, we found, under foot soft, red sand, and trees of the genus callitris growing in close thickets. I turned to the northward, and travelled many miles to the eastward of north, without seeing any indications of the river, whose general course had been previously straight. Scrubs of almost every description lay in our way. Brigalow, rosewood, casuarina, a thick light-green scrub of a close-growing bush, new to us, and some scrubs of the tree as yet undescribed for want of flowers or fruit, although well known to us as a graceful, and, indeed; useful bush; of which, as an impediment, we could not much complain; and useful, as forming excellent whip-shafts. This is the tree of unknown fruit figured in my former journal. At length, when it was growing late, I travelled eastward to make sure of the river, and, at length, regained its banks, where we found in its bed plenty of water. The surface looked bare, and the grass dry; but this day I discovered green shoots amongst it, evidently the product of recent rain, and indicating the approach of spring. On sandstone rocks, we found a plant which Sir William Hooker terms "a singular Euphorbiaceous (?) plant[*]," destitute of flower and fruit. Branches very thick, and they, as well as the long petioles and underside of the leaves clothed with dense white wool. Leaves a span long, cordato acuminate; the laminae all pointing downwards, glossy green and glabrous above. Also a new DODONOEA, with very narrow, linear, pinnated leaves. The only hills visible, from a tree ascended by Yuranigh, during this day's journey were those to the eastward, already seen. None appeared above the horizon in any other direction. Thermometer, at sunrise, 39°; at noon, 79°; at 4 p.m., 89°; at 9, 75°. (LVIII,)
26TH JULY.—The river seemed to flow in a west-northwest direction, so I set out that way, also drawn by some open plains separated from the river by scrub. We traveled quite a few miles, when we found soft, red sand underfoot instead of firm clay, and dense thickets of callitris trees. I turned north and journeyed many miles to the northeast without spotting any signs of the river, which had previously been fairly straight. We encountered scrubs of nearly every type along the way. There were brigalow, rosewood, casuarina, and a thick light-green scrub of a close-growing bush that was new to us, along with some scrubs of a tree that we hadn’t identified yet due to the lack of flowers or fruit, although it was well known to us as a graceful and indeed useful bush. We couldn’t complain much about it as an obstacle since it made excellent whip-shafts. This was the tree with the unknown fruit mentioned in my previous journal. Eventually, as it was getting late, I traveled eastward to confirm the river's location and finally reached its banks, where we found plenty of water in the riverbed. The surface looked bare and the grass was dry, but I discovered green shoots among it, clearly a sign of recent rain and indicating the start of spring. On sandstone rocks, we found a plant that Sir William Hooker calls “a singular Euphorbiaceous (?) plant[*],” which had no flowers or fruit. The branches were very thick and were covered in dense white wool, just like the long petioles and the underside of the leaves. The leaves were about a span long, cordato acuminate; the leaf blades all pointed downward, glossy green and smooth on top. We also found a new DODONAEA with very narrow, linear, pinnated leaves. The only hills visible from a tree climbed by Yuranigh during today’s journey were those to the east that we had already seen. There were no hills in sight in any other direction. Thermometer readings were 39° at sunrise; 79° at noon; 89° at 4 p.m.; and 75° at 9 p.m. (LVIII)
[* D. TENUIFOLIA (Lindl. MS.); glaberrima, viscosa, ramulis angulatis, foliis impari pinnatis: foliolis 3-5-jugis linearibus obtusis subalternis.]
[* D. TENUIFOLIA (Lindl. MS.); very smooth, sticky, with angular branches, and leaves that are pinnate with an odd number of leaflets: leaflets being 3-5 pairs, linear, and blunt at the ends, arranged alternately.]
27TH JULY.—The same characteristic, still distinguished our river; a variety of channels, so concatenated amongst brigalow scrub, much whereof lay dead, that it was scarcely possible to ascertain whether there was any main channel. Hitherto, I had not detected one; but this was of little consequence to us, so long as these ponds contained abundance of water. This we saw in many parts of our route this day; for I kept as close as possible to the river's course, to avoid such detours as that of yesterday, and being very anxious about the river's general direction, I was glad to find it turn somewhat westward of north. After travelling thus about nine miles, I perceived a blue pic nearly due north, which I named Mount Narrien; and Yuranigh saw from a tree, that there was a range in the same direction, but very distant. This seemed likely not only to send down some additional waters to our river, but also to turn it westward. Entering, soon after, upon a plain of good grass, I looked for water; and, on finding some, encamped after a journey of about eleven miles. Latitude, 23° 9'S. Thermometer, at sunrise, 43°; at noon, 83°; at 4 p.m., 90°; at 9, 53°. (LIX.)
27TH JULY.—The same feature was still evident in our river: a network of channels intertwined with brigalow scrub, much of which was dead, making it nearly impossible to identify a main channel. Until now, I hadn’t spotted one, but it didn’t matter to us as long as these ponds had plenty of water. We noticed this at many points along our journey today; I stayed as close to the river's path as possible to avoid the detours of yesterday, and since I was quite concerned about the river's overall direction, I was pleased to see it tilt slightly west of north. After traveling about nine miles, I noticed a blue peak almost directly north, which I named Mount Narrien; and Yuranigh spotted from a tree that there was a mountain range in the same direction, though it was quite far away. This seemed likely to not only contribute more water to our river but also to redirect it westward. Shortly afterward, we entered a plain with good grass, so I searched for water; after finding some, we set up camp after a journey of about eleven miles. Latitude, 23° 9'S. Thermometer, at sunrise, 43°; at noon, 83°; at 4 p.m., 90°; at 9, 53°. (LIX.)
28TH JULY.—The brigalow scrub, still a concomitant of our river, so hemmed in the patch of plain, that I was obliged to move out of it, in a southerly direction. Even thus, however, the scrub was not to be avoided, and we were obliged to force a way through, where the still more formidable impediment of much fallen timber, rendered it almost impossible that our vehicles could pass. This dead wood seemed peculiar to that sort of brigalow, and appeared to remain unburnt, chiefly from the usually naked surface of the ground where brigalow grows. I left the party, when brought almost to a stand, and sought for a more open part, by riding northward. This rather singular river seemed to have spread over a considerable extent of surface, and much of the brigalow, however fond of water, appeared to have died of too much, on spots which had been flooded. I traversed a plain, beyond which I found, what seemed there, the main chain of ponds or channel. There was a fine reach of water, and beside it, were the still smoking fires, water-vessels, etc., of a tribe of natives, who had disappeared. On the plain, the remains of decayed stumps of brigalow showed that there also, this tree had once grown, and that the openings were caused only by such trees perishing; as if, according to seasons, the half-dead scrub might either give place to open downs, or, that the plains might, by long succession of regular seasons, become again covered with scrub. I returned to the party halted in the scrub, and conducted it through an opening I had found, to the plain, and across it, in a N.W. direction; where, after passing through some open forest, we had again to contend with brigalow. One of the many dry channels assisted us much in seeking openings, as the bottom then consisted of smooth, firm, clay. A pond, however, obliged us to quit it, and seek our way through the wood. We arrived next at slightly undulating ground, and finally entered an open forest, where I saw the LORANTHUS SUBFALCATUS of Sir William Hooker. I made Yuranigh climb a tree, from whence he again saw the pic seen yesterday, (the bearing of which I ascertained), and also a gap appeared in the range beside it, through which, as he thought, a river was likely to come down. The extreme westerly escarp of these hills bore 17° E. of N., so that nothing was likely to impede the continued course of our friendly river in the direction we wished. The scrub we met with on the rising ground, consisted of the verdant bushes in rosewood scrubs, and we next found brigalow all dead, with a rich crop of grass growing amongst the dead stems. I had never seen grass, amongst brigalow, when in a healthy state. On turning northward, we next entered upon an open plain covered with good grass mixed with verdant polygonum. I selected a corner of this plain, nearest to the river, for my camp; and, on approaching its bed, found water as usual, near some old huts of the natives. Latitude, 23° 5' 20" S. Thermometer, at sunrise, 44°; at noon, 82°; at 4 p.m., 88°; at 9, 58°. (XL.)
28TH JULY.—The brigalow scrub, still accompanying our river, surrounded the area of plain so tightly that I had to move south. Even then, we couldn't avoid the scrub and had to push through, where even more fallen timber made it nearly impossible for our vehicles to pass. This dead wood seemed unique to that type of brigalow and appeared to stay unburned mainly because of the usually bare ground surface where brigalow grows. I left the group, which had nearly come to a halt, and looked for a clearer area by heading north. This rather unusual river seemed to have spread over a large surface area, and although brigalow typically loves water, much of it looked like it had died from too much water in spots that had flooded. I crossed a plain, and beyond it, I found what seemed to be the main chain of ponds or channel. There was a nice stretch of water, and beside it were the still-smoking fires and water vessels of a tribe of natives who had vanished. On the plain, the remains of decayed brigalow stumps showed that this tree had once grown there, and the gaps were only caused by such trees dying; it was as if, depending on the seasons, the half-dead scrub could either give way to open grasslands or, after a long succession of regular seasons, the plains could become covered with scrub again. I returned to the group stopped in the scrub and led them through an opening I had found to the plain, then across it heading northwest; after passing through some open forest, we had to deal with brigalow again. One of the many dry channels helped us a lot in finding openings, as the bottom was smooth and firm clay. A pond, however, forced us to leave it and navigate through the woods. We then reached slightly rolling land and finally entered an open forest, where I saw the LORANTHUS SUBFALCATUS of Sir William Hooker. I had Yuranigh climb a tree, from which he could again see the peak spotted yesterday (the direction of which I noted), and a gap appeared in the range next to it, through which he thought a river might flow. The far western edge of these hills was 17° East of North, meaning nothing was likely to obstruct the continued flow of our friendly river in our desired direction. The scrub we encountered on the rising ground consisted of lush bushes in rosewood scrubs, and we next found brigalow all dead with a thick growth of grass among the dead stems. I had never seen grass growing among healthy brigalow before. Turning north, we then entered an open plain covered with good grass mixed with vibrant polygonum. I chose a spot on this plain, nearest to the river, for my camp; and, as I approached its bed, I found water as usual near some old native huts. Latitude, 23° 5' 20" S. Thermometer, at sunrise, 44°; at noon, 82°; at 4 p.m., 88°; at 9 p.m., 58°. (XL.)
29TH JULY.—The scrub between our camp and the river, admitted of easy access from it to open forest ground, over which we travelled in a N.W. direction for several miles. Belts of scrub, consisting of rosewood and other acacias intervened, and, in some parts, TRIODIA PUNGENS grew in the place of grass. But, upon the whole, the country was fine, open, park-like, and with much anthistiria, and other grasses in which a greenness was observed quite novel to us, and unexpected in these tropical regions. Amongst the shrubs, we recognised the CASSIA HETEROLOBA, a small yellow-flowered shrub; also a glutinous Baccharislike plant, and a form of Eremophila Mitchellii, intermediate between the two other varieties. This was a shrub ten feet high. Another new species of the genus GEIJERA formed a tree twenty feet high, with long slender weeping branches. It was otherwise much like the GEIJERA PARVIFLORA, except that its flowers were larger.[*] A dwarf shrub belonging to the genus STENOCHILUS, but new, was found here[**]; and we met also with a large spreading tree, from which we could bring away nothing that would enable botanists to describe it, except as to the texture and nervation of the leaves, which, Sir William Hooker observes, resemble CAPPARIDEOE; but the fruit appeared to be sessile, and was too young and too imperfect to lead to any satisfactory conclusion. The very crows cawed differently from those near Sydney, or, (as Yuranigh observed) "talked another language." This river was not the least unique of our recent discoveries. It still consisted of a great breadth of concatenated hollows without any one continuous channel, and this character seemed to be preserved by various trees growing in the banks. When their large roots became denuded by the floods, or were washed out, or partially gave way, so that the tree fell over the stream, they presented impediments, first to the floating-wreck, and, next, to the water itself: when that collection of floating wreck became consolidated with muddy deposit, new banks so formed forced the river into new currents, working out new courses; and this appeared to give the peculiar character so uniformly observed. It seems extremely favourable for the retention of water in a country where it may be scarce; for the many ponds so formed and shaded from the sun, preserve it much better and longer, than if one continuous unobstructed channel alone, received and carried off, the water of the surface. I found the hollows we saw this day drier than usual; but we at length succeeded in discovering three good ponds. The foliage of the trees, with dry and naked water-worn roots, presented all the hues of an English autumn, although none of these were deciduous. This effect I was disposed to attribute to unseasonable drought, or past heat. The weather we had was delightful; for, although the thermometer in the shade rose sometimes to 90° about 4 p.m., the heat of the Bogan was still fresh in our recollection; and the frosts which, not above three weeks before, had disturbed our sleep, made this degree of heat as welcome as the flowers in May. Latitude, 22° 55' 35" S. Thermometer, at sunrise, 38°; at noon, 80°; at 4 p.m., 85°; at 9, 51°. (LXI.)
29TH JULY.—The brush between our camp and the river allowed easy access to open forest land, where we traveled northwest for several miles. Patches of scrub made up of rosewood and other acacias were scattered throughout, and in some areas, TRIODIA PUNGENS replaced the grass. Overall, the landscape was pleasant, open, park-like, filled with a lot of anthistiria and other grasses, showcasing a freshness that was quite surprising to us in these tropical regions. Among the shrubs, we identified CASSIA HETEROLOBA, a small yellow-flowered shrub; a sticky Baccharis-like plant; and a version of Eremophila Mitchellii, which was a mix between the other two varieties. This shrub stood ten feet tall. Another new species of the genus GEIJERA formed a tree that reached twenty feet, with long, slender, drooping branches. It was similar to GEIJERA PARVIFLORA but had larger flowers. A new dwarf shrub belonging to the genus STENOCHILUS was also found here; and we encountered a large spreading tree from which we could gather nothing for botanists to describe it except for the texture and nerve pattern of its leaves, which, as Sir William Hooker noted, resembled CAPPARIDEOE; but the fruit was sessile, too young and imperfect for any clear conclusions. Even the crows cawed differently from those near Sydney, or, as Yuranigh observed, “talked another language.” This river was certainly one of our most unique discoveries. It consisted of a wide range of interconnected hollows without a single continuous channel, and this feature was supported by various trees growing along the banks. When their large roots were exposed by the floods, or washed out, or partially collapsed, toppling over the stream, they created obstacles first for the floating debris and then for the water itself. Once that collection of floating debris mixed with muddy deposits, new banks formed, forcing the river into new paths and creating new currents. This seemed to give the river its distinct character. It appears very favorable for retaining water in a region where it might be limited; the many ponds that formed and were shaded from the sun preserved the water much better and longer than if there were only one continuous, unobstructed channel carrying off surface water. I found the hollows we saw that day drier than usual; however, we eventually discovered three good ponds. The tree foliage, with dry and bare water-worn roots, displayed all the colors of an English autumn, even though none of these trees were deciduous. I attributed this effect to unseasonable drought or past heat. The weather was delightful; even though the thermometer in the shade sometimes rose to 90° around 4 p.m., we still remembered the heat of the Bogan, and the frosts that had disturbed our sleep only three weeks earlier made this heat feel as welcome as the flowers in May. Latitude, 22° 55' 35" S. Thermometer, at sunrise, 38°; at noon, 80°; at 4 p.m., 85°; at 9 p.m., 51°. (LXI.)
[* G. PENDULA (Lindl. MS.); ramis gracilibus pendulis, foliis linearibus in petiolum sensim angustatis 5 uncias longis cum ramo parallelis.]
[* G. PENDULA (Lindl. MS.); with slender hanging branches, leaves that taper gradually into a petiole, 5 inches long, along with a parallel branch.]
[** S. SALICINUS (Benth. MS.); foliis lanceolato-linearibus integerrimis apice subuncinato ramulisque canescentibus, calycis foliolis brevibus lanceolatis, corollae puberulae inferne attenuatae laciniis obtusis infimâ retusâ vix caeteris magis solutâ.—Very near S. PUBIFLORUS, but much whiter, the flowers smaller with the lobes much more equal, the lower one much broader.]
[** S. SALICINUS (Benth. MS.); with narrow lance-shaped, completely smooth leaves that have a slightly hooked tip, and branches that are covered with grayish hairs, short lance-shaped sepals, and a somewhat hairy corolla that tapers at the bottom with rounded lobes that are barely more separated than the others. — Very close to S. PUBIFLORUS, but significantly whiter, with smaller flowers that have more evenly shaped lobes, and the lower lobe is much wider.]
30TH JULY.—The scrub of the river being likely to surround us, I endeavoured to pass it, and cross the river, but on examination I found the brigalow belt beyond, so serious an obstruction, that I adhered to the left bank still, and proceeded N. N. W. The woods opened into extensive plains covered with wild Indigo, as high as a horse's head, and that was skirted by a plain covered with rich grass. Beyond these, we entered an open forest where the anthistiria grew luxuriantly. I saw, from the skirts of the plain, the mass of mountains partly seen in the east for several days past, and I was able to intersect various points. We seemed to be descending to a very low country. A fine large lagoon, covered with ducks, appeared on our right. The whole country was improved both as to grass and trees. The MYOPORUM DULCE, a shrub about five feet high, was perhaps a distinct species intermediate between M. DULCE and M. DESERTI. It had the habit of the latter, but the leaves nearly of M. DULCE. A hollow at length indicated the river bed near us. It contained abundance of transparent water, a continuous channel, rocky bed, and, instead of brigalow, there grew on its banks a thick crop of strong grass, and much verdure. A tributary from the west cost us some trouble to cross, and soon after crossing it, I encamped. The course this day had run well to the westward. We had crossed the 147° of E. longitude, and I was very anxious to learn more of the further course of this river. I crossed it, and hastened to some rising ground, whence I perceived a flat-topped cliffy range extending from S. W. to the N. of west. It was low; the middle part, appearing highest, was probably the nearest to our camp. It was likely to turn our river too far to the northward for our purpose. Latitude, 22° 51' 55". Thermometer, at sunrise, 54°; at noon, 82°; at 4 p.m., 83°; at 9, 45°. (LXII.)
30TH JULY.—Since the river scrub was likely to surround us, I tried to get around it and cross the river, but upon checking, I found the brigalow belt beyond to be such a significant barrier that I stuck to the left bank and continued N.N.W. The woods opened up into wide plains filled with wild indigo, reaching as high as a horse's head, bordered by a plain lush with rich grass. Beyond this, we entered an open forest where the anthistiria grew abundantly. From the edge of the plain, I could see the mass of mountains that had partly been visible to the east for several days and I was able to mark various points. It seemed we were heading down into a very low area. A large lagoon covered in ducks appeared to our right. The entire area had improved in terms of grass and trees. The MYOPORUM DULCE, a shrub about five feet tall, might have been a distinct species between M. DULCE and M. DESERTI. It had the growth habit of the latter but leaves similar to M. DULCE. Eventually, a depression indicated the riverbed nearby. It had plenty of clear water, a continuous channel, a rocky bed, and instead of brigalow, there was a thick growth of strong grass and much greenery along the banks. A tributary from the west was a bit challenging to cross, but soon after, I set up camp. The route we took that day headed well to the west. We crossed the 147° E longitude and I was eager to learn more about the river's further course. After crossing it, I hurried to some elevated ground, from which I noticed a flat-topped, cliff-like range stretching from S.W. to N.W. It was low; the central section, appearing the highest, was likely closest to our camp. It seemed that it would divert the river too far north for our needs. Latitude, 22° 51' 55". Thermometer readings: at sunrise, 54°; at noon, 82°; at 4 p.m., 83°; at 9, 45°. (LXII.)
31ST JULY.—We travelled over a rather different sort of country from that recently seen upon the river. It was still on our right, and ran in a deep, well-marked channel. I pursued a N.W. course, although the range I had seen yesterday lay across it. I thus came upon the bed of a large river from the south, very near where our little river joined it. This new river was there fully 100 yards broad, with a sandy bed. I hastened across it, and proceeded still N.W. In the bed, just above the junction of the two rivers, I found a large podded pea, the seed both in green pods and dry pods, was very sweet and edible. The pods were larger than those of Turkey beans, and contained each ten or eleven peas (Dr. L.?) Beyond the last found river, we travelled over open forest land, occasionally passing patches of rosewood scrub on the left. When we might again see water was rather a desperate thought, for we had witnessed our abundant little river, wholly absorbed in a deep mass of dry sand, for such was the bed of the larger. At length we came upon a very spacious dry lagoon. Following this, as it appeared to be the channel of large floods from the river, we arrived at a part containing water, and, still continuing along the hard dry bank, another and another pond appeared, and I finally encamped near the last, where I saw some good grass. The course and character of the river below the junction last mentioned, remained to be ascertained. Parts of the surface in the scrub, which, before the rain, had been quite bare, now presented a crop of lichen, which bore some resemblance to the orchilla. It might have been gathered in any quantity. The ant-hills in this region, presented a different form from any to be seen in the south, consisting of slender cones of hard clay about the size and shape of sugar-loaves on an average, many being larger, or as much as 3½ feet high, others smaller. In some places they were so numerous, as to be rather inconvenient to ride amongst, especially where the grass was long. Latitude of this camp, 22° 44' 45". Thermometer, at sunrise, 52°; at noon, 70°; at 4 p.m., 69°; at 9, 43°. (LXIII.)
31ST JULY.—We traveled through a different kind of terrain than what we had recently seen by the river. It was still on our right and flowed in a deep, well-defined channel. I headed northwest, even though the range I had spotted yesterday was in the way. I soon encountered the bed of a large river coming from the south, very close to where our small river met it. This new river was about 100 yards wide, with a sandy bottom. I quickly crossed it and continued northwest. In the riverbed, just above where the two rivers joined, I found a large pea pod; the seeds inside, both in green and dry pods, were very sweet and edible. The pods were larger than those of turkey beans, each containing ten or eleven peas (Dr. L.?). Beyond the last river, we traveled through open forest land, occasionally passing patches of rosewood scrub on our left. The thought of when we might see water again was quite desperate, as we had just seen our small river completely absorbed in a deep mass of dry sand—the same was true for the larger river's bed. Eventually, we came across a very large dry lagoon. Following this, as it seemed to be the channel for significant floods from the river, we reached a section with water, and as we kept moving along the hard dry bank, more ponds appeared, and I finally set up camp near the last one, where I found some good grass. The course and characteristics of the river below the last junction remained to be determined. Parts of the surface in the scrub, which had been completely bare before the rain, now had a crop of lichen resembling orchilla. It could have been gathered in large quantities. The ant-hills in this area looked different from any in the south, forming slender cones of solid clay about the size and shape of sugar loaves on average, with many being larger, reaching up to 3.5 feet high, while others were smaller. In some areas, they were so numerous that it became quite inconvenient to ride around them, especially where the grass was long. Latitude of this camp, 22° 44' 45". Thermometer, at sunrise, 52°; at noon, 70°; at 4 p.m., 69°; at 9 p.m., 43°. (LXIII.)
1ST AUGUST.—Supposing that this line of lagoons led to the river, I followed that direction westward, until it disappeared where we came upon the water brigalow. Then, turning northward, I travelled many miles in that direction, through rosewood scrubs, and over ground where the very coarse hard grass grew on red sand. The callitris and casuarina appeared amongst the trees. On a spot rather clear of wood, Yuranigh went to the top of a callitris tree, and saw a lofty mountain somewhat to the eastward of north, and he thought he could trace the trees marking the course of the river to the westward of it. Further westward, the low range already mentioned, was still visible, and he saw that the country between the two ranges was very "deep," as he termed it, meaning very low. Upon the whole, there was reason to believe that the river pursued a course, somewhat to the westward of north. I turned in that direction, and forced our way through scrub and brush, until, after cutting through much fallen brigalow, I entered upon good grassy land, and saw the large Yarra trees before me. These grew by the river, which here looked very important, having a bed wider than that of the Barwan, with sloping grassy banks at least sixty feet high, and Yarra trees growing from the lower margin. Continuing along its banks, we soon found various large ponds of water, and in the short course of it we had to trace before we encamped, the direction was S. W. Many curious plants and trees now appeared about the banks. A rough-leaved fig tree with well-formed woolly, globular fruit; an ALTERANTHERA, with very large balls of satiny white flowers, resembling A. NODIFLORA; the ACACIA FARNESIANA, a prickly tree; the narrow-leaved smooth variety of ACACIA HOLOSERICEA; and in the bed of the river, the ACACIA SIMSII (Cunn.) A broad-leaved form of LORANTHUS NUTANS was parasitical on trees, and the EURYBIA SUBSPICATA of Sir W. Hooker also grew on the upper bank. A very extraordinary CAPPARIS was here observed in fruit. Its leaves were as much as eight inches long, although not more than three quarters of an inch wide, and their hard leathery texture gave them the appearance of straps. It did not afterwards occur.[*] The water in the river was excellent. Thermometer, at sunrise, 23°; at noon, 65°; at 4 p.m., 69°; at 9, 44°. Latitude, 22° 38' 40". (LXIV.)
1ST AUGUST.—Assuming that this line of lagoons led to the river, I headed west until it vanished where we reached the water brigalow. Then, turning north, I traveled many miles in that direction, through rosewood scrubs, and across ground where thick, tough grass grew in red sand. The callitris and casuarina trees appeared among the others. In a fairly clear spot, Yuranigh climbed a callitris tree and spotted a tall mountain slightly to the east of north, believing he could trace the trees marking the river’s course to the west of it. Further west, the low range I'd mentioned before was still visible, and he noticed that the land between the two ranges was very “deep,” meaning very low. Overall, there was reason to believe the river flowed somewhat to the west of north. I changed direction and pushed through the scrub and brush until, after cutting through much fallen brigalow, I reached good grassy land and saw the large Yarra trees ahead of me. These grew alongside the river, which here seemed quite significant, with a bed wider than the Barwan, sloping grassy banks at least sixty feet high, and Yarra trees growing from the lower edge. As we continued along its banks, we soon discovered several large ponds of water, and in the short stretch we needed to explore before camping, the direction was S.W. Many interesting plants and trees now appeared around the banks. A rough-leaved fig tree with well-formed woolly, round fruit; an ALTERANTHERA, with very large clusters of silky white flowers, similar to A. NODIFLORA; the ACACIA FARNESIANA, a prickly tree; the narrow-leaved smooth variety of ACACIA HOLOSERICEA; and in the riverbed, the ACACIA SIMSII (Cunn.). A broad-leaved type of LORANTHUS NUTANS was parasitic on trees, and the EURYBIA SUBSPICATA of Sir W. Hooker also grew on the upper bank. A very unusual CAPPARIS was seen here bearing fruit. Its leaves were up to eight inches long, though not more than three-quarters of an inch wide, and their tough, leathery texture made them look like straps. It didn’t appear again afterward.[*] The water in the river was excellent. Thermometer readings at sunrise were 23°; at noon, 65°; at 4 p.m., 69°; and at 9, 44°. Latitude, 22° 38' 40". (LXIV.)
[* C. UMBONATA (Lindl. MSS.); inermis, glaberrima, foliis coriaceis longissimis loratis obtusis in petiolum sensim angustatis, pedunculis solitariis (2 poll.) stipite brevioribus, fructu ovoideo umbonato.]
[* C. UMBONATA (Lindl. MSS.); unarmed, very smooth, with long leathery leaves that are broad at the base and gradually narrow towards the petiole, with solitary peduncles (2 inches) that are shorter than the stem, and ovoid umbonate fruit.]
2D AUGUST.—We had approached this fine river over a park-like plain, but lower down we found the banks lined with scrub. I pursued a N.W. course in passing through it, and emerged on plains and open forests alternating with scrubs. The scrubs were remarkable, as always involving dry hollows where water had lodged. The clay was then hard; but, in all these hollows, the deep impressions of naked feet of men, women, and children, remained since the bottom had consisted of mud. These numerous receptacles for water, when it is sent, attest the wisdom with which even the clods of the valley have been disposed for the benefit of the animal world. The day's journey was long, and chiefly through that sort of scrub. I was disappointed in my hope of falling in with the river, by travelling N.W. Yuranigh descried from a tree, the continuation, far to the westward, of the low range that had been already seen from a former camp. Its direction had then appeared to be nearly N. and S. The turn the river had taken westward was, therefore, favourable to my hopes, that it would continue in that direction. Its general course was found to be nearly northward. On the other hand, the high ranges in the E. seemed to terminate abruptly towards the N., so that a very low country appeared to be to the northward of our position then, stretching from 40° N. of W. to 40° E. of N., a full quarter circle which the course of the river almost bisected. After travelling twelve miles without seeing any thing of the river, I reluctantly turned N.E., and then E., and in the last-mentioned direction, I hit the river where it contained a fine reach of water. In the dry part of the bed, grew various curious plants in flower, all quite new to me; a species closely allied to the ACACIA DELIBERATA (Cunn.), and a very fine silky leaved TRICHODESMA.[*] A new VELLEYA was also found near this camp.[**] In the scrubs back from the river, the STENOCHILUS CURVIPES was loaded with its long tubular flowers. A small species of Acacia was perhaps a variety of A. LEUCADENDRON Cunn.; and we found also a curious scrubby species of JACKSONIA.[***] Latitude, 22° 30' 10" S. Thermometer, at sunrise, 29°; at noon, 61°; at 4 p.m., 69°; at 9, 40°. (LXV.)
2D AUGUST.—We approached this beautiful river over a park-like plain, but further down, we found the banks covered with scrub. I headed northwest as I passed through it and emerged onto plains and open forests alternating with scrubs. The scrubs were notable, as they always included dry hollows where water had collected. The clay was hard, but in all these hollows, there were deep impressions of bare feet from men, women, and children since the bottom was muddy. These numerous water-holding hollows show the smart way the land has been shaped for the benefit of wildlife. It was a long day's journey, mainly through that type of scrub. I was disappointed that I didn't come across the river while traveling northwest. Yuranigh spotted from a tree the continuation, far to the west, of the low range already seen from a previous camp. Its earlier direction seemed to be nearly north to south. The river's westward turn gave me hope that it would keep going in that direction. Its general course was found to be mostly north. Meanwhile, the high ranges to the east appeared to end abruptly to the north, so a very low area seemed to stretch northward from our position then, extending from 40° north of west to 40° east of north, forming a quarter-circle that the river almost bisected. After traveling twelve miles without seeing the river, I reluctantly turned northeast, then east, and in that last direction, I finally found the river where it had a nice stretch of water. In the dry part of the riverbed, a variety of interesting flowering plants grew, all completely new to me; one species closely related to ACACIA DELIBERATA (Cunn.), and a very fine silky-leaved TRICHODESMA.[*] A new VELLEYA was also discovered near this camp.[**] In the scrubs away from the river, the STENOCHILUS CURVIPES was filled with its long tubular flowers. A small species of Acacia was possibly a variety of A. LEUCADENDRON Cunn.; and we also found an interesting scrubby species of JACKSONIA.[***] Latitude, 22° 30' 10" S. Thermometer, at sunrise, 29°; at noon, 61°; at 4 p.m., 69°; at 9 p.m., 40°. (LXV.)
[* T. SERICEUM (Lindl. MSS.); caule erecto sericeo setis nullis, foliis oppositis lineari-lanceolatis basi angustatis sericeopilosis, pedicellis pilosis lateralibus longis, calycis lobis lanceolatis pubescentibus basi pilosis, nucis dorso polito maculato.—Near T. ZEYLANICUM, but quite distinct.]
[* T. SERICEUM (Lindl. MSS.); with an upright stem covered in silky hairs, no bristles, opposite leaves that are linear-lanceolate with narrow bases and silky hairs, long hairy lateral pedicels, calyx lobes that are lanceolate and pubescent with hairy bases, and a nut with a polished, spotted back. — Similar to T. ZEYLANICUM, but quite distinct.]
[** V. MACROCALYX (De Vriese MSS.); foliis omnibus radicalibus, oblongospathulatis acutis, integris, membranaceis, remote, minute et obsolete dentatis, uninerviis, glabris, subdecurrentibus, glabris; scapis radicalibus elongatis, folia vix exaequantibus; bracteis dichotomiarum vel trichotomiarum binis ternisve lanceolatis acutis vel lineari-lanceolatis, floribus 2-3nis; calycibus (involucris) ternis, magnis, membranaceis, ovatis, ellipticisque, acuminatis, basi cordatis, petiolatisque; antherae liberae, stigmatis indusium maximum ciliatum, labiis compressis, cochleariforme.—Folia sunt 6-12 cent. longa, 3 cent. lata, crassinervia; scapi adscendentes, inferne tenuiores, sursum parum elongati.]
[** V. MACROCALYX (De Vriese MSS.); all leaves are radical, oblong-spatula-shaped, sharp, entire, membranous, distantly and minutely dentate, with a single vein, smooth, somewhat decurrent, and glabrous; the radical stems are elongated, barely equaling the leaves; the bracts are in pairs or threes of lanceolate, sharp, or linear-lanceolate shapes, with flowers of 2-3; the calyces (involucres) are threefold, large, membranous, ovate, elliptical, acuminate, with cordate bases and petioles; the anthers are free, the stigma has a large, ciliate indusium, with compressed lips, cochleariform.—The leaves are 6-12 cm long, 3 cm wide, with thick veins; the ascending stems are thinner at the base and slightly elongated upwards.]
[*** J. RAMOSISSIMA (Benth. MSS.) inermis, ramis angulatis ramosissimis glabriusculis, floribus subsessilibus, calycis colorati profunde divisi laciniis duabus supremis diù vel omnino cohaerentibus, legumine subsessili ovato-acuto ventricoso.]
[*** J. RAMOSISSIMA (Benth. MSS.) has spiny, very branched stems that are somewhat smooth, with flowers that are almost stemless. The colored calyx is deeply divided with the two upper lobes often or completely fused, and the fruit is a subsessile, oval-pointed, swollen pod.]
3D AUGUST.—Our carts had been so much jolted about and shaken, in crossing the dead timber yesterday, that I resolved to keep along the river bank this day, if the ground and woods permitted. To a certain distance from the banks, there was less fallen timber, as the natives had been accustomed there to make their fires, and roast the mussles of the river, and other food. The river was found to spread into separate channels, in which I did not readily recognise it, until I found them again united in a splendid reach of water under steep banks. The general course was by no means promising, being somewhat to the E. of N.; it was much to be apprehended that this river, too, would run to the E. coast, and become another instance of the utter want of any knowledge of the interior country, that still may prevail, long after complete surveys have been made of the lines of coast. Again we came upon wide fields of polygonum, and tracks of open forest with large lagoons. Then scrubs of brigalow obliged us to travel in the river bed, as the only open part where we could pass. That surface consisted of clay iron-stone, denuded by torrents, and the "DISJECTA MEMBRA," of a river. Ponds, water-worn banks, and timber, alive and dead, were there intermixed. Emerging from these obstructions, as from a feverish dream, we entered upon park-like scenery and good grass. The latter had been a desideratum during the last two days. We next came upon a river containing plenty of water, and coming from the N.W. I expected this would terminate our journey along the other, and I encamped on discovering it, after a journey of ten miles. The Australian rivers have all distinguishing characteristics, which they seem to possess from their sources to their termination. That we had just quitted, had a great affection, like its upper tributary, for brigalow scrubs, and spreading into ana-branches. This last discovered river seemed quite the reverse of all this. Its channel was very uniform; the banks being covered with open forests and good grass. The bed was sandy, but contained water in abundance, so that I hoped it would lead us to higher regions, by following it upwards, to where other waters might fall in the direction of the Gulf. This river contained the Harlequin fish of the Maranin great abundance. Yet we had found none of these in the river to which this was a tributary, but, on the contrary, two other sorts. There was much novelty in the trees and plants. One tree in particular, growing in the bed of the river, had the thin white shining bark of the tea-tree (mimosa), and drooping leaves shaped like those of the eucalyptus; a HIBISCUS allied to, if not the same, with II. LINDLEYI, but not in flower; a CASSIA, perhaps C. CORONILLOIDES in ripe fruit, or at least closely allied to it, occupied the dry sandy ground with MONENTELES REDOLENS, a silveryheaded weed; and some Cinchonad allied to Coffea, with young fruit, the size of small olives. Latitude, 22° 23' 10". Thermometer, at sunrise, 21°; at noon, 59°; at 4 p.m., 64°; at 9, 37°; with wet bulb, 28°. (LXVI.)
3D AUGUST.—Our carts had been jostled around a lot while crossing the dead timber yesterday, so I decided to stick to the riverbank today, if the ground and woods allowed it. Farther from the banks, there was less fallen timber because the locals usually made their fires and cooked river mussels and other food there. The river split into several channels, which I didn't recognize right away until I found them all joining together in a beautiful stretch of water with steep banks. The overall direction didn’t look promising as it was somewhat to the E. of N.; it seemed likely that this river would flow to the eastern coast, highlighting the ongoing lack of knowledge about the interior regions, even after thorough surveys of the coastlines. Again, we encountered vast fields of polygonum and areas of open forest with large lagoons. Then thickets of brigalow forced us to travel through the riverbed, which was the only open area to pass through. The bed was made up of clay ironstone, worn down by torrents, and the remnants of a river. Ponds, water-eroded banks, and both living and dead timber were mixed in there. After getting through these obstacles, as if waking from a feverish dream, we entered a park-like landscape with good grass. This had been a much-desired finding over the last two days. We then came across a river with plenty of water flowing from the N.W. I thought this would end our journey along the previous river, so I set up camp upon discovering it, after traveling ten miles. Australian rivers all have distinct characteristics from their sources to their endings. The one we had just left had a strong affinity for brigalow scrubs and branching out into ana-branches. This newly discovered river appeared to be the opposite of that. Its channel was very consistent, with the banks covered in open forests and good grass. The riverbed was sandy but held plenty of water, giving me hope that following it upstream would lead us to higher areas where other waters might flow towards the Gulf. This river was filled with the Harlequin fish of the Maran in great numbers. Yet we hadn’t seen any in the river it was a tributary of; instead, we found two other types. The trees and plants were quite novel. One tree, in particular, growing in the riverbed, had the thin white shiny bark of the tea tree (mimosa) and drooping leaves similar to eucalyptus; a HIBISCUS related to, if not the same as, II. LINDLEYI, though not in bloom; a CASSIA, possibly C. CORONILLOIDES in ripe fruit, or at least closely related to it, covered the dry sandy ground along with MONENTELES REDOLENS, a silvery-headed weed; and some Cinchonad related to Coffea, with young fruit the size of small olives. Latitude, 22° 23' 10". Thermometer, at sunrise, 21°; at noon, 59°; at 4 p.m., 64°; at 9, 37°; with wet bulb, 28°. (LXVI.)
4TH AUGUST.—We had still so much westing to make, in order to hit the head of the Gulf, that I was disposed to follow up the new river in any direction that did not take us much to the S. The river, however, was soon found to come from the S.W. and S., so that I was obliged to cross it. I then travelled W. through open forest three miles, which brought us to undulating ground. I then turned to the W.N.W., and proceeded over ground equally open and favourable for the passage of our carts. At length, a hard ferruginous conglomerate rock, projected from the surface, and clumps of thick brigalow grew on some of the summits. On one piece of rising ground, I found a mass of rocks, a few feet higher than the rest, and from it I perceived a continuation of the slightly elevated flattopped range, to the southward and westward. A somewhat higher but similar sort of range appeared in the east, beyond a very broad and level woody country, through which it was probable that our first-found river still pursued a northerly course. Beyond that flat, and further to the eastward, the same hills already seen were still visible, and others northward of them, just like them. There was a high summit beyond all these bearing about E. I could not discover any satisfactory line to follow in the country thus partially visible, and as the sun was near the horizon, I only continued, to go forward to a valley wherein I hoped to have found water, but was disappointed, the soil being too sandy and absorbent. There we nevertheless encamped, in Lat. 22° 19' 45" S. On this day's journey, I saw two of the rose-coloured paroqueets of the Barwan, none of these birds having been seen by any of the party since we crossed the Culgoa. A fragrant stenochilus, with leaves smelling exactly like mint, was found this day, and a splendid banksia in flower, also a new MELALEUCA.[*] Thermometer, at sunrise, 23°; at noon, 58°; at 4 p.m., 63°; at 9, 29°; with wet bulb, 18°.
4TH AUGUST.—We still needed to head west to reach the Gulf, so I was inclined to explore the new river in any direction that wouldn’t take us too far south. However, we quickly discovered that the river was coming from the southwest and south, which forced me to cross it. I then traveled west for three miles through open forest, which led us to rolling terrain. After that, I turned to the northwest and continued over land that was equally open and suitable for our carts. Eventually, a hard, iron-rich conglomerate rock emerged from the ground, and clusters of thick brigalow trees grew on some hilltops. On one elevated patch, I found a cluster of rocks a few feet higher than the surrounding area, and from there I noticed a continuation of the slightly raised, flat-topped range to the south and west. A somewhat taller but similarly shaped range appeared to the east, beyond a very broad and level wooded area, through which our newly discovered river likely continued flowing north. Beyond that flat area and further east, we could still see the same hills from before, along with others to the north of them that looked just like them. There was a tall peak beyond all of these that was roughly east. I couldn’t find any clear route to follow in the partially visible landscape, and since the sun was close to setting, I proceeded towards a valley where I hoped to find water but was disappointed to find the soil too sandy and absorbent. Nonetheless, we set up camp there at Latitude 22° 19' 45" S. On this day’s journey, I spotted two of the rose-colored parakeets of the Barwan, none of which had been seen by our group since we crossed the Culgoa. A fragrant stenochilus with leaves that smelled exactly like mint was discovered today, along with a beautiful banksia in bloom, and a new MELALEUCA.[*] The thermometer read 23° at sunrise, 58° at noon, 63° at 4 p.m., and 29° at 9 p.m., with a wet bulb reading of 18°.
[* M. TAMARISCINA (Hook. MSS.); ramosissima ramulis gracillimis copiose excavatis e foliis delapsis, foliis rameis remotis parvis ovatis acuminatis appressis, ramulinis minutissimis squamaeformibus convexis obtusis imbricatis immersis, capsulis circa ramos spicatis parvis globosis.—A very singular MELALEUCA, somewhat allied to M. HUGELII, Endl.: but extremely different in the very minute squamiform leaves of the copious slender branchlets, from which they fall and leave the bleached slender branchlets full of little pits or cavities in which the leaves had been, as it were, sunk.]
[* M. TAMARISCINA (Hook. MSS.); a highly branched plant with slender stems that are deeply hollowed out, featuring small, oval, pointed leaves that grow close to the stems, along with tiny, scale-like leaves that are convex, blunt, and overlapping, nestled in the stems. The small, globular capsules grow around the branches in spikes.—This is a very unique MELALEUCA, somewhat related to M. HUGELII, Endl.: but it is extremely different due to its very tiny, scale-like leaves on the numerous slender branches, from which the leaves fall off, leaving behind the bleached slender branches filled with tiny pits or cavities where the leaves used to be, as if they were embedded.]
5TH AUGUST.—The last-found river not having answered my expectations, we had come quite far enough from the one we had previously followed, which still might have turned N.W., where we wished it to go; although I confess the prospect was by no means promising. The doubt was still to be removed, and, after a night passed without water, the earliest dawn saw us again going forward, in a direction a little to the eastward of N. It was only after pursuing that line for seventeen miles, that we again found the river, unchanged in character, and still running northerly. This was a trying day for our animals, as they could not be watered until long after it was dark; a brigalow scrub, full of much fallen timber, having retarded and impeded the carts so that they could not be got to the water sooner. Nor had this been possible, even then, but for the fortunate circumstance of our having the light of a nearly full moon. I had preceded the party by some miles, accompanied by Yuranigh, the rest following my horse's tracks, and I had thus passed through the four miles of scrub, and reached the river early in the day. On returning, we found the party in the midst of this scrub, and succeeded in guiding it, even by moonlight, to the pond at which we had watered our horses during the day. Many dry hollows of indurated mud appeared, as usual, in the brigalow we had passed through; and we endeavoured to lead the carts, as much as possible, through these hollows, in order to avoid the dead logs, many of which we were obliged to cut, before the carts could pass. Many deep impressions of natives' feet appeared in these clay hollows; also the tracks of emus. Yuranigh showed me several tracks where a native had been following a kangeroo's track; and he told me of a certain method adopted by the natives of killing the kangeroo during wet weather,—which is, to pursue the track, following it up day after day, until they overtake the animal, which, on being so incessantly followed, becomes at length so defenceless, that one native can despatch it with a tomahawk. According to the barometer, it appeared that this river was not now much higher above the level of the sea, than the Bogan or the Balonne. Still it spread into many channels and isolated ponds; the latter being sometimes in good grassy land, apart from the brigalow. Nothing could be more sterile than the surface where the brigalow grew; but the first indication of the river was an open space covered with luxuriant grass, and we had to ride two miles along this, before Yuranigh and I could find the river, having been guided to it chiefly by some smoke of the natives. At the first place we approached, we found two ponds of excellent water, under the shining boughs of lofty Yarra trees. Latitude, 22° 10' 15" S. Thermometer, at sunrise, 39°; at noon, 64°; at 4 p.m., 61°; at 9, 36°; —with wet bulb, 28°. (LXVII.)
5TH AUGUST.—The last river we found didn’t meet my expectations, and we had traveled far enough from the previous one we followed, which might have turned northwest where we wanted it to go; although honestly, the outlook wasn’t promising. We still needed to resolve this uncertainty, and after a night without water, we set out at dawn, heading slightly east of north. It was only after traveling that route for seventeen miles that we found the river again, unchanged and still flowing north. This day was tough for our animals since they couldn’t get water until well after dark; a brigalow scrub, filled with fallen timber, had slowed down the carts so much that they couldn’t reach water sooner. It wouldn’t have been possible even then if not for the lucky chance of having a nearly full moon to light our way. I had moved ahead of the group by several miles with Yuranigh, while the others followed my horse’s tracks, and I had managed to get through the four miles of scrub and arrived at the river early in the day. When I returned, I found the group in the middle of the scrub, and we successfully directed them, even by moonlight, to the pond where we had watered our horses earlier. As usual, many dry hollows of hardened mud appeared in the brigalow we passed through, and we tried to guide the carts through these hollows as much as possible to avoid the dead logs, many of which we had to cut for the carts to get through. Numerous deep footprints of natives were visible in these clay hollows, as well as the tracks of emus. Yuranigh pointed out several tracks showing a native had followed a kangaroo’s trail, and he told me about a specific method the natives use to kill kangaroos in wet weather—by tracking them day after day until they catch up, at which point the constantly pursued animal becomes so defenseless that one native can finish it off with a tomahawk. According to the barometer, it seemed this river was not much higher above sea level than the Bogan or the Balonne. Still, it spread out into many channels and isolated ponds; sometimes, these were in good grassy areas, separate from the brigalow. Nothing could be more barren than the land where the brigalow grew; but the first sign of the river was an open space dense with lush grass, and we had to ride two miles along this before Yuranigh and I could find the river, mainly guided by some smoke from the natives. At the first spot we reached, we discovered two ponds of excellent water, beneath the shining branches of tall Yarra trees. Latitude, 22° 10' 15" S. Thermometer, at sunrise, 39°; at noon, 64°; at 4 p.m., 61°; at 9, 36°;—with wet bulb, 28°. (LXVII.)
6TH AUGUST.—I gave the jaded cattle a day's rest, and the men thus had an opportunity to screw up and repair their carts.
6TH AUGUST.—I gave the tired cattle a day's rest, and the men had a chance to fix and repair their carts.
7TH AUGUST.—The brigalow scrub obliged me this day to travel along the river banks, upon which I found it pleasant to go, as they proved open and grassy. Large lagoons and reaches of water appeared in the scattered channels. At length, a deep broad reach, brim full of pure water, glittered before us. Clouds of large ducks arose from it, and larger water-fowl shrieked over our heads. A deep receding opening appeared to the northeast, as if our river had been either breaking off in that direction, or met with some important tributary from that side. I continued to travel northwest, passing through some fine open forests. The character of the country seemed changed. The grass was of a different kind, and a refreshing breeze from the north-east seemed to "smell of water," as Yuranigh expressed it. The dense line of Yarra trees appeared still to be continuous on the right, and the more I travelled westward, the more I was convinced that we still had the river at hand. We did at length approach its banks after a journey of ten miles, when we found this was a river FROM the west appearing fully as deep and important as the one we had been following, and containing ponds of water. This new tributary from the west, left no room to hope that the channel we had been pursuing would turn westward—on the contrary, it became but too probable that below the junction of this river, the channel would turn towards the N. E. It could not well be doubted that this went to the eastern coast; but, to remove all doubt, as Yuranigh was of a different opinion, I sent Corporal Graham with him up the newly-found river, to ascertain whether it did not come from the north-west, in which case we could not expect that the other it joined would go in that direction. Their report on returning, only rendered it necessary that I should take a ride forward next morning. They said this river came from the S. W., and at two miles higher, had a very narrow channel. Lower down, it was found to join the main channel, which, below the junction, still continued northward. There, we found a beautiful new Grevillea.[*] The STENOCHILUS PUBIFLORUS formed a willow-leaved shrub about twelve feet high, and in the sandy bed of the river was an EUPHORBIA very near E. HYPERICIFOLIA, but with narrower leaves, and the ovary pubescent not glabrous. The DODONOEA VESTITA, with its hairy foliage and large shaggy fruits, clothed the sandstone surface back from the river.[**] Latitude, 22° 2' 15" S. Thermometer, at sunrise, 30°; at noon, 78°; at 4 p.m., 77°; at 9, 55°; —with wet bulb 49°. (LXVIII).
7TH AUGUST.—Today, I had to travel along the riverbanks because of the brigalow scrub, and I found it enjoyable since the banks were open and grassy. Large lagoons and stretches of water appeared in the scattered channels. Eventually, a wide, deep section, filled with clear water, sparkled before us. Large ducks took off from it, and bigger waterfowl squawked overhead. A deep recess opened up to the northeast, as if our river was either breaking off in that direction or meeting a significant tributary from that side. I kept heading northwest, passing through some beautiful open forests. The landscape seemed different. The grass was a different type, and a refreshing breeze from the northeast seemed to "smell of water," as Yuranigh put it. The dense line of Yarra trees still appeared continuous on the right, and the further I traveled westward, the more I was convinced that we were still close to the river. After a ten-mile journey, we finally approached the banks, discovering that this was a river from the west, just as deep and significant as the one we had been following, with ponds of water. This new tributary from the west left little hope that the channel we had been pursuing would turn west; on the contrary, it was increasingly likely that below the junction of this river, the channel would shift towards the northeast. It was hard to doubt that this went to the eastern coast, but to clear up any uncertainty, since Yuranigh thought differently, I sent Corporal Graham with him up the newly-discovered river to find out if it came from the northwest, which would mean we couldn’t expect the other river to head in that direction. Their report upon returning made it clear that I needed to ride ahead the next morning. They said this river came from the southwest and had a very narrow channel two miles upstream. Lower down, it was found to merge with the main channel, which continued northward below the junction. There, we found a beautiful new Grevillea.[*] The STENOCHILUS PUBIFLORUS formed a willow-leaved shrub about twelve feet high, and in the sandy riverbed was an EUPHORBIA very close to E. HYPERICIFOLIA, but with narrower leaves and a pubescent ovary instead of a glabrous one. The DODONOEA VESTITA, with its hairy leaves and large shaggy fruits, covered the sandstone surface away from the river.[**] Latitude, 22° 2' 15" S. Thermometer, at sunrise, 30°; at noon, 78°; at 4 p.m., 77°; at 9 p.m., 55°;—with wet bulb 49°. (LXVIII).
[* G. MITCHELLI (Hook. MSS.); appresso-subsericesa, foliis pinnatifidis bipinnatifidisque, laciniis angustissime linearibus elongatis marginibus arcte reflexis subtus concoloribus, racemis elongatis secundis densifloris, floribus subverticillatis, perianthiis pedicellisque tomentosis, folliculis oblique ovatis tomentosis sessilibus, stylis glabris.—Allied to G. CHRYSODENDRON, Br., but the segments of the leaves are narrower, not golden-coloured beneath: the flowers are entirely secund: a splendid species.]
[* G. MITCHELLI (Hook. MSS.); a plant with finely divided leaves that are either twice pinnate or pinnatifid, with very narrow and elongated lobes that have sharply reflexed edges and are the same color below, featuring long, dense flower clusters that blossom in a somewhat whorled pattern, with hairy pedicels and perianths, and with sessile, obliquely oval, hairy fruits, and smooth styles. — This species is related to G. CHRYSODENDRON, Br., but its leaf segments are narrower and not golden underneath: the flowers are entirely in one direction: it’s a stunning species.]
[** D. VESTITA (Hook. MSS.); tota densissimè pilosa, foliis pinnatis pinnis oppositis 4—5-jugis cuneatis apice lunulato-emarginatis vel incisis, rachi articulatâ articulis obovatis, capsulis profundis tetrapteris villosissimis.]
[** D. VESTITA (Hook. MSS.); completely covered in dense hair, with pinnate leaves featuring 4-5 pairs of wedge-shaped leaflets that are rounded or notched at the tip, the rachis is jointed with obovate segments, and the capsules are deeply four-winged and very hairy.]
8TH AUGUST.—With two men and Yuranigh, I proceeded first, northward by compass, for some miles, when I emerged from scrub, upon fine open downs covered with a crop of excellent grass. The soil was soft and rich, the grass PANICUM LOEVINODE. Small clumps of Acacias were strewed over these downs, which were very extensive, and from them I saw several rather high hills to the eastward, terminating abruptly over a low country to the northward. Supposing that the main channel would there turn round to the eastward, I proceeded north-west to examine the country. I soon entered a thick scrub of rosewood and other Acacias. I remarked the CALLISTEMON NERVOSUM, previously seen (July) with rich crimson flowers, forming a large tree, in the dry open forest, with perfectly green spikes; also, on the branches of Eucalypti, a beautiful orange coloured LORANTH. The soil was rich, yielding, and rather bare of vegetation. Nodules of variegated limestone, or marble, appeared on the surface, showing that the improvement in the soil was owing to a change in the rocks under it. Again emerging on open plains, the country seemed to fall northward, which induced me to ride again in that direction, thinking we might meet with some river either coming from the N. W. or leading there. The open plains terminated upon a hollow full of trees, growing, as was very evident, on a lower surface. The hollows resembled those of brigalow scrub, and we soon found this tree in full possession of them. Dry channels, leading in various directions between N. W. and E. engaged my attention throughout the afternoon: indeed, they seemed interminable. At length, we detected some continuity in the hollows, leading towards the N.N.E. Yarra trees at length appeared in it, abundance of grass on the banks, and deep dry ponds. Two crows hovering over one, raised our hopes that it contained water, as we also perceived a line of green vegetation over the margin. It was deep and full of water. Here, about 4 p.m., we were thus enabled to water our horses, and continue our ride independently of finding more water that evening. We next perceived an open forest hill on our right; but, on examining the country from it, we saw no immediate indications of the river. On reentering the brigalow scrub, the continuity of ponds was very indistinct, and I at length lost it, as it seemed, on its turning off to the eastward, a direction in which I was unwilling to follow it at that time. I threaded the mazes of another chain of hollows, which turned in various directions between N. W. and 20° N. of E., the latter being the general course. During this unsatisfactory sort of exploration, night overtook us, where the dry and naked clay presented neither grass nor water. Our horses had come thirty miles, and it was only after considerable search, in the dark, that I found a grassy spot for our horses, and where we tied them up, and lay down to pass the night.
8TH AUGUST.—With two men and Yuranigh, I first headed north using a compass for several miles, until I came out of the scrub onto vast open downs covered in great grass. The soil was soft and rich, with grass that was PANICUM LOEVINODE. Small groups of Acacias were scattered across these downs, which were quite extensive, and from there I could see several tall hills to the east, ending abruptly over a low area to the north. Assuming that the main channel would turn east there, I went northwest to explore the area. I soon entered thick scrub filled with rosewood and other Acacias. I noticed CALLISTEMON NERVOSUM, which I had seen before (in July) with bright crimson flowers, forming a large tree in the dry open forest, featuring perfectly green spikes; I also saw a beautiful orange-colored LORANTH on the branches of Eucalypti. The soil was rich, productive, and somewhat bare of other plants. Nodules of variously colored limestone or marble were visible on the surface, indicating that the improvement in the soil was due to different rocks beneath it. After emerging onto open plains, I noticed the terrain sloped down to the north, which prompted me to ride in that direction, thinking we might come across a river flowing from the northwest or leading to it. The open plains ended at a hollow filled with trees, which were clearly growing on lower ground. The hollows looked similar to those of brigalow scrub, and we soon found this tree dominating the area. Dry channels ran in various directions between northwest and east, capturing my attention throughout the afternoon: indeed, they seemed endless. Eventually, we detected some continuity in the hollows leading northeast. Yarra trees appeared in it, along with plenty of grass on the banks and deep dry ponds. Two crows hovering over one raised our hopes that it held water, as we also saw a line of green vegetation along the edge. It was deep and full of water. Here, around 4 p.m., we were able to water our horses and continue our ride without needing to find more water that evening. Next, we noticed an open forested hill on our right; however, upon examining the area from it, we didn’t see any immediate signs of the river. Upon reentering the brigalow scrub, the continuity of the ponds became very unclear, and I eventually lost track of it as it seemed to turn off to the east, a direction I was reluctant to follow at that moment. I maneuvered through another network of hollows that turned in various directions between northwest and 20° north of east, with the latter being the general path. During this frustrating exploration, night fell, and the dry, bare clay offered neither grass nor water. Our horses had traveled thirty miles, and only after a thorough search in the dark did I find a grassy spot for our horses where we tied them up and settled down for the night.
9TH AUGUST.—We saddled them as soon as day broke, and proceeded again into the scrub; but the hollows took no longer any continuous channel, and I again travelled N. W., in which direction I entered upon a plain. Thence I perceived a low flat, and a line of trees beyond it, very much resembling those of a river, and towards this I hastened, and found the river we had followed so far, unchanged in character. The scattered ponds, and nearly northerly course, were legible proofs of its identity. We watered our horses and took some breakfast, after which, while engaged laying down our route, one of the men observed some natives looking at us from a point of the opposite bank. I held up a green bough to one who stood forward in a rather menacing attitude, and who instantly replied to my signal of peace by holding up his bommareng. It was a brief but intelligible interview; no words could have been better understood on both sides; and I had fortunately determined, before we saw these natives, to return by tracing the river upwards. Our horses had been turned loose, the better to allow them to make the most of their time while we breakfasted. Graham got them together while I was telegraphing with the natives, some of whom I perceived filling some vessel with water, with which they retired into the woods. We saddled, and advanced to examine their track and the spot they had quitted, also that they might afterwards see our horses' tracks there, lest our green bough and subsequent return might have encouraged them to follow us. Yuranigh was burning the mutton bones we had picked; but I directed him to throw them about, that the natives might see that we neither eat their kangaroos nor emus. I found the course of the river very straight, but rather more than it had been, to the eastward of north. In some parts of the channel, lay deep reaches of water, fully a mile long; at other places, shallow hollows quite dry, seemed to be the only channel for the river's currents. We avoided brigalow scrubs, and passed the night on a grassy part of the bank, about ten miles back from the farthest point we had reached that morning.
9TH AUGUST.—We saddled the horses as soon as dawn broke and headed back into the scrub. However, the hollows no longer formed a continuous channel, and I once again traveled northwest, entering a plain. From there, I noticed a low flat area and a line of trees beyond it, which closely resembled those of a river. I hurried toward it and found that the river we had been following stayed the same. The scattered ponds and almost northerly direction were clear signs of its identity. We watered our horses and had some breakfast, and while we were figuring out our route, one of the men spotted some natives watching us from across the riverbank. I raised a green branch to signal one who stepped forward in a somewhat threatening manner, and he immediately responded by holding up his boomerang. It was a quick but clear exchange; no words could have conveyed our intentions better. Fortunately, I had already decided to return by tracing the river upstream before we encountered these natives. We had let the horses roam free to make the most of their time while we ate. Graham gathered them together while I communicated with the natives; I noticed some of them filling a container with water before disappearing into the woods. We saddled up and moved to explore their path and the place they had just left, ensuring they would see our horses' tracks there, so our green branch and subsequent departure wouldn’t encourage them to follow us. Yuranigh was burning the leftover mutton bones, but I told him to scatter them around so the natives would see that we hadn't taken their kangaroos or emus. I found the river’s course to be quite straight but slightly more east of north than before. In some areas, deep stretches of water extended for nearly a mile, while in others, dry shallow hollows seemed to be the only channels for the river’s flow. We avoided the brigalow scrubs and spent the night on a grassy patch of the riverbank, about ten miles back from the furthest point we had reached that morning.
10TH AUGUST.—Early in the morning a moist breeze blew from the north, with low scud not very high above the trees. Higher clouds drove as rapidly from the westward. The extremely moist air was a great novelty to us there. About 9 a.m., the sky was wholly overcast; but it finally cleared up, and the day was cool. We reached the camp about 3 p.m., having hit the river on which it was situated, two miles lower. There I found, to my surprise, that its channel was very deep and full of water, being broader than that of the main river. I was, therefore, inclined to explore its sources by proceeding upwards next day, as the direction of the northerly stream, did not promise much. The camp had just been visited by seventeen natives, apparently bent on hostile purposes, all very strong, several of them upwards of six feet high. Each of them carried three or four missile clubs. They were headed by an old man, and a gigantic sort of bully, who would not keep his hands off our carts. They said, by signs, that the whole country belonged to the old man. They pointed in the direction in which I had gone, and to where Mr. Stephenson happened to be at the time, down in the river bed; and then beckoned to the party that they also should follow or go where I had gone, or leave that place. They were received very firmly, but civilly and patiently, by the men, and were requested to sit down at a distance, my man Brown, being very desirous that I should return before they departed; thinking the old man might have given me some information about the river, which he called "Belyando." But a noisy altercation seemed to arise between the old chief and the tallest man, about the clubs, during which the latter again came forward, and beckoned to others behind, who came close up also. Each carried a club under each arm, and another in each hand, and from the gestures made to this advanced party, by the rest of the tribe of young men at a distance, it appeared that this was intended to be a hostile movement. Brown accordingly drew out the men in line before the tents, with their arms in their hands, and forbade the natives to approach the tents. "Nothing damps the ardour of troops so much," says General Lloyd, "as an unexpected obstacle at the moment of attack," and these strong men stood still and looked foolish, when they saw the five men in line, with incomprehensible weapons in their hands. Just then, our three dogs ran at them, and no charge of cavalry ever succeeded better. They all took to their heels, greatly laughed at, even by the rest of their tribe; and the only casualty befell the shepherd's dog, which biting at the legs of a native running away, he turned round, and hit the dog so cleverly with his missile on the rump, that it was dangerously ill for months after; the native having again, with great dexterity, picked up his club. The whole of them then disappeared, shouting through the woods to their gins. It was remarkable that on seeing the horses, they exclaimed "Yerraman," the colonial natives' name for a horse, and that of these animals they were not at all afraid, whereas they seemed in much dread of the bullocks. That these natives were fully determined to attack the white strangers, seems to admit of no doubt, and the result is but another of the many instances that might be adduced, that an open fight, without treachery, would be contrary to their habits and disposition. That they did not, on any occasion, way-lay me or the doctor, when detached from the body of the party, may perhaps, with equal truth, be set down as a favourable trait in the character of the aborigines; for whenever they visited my camp, it was during my absence, when they knew I was absent, and of course must have known where I was to be found. The old man had very intelligibly pointed out to Brown the direction in which this river came, I. E. from the S. W., and I therefore abandoned the intention of exploring it upwards, and determined to examine how it joined, and what the character of the river might be, about and below that junction, in hopes I might still obtain an interview with the natives, and learn something of the country to the north-west. Thermometer, at sunrise, 59°; at noon, 82°; at 4 p.m., 81°; at 9, 62°;—with wet bulb, 59°.
10TH AUGUST.—Early in the morning, a moist breeze blew from the north, with low clouds not very high above the trees. Higher clouds were moving quickly from the west. The really humid air was a big change for us there. By 9 a.m., the sky was completely overcast, but it eventually cleared up, and the day was cool. We arrived at the camp around 3 p.m., having reached the river it was located by, two miles downstream. To my surprise, I found that its channel was very deep and full of water, wider than that of the main river. Therefore, I was inclined to explore its sources by going upstream the next day, as the direction of the northern stream didn’t seem promising. The camp had just been visited by seventeen natives, who appeared to have hostile intentions; they were all very strong, with several of them over six feet tall. Each carried three or four missile clubs. They were led by an old man and a huge bully who wouldn't stop bothering our carts. They indicated, through gestures, that the whole area belonged to the old man. They pointed in the direction I had gone and to where Mr. Stephenson was at the time, down in the riverbed, and then signaled to the group that they should either follow where I had gone or leave. The men confidently but politely asked them to sit down at a distance, with my man Brown eager for me to return before they left, thinking the old man might give me some information about the river, which he called "Belyando." However, a loud argument seemed to erupt between the old chief and the tallest man concerning the clubs, during which the latter stepped forward again, gesturing to others behind him, who also came close. Each carried a club under each arm and another in each hand, and from the signals made to this group by the young men at a distance, it seemed this was meant to be a hostile action. Brown quickly positioned the men in line before the tents, armed, and told the natives not to approach. "Nothing dampens the enthusiasm of troops more than an unexpected obstacle at the moment of attack," says General Lloyd, and these strong men looked foolish when they saw the five men in line with strange weapons in their hands. Just then, our three dogs charged at them, and no cavalry charge could have worked better. They all ran away, laughed at even by the rest of their tribe; the only casualty was the shepherd's dog, which, while biting at the legs of a fleeing native, got clevered hit on the rear with his missile, leaving it dangerously ill for months after; the native had quickly picked up his club again. They then all disappeared, shouting through the woods to their women. It was notable that upon seeing the horses, they shouted "Yerraman," the name for a horse used by the colonial natives, and they were not afraid of these animals, while they seemed quite scared of the cattle. There’s no doubt that these natives were fully determined to attack the white strangers, and this is just one of many instances showing that an open fight, without treachery, would go against their nature. The fact that they never ambushed me or the doctor when separated from the main group could also be seen as a positive trait in the character of the aborigines; whenever they visited my camp, it was while I was away, when they knew I was not present, and must have known where to find me. The old man had clearly pointed out to Brown the direction from which the river came, namely from the southwest, so I decided against exploring it upstream and chose to investigate how it joined the main river and what its features were around and below that junction, hoping to still get a chance to meet with the natives and learn something about the land to the northwest. Thermometer, at sunrise, 59°; at noon, 82°; at 4 p.m., 81°; at 9, 62°;—with wet bulb, 59°.
11TH AUGUST.—Crossing this river at a favourable spot near our camp, we travelled on, eleven miles, and encamped early, on a fine reach of the main river. Here I had leisure to lay down my late ride on paper, and to connect it with the map; whereupon I concluded, with much regret, that this river must be either a tributary to, or identical with, that which M. Leichardt saw joining the Suttor in latitude 21° 6' S., and which he supposed to come from the west. It had supplied me with water across three degrees of latitude, and had gradually altered its course from N.W. to about 30° E. of N. In my ride I had traced it to 21° 30' of latitude south, and no high land had appeared, as I expected, to the northward, at all likely to turn its course towards the west. I found the height of its bed, moreover, to be so little above the sea (not much more than 600 feet), that I could no longer doubt that the division between eastern and western waters was still to the westward; and I arrived at the following conclusions:—
11TH AUGUST.—We crossed the river at a good spot near our camp and traveled eleven miles, setting up camp early on a pleasant stretch of the main river. Here, I took some time to write down my recent journey and connect it with the map. I sadly concluded that this river must either be a tributary of or the same as the one M. Leichardt saw merging with the Suttor at latitude 21° 6' S., which he thought came from the west. It had provided me with water across three degrees of latitude and had gradually shifted its course from NW to about 30° E. of N. On my ride, I traced it down to 21° 30' S latitude, and no high land had shown up to the north that could potentially divert its course westward. I also found that the height of its bed was only slightly above sea level (just over 600 feet), which made me doubt that the divide between eastern and western waters was not still to the west; and I reached the following conclusions:—
1st. That the river of Carpentaria should have been sought for to the westward of all the sources of the river Salvator.
1st. That the Carpentaria River should have been searched for to the west of all the sources of the Salvator River.
2nd. That the deepest indentation as yet discovered of the division of the waters, was at the sources of that river, and corresponded with the greatest elevation indicated by the barometer (about 2500 feet); and, 3dly. That there, I. E. under the parallel of 25° S., the highest spinal range must extend westward, in a line of truncated cones, whereof Mount Faraday appeared to be one.
2nd. The deepest part yet found of the water division was at the source of that river and matched the highest elevation recorded by the barometer (about 2500 feet); and, 3rd. That there, under the parallel of 25° S., the highest mountain range must extend westward in a line of flattened cones, of which Mount Faraday seemed to be one.
I accordingly determined to retrace our wheel-tracks back to the head of the Salvator, and to explore from thence the country to the north-west, as far as our stock of provisions and the season would permit. I had marked my camps by Roman letters cut deep in sound trees, and at this, I left the number LXIX. cut under the initials of the colony, N.S.W.; this being the number marked from the Culgoa. We had, at least, laid out a good carriage road from the colony to a river in M. Leichardt's route; which road, as far as we had marked it with our wheels, led through pastoral regions of much greater extent than all the colonists now occupied. At this farthest point traced by our wheels within the Tropics, the plants were still known to botanists, but with some interesting exceptions. We here found the CASSIA HETEROLOBA in flower; also the burr plant, CALOTIS CUNEIFOLIA of Brown; the PITTOSPORUM LANCEOLATUM of A. Cunningham, a shrub with yellow flowers and narrow willowy leaves; and the beautiful laurel-leaved GEIGERA LATIFOLIA was still conspicuous among the forest trees. But here also we found a very fine new species of STENOCHILUS[*], a new pine-leaved DODONOEA, allied to the D. PINIFOLIA of Swan River[**], and a most singular hard-leaved shrub, with spiny foliage resembling five pointed stars, proved to be a new species of LABICHEA.[***] Thermometer, at sunrise, 36°; at noon, 71°; at 4 p.m., 70°; at 9, 35°; —with wet bulb, 30°.
I decided to retrace our wheel tracks back to the head of the Salvator and explore the area to the northwest, as far as our supplies and the weather allowed. I had marked our camps with Roman numerals carved into sturdy trees, and here I left the number 69 carved under the initials of the colony, N.S.W.; this was the number designated from the Culgoa. At least we had established a solid road from the colony to a river along M. Leichardt's route; that road, as far as we had traveled with our wheels, went through pastoral regions much larger than what all the colonists were currently using. At this furthest point reached by our wheels within the Tropics, the plants were still recognized by botanists, though with some interesting exceptions. We discovered the CASSIA HETEROLOBA in bloom, as well as the burr plant CALOTIS CUNEIFOLIA identified by Brown, the PITTOSPORUM LANCEOLATUM identified by A. Cunningham—a shrub with yellow flowers and narrow, willowy leaves; and the beautiful laurel-leaved GEIGERA LATIFOLIA was still easily visible among the forest trees. However, we also found a very fine new species of STENOCHILUS[*], a new pine-leaved DODONOEA related to the D. PINIFOLIA from Swan River[**], and a uniquely hard-leaved shrub with spiny foliage resembling five-pointed stars, which turned out to be a new species of LABICHEA.[***] The thermometer read 36° at sunrise; 71° at noon; 70° at 4 p.m.; and 35° at 9 p.m.; with a wet bulb reading of 30°.
[* S. PUBIFLORUS (Benth. MS.) foliis lanceolato-linearibus elongatis integerrimis apice subuncinato novellis ramulisque tomentellis mox glabratis, calycis foliolis lanceolatis, corollae pubescentis inferne attenuatae laciniis oblatis infima breviter soluta.—This agrees pretty well with Brown's short diagnosis of S. LONGIFOLIUS, as well as with Cunningham's specimens so named; but those have no corolla, which Brown also had not seen, and his is a south coast plant. (Another new species with leaves like this, but very different flowers, was gathered by Sir T. Mitchell in his former expedition.)]
[* S. PUBIFLORUS (Benth. MS.) with elongated, lanceolate-linear leaves that are completely smooth at the tips, young branches covered in fine hairs that soon become hairless, calyx leaves that are lanceolate, and a pubescent corolla that tapers at the bottom with broadly oval lobes that are only briefly detached at the base.—This aligns fairly well with Brown's brief description of S. LONGIFOLIUS, as well as with Cunningham's specimens labeled as such; however, those lack a corolla, which Brown also hadn't seen, and his is a plant from the south coast. (Another new species with similar leaves but very different flowers was collected by Sir T. Mitchell during his previous expedition.)]
[** D. ACEROSA (Lindl. MS.); foliis tenuibus acerosis subfalcatis glandulosis, corymbis axillaribus paucifloris folio brevioribus, capsulis tetrapteris alis apice rotundatis.]
[** D. ACEROSA (Lindl. MS.); with thin, slightly curved leaves that have glands, few-flowered clusters in the axils shorter than the leaves, and four-winged seed capsules with rounded tips.]
[*** L. DIGITATA (Benth. MS.) ramulis tomentellis, foliis subsessili bus, foliolis 3-5-digitatis lineari-oblongis spinoso-mucronatis coriaceis reticulatis terminali caeteris vix majore, antheris parum inaequalibus conformibus.]
[*** L. DIGITATA (Benth. MS.) with hairy branches, leaves that are almost sessile, leaflets that are 3-5 digitate, linear-oblong, spiny-tipped, leathery, and netted, with the terminal one barely larger than the others, and slightly unequal, similar anthers.]
12TH AUGUST.—I reluctantly ordered my men, (who believed themselves on the high-way to Carpentaria,) to turn the horses' heads homewards, merely saying that we were obliged to explore from a higher point. The track already marked out by our party advancing, was so much easier for the draught animals, as requiring less driving, that they arrived at an early hour again at the river they formerly crossed, and travelled with ease three and a half miles further back to a lagoon, on the banks of which the grass was good, and where we therefore now encamped. The track of the large feet of the natives showed they had followed us this morning, from our camp of yesterday; and a fragment of burning wood they had dropped, showed that they had this day met us in the scrub as we returned, and had gone out of our way. Even to the lagoon, their track along our route was also plainly visible. I was now, apparently to them, at their request, leaving the country; and we should soon see if their purpose in visiting our camp was an honest one, and whether their reasonable and fair demand, was really all they contemplated on that occasion. Thermometer, at sunrise, 37°; at noon, 70°; at 4 p.m., 71°; at 9, 65°.
12TH AUGUST.—I reluctantly told my men, who thought they were on their way to Carpentaria, to turn the horses around and head home, just saying that we needed to explore from a higher point. The path already marked out by our team was much easier for the draft animals since it required less driving, so they got back to the river we had crossed before early, and traveled easily another three and a half miles to a lagoon, where the grass was good, and that's where we set up camp. The large footprints of the natives showed they had followed us this morning from our previous camp; a piece of burning wood they left behind indicated they had encountered us in the brush as we returned and had gone out of their way. Their tracks along our route were also clearly visible up to the lagoon. Apparently, to them, I was now leaving the area at their request, and we would soon find out if their visit to our camp was genuine and whether their reasonable and fair request was really all they intended on that occasion. Thermometer, at sunrise, 37°; at noon, 70°; at 4 p.m., 71°; at 9, 65°.
13TH AUGUST.—We continued back, along the old track, to beyond Camp LXVII. I then took the direction of the camp two stages back, in order to avoid the great detour formerly pursued; the camp without water, and the thick brigalow. All these we successfully avoided, passing over fine open forest land, and encountering no brigalow. We found the river on our left when we required it, and encamped on a plain near the water, and distant only a few miles from the camp two journies back from LXVII. I was guided by the bearing of 10° E. of N. We found much of the grass on fire, and heard the natives' voices although we saw none. We crossed some patches of dry swamp where the clods had been very extensively turned up by the natives, but for what purpose Yuranigh could not form any conjecture. These clods were so very large and hard that we were obliged to throw them aside, and clear a way for the carts to pass. The whole resembled ground broken up by the hoe, the naked surface having been previously so cracked by drought as to render this upturning possible without a hoe. There might be about two acres in the patch we crossed, and we perceived at a distance, other portions of the ground in a similar state. The river had, where we made it, a deep wellmarked channel, with abundance of clear water in it, and firm accessible banks. It was still, however, enveloped in a narrow belt of brigalow. The shepherd having most imprudently taken the sheep to water when it was near sunset, lost his way in the scrub, and could not be found all night. Some thought he had fallen into the hands of the aborigines who were closely watching us; and it was obvious that had they got possession of our sheep, they could have annoyed us very seriously, or indeed, destroyed the whole party. The night was very dark, the sky having been overcast. Thermometer, at sunrise, 56°; at noon, 61°; at 4 p.m., 60; at 9, 60.
13TH AUGUST.—We continued back along the old path, past Camp LXVII. I then headed towards the camp we had left two stops ago to avoid the large detour we had taken before; the camp that had no water and thick brigalow. We managed to avoid all these, passing through nice open forest land and not encountering any brigalow. We found the river on our left when we needed it and set up camp on a plain near the water, just a few miles from the camp two journeys back from LXVII. I was guided by a bearing of 10° E. of N. We noticed much of the grass was on fire, and we heard the voices of the locals, although we didn’t see anyone. We crossed some dry swamp areas where the ground had been extensively dug up by the locals, but Yuranigh couldn’t guess why. These clods were so large and hard that we had to move them aside to clear a path for the carts. The whole area looked like ground that had been tilled, the surface having previously cracked from the drought, making this upturning possible without a hoe. We crossed about two acres of this area and noticed other similar patches in the distance. The river where we reached it had a deep, well-defined channel with plenty of clear water and strong, accessible banks. However, it was still surrounded by a narrow strip of brigalow. The shepherd, quite foolishly, took the sheep to water near sunset and got lost in the scrub, not to be found all night. Some speculated that he had fallen into the hands of the Aboriginal people who were closely watching us; it was clear that if they had taken our sheep, they could have caused us serious trouble or even wiped out the whole group. The night was very dark, with an overcast sky. Thermometer readings were 56° at sunrise, 61° at noon, 60° at 4 p.m., and 60° at 9 p.m.
14TH AUGUST.—Drizzling rain this morning with an easterly wind, and high barometer, reminded me of the coast rains of Sydney. At dawn, I sent Yuranigh with one of the men, both being mounted, in search of the shepherd, and they returned with him and the sheep about 8 a.m. He had been found in full march to the eastward, where he never could have fallen in with the party. His track, circling in all directions, had soon been come upon by Yuranigh in the scrub. We then proceeded, and still found a way clear of brigalow, which, once or twice during the day, seemed almost to surround us. At about seven miles from where we had encamped, we crossed the first discovered tributary from the S. W., and at a mile further on, we fell in with our old track, travelled two miles more along it, and then encamped beside a fine reach of the river. The drizzling rain continued, and I hoped the ponds at the higher range, towards which we were returning, might be replenished by still heavier rain. An unpleasant smell prevailed every where this day, resembling that from a kitchen sewer or sink. Whether it arose from the earth, or from decayed vegetable matter upon it, I could not form any opinion; but it was certainly very different from the fragrance produced by a shower in other parts of New South Wales, even when it falls only on sunburnt grass. It was equally new and unaccountable to Yuranigh. Two proteads, probably GREVILLEAS, were found here.[*]
14TH AUGUST.—It was drizzling this morning with an easterly wind, and the barometer was high, reminding me of the coastal rains in Sydney. At dawn, I sent Yuranigh with one of the men, both on horseback, to find the shepherd, and they came back with him and the sheep around 8 a.m. He had been heading east, where he wouldn't have run into the group. Yuranigh quickly picked up his track, which was going in all directions, in the scrub. We moved on and continued to find a path clear of brigalow, which seemed to almost surround us once or twice during the day. About seven miles from where we had set up camp, we crossed the first tributary discovered coming from the southwest, and a mile later, we found our old track, traveled two more miles along it, and then set up camp beside a nice stretch of the river. The light rain persisted, and I hoped the ponds in the higher range, towards which we were heading, might be filled by some heavier rain. An unpleasant smell lingered everywhere today, resembling that of a kitchen sewer or sink. I couldn't tell whether it came from the earth or from decayed plant matter on it, but it was definitely very different from the fresh scent produced by rain in other parts of New South Wales, even when it falls only on sunburnt grass. It was equally strange and unexplainable to Yuranigh. Two proteads, likely GREVILLEAS, were found here.[*]
[* The one with singularly thick, firm, and rigid leaves, a foot long, linear attenuated at each extremity, pubescenti-sericeous, striated: the other with white acerose leaves pinnated in two pairs. Both were large forest trees, neither in flower nor in fruit.]
[* One had thick, firm, and stiff leaves, about a foot long, tapering at each end, fuzzy and silky, and striped: the other had white, needle-like leaves arranged in two pairs. Both were large trees in the forest, neither flowering nor bearing fruit.]
15TH AUGUST.—We continued to return along the old track until we arrived at Camp LXV., taking the direction of the river's general course, (7° E. of S.). I travelled along its banks several miles, endeavouring to cut off a detour we had previously described. The river, however, obliged me to go so far to the westward, that I met with my former track, about midway between the two camps. We soon left that track, crossing a strip of brigalow and a rich grassy plain; beyond which, I found the river, and encamped about 3 p.m., when the rain again came on, the morning having been, until then, fair, although the sky was cloudy and overcast. Thermometer, at sunrise, 57°; at noon, 64°; at 4 p.m., 66°; at 9, 60°; —with wet bulb, 58°.
15TH AUGUST.—We kept following the old path until we reached Camp LXV., heading in the general direction of the river (7° E. of S.). I traveled alongside its banks for several miles, trying to cut off a detour we had previously taken. However, the river forced me to head further west, and I eventually came across my earlier route, roughly halfway between the two camps. We quickly left that path, crossing a patch of brigalow and a lush grassy plain; beyond that, I discovered the river and set up camp around 3 p.m., just as the rain began to fall again. The morning had been clear up until then, although the sky remained cloudy and overcast. Thermometer readings were 57° at sunrise, 64° at noon, 66° at 4 p.m., and 60° at 9 p.m.; with a wet bulb reading of 58°.
16TH AUGUST.—The sky still clouded, seemed to promise rain in the country to which we were returning. We came to the channel of the main river, after proceeding about three miles in the direction of a turn in our route beyond next camp. The channel here was broad, and occasionally filled with a good body of water. The bed was sandy, and in it grew a tree with thin loose white bark, resembling that of the mimosa or tea-tree of the colony; some of these trees were of large dimensions. There also grew, in the sandy bed of this river, a new white-flowered MELALEUCA, resembling M. ERICIFOLIA, but with long mucronate leaves[*]; and, in the scrubby bank the STENOCHILUS BIGNONIOEFLORUS formed a willow-like shrub fifteen feet high. We again came came upon our track where I intended to hit it, although we had been retarded by brigalow scrub. We thus left Camp LXIV. on the left, and finally again pitched our tents at that of LXIII. Thermometer, at sunrise, 58°; at noon, 65; at 4 p.m., 63°; at 9, 63°;—with wet bulb, 57°.
16TH AUGUST.—The sky was still overcast, seeming to suggest rain in the area we were heading back to. We reached the channel of the main river after traveling about three miles towards a bend in our route just past the next campsite. The channel here was wide and sometimes had a good amount of water. The riverbed was sandy, and there were trees with thin, loose white bark, looking like those of the mimosa or tea-tree found in the colony; some of these trees were quite large. A new white-flowered MELALEUCA also grew in the sandy bed of this river, resembling M. ERICIFOLIA, but with long pointed leaves[*]; and along the scrubby bank, the STENOCHILUS BIGNONIOEFLORUS formed a willow-like shrub about fifteen feet tall. We soon found our path again where I intended to pick it up, although our progress had been slowed by brigalow scrub. We left Camp LXIV on the left and finally set up our tents again at Camp LXIII. Thermometer readings were 58° at sunrise, 65° at noon, 63° at 4 p.m., and 63° at 9 p.m., with a wet bulb reading of 57°.
[* M. TRICHOSTACHYA (Lindl. MS.); folsaepius oppositis linearibus planis utrinque acutissimis, spicâ terminali laxiusculâ rachi pilosâ, calyce glabro dentibus herbaceis, phalangibus polyandris ungue petalis breviore.]
[* M. TRICHOSTACHYA (Lindl. MS.); leaves arranged in opposite linear patterns on both sides, very pointed, with a loose terminal flower spike on a hairy stem, a smooth calyx with greenish teeth, and polyandrous filaments with petals that are shorter than the claws.]
17TH AUGUST.—The ground was covered in many parts with a lichen, the product of the late rain, and which had no root in, nor attachment to, the soil, but could be collected in handfuls, and lay quite loose in heaps, or rather in a thick layer. I could not comprehend the origin of this singular vegetable production, which might then have been gathered in any quantity. The day was cool, cloudy, and pleasant. Fine round clouds driving still from the eastward, with a high barometer (for this of Bunten stood seven millimetres higher, than it did when we had been formerly encamped on the same ground). On recrossing the great river from S. W., we found more of the pea with large pods, it seemed to grow only on the dry sand of the river bed. This was a most interesting river, and I could have wished much to have explored it upwards, had the state of my horses and provisions permitted. On its banks we had discovered various rare trees and plants seen by us nowhere else; and the pea just mentioned, which had, as Mr. Stephenson thought, valuable qualities as a laxative medicine. The bed of the river was broad and sandy; the banks were quite clear of brigalow or other scrubs, level, open, and in most parts covered with luxuriant anthistiria and wild indigo. We arrived in good time, the way being good, at Camp LXII., and there again established ourselves for the night. It was an excellent spot for the purpose, having plenty of water in rocky ponds, and abundance of grass, half green. The wind lulled, and heavy clouds of stratus appeared in the east, towards evening. Some stars were afterwards visible, and about 9 p.m., a wind from the S.E. suddenly arose, but no rain fell. Thermometer, at sunrise, 55°; at noon, 71°; at 4 p.m., 74°; at 9, 68°;—with wet bulb, 62°.
17TH AUGUST.—The ground was covered in many areas with a type of lichen, formed from the recent rain, which had no roots or attachment to the soil, able to be gathered in handfuls, and lying loosely in heaps, or rather, in a thick layer. I couldn’t understand the origin of this unusual plant, which could have been collected in large amounts at that time. The day was cool, cloudy, and pleasant. Nice round clouds were still moving in from the east, with a high barometer (for this of Bunten was seven millimeters higher than it had been when we were previously camped on the same ground). When we crossed back over the great river from the southwest, we found more of the peas with large pods; it seemed to grow only on the dry sand of the riverbed. This was a very interesting river, and I would have loved to explore it further upstream if my horses and supplies had allowed. Along its banks, we discovered various rare trees and plants that we hadn’t seen anywhere else; and the pea I just mentioned, which Mr. Stephenson believed had valuable qualities as a laxative medicine. The riverbed was broad and sandy; the banks were free of brigalow or other thickets, level, open, and mostly covered with thick anthistiria and wild indigo. We arrived at Camp LXII in good time, as the pathway was good, and set up for the night there again. It was a great spot for this purpose, having plenty of water in rocky ponds and abundant half-green grass. The wind calmed down, and heavy layers of stratus clouds appeared in the east as evening approached. Some stars became visible later, and around 9 p.m., a wind from the southeast suddenly picked up, but no rain fell. Thermometer readings were at sunrise, 55°; at noon, 71°; at 4 p.m., 74°; at 9 p.m., 68°;—with a wet bulb reading of 62°.
18TH AUGUST.—The mercurial column was lower this morning, and the sky was overcast. No wind could be felt from any quarter. We moved off, at our usual hour, 7 a.m. About nine, the western portion of the sky seemed loaded with rain; the wind suddenly arose from S. W., and a heavy rain began to fall steadily, to my great joy. The soil consisted of clay, which clogged the wheels, nevertheless, we arrived, without much delay, at a large lagoon, not much more than a mile short of Camp LXI., and there, of necessity, encamped. The rain continued without intermission until the evening, turning the surface around our tents into mud, almost knee deep. Still I rejoiced in the prospect the rain afforded, of water in the remaining part of our journey; the grand object of which was still to be accomplished, namely, the discovery of an interior river, flowing towards the Gulf of Carpentaria. Thermometer, at sunrise, 51°; at noon, 54°; at 4 p.m., 53°.
18TH AUGUST.—The mercury was lower this morning, and the sky was overcast. There was no wind from any direction. We set off at our usual time, 7 a.m. Around nine, the western side of the sky looked heavy with rain; suddenly, the wind picked up from the southwest, and a heavy rain started falling steadily, much to my delight. The ground was clay, which made it tough for the wheels, but we arrived, without too much delay, at a large lagoon, just about a mile short of Camp LXI., and there we had to set up camp. The rain continued without stopping until the evening, turning the ground around our tents into mud, nearly knee-deep. Still, I was happy about the rain because it promised water for the rest of our journey; the main goal remained to be achieved, which was to find an interior river flowing toward the Gulf of Carpentaria. The thermometer read 51° at sunrise, 54° at noon, and 53° at 4 p.m.
19TH AUGUST.—The soft clay was still impassable, but the sun shone brightly in the morning, and was likely soon to put a crust upon the earth. The wind continued, however, in the same quarter, the S. W., and I had thus a little leisure to mature my plan of farther exploration in that interesting country, to the westward of the vale of Salvator Rosa. I had ascertained that the whole of that fine country so named, and all the gullies falling towards it, were on the seaward side of the dividing range, if range there was. That, southward of the high ground under the parallel of 24° or 25°, the fall of waters and of the whole country was towards the south; whereas, northward of that parallel, the fall was so decidedly in the very opposite direction, or northward, that the river we had just explored extended across three degrees of latitude, descending from a mean elevation of at least 2000 feet, to one of only 600 feet above the sea. No river of any importance came from the westward; those we had seen, coming from S. W. What then could be supposed, but that the water-shed on that side was not far distant? Nor was it less reasonable to expect to find beyond it, the heads of a river or rivers leading to the Gulf of Carpentaria. In that nook, where it seemed that the spinal range extended westward in the elongated direction of this great island, and there probably separated from whatever high land extended northward and formed a limit to the basin of the Belyando, was therefore, to be sought the solution of this important geographical question; one result of which would probably be, the discovery of a river falling towards the north-west, to enter the Gulf of Carpentaria. The exploration of the country to which we were returning was, therefore, of the most momentous interest; and although our cattle were tired, and our time and provisions almost exhausted (the sun being likely to approach the tropic line before we could return to it), I was determined to carry the exploration so far, with whatever means could be spared from the party, even had it been necessary to have travelled on foot, or to have lived, like a native, on opossums, in order to investigate that point. Thermometer, at sunrise, 45°; at noon, 63°; at 4 p.m., 63°; at 9, 47°;—with wet bulb, 44°.
19TH AUGUST.—The soft clay was still impassable, but the sun shone brightly in the morning and was likely to soon create a crust on the ground. The wind continued from the southwest, giving me some time to refine my plan for further exploration in that fascinating area west of the vale of Salvator Rosa. I had confirmed that the entire region named, along with all the gullies leading to it, was on the seaward side of the dividing range, if there was one. South of the high ground at the latitude of 24° or 25°, the water flowed and the land sloped toward the south; whereas north of that latitude, the flow was clearly in the opposite direction, toward the north. The river we had just explored stretched across three degrees of latitude, descending from an average height of at least 2000 feet to just 600 feet above sea level. No significant rivers came from the west; those we had seen were coming from the southwest. What could that imply but that the watershed on that side was not far away? It was also reasonable to expect that beyond it, there would be the sources of a river or rivers flowing into the Gulf of Carpentaria. In that area, where it seemed that the spinal range extended westward in the elongated direction of this great island, and likely separated from whatever high ground stretched north and formed a boundary to the basin of the Belyando, was where we needed to find the solution to this important geographical question. One outcome of this could likely be the discovery of a river flowing northwest, entering the Gulf of Carpentaria. The exploration of the land we were returning to was therefore of great importance; and although our cattle were tired and our time and provisions were nearly gone (with the sun expected to approach the tropic line before we could return), I was determined to push the exploration as far as possible, with whatever resources could be spared from the group, even if it meant traveling on foot or living like a native on opossums to investigate that area. Thermometer, at sunrise, 45°; at noon, 63°; at 4 p.m., 63°; at 9, 47°;—with wet bulb, 44°.
20TH AUGUST.—Heavy clouds promised more rain, but a crust had been formed on the surface which enabled us to proceed. The day cleared up, and we encamped within two miles of Camp LX.; much of the ground passed over having been sandy and dry. We now found water in every hollow, a great blessing brought by the rain, and affording some prospect of relief from one great difficulty for some time to come. At 10 minutes past 10 p.m. a very extraordinary meteor alarmed the camp, and awoke every man in it. First, a rushing wind from the west shook the tents; next, a blaze of light from the same quarter drew attention to a whirling mass, or revolving ball of red light, passing to the southward. A low booming sound, accompanied it, until it seemed to reach the horizon, after which a sound like the report of a cannon was heard, and the concussion was such that some tin pots, standing reversed on a cart-wheel, fell to the ground, and the boat on the dray vibrated for some minutes. The sky was very clear. Fahrenheit's thermometer 46°.
20TH AUGUST.—Heavy clouds suggested more rain, but a crust had formed on the surface that allowed us to move forward. The day cleared up, and we set up camp within two miles of Camp LX; much of the ground we traveled over had been sandy and dry. We now found water in every hollow, a great blessing brought by the rain, providing some hope of relief from one major difficulty for a while. At 10 minutes past 10 p.m., a very unusual meteor startled the camp and woke everyone. First, a rushing wind from the west shook the tents; next, a flash of light from the same direction caught our attention as a swirling mass, or revolving ball of red light, moved to the south. A low booming sound accompanied it until it seemed to reach the horizon, after which a sound like a cannon's blast was heard, and the impact was strong enough that some tin pots balanced on a cart-wheel fell to the ground, and the boat on the dray vibrated for a few minutes. The sky was very clear. Fahrenheit's thermometer read 46°.
21ST AUGUST.—Following our former route, the track led us through hollows, formerly clear of the fallen brigalow, but now rendered impassable by water, a new impediment. I was, however, most thankful for the glorious abundance of that element, the want of which had hitherto confined my route, and retarded the exploration of the country. We cheerfully sought round-about ways to avoid these new ponds. Our journey was accomplished very satisfactorily, having made two cuts to avoid the former camp (LX.), which formed an angle in the route, and much bad brigalow near Camp LIX., where we again encamped, for the sake of a piece of good grassy plain near it. The weather was most pleasant, temperate, and Englishlike, though we were still within the tropics. A sweet breeze blew from the S. W., and the degree of temperature was between 50° and 60° of Fahrenheit, the most agreeable, I believe, of any, to the human frame. There was abundance of water, and young grass was daily growing higher; many trees were also beginning to blossom. We were retiring, nevertheless, RE INFECTÂ, from these tropical regions, and I was impatient to arrive at the great range once more, to resume my explorations. At this camp, we found a plant, which was a wild carrot, tasting exactly like parsley. The men did not like to eat it, from the effects they had recently experienced from eating the large pea already mentioned—violent vomiting and purging; but I had no doubt whatever, that this carrot would have been found a good vegetable. The GEIJERA PARVIFLORA again attracted attention, by the strong pungent odour of its long narrow leaves; and we here observed the EREMOPHILA MITCHELLII, in the form of a shrub, from ten to twelve feet high. Its wood was remarkable from a perfume like roses.
21ST AUGUST.—Following our previous route, the path took us through low areas that used to be clear of fallen brigalow but were now blocked by water, creating a new challenge. However, I was really grateful for the plentiful water, something I had previously struggled to find, which had delayed my exploration of the area. We happily took longer paths to avoid these new ponds. Our journey went really well, as we made two detours to bypass the last camp (LX.), which created a detour in our route, and a lot of difficult brigalow near Camp LIX., where we set up camp again to take advantage of a nice grassy area nearby. The weather was very pleasant, mild, and reminiscent of England, even though we were still in the tropics. A gentle breeze blew from the southwest, and the temperature ranged between 50° and 60° Fahrenheit, the most agreeable range for the human body, I believe. There was plenty of water, and the young grass was getting taller every day; many trees were also starting to bloom. We were, however, moving back, RE INFECTÂ, from these tropical areas, and I was eager to reach the great range again to continue my explorations. At this camp, we discovered a plant that was a wild carrot, tasting exactly like parsley. The men were hesitant to eat it due to the effects they had recently endured from consuming the large pea I mentioned earlier—severe vomiting and diarrhea; but I was confident that this carrot would have made a good vegetable. The GEIJERA PARVIFLORA again drew attention with the strong pungent smell of its long narrow leaves; and here we observed the EREMOPHILA MITCHELLII, in the form of a shrub, standing ten to twelve feet tall. Its wood had a scent similar to roses.
22D AUGUST.—The morning was beautiful, our way plainly marked and sufficiently open, although it led wholly through a scrub for twelve miles. Flowers, the product of the late rain, were beginning to deck the earth, and water lodged in every hollow. We arrived early at Camp LVIII., and encamped 300 yards beyond it, to be nearer to a plain of good grass. Thermometer, at sunrise, 25°; at noon, 69°; at 4 p.m., 72°; at 9, 43°;—with wet bulb, 40°.
22D AUGUST.—The morning was beautiful, our path clearly marked and fairly open, even though it went entirely through scrub for twelve miles. Flowers, thanks to the recent rain, were starting to bloom all over the ground, and water collected in every dip. We got to Camp LVIII. early, and set up our camp 300 yards past it to be closer to a field of good grass. Thermometer readings were 25° at sunrise, 69° at noon, 72° at 4 p.m., and 43° at 9 p.m., with a wet bulb reading of 40°.
23D AUGUST.—The route back to the next camp went too far to the westward; and I therefore endeavoured to make a direct cut back to it. We thus encountered much scrub, and twice crossed the river. A bank, or berg, of water-worn pebbles, appeared on the west side of the river; and, to the eastward, a hill was visible amongst the trees. The river channel was full of water, and seemed to have been even running, with the late rain. The whole journey was through scrub; but this was chiefly of rosewood, which is not nearly so formidable an impediment as brigalow. We encamped on the river bank before we got so far as Camp LVII., at a spot where there was grass, the ground generally about that camp being very bare, although a fresh spring was observable, which would soon alter the case. At this camp I found, on a very low bush with a small leaf, splendid specimens of the fruit of a CAPPARIS, in a dry state, containing seeds. A crop of young fruit appeared also on the same bushes. This must be a very different species from the C. MITCHELII; the bush seldom exceeding the height and size of a gooseberry bush, although the fruit was larger than that of the tree CAPPARIS, and of a more uniform size and spherical shape. It seemed to grow only within the tropic. Thermometer, at sunrise, 28°; at noon, 73°; at 4 p.m., 75°; at 9, 44°;—with wet bulb, 41°.
23D AUGUST.—The route back to the next camp veered too far west, so I tried to make a direct shortcut to it. We ran into a lot of scrub and crossed the river twice. There was a bank of smooth, water-worn pebbles on the west side of the river, and to the east, a hill was visible among the trees. The river channel was full of water and seemed to be flowing due to the recent rain. The entire journey was through scrub, but it mainly consisted of rosewood, which isn’t nearly as tough to get through as brigalow. We set up camp by the riverbank before reaching Camp LVII, at a spot where there was some grass; the area around that camp was mostly bare, although a fresh spring was noted, which would soon change that. At this camp, I found some great examples of dry CAPPARIS fruit with seeds on a very low bush with small leaves. There were also some young fruits appearing on the same bushes. This must be a completely different species from the C. MITCHELII, as the bush rarely grew taller than a gooseberry bush, even though the fruit was bigger than that of the CAPPARIS tree and had a more uniform size and round shape. It seemed to only grow within the tropics. Thermometer readings were 28° at sunrise; 73° at noon; 75° at 4 p.m.; and 44° at 9 p.m., with a wet bulb reading of 41°.
24TH AUGUST.—The fine grassy plain had afforded better food for our horses and cattle, than they had seen for some time. Keeping along its eastern side, I continued to travel until I fell in with our former track; and in passing Camp LVII., I caused the letter T to be cut above the letters N.S.W., to distinguish it as our first camp within the line of Capricorn. I left the intertropical regions with feelings of regret; the weather had favoured our undertaking, and water had become abundant. The three last mornings had been frosty; the thermometer having stood on these mornings at 25°, 28°, and 29°, respectively. Many interesting trees and shrubs were just putting forth buds, of which we might never be able to gather the flower for the botanist. We travelled from Camp LVII., along our old track, to Camp LVI., in latitude 23° 31' 36" S.; and there again set up our tents, having been exactly one month in the interior of tropical Australia. A pigeon this day arose from her nest in the grass near our route, and Yuranigh found in it two full fledged young ones. These being of that sort of pigeon preferable to all others for the table, GEOPHAPS SCRIPTA, we took this pair in hopes it might be possible to bring them up, and, perhaps, to obtain from them a domestic brood. This bird seemed to have the shortest beak of all the pigeon tribe, and flew more clumsily than others. It had three streaks of white about the head, assimilating it to the poultry class; and in building on the ground, it afforded another indication of its resemblance to our domestic birds. The flesh is very white, firm, yet tender. It is, perhaps, the most delicate of all birds. Thermometer, at sunrise, 29°; at noon, 75°; at 4 p.m., 76°; at 9, 46°; —with wet bulb, 42°.
24TH AUGUST.—The lush grassy plain provided better food for our horses and cattle than they had seen in a while. Staying along its eastern edge, I kept traveling until I met up with our previous route; as we passed Camp LVII, I had the letter T carved above the letters N.S.W. to mark it as our first camp within the Tropic of Capricorn. I left the intertropical regions feeling regret; the weather had been great for our journey, and water was plentiful. The last three mornings had been frosty, with temperatures of 25°, 28°, and 29°, respectively. Many interesting trees and shrubs were just starting to bud, and we might never get to collect the flowers for the botanist. We traveled from Camp LVII, along our old track, to Camp LVI, at latitude 23° 31' 36" S., where we set up our tents again, having spent exactly one month in the heart of tropical Australia. This day, a pigeon flew up from her nest in the grass near our path, and Yuranigh found two fully grown chicks inside. These were of the type of pigeon preferred for eating, GEOPHAPS SCRIPTA, so we took this pair hoping we could raise them and perhaps get a domestic flock from them. This bird seemed to have the shortest beak of all pigeon species and flew more awkwardly than the others. It had three white streaks around its head, resembling poultry, and nesting on the ground further indicated its similarity to our domestic birds. The meat is very white, firm, yet tender. It might be the most delicate of all birds. The thermometer read 29° at sunrise; 75° at noon; 76° at 4 p.m.; and 46° at 9, with a wet bulb reading of 42°.
25TH AUGUST.—The former route to this camp having been very crooked from following the course of the river amongst brigalow scrub, I set out on the bearing of the next camp, and reached it by travelling in a straight line, without much impediment, having found tolerably open ground. The blue summits of mountains appearing again above the trees, were welcome to our eyes; and Mounts Beaufort and Mudge reminded me of the Persian proverb, "The conversation of a friend brighteneth the eyes." We encamped a mile on, from Camp LV., for the sake of better grass than we had left formerly at that camp. The hills adjacent consisted of gravel; and amongst the large water-worn pebbles, of which it consisted, I found basalt and trachite, neither of which rocks had been detected by me amongst the gravel of the basin of the Darling. Thermometer, at sunrise, 48°; at noon, 76°; at 4 p.m., 77°; at 9, 52°; —with wet bulb, 47°.
25TH AUGUST.—Since the previous route to this camp was very winding because it followed the river through brigalow scrub, I decided to head straight for the next camp and was able to get there easily on open ground. The blue mountain peaks reappearing above the trees were a welcome sight, and Mounts Beaufort and Mudge reminded me of the Persian saying, "The conversation of a friend brightens the eyes." We set up camp a mile from Camp LV. to find better grass than what we had at the last camp. The nearby hills were made of gravel, and among the large water-worn pebbles, I discovered basalt and trachyte, which I hadn't seen before in the gravel of the Darling basin. The thermometer read 48° at sunrise, 76° at noon, 77° at 4 p.m., and 52° at 9 p.m., with a wet bulb temperature of 47°.
26TH AUGUST.—After cutting off an angle in the old track, and so shortening the way about a mile, we pursued it back to Camp LIV.; which spot we again occupied for the night. The horses were leg-weary; but I could spare no time for rest, otherwise than by making the daily journies short, until we could return to the foot of the dividing ranges. One of the young pigeons was found nearly dead this morning; but Yuranigh, by chafing and warming it by the fire, soon recovered it. The thermometer had been as low as 38°; but the birds had been kept in a box well covered with wool, and also by canvas. On the hill, southward of this camp, I found one tree, of the remarkable kind mentioned, as having been first seen by Mr. Stephenson, near Mount Mudge. Thermometer, at sunrise, 37°; at noon, 80°; at 4 p.m., 81°; at 9, 44°;—with wet bulb, 40°.
26TH AUGUST.—After cutting off a corner in the old path, thus shortening the journey by about a mile, we made our way back to Camp LIV., where we stayed for the night again. The horses were exhausted, but I couldn't afford to rest, except by making the daily trips shorter, until we could return to the base of the dividing ranges. One of the young pigeons was found almost dead this morning, but Yuranigh quickly revived it by rubbing it and warming it by the fire. The thermometer had dropped to 38°; however, the birds had been kept in a box well insulated with wool and covered with canvas. On the hill to the south of this camp, I found a single tree of the unique type mentioned previously, first seen by Mr. Stephenson near Mount Mudge. Thermometer readings were 37° at sunrise, 80° at noon, 81° at 4 p.m., and 44° at 9 p.m., with a wet bulb temperature of 40°.
27TH AUGUST.—On reaching a difficult place for the passage of carts along the rocky margin of the river, we took a new direction, more to the right, crossing the clear hill, from which, on the 23d July, I had a view of the mountains to the eastward. Then descending, we came upon plains of firm clay, whereon grew some trees of ACACIA PENDULA. The rock in the hills seemed calcarious, and on a detached slab of ferruginous sandstone, I saw a more perfect specimen of ripple marks than I had ever seen elsewhere, except on the sea-beach.
27TH AUGUST.—When we reached a tricky spot for carts along the rocky edge of the river, we changed our direction slightly to the right, crossing the clear hill from which, on July 23rd, I had seen the mountains to the east. After descending, we arrived at solid clay plains where some ACACIA PENDULA trees were growing. The rocks in the hills looked like limestone, and on a separate slab of iron-rich sandstone, I observed a more perfect example of ripple marks than I had ever seen anywhere else, except on the beach.
I had now an opportunity of observing, in the hills forming a low range on my right, or to the westward, that their stratification dipped toward the east, at an angle of about 25° with the horizon; on which side those slopes did not exceed that angle, whereas on the westward, they presented abrupt, precipitous sides, each terminating in two steep sides, forming an angle at the highest point. We encamped on a fine plain on the east side of that range, but westward of the river (beyond which lay our former route), and we found water in a lagoon a quarter of a mile eastward of our camp; also, in a mountain rivulet two miles south of the camp, coming from near Mount Beaufort, and some, very clear, was found in a rocky gully immediately westward of our camp. Still, the bed of the main channel was dry, and we had been obliged to seek for the water before it was found in these several directions. Thermometer, at sunrise, 41°; at noon, 79; at 4 p.m., 82°; at 9, 48°;—with wet bulb 39°.
I had a chance to observe that the hills forming a low range to my right, or to the west, dipped toward the east at about a 25° angle with the horizon; on that side, the slopes did not exceed that angle, while on the west, they had steep, vertical sides that met at a point at the highest spot. We set up camp on a nice plain on the east side of that range, but west of the river (where our previous route lay), and we found water in a lagoon a quarter of a mile east of our camp; also in a mountain stream two miles south of the camp, coming from near Mount Beaufort, and some very clear water was found in a rocky gully just west of our camp. However, the main channel was dry, and we had to search for water before we discovered it in these different locations. The thermometer read 41° at sunrise, 79° at noon, 82° at 4 p.m., and 48° at 9 p.m., with a wet bulb reading of 39°.
28TH AUGUST.—The cattle were well refreshed by the grass on the plain: a fresh growth was now apparent in it. We continued to travel due southward over the plain, and through a brigalow scrub beyond it, until we crossed, for the last time, the little river that had led us so far astray. Just beyond it, we joined our old track, at about five miles short of Camp LIII., to which we proceeded, and where we again encamped, although the pond we formerly found there had dried up. We afterwards found a good supply, at a lagoon about half a mile lower down; from which a little dog of mine (called Procyon), had come out wet, and so made it known to us. Thermometer, at sunrise, 40°; at noon, 81°; at 4 p.m., 76°; at 9, 49°;—with wet bulb, 41°.
28TH AUGUST.—The cattle were well-rested from the grass on the plain, and we could see new growth there. We kept heading due south over the plain and through a brigalow scrub beyond it until we crossed the small river that had misled us so far for the last time. Just past it, we rejoined our old track, about five miles short of Camp LIII., where we set up camp again, even though the pond we had found there before had dried up. We later discovered a good water supply at a lagoon about half a mile further down; my little dog (named Procyon) came out soaking wet, which alerted us to it. The thermometer read 40° at sunrise, 81° at noon, 76° at 4 p.m., and 49° at 9 p.m., with a wet bulb reading of 41°.
29TH AUGUST.—Continuing along the old track, we this day quitted the basin of the Belyando, and ascended those grassy slopes, and that range, which I had formerly taken to be the water-shed of the coast rivers. We thus crossed to the basin of another eastern river, the Nog; and, in quitting that of the Belyando, I have to observe, that like most other Australian rivers, it maintained a peculiar character throughout its course, with great uniformity, even after it received tributaries apparently larger than itself. All these lapsed into the same concatenated line of ponds; at one place, spreading amidst brigalow scrub, at another, forming one well-defined deep channel. For the formation of ponds, and the retention of water, in so dry a climate, we see here something between the ordinary character of rivers, and artificial works which man must construct, when population may spread into these regions. The fallen timber of the brigalow decays very slowly, and is not liable to be burnt, like most other dead wood in open forests, because no grass grows amongst the brigalow, as in open forests. The accumulations of dead logs become clogged with river rack and the deposit of floods; to which floods these heaps present obstructions, forcing the waters into new channels, and, in their progress, scooping out new ponds, and completing the embankment of dead logs; which thus form natural dams and reservoirs to hold, under the shade of the brigalow trees, more water for a longer time than any single river channel could retain, however sluggish its course. Thus it was, that during a season of unusual drought, we had found abundance in this river's course, across nearly 3½ degrees of latitude. The fallen brigalow presents awkward obstructions to wheel carriages; and, as the river spreads into broad plains, and is very favourable to the growth of brigalow, the difficulty of travelling along this river is greatest, where its waters are most scattered. Experience has taught us, in such cases, to endeavour to follow the river channel as closely as possible (the general course being very straight); and thus, open grassy spots and small plains are frequently met with, beyond which nothing could be distinguished, and from which it is safest to go forward in the known general course of the chain of ponds. We again encamped under Mount Mudge, where I perceived that a projecting portion of white rock on the summit, had fallen since I had stood upon it; and that the avalanche of rock had strewed the woody side of the mountain with white fragments down to the very base. In the sheltered ravine below, a curious new CASSIA formed a shrub six feet high.[*] Thermometer, at sunrise, 39°; at noon, 70°; at 4 p.m., 82°; at 9, 56°; —with wet bulb, 50°.
29TH AUGUST.—Continuing down the old path, today we left the Belyando basin and climbed those grassy slopes and the range, which I had previously thought was the water-shed of the coastal rivers. This took us into the basin of another eastern river, the Nog. Leaving the Belyando, I must point out that, like most other Australian rivers, it kept a unique character throughout its course, showing great consistency even after it took in tributaries that seemed larger than it. All these tributaries flowed into a series of interconnected ponds; at one point, they spread out among brigalow scrub, and at another, they formed a clear, deep channel. The combination of ponds and the ability to keep water in such a dry climate shows us something between the typical nature of rivers and the artificial structures that people must build when more people move into these areas. The fallen brigalow timber decays very slowly and doesn't burn easily like most other dead wood in open forests, because no grass grows among the brigalow like in those open spaces. The build-up of dead logs gets clogged with debris from the river and flood deposits; these floods create barriers, pushing the water into new channels, and in their journey, carving out new ponds while building up dead logs that create natural dams and reservoirs to hold more water under the shade of the brigalow trees for much longer than any single river channel could, regardless of how slow its flow. Thus, during a period of unusual drought, we found plenty of water in this river's course, spanning almost 3½ degrees of latitude. The fallen brigalow creates awkward obstacles for wheeled vehicles, and as the river spreads into wide plains, which are very favorable to brigalow growth, the challenge of traveling along this river is greatest where its waters are most dispersed. Experience has taught us in these situations to try to stay as close to the river channel as possible (its general direction is very straight); thus, we often encounter open grassy areas and small plains, beyond which nothing could be seen, making it safest to continue along the known general path of the chain of ponds. We set up camp again under Mount Mudge, where I noticed that a protruding section of white rock at the summit had fallen since I was last there; the rockslide had scattered white fragments down the wooded side of the mountain to the very base. In the sheltered ravine below, I found a strange new CASSIA that grew into a six-foot-high shrub.[*] Thermometer readings: at sunrise, 39°; at noon, 70°; at 4 p.m., 82°; at 9 p.m., 56°; with a wet bulb reading of 50°.
[* C. ZYGOPHYLLA (Benth. MS.) glabra vel pube tenuissimâ subcanescens, foliolis unijugis linearibus planis crassis, glandula inter foliola parva depressa, racemis petiolo brevioribus 2-4-floris.—Near C. NEMOPHILA Cunn.; but there appear never to be more than one pair of leaflets, the plant is smoother, the leaflets longer, and the glands different.]
[* C. ZYGOPHYLLA (Benth. MS.) smooth or with very fine, slightly grayish hairs, with single-jugged, flat, thick linear leaflets, a small depressed gland between the leaflets, and racemes shorter than the petiole with 2-4 flowers.—Similar to C. NEMOPHILA Cunn.; however, it seems there are never more than one pair of leaflets, the plant is smoother, the leaflets are longer, and the glands differ.]
30TH AUGUST.—The old track guided the party, while I preceded it to sketch one or two landscapes. A fine breeze blew from the northward, and goodly clouds seemed to promise rain. I completed my drawings before the arrival of the carts; and on their coming up I conducted them to a spot where we encamped, on the left bank of the creek, or opposite to camp LI., being resolved to seek a better and more direct way to the plains, than that down the bed of Balmy Creek, which we formerly found so difficult. As soon as I had chosen a spot for the tents, I took a ride, accompanied by Mr. Stephenson and Yuranigh, to explore the ravines eastward of that of Balmy Creek, and which led in a more direct line towards the plains of the Claude. We found the precipices in this direction much lower. After riding a few miles, we could ride up one of the points, and following the ridge we had ascended (which was thickly covered with brigalow), we at length got to an open forest, and once more saw the open plains before us. In returning, I selected, with Yuranigh's able assistance, a smaller valley, by which I hoped to succeed in conducting the carts next day, so as to avoid the ascent of the brigalow range. The barometer at this camp had fallen ten millimetres lower than the point at which the mercury stood formerly at the adjacent camp (marked LI.). By the side of the water-course, we found the ACACIA DORATOXYLON and also the ACACIA CONFERTA. The valley was gay with the ultramarine blue flowers of a new species of HOVEA[*]; and on rich soil we saw also the PODOLEPIS ACUMINATA? D. C. A shrub with long curved leaves and singular zigzag stems, was ascertained to be the ACACIA MACRADENIA, a very striking new species; and on Balmy Creek we found also a new BOSSIOEA, with deep red flowers.[**] Thermometer, at sunrise, 59°; at noon, 83°; at 4 p.m., 81°; at 9, 62°; with wet bulb, 54°.
30TH AUGUST.—The old path led the group, while I went ahead to sketch a couple of landscapes. A nice breeze was coming from the north, and some fluffy clouds looked like they might bring rain. I finished my drawings before the carts arrived; when they did, I led them to a spot where we set up camp on the left bank of the creek, across from camp LI. I wanted to find a better and more direct route to the plains than the one down the bed of Balmy Creek, which had been really tough for us before. After I picked a spot for the tents, I took a ride with Mr. Stephenson and Yuranigh to check out the ravines east of Balmy Creek, which went in a straighter line toward the Claude plains. We found the cliffs in that direction much lower. After riding a few miles, we managed to go up one of the ridges, and following the path we climbed (which was thick with brigalow), we eventually reached an open forest and saw the wide plains again. On the way back, I chose, with Yuranigh's great help, a smaller valley that I hoped would let us guide the carts the next day and avoid climbing the brigalow range. The barometer at this camp had dropped ten millimeters compared to where the mercury stood at the nearby camp (marked LI.). Next to the watercourse, we found ACACIA DORATOXYLON and ACACIA CONFERTA. The valley was vibrant with the ultramarine blue flowers of a new type of HOVEA[*]; and on fertile soil, we also saw PODOLEPIS ACUMINATA? D. C. A shrub with long curved leaves and unique zigzag stems turned out to be ACACIA MACRADENIA, a very striking new species; and along Balmy Creek, we discovered a new BOSSIOEA with deep red flowers.[**] Thermometer readings were 59° at sunrise, 83° at noon, 81° at 4 p.m., and 62° at 9 p.m., with a wet bulb reading of 54°.
[* H. LEIOARPA (Benth. MS.) fruticosa, foliis anguste oblongis sublanceolatisve integerrimis subtus reticulatis pubescentibus, venis primariis obliquis, pedicellis in pedunculo brevissimo axillari subgeminis calyce longioribus, calyce adpresse tomentoso, legumine glaberrimo. —Not unlike some forms of H. LANCEOLATA, but readily distinguished, besides the shorter leaves, by the smooth fruit and the veins of the leaves, which diverge from the midrib at a very acute instead of a right angle.]
[* H. LEIOARPA (Benth. MS.) fruticosa, with narrow, oblong to slightly lance-shaped leaves that are completely smooth underneath and have a pubescent, reticulated texture, featuring slanted primary veins, with pedicels that are sub-paired on a very short axillary stalk and longer than the calyx, which is densely tomentose, and a very smooth pod. —It resembles some forms of H. LANCEOLATA, but can be easily identified by the shorter leaves, along with the smooth fruit and the leaf veins that diverge from the midrib at a very acute angle instead of a right angle.]
[** B. CARINALIS (Benth. MS.) ramulis teretibus puberulis foliosis, foliis subsessilibus subcordato-ovatis acutiusculis puberulis, pedicello calyce paullo breviore, corollae alis vexillo longioribus carinâ multo brevioribus.—The same remarkable proportion of the petals may be seen in an unpublished species gathered by Fraser on the Brisbane river.]
[** B. CARINALIS (Benth. MS.) with rounded, hairy branches and leafy growth, leaves that are almost sessile, somewhat heart-shaped to oval, and slightly pointed with hairs, a pedicel that is a bit shorter than the calyx, and wings of the corolla that are longer than the banner but much shorter than the keel.—The same striking ratio of the petals can be observed in an unpublished species collected by Fraser on the Brisbane River.]
31ST AUGUST.—Some heavy showers fell during the night, and in the morning the sky was wholly overcast. We crossed various formidable gullies, and travelled some way down the bed of Balmy Creek, then ascending by the valley through which I yesterday penetrated in my ride, we travelled southward in a tolerably direct line through the valley up to its highest heads, from one of which we contrived to draw up carts and drays along three traverses, formed by nature on the face of a rocky slope. Above this, we found a plateau of flowering shrubs, chiefly new and strange, so that Mr. Stephenson was soon loaded like a market gardener. He had found in the hollow of the little gulley by which we ascended a variety of ACACIA DECORA with leaves shorter that usual; the CASSIA ZYGOPHYLLA, a very curious new species; and the BERTYA OLEOEFOLIA, a shrub three feet high, with green flowers. On the top of the plateau grew a singular dwarf shrub, loaded with yellow flowers, and covered by strong sharp leaves resembling the curved blade of a penknife. It has been ascertained by Mr. Bentham to be an Acacia, referable to his ACACIA TRIPTERA. A little upright bush, with glandular leaves smelling strongly of thyme, proved to be a new PROSTANTHERA.[*] The beautiful ACACIA DECORA appeared as a shrub four feet high; the DODONOEA NOBILIS was just forming its fruit; the DODONOEA VESTITA was also there; the white flowered MYOPORUM CUNNINGHAMI with its viscid branches, formed a bush about four feet high: PITTOSPORUM LANCEOLATUM was a shrub about three feet high, with yellow flowers; and here we met in abundance with the beautiful TECOMA OXLEYI, a kind of Bignonia, loaded with yellowishwhite flowers.
31ST AUGUST.—We had some heavy rain overnight, and in the morning the sky was completely cloudy. We crossed several challenging gullies and traveled partway down Balmy Creek's bed. Then we moved southward through the valley I rode through yesterday, heading directly up to its highest points. From one of these points, we managed to get the carts and drays up using three natural paths on a rocky slope. Above this, we discovered a plateau filled with flowering shrubs, most of which were new and unusual, so Mr. Stephenson quickly found himself loaded down like a market gardener. In a little gully where we ascended, he found a variety of ACACIA DECORA with shorter leaves than usual; the CASSIA ZYGOPHYLLA, a very interesting new species; and the BERTYA OLEOEFOLIA, a three-foot-high shrub with green flowers. At the top of the plateau, there was a unique dwarf shrub packed with yellow flowers and covered in strong, sharp leaves that looked like the curved blade of a penknife. Mr. Bentham confirmed it as an Acacia, comparable to his ACACIA TRIPTERA. A small upright bush with glandular leaves that smelled strongly of thyme turned out to be a new PROSTANTHERA.[*] The lovely ACACIA DECORA appeared as a four-foot-high shrub; the DODONOEA NOBILIS was just starting to form its fruit; and the DODONOEA VESTITA was also present. The white-flowered MYOPORUM CUNNINGHAMI, with its sticky branches, formed a bush about four feet tall; PITTOSPORUM LANCEOLATUM was a three-foot-high shrub with yellow flowers; and we found plenty of the beautiful TECOMA OXLEYI, a type of Bignonia, filled with yellowish-white flowers.
[* P. ODORATISSIMA (Benth. MS.) viscoso-puberula foliis linearibus sublanceolatisve obtusissimis paucidentatis integrisve crassis ad axillas fasciculatis, floribus paucis axillaribus subsessilibus, calycis labiis integris inferiore minore, antherarum calcare longiore loculum superante.—Near P. ASPALATHOIDES: leaves two or three lines long, remarkably thick. Calyx strongly ribbed. The specimens found were past flower, having only a few fragments remaining of the corolla and stamens. The whole plant appears very viscid and retains when dry a very strong smell of thyme.]
[* P. ODORATISSIMA (Benth. MS.) has sticky, fuzzy leaves that are linear or slightly lance-shaped, very blunt, with a few teeth or entire edges, thick and clustered in the axils, with few subsessile flowers in the axils, a calyx with entire lobes, the lower one smaller, and the anthers have a longer spur that exceeds the chamber.—Similar to P. ASPALATHOIDES: leaves are two or three lines long, notably thick. The calyx is strongly ribbed. The specimens found were past flowering, with only a few fragments of the corolla and stamens remaining. The whole plant is very sticky and, when dry, has a strong smell of thyme.]
There ended all our troubles with the sandstone gullies, for we soon entered open forests, and crossed a grassy valley gently sloping to the eastward, in whose bosom we found a fine deep rocky pond. Beyond that valley we arrived at open downs of the richest soil, and of an extent not to be embraced by the eye at any one point of view. The finest sorts of grass were fast springing up, and curious herbs were beginning to shoot from the rich alluvium in the vallies. We encamped on these downs, about ten miles from our former camp by the Claude, XLIX.
There ended all our troubles with the sandstone gullies, as we soon entered open forests and crossed a grassy valley gently sloping to the east, where we discovered a nice, deep rocky pond. Beyond that valley, we reached open downs with incredibly rich soil, stretching out so far that it was hard to take it all in from one spot. The best types of grass were quickly sprouting up, and interesting herbs were starting to emerge from the fertile soil in the valleys. We set up camp on these downs, about ten miles from our previous campsite by the Claude, XLIX.
1ST SEPTEMBER.—The morning clear and frosty; Thermometer 25°. All prospects of rain had vanished "into thin air." The scene now around us was as different as could well be imagined, from that which surrounded us at the same hour yesterday. As we proceeded, we crossed a hill quite clear of trees, which commanded a view over an extent of similar country, large enough for a county. The broken summits, just appearing above the placid horizon of undulating downs, had formerly looked like a range to us, and were certainly highly ornamental to the scenery; but no stranger could have supposed these features to have been only the highest parts of such a broken sandstone country as that from which we had just emerged. The plains, or rather, I should say, downs, for they were nowhere level but everywhere gently undulating, were first seen in white streaks high above us, when we first perceived them through the scrubs. These downs consisted of the richest sort of black mould, on which grew luxuriantly, ANTHISTIRIA and PANICUM LOEVINODE. But the surface in general was loose, resembling that of a field after it had lain long in fallow. Herbs in great variety were just emerging from the recently watered earth, and the splendid morning did ample justice to the vernal scene. The charm of a beginning seemed to pervade all nature, and the songs of many birds sounded like the orchestral music before the commencement of any theatrical performance. Such a morning, in such a place, was quite incompatible with the brow of care. Here was an almost boundless extent of the richest surface in a latitude corresponding to that of China, yet still uncultivated and unoccupied by man. A great reserve, provided by nature for the extension of his race, where economy, art, and industry might suffice to people it with a peaceful, happy, and contented population.
1ST SEPTEMBER.—The morning was clear and frosty; the thermometer read 25°. Any chance of rain had completely disappeared. The scene around us was as different as could be from what we saw at the same time yesterday. As we moved on, we crossed a hill clear of trees that offered a view over a vast area of similar countryside, large enough to be considered a county. The broken summits, just visible above the calm horizon of rolling hills, had once looked like a mountain range to us and added a lot to the landscape; however, no outsider would think these features were just the highest points of such a rugged sandstone area from which we had just come. The open fields, or rather downs, since they were never flat but always gently rolling, first appeared to us as white streaks high above when we caught sight of them through the bushes. These downs were made up of rich black soil, where ANTHISTIRIA and PANICUM LOEVINODE grew abundantly. But overall, the surface was loose, resembling land that had been left fallow for a long time. Various herbs were just starting to emerge from the recently watered earth, and the beautiful morning showcased the vibrant scene perfectly. The feeling of new beginnings seemed to fill the air, and the songs of many birds sounded like orchestral music before a theatrical performance. Such a morning, in such a place, felt completely incompatible with any worries. Here was an almost limitless expanse of the richest soil in a region similar to that of China, yet it remained uncultivated and unclaimed by humans. A vast reserve provided by nature for the growth of humanity, where effort, creativity, and hard work could be enough to fill it with a peaceful, happy, and contented population.
These plains are much higher than the sandstone ravines, and the soil contains not only pebbles, but angular fragments of the knots and fibres of wood in a silicified state, and much encrusted with chalcedony. The component parts of the sandstone in the gullies resemble those of a sea beach. These fragments of fossil wood in rich soils of plains or downs above formations of sandstone, are found in various parts of Australia, and I have seen fossil wood from similar plains in Tasmania. The fossil wood of such plains has no appearance of having been exposed to fire. The ACACIA PENDULA grows on the skirts of them, and indicates a salsolaceous soil. These circumstances are obvious to everybody, but no geologist has yet explained to us the causes of such changes as may have produced that rich black mould, on which trees, now silicified, formerly grew; or these wide plains and downs of rich earth, above a red sandstone formation. One has called the interior of Australia a "dry seabottom;" but this phrase admits of no easy application to such cases as these. Fragments of a ferruginous conglomerate of water-worn pebbles, apparently identical with those in the basin of the Darling, in some places accompany these angular fragments of fossil wood. We found this day a new ERIOSTEMON allied to E. BREVIFOLIUM, with small knobby fleshy leaves[*]; also a fine new shrubby EURYBIA.[**] Scattered plants of BOSSIOEA RHOMBIFOLIA also appeared in the adjacent gullies; and LORANTHUS SUBFALCATUS (Hook), was parasitical on trees. We encamped on the margin of the rich plain N. of Camp XLIX, and about a mile distant from it, our draught oxen being very weak and leg-weary. Thermometer, at sunrise, 25°; at noon, 67°; at 4 p.m., 73°; at 9, 44°;—with wet bulb, 40°.
These plains are much higher than the sandstone ravines, and the soil contains not just pebbles, but also sharp fragments of wood knots and fibers that are silicified, heavily encrusted with chalcedony. The components of the sandstone in the gullies look similar to those found on a sea beach. Fragments of fossilized wood in the rich soils of the plains or downs above sandstone formations can be found in different parts of Australia, and I've seen fossilized wood from similar plains in Tasmania. The fossil wood from these plains doesn’t show any signs of having been burned. The ACACIA PENDULA grows on the edges of these areas, indicating saline soil. These details are clear to everyone, but no geologist has yet explained the reasons for the changes that created that rich black soil, where trees that are now silicified once grew, or these vast plains and downs of fertile earth above red sandstone formations. One person referred to the interior of Australia as a "dry seabed," but that phrase doesn't easily apply to these situations. In some areas, we found fragments of a ferruginous conglomerate of water-worn pebbles, seemingly identical to those in the Darling basin, alongside these sharp fragments of fossil wood. On this day, we discovered a new ERIOSTEMON related to E. BREVIFOLIUM, featuring small knobby fleshy leaves[*]; also a beautiful new shrubby EURYBIA.[**] Scattered plants of BOSSIOEA RHOMBIFOLIA were also present in the nearby gullies, and LORANTHUS SUBFALCATUS (Hook) was parasitic on trees. We set up camp on the edge of the rich plain north of Camp XLIX, about a mile away, as our draught oxen were very weak and fatigued. The thermometer read 25° at sunrise; 67° at noon; 73° at 4 p.m.; and 44° at 9 p.m., with a wet bulb reading of 40°.
[* E. RHOMBEUM (Lindl. MS.); ramulis pubescentibus, foliis carnosis obtuse rhombeis revolutis subtus glabris, pedicellis terminalibus unifloris tomentosis foliis brevioribus, staminibus pilosis.]
[* E. RHOMBEUM (Lindl. MS.); with hairy stems, fleshy leaves that are bluntly rhomboid and curled under, smooth underneath, terminal pedicels with one flower, hairy and shorter than the leaves, and hairy stamens.]
[* E. SUBSPICATA (Hook. MS.); foliis linearibus obtusis supra glabris subtus ramisque albo-tomentosis, corymbis terminalibus spiciformibus, involucri squamis lineari-oblongis albis apice viridipunctatis.]
[* E. SUBSPICATA (Hook. MS.); with linear, blunt leaves that are smooth on top and covered with white hairs underneath, terminal clusters that are spike-like, and involucral scales that are white, linear-oblong, with green spots at the tips.]
2D SEPTEMBER.—We recrossed the perfectly level plain formerly mentioned. We found, on reaching the Claude, that our bridge, then made, had been much damaged by a flood. The little river was still running, and it was cheering to learn thus, that rain had fallen at its sources, beyond which, I had still much to do. We lost no time in repairing our bridge, so that all things were got across safely. We ascended the undulating downs along our old track, and where many curious specimens of trees in flint, lay mixed with the rich black mould. I observed that no entire sections of trunks were cylindrical, all appearing to have been compressed so as to present a diameter of two to one. Yuranigh brought me one specimen which he said was "pine;" (Callitris), which so far confirmed what has hitherto been observed of the coniferous character of Australian fossil woods; but, from the appearance of other specimens, I am not at all convinced that these fossils are all of that description. I left these beautiful regions with feelings of regret, that the direct route to the gulf, could not be carried through them. I was rather at a loss for names of reference to these parts. I had given the name of Claude to the river; and it occurred to me, that the scenery of the Mantuan bard, which this painter has so finely illustrated with pastoral subjects, deserved a congenial name; and that this country might, therefore, be distinguished by that of the Mantuan Downs and Plains. About half-way through our former stage, I found water in ponds which had been formerly dry; and there we encamped, our animals being almost exhausted. It is one redeeming quality of brigalow scrub, that water is to be found within its recesses, at times when all other channels or sources are dry; the soil in which it grows being stiff, retentive, and usually bare of vegetation. Thermometer at sunrise, 28°; at noon, 73°; at 4 p.m., 78°; at 9, 47°;—with wet bulb, 42°.
2D SEPTEMBER.—We crossed back over the perfectly flat plain we mentioned earlier. When we reached the Claude, we found that the bridge we had built was badly damaged by a flood. The little river was still flowing, and it was encouraging to find out that it had rained at its sources, where I still had a lot to do. We quickly went to work repairing our bridge, ensuring everything was safely moved across. We climbed the rolling hills along our old path, where many interesting examples of flint trees were mixed in with the rich black soil. I noticed that no whole sections of trunks were cylindrical; they all seemed to have been squished to have a diameter of two to one. Yuranigh brought me one specimen he called "pine;" (Callitris), which supported what has been noted about the coniferous nature of Australian fossil woods; however, from the look of other specimens, I’m not convinced that all these fossils fit that description. I left these beautiful areas feeling regret that the direct route to the gulf couldn’t go through them. I was somewhat unsure about what to name these places. I had named the river Claude, and it struck me that the scenery from the Mantuan bard, which this painter has beautifully captured with pastoral subjects, deserved a fitting name; thus, I thought this land could be called the Mantuan Downs and Plains. About halfway through our previous stage, I found water in ponds that had been dry before; there we set up camp, our animals being almost worn out. One good thing about brigalow scrub is that you can often find water in its depths when all other sources are dry; the soil it grows in is tough, retains moisture well, and is usually bare. Thermometer at sunrise, 28°; at noon, 73°; at 4 p.m., 78°; at 9, 47°;—with wet bulb, 42°.
3D SEPTEMBER.—Another morning worthy of "Eden in her earliest hour." The thermometer 31° at day-break, with a little dew. The notes of the magpie or GYMNORHINA, resounded through the shady brigalow, and the rich browns and reddish greens of that prolific bush contrasted with its dense grey shades, were very beautiful. We found the Nogoa much in the same state as when we left it. No flood had come down the channel of that river. The tracks of the feet of many natives were visible along the old route, and bushes had been burnt all along the line; but it is remarkable that in no case had they injured or defaced the letters and numerals marked on trees at the various camps, nor disturbed our temporary bridges. We cut our way through a scrub of brigalow, thus passing camps XLVIII., XLVII., and XLVI., encamping at a short distance from the latter of these places. Thermometer, at sunrise, 31°; at noon, 74°; at 4 p.m., 75°; at 9, 52°; with wet bulb, 40°.
3D SEPTEMBER.—Another morning that's like "Eden in her earliest hour." The thermometer reads 31° at daybreak, with a bit of dew. The calls of the magpie or GYMNORHINA echoed through the shady brigalow, and the rich browns and reddish greens of that lush bush contrasted beautifully with its dense grey shades. We found the Nogoa River pretty much the same as when we left it. No flood had come down the river’s channel. We could see many native footprints along the old route, and bushes had been burned all along the way; however, it’s noteworthy that they hadn’t damaged or messed with the letters and numbers marked on the trees at the various camps, nor had they disturbed our temporary bridges. We made our way through a scrub of brigalow, passing camps XLVIII., XLVII., and XLVI., and set up camp a short distance from the last one. The thermometer read 31° at sunrise; 74° at noon; 75° at 4 p.m.; and 52° at 9, with a wet bulb reading of 40°.
4TH SEPTEMBER.—The surrounding grass, and also the reeds in the lake, had been very extensively burnt along our former tracks, and a green crop was springing to the great gratification and refreshment of our cattle. Formerly this splendid valley appeared to be uninhabited, but this day, proofs were not wanting that it was too charming a spot of earth to be left so. In proceeding over an open part of the plains bordering the river, we perceived a line of about twelve or fourteen natives before they had observed us. Through my glass, I saw they were painted red about the face, and that there were females amongst them. They halted on seeing us, but some soon began to run, while two very courageously and judiciously took up a position on each side of a reedy swamp, evidently with the intention of covering the retreat of the rest. The men who ran had taken on their backs the heavy loads of the gins, and it was rather curious to see long-bearded figures stooping under such loads. Such an instance of civility, I had never before witnessed in the Australian natives towards their females; for these men appeared to carry also some of the uncouth-shaped loads like mummies. The two acting as a rear guard behaved as if they thought we had not the faculty of sight as well as themselves, and evidently believed that by standing perfectly still, and stooping slowly to a level with the dry grass, when we passed nearest to them, they could deceive us into the idea that they were stumps of burnt trees. After we had passed, they were seen to enter the brigalow, and make ahead of us; by which movement I learnt that part of the tribe was still before us. Some time afterwards, we overtook that portion when crossing an open interval of the woods; they made for the scrub on seeing us. Meanwhile columns of smoke ascended in various directions before us, and two natives beyond the river, were seen to set up a great blaze there. To the westward of the beautifully broken rocky woody range beyond Lake Salvator, a dense smoke also arose, and continued until evening; thus adding much sublimity to the effect of a gorgeous sunset, which poured its beams through the smoke between the rocky pinnacles, as I sat drawing the scene at my camp by the lake, two miles northward of XLV. Thermometer, at sunrise, 26°; at noon, 67°; at 4 p.m., 65°; at 9, 39°;—with wet bulb, 32°.
4TH SEPTEMBER.—The grass and the reeds around the lake had been extensively burned along our previous paths, and fresh green growth was emerging, much to the delight and refreshment of our cattle. This beautiful valley seemed uninhabited before, but today it was clear that it was too lovely a place to be deserted. As we moved across an open area near the river, we spotted about twelve or fourteen locals before they noticed us. Looking through my binoculars, I saw they had red paint on their faces, and there were women among them. They paused upon seeing us, but some quickly took off running, while two bravely and wisely positioned themselves on either side of a marshy area, clearly trying to cover the retreat of the others. The men who ran were carrying heavy loads on their backs, and it was rather amusing to see long-bearded figures bending under such weights. I had never seen such civility from the Australian natives towards their women before, as these men also seemed to carry some oddly shaped bundles resembling mummies. The two guarding the rear acted as if they thought we couldn't see them, and clearly believed that by standing completely still and bending down slowly to be level with the dry grass as we passed, they could trick us into thinking they were just burnt tree stumps. After we went by, they moved into the brigalow and got ahead of us, which indicated that part of the tribe was still in front of us. A while later, we caught up to that group while crossing an open space in the woods; they darted towards the scrub as soon as they spotted us. Meanwhile, columns of smoke rose in various directions ahead of us, and two locals across the river were seen starting a large fire. To the west of the beautifully broken, rocky wooded range beyond Lake Salvator, a thick plume of smoke also rose and persisted until evening, adding to the majestic effect of a stunning sunset, which streamed its light through the smoke between the rocky peaks as I sat sketching the scene at my camp by the lake, two miles north of XLV. Thermometer readings: at sunrise, 26°; at noon, 67°; at 4 p.m., 65°; at 9, 39°;—with wet bulb at 32°.
5TH SEPTEMBER.—The cooler air reminded us that we had returned to a more elevated region than that on the Belyando. This morning heavy clouds of cumulostratus promised more rain, and gave a cool day for the last effort of the jaded animals, which the driver doubted could not be driven much farther. I cut off all the roundabouts and steep pulls, where this could be done, by laying logs across such gullies as we were obliged to cross. We thus saw more of the river and its romantic scenery, which well deserved the name of a painter. No natives, nor columns of smoke, were seen this day; and I concluded that they concentrated the tribe yesterday, and had departed this morning. We finally took up a very snug position near the pyramids, in the very gorge of the mountain valley by which we had approached this country; camp XLVI. being within sight, and the swamp with the spring, at the foot of this hill on which we now encamped, as a camp of occupation during my intended absence, on an excursion with horses only, to the north-west. The genial influence of spring had already induced many plants to show their colours, which had formerly been passed by us unnoticed. In the sandy soil, grew the purple-flowered CHLOANTHES STOECHADIS; THE ACACIA CUNNINGHAMII; the pink-flowered CRYPTANDRA PROPINQUA; and a species of CALYTRIX; these two forming small shrubs, the latter from four to six feet high. A very handsome new BORONIA, with large white and red downy flowers, here first appeared in the open forest.[*] The rocks were partly covered with a small white-flowered shrub, which proved to be a new species of LEPTOSPERMUM allied to L. PUBESCENS, but perfectly distinct.[**] At the foot of them, was found the AOTUS MOLLIS, a little hoary bush, with yellow black flowers; a santalaceous plant like CHORETRUM, forming a tree fifteen or twenty feet high: the CALLITRIS GLAUCA or CUPRESSUS GLAUCA of ALL. CUNN. (in Hook. Herb.). A small tree, about twenty-five feet high, proved to be a new species of Acacia, or possibly a variety of A. CUNNINGHAMII, but handsomer, with larger phyllodia, longer spikes of flowers, and everywhere clothed with a soft velvety pubescence.[***] Thermometer, at sunrise, 33°; at noon, 68°; at 4 p.m., 64°; at 9, 40°;—with wet bulb, 31°.
5TH SEPTEMBER.—The cooler air reminded us that we had returned to a higher elevation than that on the Belyando. This morning, heavy clouds of cumulostratus promised more rain and created a cool day for the last effort of the tired animals, which the driver doubted could be pushed much farther. I avoided all the roundabouts and steep inclines whenever possible by laying logs across the gullies we had to cross. Because of this, we encountered more of the river and its beautiful scenery, which truly deserved the attention of an artist. No natives or smoke columns were seen today, and I guessed that they had gathered the tribe yesterday and left this morning. We eventually settled into a very cozy spot near the pyramids, right in the gorge of the mountain valley we had used to approach this area; camp XLVI was in sight, alongside the swamp with the spring at the base of this hill where we now camped, as a base for my planned absence during an excursion with only horses to the northwest. The pleasant influence of spring had already encouraged many plants to bloom, which we had previously overlooked. In the sandy soil, we found the purple-flowered CHLOANTHES STOECHADIS, THE ACACIA CUNNINGHAMII, the pink-flowered CRYPTANDRA PROPINQUA, and a species of CALYTRIX; these two formed small shrubs, the latter reaching four to six feet tall. A striking new BORONIA, with large white and red downy flowers, appeared here for the first time in the open forest.[*] The rocks were partially covered with a small white-flowered shrub, which turned out to be a new species of LEPTOSPERMUM related to L. PUBESCENS, but completely different.[**] At their base was AOTUS MOLLIS, a small hoary bush with yellow and black flowers; a santalaceous plant like CHORETRUM, forming a tree fifteen or twenty feet tall: the CALLITRIS GLAUCA or CUPRESSUS GLAUCA of ALL. CUNN. (in Hook. Herb.). A small tree, about twenty-five feet tall, was identified as a new species of Acacia, or possibly a variety of A. CUNNINGHAMII, but more attractive, with larger phyllodia, longer flower spikes, and covered everywhere with soft velvety pubescence.[***] The thermometer read 33° at sunrise, 68° at noon, 64° at 4 p.m., and 40° at 9, with a wet bulb reading of 31°.
[* B. ERIANTHA (Lindl. MS.); foliis pinnatis cum impari 1-3-jugis, foliolis glaberrimis linearibus retusis emarginatisque laevibus, pedunculis solitariis unifloris axillaribus foliis brevioribus, sepalis triangularibus glabris, petalis tomentosis, staminibus 8.]
[* B. ERIANTHA (Lindl. MS.); with pinnate leaves having odd pairs of 1-3 leaflets, the leaflets are smooth, linear, blunt, and notched, the flower stalks are solitary and have one flower, shorter than the leaves, with triangular, smooth sepals, and woolly petals, and 8 stamens.]
[** L. SERICATUM (Lindl. MS.); foliis obovatis linearibus planis obtusis aveniis impunctatis utrinque sericeis, calycibus tomentosis dentibus acutis persistentibus.]
[** L. SERICATUM (Lindl. MS.); with broad, flat, blunt, linear leaves that are smooth on both sides and silky, and with hairy calyxes featuring sharp, persistent teeth.]
[*** A. LONGISPICATA (Benth. MS.) pube brevi mollissima vestita, ramulis elevato-angulatis, phyllodiis amplis falcatis utrinque angustatis subcoriaceis tenuiter striato-multinervibus nervis 3-5 validioribus, spicis elongato-cylindricis densis, calyce dentato corolla 2-3-plo breviore, ovario villoso.]
[*** A. LONGISPICATA (Benth. MS.) covered in short soft hairs, with branches that are raised and angled, large falcate phyllodes that are narrow on both sides, somewhat leathery, with thinly striated multi-nerved patterns and 3-5 prominent nerves, long cylindrical dense spikes, a calyx with teeth, and a corolla that is 2-3 times shorter, with a hairy ovary.]
Chapter VII.
PREPARATIONS FOR A RIDE TO THE NORTH-WEST.—DESPATCH LEFT WITH THE PARTY STATING WHAT HAD BEEN DONE.—ASCEND EAST SHOULDER OF MOUNT PLUTO.—PASSAGE TO THE WESTWARD.—NAME OF THE WARREGASCERTAINED.—THE RIVER NIVE.—ITS COURSE TURNS SOUTHWARD.—CROSS A LOW RANGE.—PLAINS OF THE VICTORIA DISCOVERED.—EXTENSIVE DOWNS TRAVERSED.—RIVER SPREADS INTO VARIOUS CHANNELS.—TRIBUTARIES JOIN IT FROM THE N. E. OR RIGHT BANK.—THE RIVER ALICE.—NATIVE CAMP.—A TRIBE SURPRISED WHILE BATHING.—LOWEST POINT OF THE RIVER REACHED.—RETURN BY THE LEFT BANK.—TRIBUTARIES FROM THE SOUTH.—GOWEN RANGE.—ENTER OUTWARD TRACK.—PROVISIONS EXHAUSTED.—ASCEND WEST SHOULDER OF MOUNT PLUTO.—RETURN TO THE CAMP AT THE PYRAMIDS.—NEW PLANTS COLLECTED THERE DURING MY ABSENCE.
PREPARATIONS FOR A RIDE TO THE NORTHWEST.—MESSAGE LEFT WITH THE GROUP STATING WHAT HAD BEEN DONE.—ASCEND THE EAST SIDE OF MOUNT PLUTO.—PASSAGE TO THE WEST.—NAME OF THE WARREGAS CONFIRMED.—THE RIVER NIVE.—ITS COURSE TURNS SOUTHWARD.—CROSS A LOW RANGE.—PLAINS OF THE VICTORIA DISCOVERED.—TRAVELED THROUGH EXTENSIVE DOWNS.—THE RIVER SPREADS INTO VARIOUS CHANNELS.—TRIBUTARIES JOIN IT FROM THE N.E. OR RIGHT BANK.—THE RIVER ALICE.—NATIVE CAMP.—A TRIBE SURPRISED WHILE BATHING.—LOWEST POINT OF THE RIVER REACHED.—RETURN BY THE LEFT BANK.—TRIBUTARIES FROM THE SOUTH.—GOWEN RANGE.—ENTER OUTWARD TRAIL.—PROVISIONS DEPLETED.—ASCEND THE WEST SIDE OF MOUNT PLUTO.—RETURN TO THE CAMP AT THE PYRAMIDS.—NEW PLANTS COLLECTED THERE DURING MY ABSENCE.
6TH AND 7TH SEPTEMBER.—It being necessary to rest and refresh the horses for a few days before setting out with the freshest of them, all being leg-weary, I determined to halt here four clear days; and during these two, I completed my maps, and took a few rough sketches of scenery within a few miles of the camp. The whole of the grass had been assiduously burnt by the natives, and a young crop was coming up. This rendered the spot more eligible for our camp, both because the young grass was highly relished by the cattle, and because no dry grass remained to be set fire to, which, in the case of any hostility on the part of the natives, is usually the first thing they do. Thermometer, at sunrise, 33°; at noon, 68°; at 4 p.m., 64°; at 9, 40°;—with wet bulb, 31°.
6TH AND 7TH SEPTEMBER.—Since it was important to rest and refresh the horses for a few days before heading out with the freshest ones, all of them being tired, I decided to stay here for four full days. During these two days, I finished my maps and made a few rough sketches of the scenery within a few miles of the camp. The natives had carefully burned all the grass, and a new crop was starting to come up. This made the location better for our camp because the young grass was very appealing to the cattle, and there was no dry grass left that could catch fire, which is usually the first thing the natives do in case of any conflict. Thermometer readings: at sunrise, 33°; at noon, 68°; at 4 p.m., 64°; at 9 p.m., 40°;—with wet bulb, 31°.
8TH AND 9TH SEPTEMBER.—I employed my time these two days in writing a despatch to the governor of New South Wales, giving a detailed account of my proceedings and discoveries down to the present time; that in the event of any misfortune befalling me or the very small party now to accompany me, this despatch should be forthcoming, as I intended to leave it at this depôt camp. On the 8th, heavy clouds gathered over us, and a fine heavy shower fell, a circumstance most auspicious for our intended ride; but it was of brief duration; and, although the sky continued overcast even until the evening of the 9th, no rain fell, in sufficient quantity to fill the water-courses. It was, however, enough to produce dew for some mornings to come. Thermometer, at sunrise of the 8th, 53°; at noon, 55°; at 4 p.m., 57°; at 9, 50°;—with wet bulb, 46°; and at sunrise of the 9th, 39°; at noon, 77°; at 4 p.m., 70°; at 9, 52°; —with wet bulb, 45°.
8TH AND 9TH SEPTEMBER.—I spent these two days writing a report to the governor of New South Wales, providing a detailed account of my activities and discoveries up to now; this report was intended to be available in case of any misfortune befalling me or the very small group that would accompany me, as I planned to leave it at this depot camp. On the 8th, heavy clouds gathered above us, and a good rain shower came down, which was very promising for our planned ride; however, it lasted only a short time, and even though the sky remained overcast until the evening of the 9th, there wasn't enough rain to fill the watercourses. It was enough to produce morning dew for a few days to come. The thermometer read 53° at sunrise on the 8th; 55° at noon; 57° at 4 p.m.; and 50° at 9 p.m.—with a wet bulb reading of 46°. On the 9th, it was 39° at sunrise; 77° at noon; 70° at 4 p.m.; and 52° at 9 p.m.—with a wet bulb reading of 45°.
10TH SEPTEMBER.—I set out on a fine clear morning, with two men and Yuranigh mounted, and leading two pack-horses carrying my sextant, false horizon, and a month's provisions. Returning, still up the valley, along our old track to Camp XLIII., I there struck off to the S.W., following up a similar valley, which came down from that side. This valley led very straight towards Mount Pluto, the nearest of the three volcanic cones, which I had already intersected from various points. The other two I had named Mount Hutton and Mount Playfair. These three hills formed an obtuse-angled triangle, whereof the longest side was to the north-west, and, therefore, I expected that there the elevated land might be found to form an angle somewhat corresponding with the directions of the two shorter sides; in which case, it was probable that, to the westward of such an angle in the range, I might find what had been so long the object of these researches, viz., a river flowing to the Gulf of Carpentaria. We reached Mount Pluto, at the distance given by my former observations as far as could be ascertained by the mode of measurement I employed then; which was by counting my horse's paces. On ascending the mountain on foot, I found a deep chasm still between me and the western summit, which was not only the highest, but the only part clear of bushes. A thick and very thorny scrub had already so impeded my ascent, that the best portion of the afternoon was gone, before I could return to the horses; and I resolved, therefore, to continue my ride, and to defer the ascent and observation of angles from the summit, until my return from the unknown western country, which we were about to explore; the search for water that night being an object of too much importance to be longer deferred. We, accordingly, passed on by the southward and westward of the mountain, following a watercourse, which led first N. W., then north, and next E. of N.; to where it at length joined one from the west, up which I turned, and continued the search for water until darkness obliged us to halt. During that search for water, my horse fell with me into a deep hole, so concealed and covered with long grass, that we both wholly disappeared from those following; and yet, strange to say, without either of us being in the least hurt. We encamped where there was, at least, good grass; but—no water.
10TH SEPTEMBER.—I set out on a clear morning with two men and Yuranigh riding, leading two pack-horses carrying my sextant, false horizon, and a month's worth of supplies. As we headed back up the valley along our old route to Camp XLIII., I turned southwest, exploring a similar valley that came down from that side. This valley led straight towards Mount Pluto, the closest of the three volcanic cones I had already crossed from various locations. The other two cones were named Mount Hutton and Mount Playfair. Together, these three hills formed an obtuse-angled triangle, with the longest side to the northwest. I expected the elevated land there might create an angle that somewhat matched the directions of the two shorter sides; if so, it was likely that west of this angle in the range, I would find what had long been the goal of my research—a river flowing to the Gulf of Carpentaria. We reached Mount Pluto, as far as I could verify with my earlier observations, which were based on counting my horse's paces. When I climbed the mountain on foot, I found a deep chasm still between me and the western summit, which was not only the highest point but also the only area clear of bushes. A thick, thorny scrub had already slowed my ascent, and by the time I returned to the horses, most of the afternoon was gone. I decided to keep riding and postponed my climb and angle measurements from the summit until I returned from the uncharted western area we were about to explore; finding water that night was too important to wait any longer. We continued on south and west of the mountain, following a watercourse that first went northwest, then north, and finally northeast, until it eventually joined one coming from the west. I turned up this watercourse and continued searching for water until darkness forced us to stop. During that search, my horse fell with me into a deep hole that was covered with long grass, making it easy for both of us to completely vanish from the others following us; strangely, we were both unharmed. We set up camp where there was at least good grass, but—no water.
11TH SEPTEMBER.—Within 400 yards of the spot where we had slept, we found a small pond. The water was of that rich brown tint so well known to those with whom water is most precious, and to whom, after long custom, clear water seems, like some wines, to want body. Here we had breakfast, and we took also a bagful of water[*] with us. This timely supply relieved me from the necessity for following up the windings of some water-course; and I could proceed in a straight direction, westward. We passed, at first, through rather thick scrub, until, at length, I perceived a sharp pic before me, which I ascended. It consisted of trap rock, as did also the range to which it belonged, being rather a lateral feature thereof. Mount Hutton, Mount Pluto, and Mount Playfair, were all visible from it, as were also Mounts Owen and Faraday. The connections extended westward; for to the W.N.W. the broken cliffs at the head of the Salvator and the Claude, were not very distant, and these I was careful to avoid. A range immediately westward of this cone, was higher than it, and extended from Mount Playfair. To cross that range at its lowest part, which bore 26° W. of S., was our next object. We found the range covered with brigalow and other still more impervious scrubs. On the crest, the rock consisted of clay ironstone. The centigrade thermometer stood, at noon, at 30° 5' equal to 87°, of Fahrenheit; the height above the sea we made 2032 feet. Beyond this crest, we encountered a scrub of matted vines, which hung down like ropes, and pulled some of us off our horses, when it happened that any of these ropes were not observed in time in riding through the thicket. A very dense forest of young Callitris trees next impeded us, and were more formidable than even the vines. The day was passed in forcing our way through these various scrubs, the ground declining by a gentle slope only. We next found firmer soil underfoot, that where the Callitris scrub grew having been sandy, and we saw at length, with a feeling of relief, that only brigalow scrub was before us; we ascended gravelly hills, came upon a dry water-course, and then on a chain of ponds. Near one of these ponds, sate an old woman, beside a fire, of course, although the weather was very warm; and a large net, used for taking emus, hung on a brigalow bush close by. The men were absent, looking for food, as we partly conjectured, for little could Yuranigh make out of what she said, besides the names of some rivers, to which I could point with the hand. I was surprised to find that here, the name for water was "Narran," the name for it in the district of the Balonne being "Nadyeen," whereas the word for water amongst the tribes of the Darling is Kalli. That the "Narran" river and swamp are named from this language of tribes now dwelling much further northward, seems obvious; and, as the natives on the Darling know little of the "Narran" or its swamp, it may be inferred that there the migration of native tribes has been progressive from south to north; the highest known land in Australia being also to the southward of the Darling. The chain of ponds, according to the old woman, was named "Cùnno," and ran into the "Warreg" which, as she pointed, was evidently the name of the river we had formerly traced downwards from near Mount P. P. King. I left the "Cùnno," and plunged into the brigalow to the northward, thus crossing a slightly elevated range, where we found a little water-course falling N.N.W. By following this downwards, we found water in it, as twilight grew obscure, and gladly halted beside it for the night, in latitude 25° S.
11TH SEPTEMBER.—About 400 yards from where we had slept, we discovered a small pond. The water had that rich brown color familiar to those for whom water is precious, and over time, clear water seems, like some wines, to lack substance. We had breakfast here and filled a bag with water to take with us. This timely supply meant I didn't have to follow the twists of a watercourse, allowing me to head straight west. Initially, we went through dense scrub until I spotted a sharp peak ahead, which I climbed. It was made of trap rock, as was the range it belonged to, being a side feature of it. From there, we could see Mount Hutton, Mount Pluto, and Mount Playfair, along with Mounts Owen and Faraday. The connections extended westward; the jagged cliffs at the head of the Salvator and the Claude were not too far away to the W.N.W., and I made sure to avoid those. A range just west of this peak was taller and extended from Mount Playfair. Our next goal was to cross that range at its lowest point, which was 26° W. of S. The range was covered with brigalow and even thicker scrub. At the top, the rock was clay ironstone. The centigrade thermometer read 30° 5' (87° Fahrenheit) at noon; we were at an elevation of 2032 feet. Beyond this crest, we encountered thick mats of vines that hung down like ropes, and some of us were pulled off our horses when we didn't see these ropes in time while riding through the thicket. A very dense forest of young Callitris trees next blocked our path, and these proved even more challenging than the vines. We spent the day pushing through these various scrubs, moving down a gentle slope. Eventually, we found firmer soil underfoot, while the area with the Callitris scrub had been sandy, and we felt relieved to see only brigalow scrub ahead of us; we climbed up gravelly hills, came across a dry watercourse, and then a chain of ponds. By one of these ponds sat an old woman beside a warm fire, even though the weather was hot, with a large net for catching emus hanging on a brigalow bush nearby. The men were away looking for food, as we partly guessed, since Yuranigh could barely understand what she said apart from the names of some rivers, which I could point out by hand. I was surprised to learn that the word for water here was "Narran," while in the Balonne district, it was "Nadyeen," and among the Darling tribes, it is "Kalli." It seems clear that the "Narran" river and swamp are named after this language spoken by tribes living much further north now; since the natives on the Darling know little about the "Narran" or its swamp, it can be inferred that the migration of native tribes has been moving progressively from south to north, with the highest land known in Australia also located south of the Darling. According to the old woman, the chain of ponds was called "Cùnno," which flowed into the "Warreg"—the name of the river we had previously traced downward from near Mount P. P. King, as she pointed out. I left the "Cùnno" and ventured into the brigalow to the north, crossing a slightly elevated range where we found a small watercourse flowing N.N.W. Following this downstream, we found water just as twilight set in and gladly stopped beside it for the night, at latitude 25° S.
[* A thick flour-bag covered outside with melted mutton-fat.]
[* A heavy bag of flour coated on the outside with melted lamb fat.]
12TH SEPTEMBER.—At 7 a.m. the thermometer was 59°; our height then above the sea has been ascertained to have been 1787 feet. Continuing to follow down the brigalow creek, we found that it joined a chain of ponds running N.E., and these we traced in the contrary direction, or upwards, as far as seemed desirable. We struck off from that water-course, first to the N.W., then to the W., arriving soon at a steep low ridge of clay ironstone, which was covered thick with brigalow. We crossed that low ridge, and, at a distance of about a mile and a half beyond, met another acclivity still more abrupt and stony. This we also ascended, and found upon it a "malga" scrub: the "malga" being a tree having hard spiky dry branches, which project like fixed bayonets, to receive the charge of ourselves, horses, and flour-bags; but all which formidable array we nevertheless successfully broke through, and arrived at the head of a rocky gully, falling N.W. Down this, however, we attempted in vain to pass, and in backing out we again faced the "malga," until, seeing a flat on the right, I entered it, and there fell in with the water-course again. It led us many miles, generally in a N.W. direction, and contained some fine ponds, and entered, at length, a little river, whose banks were thickly set with large yarra trees. The general course of this river was W.N.W., until it was joined by one coming from the N., and at the junction there was a deep broad pond of clear water. At this we watered our horses, and passed on to encamp under some rocky hills, three quarters of a mile to the N.N.W. of that junction, in latitude 24° 52' 50" S. The temperature at noon this day, on the highest part of the ridge we crossed, was 84°; the height there above the sea, 1954 feet; and at 3 p.m., in channel of water-course, the thermometer stood at 89°; the height there above the sea being 1778 feet.
12TH SEPTEMBER.—At 7 a.m., the thermometer read 59°; we were 1787 feet above sea level. Continuing down the brigalow creek, we found it connected to a series of ponds running N.E., which we traced upstream as far as we wanted. We deviated from that watercourse, first heading N.W. and then W., and soon came to a steep, low ridge of clay ironstone covered heavily with brigalow. We crossed that ridge and about a mile and a half later encountered another even steeper and rockier incline. We climbed this as well and discovered a "malga" scrub, where the "malga" is a tree with hard, spiky dry branches that stick out like bayonets, ready to catch us, our horses, and our flour bags. Despite this intimidating barrier, we managed to break through and reached the top of a rocky gully that sloped N.W. However, we couldn’t pass down this gully, so when we backed out, we faced the "malga" again until I noticed a flat area on the right, which led us back to the watercourse. This watercourse guided us for many miles, mostly in a N.W. direction, and had some nice ponds, eventually leading us to a small river with banks lined with large yarra trees. This river generally flowed W.N.W. until it was joined by another river coming from the N., where there was a deep, wide pond of clear water at the junction. We watered our horses here and continued on to set up camp under some rocky hills, three-quarters of a mile N.N.W. of that junction, at latitude 24° 52' 50" S. At noon on this day, at the highest point of the ridge we crossed, the temperature was 84°; the height there was 1954 feet above sea level. At 3 p.m., in the watercourse, the thermometer showed 89°; the height there above sea level was 1778 feet.
13TH SEPTEMBER.—At 7 a.m. the thermometer stood at 38°; the height above the sea was found to be 1659 feet. I verily believed that THIS river would run to Carpentaria, and I called it the Nive, at least as a conventional name until the native name could be ascertained, in commemoration of Lord Wellington's action on the river of that name; and, to the tributary from the north, I gave the name of Nivelle. Pursuing the united channel downwards, we traversed fine open grassy plains. The air was fragrant from the many flowers then springing up, especially where the natives had burnt the grass. Among them were MORGANIA GLABRA; EREMOPHILA MITCHELLII; a singular little POLYGONUM with the aspect of a TILLOEA; two very distinct little FRANKENIAS[*], and a new scabrous HALORAGIS with pinnatifid leaves.[**] The extensive burning by the natives, a work of considerable labour, and performed in dry warm weather, left tracts in the open forest, which had become green as an emerald with the young crop of grass. These plains were thickly imprinted with the feet of kangaroos, and the work is undertaken by the natives to attract these animals to such places. How natural must be the aversion of the natives to the intrusion of another race of men with cattle: people who recognise no right in the aborigines to either the grass they have thus worked from infancy, nor to the kangaroos they have hunted with their fathers. No, nor yet to the emus they kill FOR their fathers ONLY; these birds being reserved, or held sacred, for the sole use of the old men and women!
13TH SEPTEMBER.—At 7 a.m., the thermometer read 38°; the altitude was measured at 1659 feet. I truly believed that THIS river would flow to Carpentaria, and I named it the Nive, at least as a temporary name until the local name could be determined, in honor of Lord Wellington's battle on the river of that name; and to the northward tributary, I named it Nivelle. Following the combined channel downstream, we crossed beautiful open grassy plains. The air was filled with the fragrance of the many flowers blooming at that time, especially where the natives had burned the grass. Among them were MORGANIA GLABRA; EREMOPHILA MITCHELLII; a unique little POLYGONUM resembling a TILLOEA; two distinctly different little FRANKENIAS[*], and a new scabrous HALORAGIS with pinnate leaves.[**] The extensive burning by the natives, a significant labor performed in dry, warm weather, left patches in the open forest that had turned as green as emerald with the young grass that sprouted. These plains were heavily marked with kangaroo tracks, a task undertaken by the natives to draw these animals to such areas. How natural it must be for the natives to resent the presence of another race of men with livestock: people who do not recognize any rights of the aborigines to the grass they have tended since childhood, nor to the kangaroos they have hunted alongside their fathers. No, nor to the emus they hunt FOR their fathers ONLY; these birds being reserved, or deemed sacred, for the exclusive use of the old men and women!
[* F. SCABRA (Lindl. MS.); undique scabro-tomentosa, foliis linearibus margine revolutis non ciliatis, floribus solitariis pentameris, calycibus patentim pilosis. F. SERPYLLIFOLIA (Lindl. MS.); tomentosa hispida, foliis oblongis planis longè ciliatis, floribus solitariis subcapitatis pentameris, calycibus patentim hispidis.]
[* F. SCABRA (Lindl. MS.); everywhere covered in rough hairs, with linear leaves that have turned edges but no hairs on the margins, and solitary five-petaled flowers with openly hairy calyxes. F. SERPYLLIFOLIA (Lindl. MS.); covered in rough hairs, with elongated flat leaves that are very hairy along the edges, and solitary nearly capitate five-petaled flowers with openly hairy calyxes.]
[** H. ASPERA (Lindl. MS.) caule angulato foliis fructuque scabris, foliis alternis oppositisque linearibus acutis apice pinnatifidis, floribus distanter spicatis monoicis pendulis, stigmatibus plumosis, fructu subgloboso.]
[** H. ASPERA (Lindl. MS.) with an angled stem, rough leaves, and sharp, linear leaves that are alternately and oppositely arranged, pinnatifid at the tips, with flowers that are distantly spike-like, monoecious, and pendulous, featuring feathery stigmas, and a subglobose fruit.]
The river pursued a course to the southward of west for nine miles, but it turned afterwards southward, eastward, and even to the northward of E. After tracing it thus twenty-two miles, without seeing any water in its bed (which was broad, but every where choked with sand), we were obliged to encamp, and endure this privation after a very warm and laborious day. Where the natives obtained water themselves, quite puzzled Yuranigh, for we passed by spacious encampments of theirs, and tracts they had set fire to, where trees still lay smoking.
The river flowed southwest for nine miles, but then it turned south, east, and even a bit north of east. After following it for twenty-two miles without seeing any water in its wide bed (which was filled with sand), we had to set up camp and deal with this lack of water after a hot and exhausting day. It left Yuranigh confused about where the locals were finding water because we passed by their large camps and areas they had burned, with trees still smoldering.
14TH SEPTEMBER.—The temperature at 7 this morning was 72° of Fahrenheit; the height above the sea, of the river bed, as subsequently determined by Captain King, 1470 feet. With the earliest light, I had laid down my survey of this river, by which the course appeared to have turned towards the S.E. This not being what was desired, I took a direct northerly course through the scrub, towards a hill on the left bank, whence I had seen, on our way down, a rocky gap to the N.W. in a brigalow range. After a ride of eight miles, by which we cut off the grand curve in the river's course, we arrived at this hill. I hoped to have found water near the spot, in a sharp turn in the river which I had not examined, and near which, on the day before, I had seen two emus, under a bank covered with brigalow scrub. Nor was I disappointed, for after finding traces of a recent current into the river-bed at that point, I discovered, at less than a hundred yards up, a fine pond of precious OPAL—I mean not crystal, but that fine bluey liquid which I found always so cool and refreshing when it lay on clay in the shady recesses of brigalow scrubs, a beverage much more grateful to our taste than the common "crystal spring." Here, then, we watered our impatient horses, and enjoyed a wash and breakfast—the men (two old soldiers) being D'ACCORD in one sentiment of gratitude to a bountiful Providence for this water. Like "a giant refreshed with wine," we next set out for the gap to the north-west, and passed through an open brigalow scrub, ascending very gradually, during a ride of three miles, to where I at length could discover that the fall was in the other direction. At this point, I observed the barometer, which indicated our height above the sea to be 1812 feet. Fahrenheit's thermometer stood then (5 p.m.) at 86°. The dry channel of a water-course had afforded us an opening through the scrub, and had also guided us to the highest part of the ground. The fresh prints of the feet of three men in the smooth bare sand, told us that the same natives whose track Yuranigh had seen in the river we traced yesterday, were now going in the same direction as ourselves, and just before us; for the smell of their burning fire-sticks, and even small portions of burning embers which had dropped, made this evident. The higher ground was flat, and on it the rosewood acacia grew amongst the brigalow. The rocky gap (in a ridge) was still distant at least three miles; the sun nearly set, and not a blade of grass visible amongst the brigalow bushes. But what was all this to the romantic uncertainty as to what lay beyond! With eager steps we followed a slight channel downwards; found that it descended more rapidly than the one by which we had ascended; that it also increased, and we were guided by it into a little valley, verdant with young grass, while yet the red sky over a departed sun shone reflected from several broad ponds of water. This seemed to us a charming spot, so opportunely and unexpectedly found, and we alighted on a fine grassy flat by the margin of a small lagoon, where stood a most graceful group of bushes for shelter or shade. After sunset, the sky was overcast with very heavy clouds; the air was sultry, and we expected rain.
14TH SEPTEMBER.—The temperature at 7 AM this morning was 72°F; the height of the riverbed above sea level, as later determined by Captain King, was 1470 feet. With the first light, I completed my survey of this river, which seemed to have veered toward the southeast. This wasn't what I wanted, so I took a direct path north through the brush toward a hill on the left bank, from which I had seen a rocky gap to the northwest while we were coming down. After riding for eight miles, cutting off the grand curve in the river's path, we reached the hill. I hoped to find water nearby, at a sharp bend in the river that I hadn’t yet checked. The day before, I had spotted two emus under a bank covered with brigalow scrub. I wasn’t disappointed; after finding signs of recent water flow into the riverbed at that spot, I discovered, less than a hundred yards up, a lovely pond of precious OPAL—not crystal, but that cool blue liquid that I always found so refreshing when it lay on clay in the shade of brigalow scrubs, a drink much more satisfying than regular "crystal spring." Here, we watered our eager horses and enjoyed a wash and breakfast—the two old soldiers with me were in agreement about feeling grateful to a generous Providence for this water. Like "a giant refreshed with wine," we set out for the gap to the northwest and passed through an open brigalow scrub, gradually ascending over three miles until I could finally see that the land fell in the other direction. At this point, I checked the barometer, which indicated our height above sea level was 1812 feet. Fahrenheit's thermometer then read 86°F at 5 PM. The dry channel of a watercourse gave us a passage through the scrub and guided us to the highest ground. Fresh footprints of three men in the smooth, bare sand indicated that the same natives whose tracks Yuranigh had seen in the river yesterday were now heading in the same direction as us, just ahead; the scent of their burning fire sticks and small bits of burning embers confirmed this. The higher ground was flat, populated with rosewood acacia amidst the brigalow. The rocky gap (in a ridge) was still at least three miles away; the sun was nearly set, and there wasn’t a blade of grass in sight among the brigalow bushes. But what did that matter compared to the exciting uncertainty of what lay beyond! Eagerly, we followed a slight channel downward, which descended more quickly than the one we had climbed. It widened, leading us into a small valley lush with young grass while the red sky from the setting sun illuminated several broad ponds of water. This felt like a lovely place, unexpectedly found, and we dismounted on a nice grassy flat by the edge of a small lagoon, where a graceful cluster of bushes offered shelter or shade. After sunset, the sky was covered with heavy clouds; the air was hot, and we anticipated rain.
15TH SEPTEMBER.—As soon as daylight appeared I hastened towards the gap, and ascended a naked rock on the west side of it. I there beheld downs and plains extending westward beyond the reach of vision, bounded on the S. W. by woods and low ranges, and on the N. E. by higher ranges; the whole of these open downs declining to the N. W., in which direction a line of trees marked the course of a river traceable to the remotest verge of the horizon. There I found then, at last, the realization of my long cherished hopes, an interior river falling to the N. W. in the heart of an open country extending also in that direction. Ulloa's delight at the first view of the Pacific could not have surpassed mine on this occasion, nor could the fervour with which he was impressed at the moment have exceeded my sense of gratitude, for being allowed to make such a discovery. From that rock, the scene was so extensive as to leave no room for doubt as to the course of the river, which, thus and there revealed to me alone, seemed like a reward direct from Heaven for perseverance, and as a compensation for the many sacrifices I had made, in order to solve the question as to the interior rivers of Tropical Australia. To an European, the prospect of an open country has a double charm in regions for the most part covered with primaeval forests, calling up pleasing reminiscences of the past, brighter prospects for the future—inspiring a sense of freedom, especially when viewed from the back of a good horse:—
15TH SEPTEMBER.—As soon as it was light, I rushed towards the gap and climbed a bare rock on its west side. There, I saw downs and plains stretching westward as far as I could see, bordered on the southwest by woods and low hills, and on the northeast by taller mountains; all these open downs sloped to the northwest, where a line of trees marked the path of a river that continued to the very edge of the horizon. Finally, I found the realization of my long-held hopes, an interior river flowing to the northwest in the heart of open land that extended in that direction. Ulloa's excitement at first seeing the Pacific couldn't have exceeded mine at that moment, nor could his enthusiasm have matched my profound sense of gratitude for being able to make such a discovery. From that rock, the view was so broad that there was no doubt about the river's path, which, revealed to me alone, felt like a direct reward from Heaven for my perseverance and a compensation for the many sacrifices I had made to uncover the truth about the interior rivers of Tropical Australia. For a European, the sight of open land has a special allure in areas mostly covered with ancient forests, evoking fond memories of the past, brighter hopes for the future—instilling a sense of freedom, especially when seen from the back of a good horse:—
"A steed! a steed! of matchless speede, A sword of metal keene— All else to noble minds is drosse, All else on earth is meane!" —OLD SONG.
"A horse! a horse! of unmatched speed, A sword of sharp metal— Everything else is worthless to noble minds, Everything else on earth is insignificant!" —OLD SONG.
I hastened back to my little party (distant a mile and a half from the gap), and immediately made them mount to follow me down the watercourse, which, as I had seen from the rock, would lead us into the open country. The little chain of ponds led westward, until the boundless downs appeared through the woods; a scene most refreshing to us, on emerging from so many thick scrubs. Our little river, after crossing much open plain, fell into another coming from E.S.E., and columns of smoke far in the N.W. showed that there was water, by showing there were inhabitants. The grass on these downs was of the richest sort, chiefly PANICUM LOEVINODE, and I was not sorry to recognise amongst it, SALSOLOE, and the ACACIA PENDULA, amongst the shrubs. As we followed the river downwards, the open downs appeared on the W.N.W. horizon as if interminable. This river, unlike that I had called the Nive, had no sand in its bed, which consisted of firm clay, and contained deep hollows, and the beds of long reaches, then, however, all dry, while abundance of large UNIO shells lay upon the banks, and proved that the drought was not of common occurrence. The general course of the river I found to be about W.N.W. true. We continued to follow it through its windings all day, which I certainly should not have done, but for the sake of water, as our progress downwards was thus much retarded. Towards evening, Corporal Graham discovered water in a small tributary coming from the S.E., while Yuranigh found some also in the main channel, where that tributary fell into it. We encamped on Graham's ponds, as this was called, and turned our horses loose on the wide plain, up to the knees in grass half dry, half green, that they might be the more fit "for the field to-morrow." The sky had been lowering all day, and the heat was intense; but during the night, the air was delicious for sleeping in, under heaven's canopy and protection.
I rushed back to my small group (about a mile and a half from the gap) and quickly had them get on their horses to follow me down the watercourse, which I had seen from the rock would take us into open country. The chain of ponds led westward until the vast downs came into view through the trees; it was a sight that was so refreshing after being surrounded by thick brush. Our little river, after crossing a lot of open land, joined another river coming from the southeast, and columns of smoke in the northwest indicated that there was water nearby, suggesting there were people living there. The grass on these downs was rich, mostly made up of PANICUM LOEVINODE, and I was pleased to recognize SALSOLOE and ACACIA PENDULA among the shrubs. As we followed the river downstream, the open downs stretched endlessly on the WNW horizon. This river, unlike the one I previously called the Nive, had no sand in its bed, which was made of solid clay, with deep hollows and long dry stretches; plenty of large UNIO shells lay along the banks, showing that droughts weren’t frequent. I found the river's general direction to be about true WNW. We continued to follow its twists and turns all day, which I wouldn’t have done if it weren't for the need for water, even though it slowed our progress significantly. By evening, Corporal Graham found water in a small tributary coming from the southeast, while Yuranigh discovered some in the main channel where that tributary entered. We set up camp at what was called Graham's ponds and let our horses roam on the expansive plain, where the grass was half-dry and half-green, so they would be ready for the field tomorrow. The sky had been overcast all day, and the heat was intense; however, during the night, the air was perfect for sleeping under the protection of the open sky.
16TH SEPTEMBER.—The "gorgeous curtains of the East" over grandly formed clouds harmonised well with my sentiments on awaking, again to trace, as if I had been the earliest man, the various features of these fine regions of earth. At 7 a.m. the temperature was 63°; and (from observations registered then) the height above the sea has been found to be 1216 feet. Throughout the day we travelled over fine downs and plains covered with the finest grass, having the river on our right. Beyond it, we saw hills, which seemed to be of greater height in proportion as we descended with the river. Some were much broken, and appeared to present precipices on the other side. A broad valley extended westward from between the farthest of these broken ranges, which range seemed to be an offshoot from one further eastward. On examining the river, below the supposed junction of a tributary from the east, I found its character altered, forming ponds amongst brigalow trees. Water was, however, scarce. We fortunately watered our horses about 3 p.m., at the only hole we had seen that day, a small muddy puddle. The ACACIA PENDULA formed a belt outside the brigalow, between the river and the open plains, and many birds and plants reminded us of the Darling; the rose cockatoo and crested-pigeon, amongst the former; SALSOLOE and SOLANUM amongst the latter. At length, we saw before us, to the westward, bold precipitous hills, extending also to the southward of west. A thunder storm came over us, and night advancing, we halted without seeing more, for that day, of the interesting country before us, and having only water enough for our own use, the product of the shower. No pond was found for the horses, although we had searched for one, many miles in the bed of the river. Still, the remains of mussel shells on the banks bore testimony that water was seldom so scarce in this river, flowing as it did through the finest and most extensive pastoral region I had ever seen.
16TH SEPTEMBER.—The "gorgeous curtains of the East" over beautifully shaped clouds matched my feelings when I woke up, ready to explore these amazing areas of the earth as if I were the first person to do so. At 7 a.m., the temperature was 63°F, and from data collected then, the elevation above sea level was found to be 1216 feet. Throughout the day, we traveled across lovely downs and plains covered with lush grass, with the river on our right. Beyond it, we could see hills that appeared taller as we descended with the river. Some of them were quite rugged and seemed to have cliffs on the opposite side. A wide valley stretched westward from between the furthest of these broken ranges, which seemed to branch off from one further east. When I examined the river below the supposed junction of a tributary from the east, I noticed its nature had changed, forming ponds among brigalow trees. Water was, however, hard to come by. Luckily, we were able to water our horses around 3 p.m. at the only spot we found that day, a small muddy puddle. The ACACIA PENDULA created a belt outside the brigalow, between the river and the open plains, and many birds and plants reminded us of the Darling; among the birds were the rose cockatoo and crested pigeon, and among the plants were SALSOLOE and SOLANUM. Eventually, we saw ahead of us, to the west, steep hills extending also to the southwest. A thunderstorm rolled in, and as night approached, we stopped without seeing any more of the fascinating land before us, having only just enough water for ourselves, collected from the rain. We couldn't find a pond for the horses, even after searching for one for many miles along the riverbed. Still, the remains of mussel shells on the banks showed that water hadn’t always been this scarce in this river, which flowed through the largest and most beautiful pastoral area I had ever seen.
17TH SEPTEMBER.—The temperature at seven this morning was 57°; our height above the sea 1112 feet. "Like the gay birds that" awoke us from "repose" we were "content," but certainly not "careless of tomorrow's fare;" for unless we found water to-day, "to-morrow" had found us unable either to proceed or return! Trusting wholly to Providence, however, we went forward, and found a pond in the river bed, not distant more than two miles from where we had slept. In making a cut next through a brigalow scrub, towards where I hoped to hit the river, in a nearly westerly direction, I came out upon open downs, and turned again into a brigalow scrub on my right. After travelling a good many miles, N.W., through this scrub, we arrived on the verge of a plain of dead brigalow; and still pursuing the same course, we came out, at length, upon open downs extending far to the northward. I continued to ride in that direction to a clear hill, and from it I obtained a view of a range of flat-topped hills, that seemed to extend W.N.W.; the most westerly portion of these being the steep-sided mass seen before us yesterday. They now lay far to the northward, and the intervening country was partly low and woody, and partly consisted of the downs we were upon. But where was the river? Yarra trees and other indications of one appeared nearest to us in an easterly direction, at the foot of some well-formed hollows on that side the downs. Towards that point I therefore shaped my course, and there found the river—no longer a chain of dry ponds in brigalow scrub, but a channel shaded by lofty yarra trees, with open grassy banks, and containing long reaches full of water. White cockatoos shrieked above us; ducks floated, or flew about, and columns of smoke began to ascend from the woods before us. This was now, indeed, a river, and I lost no time in following it downwards. The direction was west; then north-west, tolerably straight. Water was abundant in its bed; the breadth was considerable, and the channel was well-marked by bold lofty banks. I remarked the salt-bush of the Bogan plains, growing here, on sand-islands of this river. The grass surpassed any I had ever seen in the colony in quality and abundance. The slow flying pelican appeared over our heads, and we came to a long broad reach covered with ducks, where the channel had all the appearance of a river of the first magnitude. The old mussle shells (UNIO) lay in heaps, like cart-loads, all along the banks, but still we saw none of the natives. Flames, however, arose from the woods beyond the opposite bank, at once in many directions, as if by magic, as we advanced. At 3 p.m. Fahrenheit's thermometer in the shade stood at 90°. Towards evening, we saw part of the bed dry, and found it continuously so, as night came on. The sun had set, while I still anxiously explored the dry recesses of the channel in search of water, without much hopes of success, when a wild yell arose from the woods back from the channel, which assured us that water was near. Towards that quarter we turned, and Yuranigh soon found a fine pond in a small ana-branch, upon which we immediately halted, and took up our abode there for the night. It may seem strange that so small a number could act thus unmolested by the native tribes, but our safety consisted chiefly in the rapidity of our movements, and their terror of strangers wholly unknown, perhaps unheard of, arriving on the backs of huge animals, or centaurs whose tramp they had only heard at nightfall. Like Burns's "Auld Nick,"
17TH SEPTEMBER.—The temperature at seven this morning was 57°; our elevation above sea level was 1112 feet. "Like the cheerful birds that" woke us from "rest," we felt "content," but definitely not "carefree about tomorrow's needs;" because unless we found water today, "tomorrow" would find us unable to move forward or back! Relying completely on Providence, however, we pressed on and discovered a pond in the riverbed, just under two miles from where we had camped. While making a cut through a brigalow scrub, aiming for the river in a nearly westerly direction, I emerged onto open downs and turned into another brigalow scrub on my right. After traveling several miles northwest through this scrub, we reached the edge of a plain filled with dead brigalow; and still following the same path, we finally came out onto open downs stretching far to the north. I continued in that direction to a clear hill, from which I spotted a range of flat-topped hills that seemed to extend W.N.W.; the most westerly part being the steep-sided mass we had seen yesterday. They now lay far north, with the land in between being partly low and woody, and partly consisting of the downs we were on. But where was the river? Yarra trees and other signs of a river appeared closest to us in an easterly direction, at the base of some well-shaped hollows on that side of the downs. Therefore, I adjusted my course towards that point, and there I found the river—no longer just a series of dry ponds in brigalow scrub, but a channel shaded by tall yarra trees, with open grassy banks, and containing long stretches full of water. White cockatoos screeched above us; ducks floated or flew around, and columns of smoke began to rise from the woods ahead. This was now truly a river, and I wasted no time following it downstream. The direction was west, then northwest, fairly straight. Water was plentiful in its bed; it was wide, and the channel was well-defined by tall, bold banks. I noted the saltbush from the Bogan plains growing here on the sand islands of this river. The grass was better than any I had seen in the colony in both quality and quantity. A slowly flying pelican passed overhead, and we came to a long, broad stretch covered with ducks, where the channel resembled a major river. Old mussel shells (UNIO) were piled up along the banks like cartloads, but we still did not see any natives. However, flames began to shoot up from the woods on the opposite bank, seemingly out of nowhere, as we moved forward. At 3 p.m., Fahrenheit's thermometer in the shade reached 90°. As evening approached, we noticed parts of the riverbed were dry and found it consistently so as night fell. The sun had set while I anxiously explored the dry sections of the channel looking for water, with little hope of finding any, when a wild yell echoed from the woods behind the channel, reassuring us that water was nearby. We turned towards that sound, and Yuranigh soon discovered a nice pond in a small side channel, where we immediately stopped and settled in for the night. It may seem odd that such a small group could act without being bothered by the native tribes, but our safety relied mainly on our swift movements and their fear of unknown strangers, perhaps unheard of, arriving on the backs of enormous animals, or centaurs whose footsteps they had only heard at twilight. Like Burns's "Auld Nick,"
——"rustling through the boortrees comin'
Wi' eerie sought!"
——"rustling through the boortrees coming
With eerie sounds!"
our passage was too rapid to admit of any design for attack or annoyance being concocted, much less, carried into effect; next night we hoped to sleep thirty miles off, where our coming would be equally unexpected by natives. Latitude, 24° 34' 30" S.
our journey was too quick to allow for any plans for attack or trouble to be made, let alone executed; the next night we hoped to rest thirty miles away, where our arrival would be just as surprising to the locals. Latitude, 24° 34' 30" S.
18TH SEPTEMBER.—At 7 a.m. the temperature of the air was 72°; the height of the spot above the sea, 995 feet. Keeping along the river bank for some miles, I found its general course to be about N.W.; and seeing clear downs beyond the right bank, I crossed, and proceeded towards the highest clear hill on the horizon. There I obtained a distant view of the ranges intersected yesterday, and of their prolongations. That to the northward of the river, whose general direction to the point already fixed had been 22° W. of N., there formed an angle, and continued, as far as I could judge by the eye, nearly northward. The range to the southward of the river also turned off, extending nearly to the southward. These two limits of the vast valley, thus receding from the river so as to leave it ample room to turn and wind on either side, amidst its accompanying woods, through grassy downs of great extent, obliged me to explore its course with closer attention. From another clear hill on these downs, to which I next proceeded, I thought I perceived the line of another river coming from ranges in the N.E., and expecting it would join that whose course we had thus far explored, I proceeded in a nearly N.W. direction over open downs towards the line of trees. I found therein a fine pond of water, the soil of the downs consisting of stiff clay. MESEMBRYANTHEMUM and various SALSOLOE appeared in some parts. My horses being rather jaded, I halted rather early here, and laid down my journey, protracting also the angles I had observed of the points of distant ranges. Latitude, 24° 27' 27" S. I found by the barometer that we were already much lower than the rivers Salvator and Claude, and the upper part, at least, of the Belyando; while we were still remote from the channel we were pursuing.
18TH SEPTEMBER.—At 7 a.m. the air temperature was 72°; the location was 995 feet above sea level. Following the riverbank for several miles, I noticed the river generally flowed northwest. Spotting clear hills beyond the right bank, I crossed over and headed towards the highest visible hill on the horizon. From there, I got a distant view of the ranges I had intersected yesterday and their extensions. The range north of the river formed an angle and continued, as far as I could see, nearly northward, while the range south of the river also veered off, stretching nearly southward. These two boundaries of the vast valley receded from the river enough to allow it to meander through its surrounding woods and expansive grassy downs, prompting me to examine its route more closely. From another clear hill on these downs, which I reached next, I thought I spotted a line of another river coming from the northeast ranges. Expecting it would merge with the river we had been following, I traveled in a nearly northwest direction over the open downs toward the line of trees. There, I found a nice pond, and the soil of the downs was made up of tough clay. I spotted MESEMBRYANTHEMUM and various SALSOLOE in some areas. My horses were a bit worn out, so I decided to stop early, documenting my journey and drawing the angles I had noted of the distant ranges. The latitude was 24° 27' 27" S. I noted with the barometer that we were already much lower than the Salvator and Claude rivers, as well as the upper part of the Belyando, even though we were still far from the channel we were following.
19TH SEPTEMBER.—The thermometer at 7 a.m. stood at 57°. The height of these ponds above the sea was 861 feet. Young, I think, has said, that a situation might be imagined between earth and heaven, where a man should hear nothing but the thoughts of the Almighty; but such a sublime position seems almost attained by him who is the first permitted to traverse extensive portions of earth, as yet unoccupied by man; to witness in solitude and silence regions well adapted to his use, brings a man into more immediate converse with the Author both of his being, and of all other combinations of matter than any other imaginable position he can attain. With nothing but nature around him; his few wants supplied almost miraculously; living on from day to day, just as he falls in with water; his existence is felt to be in the hands of Providence alone; and this feeling pervades even the minds of the least susceptible, in journeys like these. Those splendid plains where, without a horse, man seems a helpless animal, are avoided, and are said to be shunned and disliked by the aboriginal man of the woods. Even their lonely inhabitant, the emu, seems to need both wings and feet, that he may venture across them. We travelled nearly west over plains; then through a brigalow scrub, two miles in breadth; emerging from which, on a perfectly level plain of very rich soil, we turned rather to the southward of west, to where the distant line of river-trees seemed most accessible. Bushes of ACACIA PENDULA skirted this plain; and, passing through them, we crossed a track of nearly half a mile wide of soft sand, evidently a concomitant feature of the river. We next traversed a belt of firm blue clay, on which a salsolaceous bush appeared to be the chief vegetation; and, between it and the river, was another belt of sand a mile broad, on which grew a scrub of rosewood acacia. The river there ran in four separate channels, amongst various trees; brigalow and yarra being both amongst them. I crossed these channels, and continued westward that I might ascend a hill on the downs beyond. From that eminence, no hill was visible on any part of the horizon, which everywhere presented only downs and woods. Far in the S.W. a hollow admitted of a very distant view, which terminated in downs beyond a woody valley. The course of our river appeared to be N.W., as seen by Yuranigh, from a tree we found here. In that direction I therefore proceeded; recrossing the river, where, in a general breadth of about 400 yards, it formed five channels. The grass was more verdant here, and the ponds in these small separate channels seemed likely to contain water. We continued N. W. across fine clear downs, where we found the heat so intense, (Centigrade thermometer, 37°, or 99° of Fahrenheit,) that I halted two hours under the shade of a small clump of trees. When we continued our ride in the afternoon, three emus that had been feeding on the downs came inquisitively forward; curiosity, apparently inspiring them with more courage than even the human inhabitants. Unfortunately for these birds, our bacon had become so impalatable that a change of diet was very desirable, and Graham, therefore, met them half-way on his horse; the quadruped inspiring more confidence in the bird. It was curious to witness the first meeting of the large indigenous bird and large exotic quadruped—such strange objects to each other! on the wide plains where either of them could
19TH SEPTEMBER.—The thermometer at 7 a.m. read 57°. The ponds were 861 feet above sea level. Young once suggested that one could imagine a place between earth and heaven where a person only heard the thoughts of the Almighty. That kind of elevated state seems almost possible for someone who is among the first to explore vast stretches of land that are unoccupied by people; experiencing the solitude of untouched regions that perfectly suit his needs brings a person into closer connection with the Creator of both his existence and all other matter than any other imaginable situation. With nature as his only company, having his basic needs met almost miraculously, living day by day as he comes across water, he feels like his life is entirely in the hands of Providence; this sensation influences even the least sensitive minds during such journeys. Those magnificent plains where, without a horse, a person feels like a vulnerable creature are avoided and seem to be disliked by the native man of the forest. Even the solitary emu finds it necessary to possess both wings and legs to cross them. We traveled nearly west across plains, then entered a brigalow scrub two miles wide; emerging onto a perfectly flat plain with very rich soil, we veered slightly south of west toward where the distant line of river trees looked most accessible. Clusters of ACACIA PENDULA bordered this plain, and as we moved through them, we crossed a nearly half-mile wide stretch of soft sand, clearly a feature associated with the river. Next, we moved through a firm belt of blue clay, where a saline bush seemed to be the main vegetation; between it and the river, there was another mile-wide belt of sand with scrubby rosewood acacia. The river here split into four separate channels among various trees, including brigalow and yarra. I crossed these channels and continued west to climb a hill on the downs beyond. From that vantage point, no hills were visible in any direction; the horizon was filled only with downs and woods. Far to the southwest, a hollow allowed for a distant view that ended in downs beyond a wooded valley. The river’s course appeared to head northwest, as observed by Yuranigh from a tree we found there. I proceeded in that direction, recrossing the river where it branched into five channels across a general width of about 400 yards. The grass here was greener, and the ponds in the small channels seemed to hold water. We continued northwest across the lovely clear downs, where the heat was so intense (37° Celsius, or 99° Fahrenheit) that I stopped for two hours under the shade of a small group of trees. When we resumed our ride in the afternoon, three emus that had been foraging on the downs approached us curiously; their curiosity seemed to make them bolder than even the human inhabitants. Unfortunately for the emus, our bacon had become so unappetizing that we desperately needed a change of diet, so Graham met them halfway on his horse; the animal seemed to give the bird more confidence. It was fascinating to see the first encounter between the large native bird and the large foreign animal—such strange sights to each other! on the vast plains where either of them could...
——"overtake the south wind."
"outpace the south wind."
One of the emus was easily shot from the horse's side, and, that evening being the Saturday night of a very laborious week, we were not slow in seeking out a shady spot by the side of a pond in the river bed. There my men had a feast, with the exception of Yuranigh; who, although unable to eat our salt bacon, religiously abstained from eating emu flesh, although he skinned the bird and cut it up, SECUNDUM ARTEM, for the use of the white men. The channel of the river was still divided here, amongst brigalow bushes. We only reached it by twilight. Thermometer, at 6 p.m., 86°. Height above the sea, 758 feet.
One of the emus was easily shot from the side of the horse, and since it was Saturday night after a long week, we quickly found a shady spot next to a pond in the riverbed. There, my crew had a feast, except for Yuranigh, who, even though he couldn't eat our salted bacon, strictly avoided eating emu meat, even though he skinned and butchered the bird, properly for the use of the white men. The river was still split here among brigalow bushes. We only reached it by twilight. Thermometer at 6 p.m., 86°. Height above sea level, 758 feet.
20TH SEPTEMBER.—At 7 a.m. the thermometer was 78°. Water appearing to be more constant now in the river, I ventured to pursue its general course in straighter lines, across the fine open downs, which lay to the eastward of it. Beyond these I perceived lines of wood as belonging to another river; and, on advancing in that direction, I first encountered a great breadth of brigalow scrub; next, we entered a rosewood scrub, redolent with blossom; then an open forest, in which we found the deep well-formed channel of a river coming from the eastward. The bottom was rocky, and bore marks of a recent current. This river also spread into branches: we crossed three, and then again entered upon open downs. Next we crossed a well-defined line of deep ponds, with yarra trees, and coming from E.N.E. over the downs; and three miles further on, we crossed another coming from N.E., on which, finding a good lagoon, I encamped early, that the men might have time to cook for themselves some of the emu, and that the horses might also have some sufficient rest. Latitude, 24° 12' 42" S. Thermometer, at 1 p.m., 86°. Height above the sea, 724 feet.
20TH SEPTEMBER.—At 7 a.m. the temperature was 78°. With the water in the river seeming more stable now, I decided to follow its general path in straighter lines across the beautiful open downs that lay to the east of it. Beyond these, I noticed pockets of woodland that belonged to another river; as I moved in that direction, I first came across a wide expanse of brigalow scrub; then we entered a fragrant rosewood scrub full of blossoms; and after that, we found ourselves in an open forest with the well-formed, deep channel of a river flowing in from the east. The riverbed was rocky and showed signs of a recent current. This river also split into branches: we crossed three of them before returning to open downs. Soon after, we crossed a distinct line of deep ponds with yarra trees, flowing from the E.N.E. across the downs; and three miles further, we crossed another river coming from the N.E., where I discovered a nice lagoon. I set up camp early so the men could cook some of the emu for themselves and so the horses could get some proper rest. Latitude, 24° 12' 42" S. Temperature at 1 p.m., 86°. Elevation above sea level, 724 feet.
21ST SEPTEMBER.—Thermometer at 6 a.m., 63°. I found that the various tributaries to the river channel had imparted to it a greater tendency westward; but we fell in with it again six miles to the westward of where we had passed the night. Its character was the same—a concatenation of ponds amongst brigalow; but these seemed better filled with water, apparently from the more decided slopes and firmer soil of the adjacent country. The course next turned considerably to the southward of west, while one ana-branch separating from it, ran about westward. I found an open plain between these, across which I travelled; until, again meeting the southern branch, we crossed it where it seemed to turn more to the northward. The day was warm, and I halted two hours under the shade of some trees, where I laid down our journey on paper, and found we were making great progress towards Carpentaria, across a very open country. We were no longer in doubt about finding water, although in the heart of Australia, surrounded by an unbroken horizon. On proceeding, we passed some large huts near the river, which were of a more substantial construction, and also on a better plan than those usually set up by the aborigines of the south. A frame like a lean-to roof had first been erected; rafters had next been laid upon that; and, thereupon thin square portions of bark were laid, like tiles. A fine pond of water being near, we there spancelled our horses and lay down for the night. At 5 p.m. the thermometer was at 82°. Height above the sea, 707 feet.
21ST SEPTEMBER.—Thermometer at 6 a.m., 63°. I noticed that the various tributaries of the river had caused it to head more westward; however, we encountered it again six miles to the west of where we spent the night. It looked the same—a series of ponds surrounded by brigalow trees; but these appeared to have more water, likely due to the more defined slopes and firmer soil in the area. The river’s path then shifted significantly to the south of west, while a side branch split off and flowed westward. I discovered an open plain between the two, which I crossed until I rejoined the southern branch, where we crossed it at a point where it seemed to veer more northward. The day was warm, so I rested for two hours in the shade of some trees, where I mapped out our journey and realized we were making great progress toward Carpentaria across a very open landscape. We were no longer uncertain about finding water, even though we were deep in Australia, surrounded by an unbroken horizon. Continuing on, we passed some large huts near the river, which were sturdier and better constructed than the typical ones built by the Aboriginal people of the south. A frame similar to a lean-to had been built first; then rafters were placed on top, and thin, square pieces of bark were laid down like tiles. With a nice pond nearby, we tethered our horses and settled down for the night. At 5 p.m., the thermometer read 82°. Height above sea level, 707 feet.
22D SEPTEMBER.—Thermometer, at 6 a.m., 58°. This was no sandybedded river like others we had discovered. The bed still consisted of firm clay, and now the rich vegetation on the banks presented so much novelty, that, without the means of carrying an herbarium, I was nevertheless tempted to select a bouquet of flowers for Dr. Lindley, and carry them amongst my folded maps. The very herbage at this camp was curious. One plant supplied an excellent dish of vegetables. There were others resembling parsley, and having the taste of water-cresses with white turnip-like roots. Here grew also a dwarf or tropical CAPPARIS. Among the grasses was a tawny ERIANTHUS, apparently the same as that formerly seen on the banks of the Bogan, and the curious DANTHONIA PECTINATA, gathered in Australia Felix in 1836. There was also amongst the grasses a PAPPOPHORUM, which was perhaps the P. GRACILE, formerly collected in the tropical part of New Holland by Dr. Brown; and a very remarkable new species of the same curious genus, with an open narrow panicle, and little branches not unlike those of a young oat.[*] The river again formed a goodly continuous channel. Its most splendid feature, the wide open plains, continued along its banks, and I set out on this, as we had indeed on all other mornings since we made the discovery, intensely interested in the direction of its course. We had not prolonged our journey very far across the plains, keeping the trees of the river we had left visible on our right, when another line of river trees appeared over the downs on our left. Thus it seemed we were between two rivers, with their junction before us, for the ground declined in that direction. And so we found it. At about seven miles from where we had slept, we arrived at the broad channel of the first river we had traced down, whose impetuous floods had left the trees half bent to the earth, and clogged with drift matter; not on any narrow space, but across a deep section of 400 yards. The rocks in the channel were washed quite bare, and crystal water lay in ponds amongst these rocks. A high gravelly bank, crowned with brigalow, formed the western margin, but no brigalow could withstand the impetuous currents, that evidently, at some seasons, swept down there. It was quite refreshing to see all clear and green, over so broad a water-worn space. The junction with the northern river took place just below, and I continued my journey, not a little curious to see what sort of a river would be formed by these channels when united. I found the direction of the course to be about N.W., both running nearly parallel. About three miles on I approached the united channel, and found the broad, deep, and placid waters of a river as large as the Murray. Pelican and ducks floated upon it, and mussle-shells of extraordinary size lay in such quantities, where the natives had been in the habit of eating them, as to resemble snow covering the ground. But even that reach seemed diminutive when compared with the vast body of water whereof traces had, at another season, been left there; these affording evidence that, although wide, they had still been impetuous in their course. Verdure alone shone now, over the wide extent to which the waters sometimes rose. Beyond that channel lay the almost boundless plains, the whole together forming the finest region I had ever seen in Australia. Two kinds of grass grew on these plains; one of them a brome grass, possessing the remarkable property of shooting up green from the old stalk.
22D SEPTEMBER.—Thermometer at 6 a.m. read 58°. This wasn’t a sandy riverbed like others we had found. The bed was made of solid clay, and the lush vegetation along the banks was so unusual that, even without a way to carry an herbarium, I was tempted to pick a bouquet of flowers for Dr. Lindley and stash them among my folded maps. The plants at this camp were interesting. One plant provided a great vegetable dish. There were others like parsley that tasted like watercress and had white, turnip-like roots. We also found a dwarf tropical CAPPARIS growing here. Among the grasses was a tawny ERIANTHUS, apparently the same as one we had previously seen on the banks of the Bogan, and the interesting DANTHONIA PECTINATA, which I had gathered in Australia Felix in 1836. There was also a PAPPOPHORUM among the grasses, possibly the P. GRACILE, collected in the tropical part of New Holland by Dr. Brown, along with a very notable new species from the same intriguing genus, featuring a loosely arranged narrow flower cluster, with small branches similar to those of young oats.[*] The river had formed a solid, continuous channel again. Its most striking feature, the wide open plains, extended alongside its banks, and I set off along this, just as we had on every other morning since our discovery, deeply engaged in the direction of its flow. We hadn't traveled far across the plains, keeping the trees of the river we had left visible on our right, when another line of river trees appeared over the hills to our left. It seemed we were between two rivers, with their junction ahead of us, as the ground sloped in that direction. And that’s exactly what we found. About seven miles from where we had slept, we reached the wide channel of the first river we had followed, whose mighty floods had left the trees bent towards the earth, entangled with debris; not in a narrow space, but across a broad section of 400 yards. The rocks in the channel were entirely exposed, and clear water pooled among them. A high gravel bank, topped with brigalow, made up the western edge, but no brigalow could withstand the powerful currents that clearly swept through here at certain times of the year. It was refreshing to see everything so clear and green over such a broad, water-worn area. The junction with the northern river occurred just below, and I continued my journey, eager to discover what kind of river these channels would form when combined. I found the direction of the flow to be about N.W., both rivers running nearly parallel. After about three miles, I reached the combined channel and found the broad, deep, and calm waters of a river as large as the Murray. Pelicans and ducks floated on it, and enormous mussel shells lay in such abundance, where the natives had been feasting on them, that they looked like snow blanketing the ground. But even that stretch seemed small compared to the vast volume of water that had once flowed through there; traces of which showed that, although broad, they had been swift in their course. Only greenery now stretched across the wide area where the waters sometimes rose. Beyond that channel lay the nearly endless plains, all together creating the most beautiful region I had ever seen in Australia. Two types of grass grew on these plains; one was brome grass, noted for its impressive ability to sprout green from the old stalks.
[* P. AVENACEUM (Lindl. MS.); aristis 9 inaequalibus scabris infra medium plumosis, paniculâ pilosâ angustâ interruptâ ramulis inferioribus demum refractis, spiculis 3-floris, glumis pubescentibus multistriatis, paleis villosis, foliis......]
[* P. AVENACEUM (Lindl. MS.); with 9 unequal rough awns below the middle, a hairy narrow panicle that is interrupted with lower branches eventually bending down, spikelets with 3 flowers, pubescent glumes with multiple striations, and hairy lemmas, leaves......]
The bees were also new to Yuranigh, who drew my attention to their extreme smallness; not much exceeding in size a knat or mosquito. Nevertheless, he could cut out their honey from hollow trees, and thus occasionally procure for us a pleasant lunch, of a waxy compound, found with the honey, which, in appearance and taste much resembled fine gingerbread. The honey itself was slightly acid, but clear and fine flavoured.
The bees were also new to Yuranigh, who pointed out their tiny size; they were hardly bigger than a gnat or mosquito. Still, he could extract their honey from hollow trees, allowing us to enjoy a nice lunch now and then of a waxy substance found with the honey, which looked and tasted a lot like good gingerbread. The honey itself was a bit tangy, but clear and had a great flavor.
I hoped the deep reach would have been continuous, as it looked navigable, even for steamers, but it continued so only for a few miles, beyond which the channel contained ponds only. I finally alighted beside one of these ponds, which was so large, indeed, that the colonists would have called it a lagoon; this one being high above the river channel, on a verdant plain. As yet, we had not seen a single inhabitant of this El Dorado of Australia. At 2 p.m. thermometer 88°. Height above the sea 712 feet.
I had hoped the deep stretch would be continuous since it looked passable, even for steamers, but it only lasted a few miles, after which the channel was just filled with ponds. I eventually settled next to one of these ponds, which was so large that the colonists would have called it a lagoon; this one was elevated above the river channel, on a green plain. So far, we hadn’t seen a single person in this El Dorado of Australia. At 2 p.m., the thermometer read 88°. Height above sea level: 712 feet.
23D SEPTEMBER.—At 7 a.m. thermometer 59°. Latitude 24° 2' S. New flowers perfumed the dry bed of this river, and these showed, in their forms and structure, that nature even in variety is infinite. I regretted I could not collect specimens. Our only care now, was the duration of our provisions. Water was less a subject of anxiety with me now, than it had been at any period of the journey. We had made the Emu eke out our little stock, and my men (two old soldiers) were willing to undergo any privation that might enable me to prolong my ride. This day completed half the month, but I was determined to follow the course of this interesting river at least four days longer. The back of one of our pack horses had become so sore, that he would no longer endure a load; we threw away the pack saddle, and divided his load, so as to distribute it in portions, on some of the saddle horses and the other pack animal. The course of the river towards the west, and our limited time, obliged me to stride over as much of the general direction as possible. I crossed the river, and travelled across open downs. I saw the tops of its Yarra trees on my left. At about four miles, we crossed what seemed a large river, but which must have been only an ana-branch from the main stream. We next traversed a fine open down of six miles; the soil, a firm blue clay with gravel, and on this grew two varieties of grass which I had seen nowhere else. The valley I next approached, contained the channel of a river flowing towards our river; a tributary, which evidently bore impetuous floods into it, sometimes. This also ran in three channels. I called it the Alice.
23D SEPTEMBER.—At 7 a.m., the thermometer read 59°. Latitude 24° 2' S. New flowers filled the dry riverbed with their fragrance, showcasing the endless variety of nature. I regretted not being able to collect samples. Our main concern now was how long our supplies would last. Water wasn’t a worry for me anymore, unlike earlier in the journey. We had the Emu help stretch our limited stock, and my men (two old soldiers) were willing to endure any hardship that would allow me to continue my ride. Today marked the halfway point of the month, but I was determined to follow this intriguing river for at least four more days. One of our pack horses had developed such sore spots that he could no longer carry a load; we discarded the pack saddle and redistributed his load among some of the saddle horses and the other pack animal. The river's westward path and our tight schedule forced me to cover as much distance as possible in a straight line. I crossed the river and traveled over open plains. I could see the tops of its Yarra trees to my left. After about four miles, we crossed what looked like a large river, but it must have just been a branch of the main stream. We then traversed a beautiful open plain for six miles; the soil was solid blue clay with gravel, and two types of grass grew here that I hadn’t seen anywhere else. The next valley I reached contained the channel of a river flowing toward our river; a tributary that clearly sometimes brought strong floods into it. This river also ran in three channels. I named it the Alice.
As this new river was likely to turn the main stream off to the westward or south, I travelled west by compass over vast downs, finely variegated with a few loose trees like a park, but extending on all sides to the horizon. Where I looked for the main channel, I saw rising ground of this kind; and meeting with another small river, with a stoney bed and water in it, I bivouacqued, for the day was very hot; the thermometer, at 3 p.m., 90° in the shade. The pond here was much frequented by pigeons, and a new sort of elegant form and plumage, was so numerous that five were killed at two shots. The head was jet-black, the neck milkwhite, the wings fawn-colour, having lower feathers of purple. I had no means of preserving a specimen, but I took a drawing of one.[*] Height above the sea here, 826 feet.
As this new river was probably going to divert the main stream to the west or south, I traveled west using my compass over vast open areas, beautifully dotted with a few scattered trees like a park, but stretching out in all directions to the horizon. Where I expected to find the main channel, I saw rising ground like this; and upon encountering another small river with a stony bed and water, I set up camp for the night since it was extremely hot; the thermometer read 90°F in the shade at 3 p.m. This pond was a popular spot for pigeons, and a new type with elegant shape and plumage was so plentiful that I shot five with just two shots. The head was jet-black, the neck was milk-white, the wings were fawn-colored, with the lower feathers appearing purple. I had no way to preserve a specimen, but I made a drawing of one.[*] The elevation here was 826 feet above sea level.
[* By which I find it has been named GEOPHAPS HISTRIONIEA.]
[* By which I find it has been named GEOPHAPS HISTRIONIEA.]
24TH SEPTEMBER.—I continued to seek the river across extensive downs, in many parts of which dead brigalow stumps remained, apparently as if the decay of that species of scrub gave place to open ground. I turned now to the S.W., and became anxious to see the river again. At length we came upon a creek, which I followed down, first to the S.W. and next southerly, until it was time to alight, when we established our bivouac by a large lagoon in its bed, in latitude 24° 3' 30" S. Thermometer, at 3 p.m. 98°. Height above the sea, 688 feet.
24TH SEPTEMBER.—I kept looking for the river across wide open fields, where many dead brigalow stumps were left behind, as if the dying of that type of scrub made way for clear ground. I turned to the S.W. and grew eager to see the river again. Eventually, we found a creek, which I followed down, first to the S.W. and then south, until it was time to stop. We set up our camp by a large lagoon in its bed, in latitude 24° 3' 30" S. The thermometer showed 98° at 3 p.m. The elevation above sea level was 688 feet.
25TH SEPTEMBER.—At 6 a.m. the thermometer stood at 73°. We ought to have been retrogressive yesterday, according to the time calculated on for our stock of provisions; but we could not leave the river without tracing it to the furthest accesible point. We still continued, therefore, to follow the water-course which had brought us thus far, expecting at every turn to find its junction with the river, whose course had obviously turned more than usual to the southward. We fell in with a larger tributary from the N. W.; after which junction, the tributary took a more westerly direction than the minor channel which brought us to it. We thus came upon a large lagoon, beside which were the huts of a very numerous tribe of natives, who appeared to have been there very recently, as some of the fires were still burning. Well beaten paths, and large permanent huts, were seen beyond that encampment; and it was plain that we had entered the home of a numerous tribe. I should have gladly avoided them at that time, had not a sight of the river been indispensable, and the course of the creek we were upon, the only certain guide to it. Level plains extended along its banks, and I had been disappointed by the appearance of lofty Yarra trees, which grew on the banks of large lagoons. On approaching one of these, loud shrieks of many women and children, and the angry voices of men, apprised me that we had, at length, overtaken the tribe; and, unfortunately, had come upon them by surprise. "AYA MINYÀ!" was vociferated repeatedly, and was understood to mean, "What do you want!" (What seek ye in the land of Macgregor!) I steadily adhered to my new plan of tactics towards the aborigines, and took not the slightest notice of them, but steadily rode forward, according to my compass bearing. On looking back for my men, I saw one beckoning me to return. He had observed two natives, with spears and clubs, hide themselves behind a bush in the direction in which I was advancing. On my halting, they stole away, and, when a little further on, I perceived an old white-haired woman before me, on seeing whom I turned slightly to one side, that we might not frighten her or provoke the tribe. The whole party seemed to have been amusing themselves in the water during the noon-day heat, which was excessive; and the cool shades around the lagoon looked most luxuriant. Our position, on the contrary, was anything but enviable. With jaded horses scarcely able to lift a leg, amongst so many natives, whose language was incomprehensible, even to Yuranigh. I asked him whether we might not come to a parley with them, and see if they could understand him. His answer was brief; and, without turning even his head once to look at them:—"You go on!" which advice, quite according with my own notions, founded on experience, I willingly went on. Even there, in the heart of the interior, on a river utterly unheard of by white men, an iron tomahawk glittered on high in the hand of a chief, having a very long handle to it. The anxious care of the females to carry off their children seemed the most agreeable feature in the scene, and they had a mode of carrying them on the haunch, which was different from anything I had seen. Some had been digging in the mud for worms, others searching for freshwater muscles; and if the whole could have been witnessed unperceived, such a scene of domestic life amongst the aborigines had been worth a little more risk. The strong men assumed a strange attitude, which seemed very expressive of surprise; having the right knee bent, the left leg forward, the right arm dropping, but grasping clubs; the left arm raised, and the fingers spread out. "Aya, aya, minyà!" they continually shouted; and well might they ask what we wanted! Hoping they would believe us to be Centaurs, and include the two old pack-horses in counting our numbers, I had not the slightest desire to let them know us more particularly; and so travelled on, glad, at length, to hear their "Aya minyàs" grow fainter, and that we were leaving them behind. About five miles further south, the perfume from the liliaceous banks of the river was the first indication of its vicinity. We found it full 400 yards broad, presenting its usual characteristics,—several separate channels and ponds of water; there, according to the barometer, the height above the sea was only 633 feet; the temperature at 3 p.m., in the shade, 99° of Fahrenheit. We watered our horses, crossed, and plunged into the brigalow beyond, where I meant to steal a march upon the noisy tribe; who, by that time, probably were sending to call in their hunting parties, that they might follow our track. Their mode of killing a kangaroo may best exemplify their tactics towards strangers; whose path in the same manner could be followed by day, and sat down beside at night, to be again tracked in the morning, until the object of pursuit could be overtaken. The brigalow beyond the river grew on a rising ground of sharpedged red gravel, and, from a small opening, I saw the course of the river running nearly northward. Here, then, I turned towards the east to travel home by ascending the left bank, with the intention to cut off the great sweep which the river described, as we had found on tracing it down; and, in hopes we should so intercept any tributaries it might receive from that side. At dusk, I met with one containing a fine lagoon, and near this I fixed my bivouac. Yuranigh most firmly objected to our sitting down close by the water, saying we might there be too easily speared by the wild natives who were then, probably, on our track; but he did not object to my bivouac on the more open plain adjacent, one man keeping a good look-out. I called these, Yuranigh's ponds. Latitude, 24° 19' 2" S.
25TH SEPTEMBER.—At 6 a.m. the thermometer read 73°. We should have retraced our steps yesterday based on our food supply timing, but we couldn’t leave the river without exploring it to the furthest point we could reach. So, we continued to follow the watercourse that had brought us this far, expecting at every turn to find where it joined the river, whose path had clearly shifted more than usual to the south. We encountered a larger tributary coming from the northwest; after that junction, the tributary flowed more to the west than the smaller channel that led us there. This led us to a large lagoon, beside which were the huts of a very large tribe of natives, who seemed to have been there recently, as some fires were still burning. Well-worn paths and large permanent huts were visible beyond that campsite, making it clear that we had entered the territory of a sizable tribe. I would have gladly avoided them at that moment if I didn’t need to see the river, and the creek we were on was the only reliable way to get there. Flat plains stretched along its banks, and I had been disappointed by the sight of tall Yarra trees growing along the shores of large lagoons. As we approached one of these, loud screams from many women and children, along with the angry voices of men, made it clear we had finally caught up with the tribe, and unfortunately, had surprised them. "AYA MINYÀ!" was shouted repeatedly, meaning "What do you want?" (What are you looking for in the land of Macgregor!) I stuck to my new strategy with the aborigines and ignored them completely, just riding forward according to my compass direction. When I looked back for my men, I saw one of them signaling me to come back. He had noticed two natives, armed with spears and clubs, hiding behind a bush in the direction I was heading. When I stopped, they slipped away, and a bit further on, I saw an old white-haired woman ahead of me. To avoid scaring her or provoking the tribe, I turned slightly to the side. The whole group seemed to have been cooling off in the water during the scorching midday heat; the cool shade around the lagoon looked incredibly inviting. In contrast, our situation was anything but desirable, with tired horses barely able to move among so many natives, whose language was incomprehensible, even to Yuranigh. I asked him if we could talk to them and see if they understood him. His response was short, and without even looking at them, he said, "You go on!" which fit perfectly with my own thoughts, based on experience, so I decided to keep going. Even here, deep in the interior, on a river entirely unknown to white men, a chief held a shining iron tomahawk high, which had a very long handle. The worried mothers trying to pick up their children seemed to be the most pleasant part of the scene, and they had a way of carrying them on their hips that I hadn’t seen before. Some were digging in the mud for worms, while others searched for freshwater mussels; if I could have observed the whole scene unnoticed, it would have been worth a little more risk to see this slice of domestic life among the aborigines. The strong men took on a peculiar pose, which looked very expressive of surprise; their right knee bent, the left leg forward, right arm dropped but holding clubs, and the left arm raised with fingers spread. "Aya, aya, minyà!" they kept shouting, and they had every reason to ask what we wanted! Hoping they might mistake us for Centaurs and include the two old packhorses in counting our numbers, I had no desire to let them know us better, so we continued on, relieved to hear their "Aya minyàs" fading behind us. About five miles further south, the sweet scent from the liliaceous banks of the river was the first sign of its proximity. We found it was 400 yards wide, showing its usual characteristics—several separate channels and ponds. According to the barometer, we were only 633 feet above sea level; the temperature at 3 p.m. was 99° Fahrenheit in the shade. We watered our horses, crossed the river, and headed into the brigalow beyond, where I planned to sneak a march on the noisy tribe, who by then were likely calling in their hunting parties to follow our trail. Their way of hunting kangaroos exemplified how they tracked strangers; they could follow a trail during the day and camp nearby at night to track it again in the morning until they could catch up with their prey. The brigalow beyond the river grew on a sloping ground of sharp red gravel, and from a small gap, I glimpsed the river running almost northward. I then turned east to make my way home by climbing the left bank, intending to cut off the large bend the river made, which we had noted while tracing it down, hoping to intercept any tributaries it might gather from that side. At dusk, I came across one that held a nice lagoon, and nearby I set up my camp. Yuranigh strongly protested against camping close to the water, saying that we could easily be speared by the wild natives who were likely on our trail; however, he didn’t object to my camp on the more open plain nearby, with one man keeping a watchful eye. I named these Yuranigh's ponds. Latitude, 24° 19' 2" S.
26TH SEPTEMBER.—At 6 a.m. the thermometer stood at 61°. My horse was quite leg-weary, and I was very loath to force him on, but one day's journey further was indispensable. We traversed open plains and passed through patches of brigalow of an open kind of scrub. The surface was grassy, but very gravelly; indeed it was, in many places, so devoid of mould as to resemble a newly Macadamized road,—the fragments being much of that size, and in general of a reddish colour, consisting, for the most part, of a red siliceous compound. In a ride of twenty-six miles, we saw no country much better, and I was obliged to conclude that the left bank was by no means so good as the country on the right, or to the northward of the river. We arrived, however, by nightfall, at a goodly water-course, in which we providentially found a pond, and encamped; resolved there to rest our horses next day, (being Sunday,) and most thankful to Him to whom the day was dedicated. Latitude 24° 12' 37" S. Thermometer, at 6 p.m., 92°.
26TH SEPTEMBER.—At 6 a.m., the thermometer read 61°. My horse was really tired, and I was very hesitant to push him forward, but we needed to travel one more day. We crossed open plains and went through patches of open brigalow scrub. The ground was grassy but very rocky; in fact, in many places, it was so lacking in soil that it looked like a freshly paved road—the stones being about that size, and generally a reddish color, mostly made of a red siliceous compound. During our 26-mile ride, we didn’t find any land that was much better, and I had to conclude that the left bank was definitely not as good as the area on the right, or to the north of the river. However, by nightfall, we arrived at a good watercourse, where we fortunately found a pond, and set up camp; we decided to let our horses rest the next day (being Sunday), and we were very grateful to Him to whom the day was dedicated. Latitude 24° 12' 37" S. Thermometer, at 6 p.m., 92°.
27TH SEPTEMBER.—Thermometer, at 6 a.m., 68°. On laying down my work on paper, I found we had made a most favourable cut on the way homewards, our old bivouac of the 21st inst., being about due east from us, and distant not quite fifteen miles; the great tributary from the S.E. passing between, upon which we could depend for a supply of water, if it should be required.
27TH SEPTEMBER.—Thermometer, at 6 a.m., 68°. After finishing my writing, I realized we had found a great route on our way home, with our previous camp from the 21st positioned almost directly east of us, not quite fifteen miles away. There’s a major stream coming from the southeast in between, which we could rely on for water if we needed it.
It would appear that the finer the climate, and the fewer man's wants, the more he sinks towards the condition of the lower animals. Where the natives had passed the night, no huts, even of bushes, had been set up; a few tufts of dry grass only, marked the spot where, beside a small fire, each person had sat folded up, like the capital letter N; but with the head reclining on the knees, and the whole person resting on the feet and thigh-joints, clasped together by the hands grasping each ankle. Their occupation during the day was only wallowing in a muddy hole, in no respect cleaner than swine. They have no idea of any necessity for washing themselves between their birth and the grave, while groping in mud for worms, with hands that have always an unpleasant fishy taint that clings strangely to whatever they touch. The child of civilization that would stain even a shoe or a stocking with one spot of that mud, would probably be whipt by the nurse: savage children are not subject to that sort of restraint. Whether school discipline may have any thing to do with the difference so remarkable between the animal spirits of children of civilised parents and those of savages, I shall make no remark; but that the buoyancy of spirit and cheerfulness of the youth amongst the savages of Australia, seem to render them agreeable companions to the men on their hunting excursions, almost as soon as they can run about. If the naturalist looks a savage in the mouth, he finds ivory teeth, a clean tongue, and sweet breath; but in the mouth of a white specimen of similar, or indeed less, age, it is ten to one but he would discover only impurity and decay, however clean the shoes and stockings worn, or however fine the flour of which his or her food had consisted. What, then, is civilization in the economy of the human animal? one is led to inquire. A little reflection affords a satisfactory answer. Cultivated man despises the perishable substance, and pursues the immortal shadow. Animal gratification is transient and dull, compared to the acquisition of knowledge—the gratification of mind—the raptures of the poet, or the delight of the enthusiast, however imaginary. It is true that, amongst civilized men, substance is still represented by the yellow ore, and that the votaries of beauty "bend in silken slavery;" but are not beauty or gold as dust in the balance, substantial though they be, when weighed in lofty minds against glory or immortality? When the shadow he pursues is worth more, and is more enduring than the substance, well might it be said that "Man is but a shadow, and life a dream." Such were my reflections on this day of rest, in the heart of a desert, while protected from the sun's rays by a blanket, and in some uncertainty how long these dreams under it would continue undisturbed.
It seems that the better the climate and the fewer needs people have, the more they resemble lower animals. Where the locals had spent the night, there were no huts, not even makeshift ones from bushes; just a few patches of dry grass marked the spot where each person had sat curled up, like a capital letter N, with their head resting on their knees and their whole body resting on their feet and thighs, which were clasped together by hands holding each ankle. Their daytime activities mainly consisted of wallowing in a muddy hole that was no cleaner than what pigs would use. They have no concept of needing to wash themselves from birth to death while digging in the mud for worms, with hands that always carry a strange, unpleasant fishy smell that clings stubbornly to anything they touch. A civilized child that would dirty even a shoe or sock with a spot of that mud would likely be punished by their caregiver; savage children, however, are not subjected to such constraints. Whether school discipline plays a role in the striking difference between the lively spirits of civilized children and those of savages, I won't comment, but the buoyant spirit and cheerfulness of young people among the Australian savages seem to make them enjoyable companions on hunting trips almost as soon as they can walk. If a naturalist examines a savage's mouth, they find ivory teeth, a clean tongue, and fresh breath; but in the mouth of a similarly aged white person, it's likely to reveal only decay and dirtiness, regardless of how clean their shoes and socks are or how refined their food. So what, then, is civilization in the functioning of human beings? This prompts reflection, and a thoughtful answer emerges. Cultivated humans dismiss material possessions and chase after enduring ideas. Animal pleasure is fleeting and dull compared to the pursuit of knowledge—the stimulation of the mind—the ecstasy of the poet, or the joy of the enthusiast, no matter how imaginary. It’s true that in civilized society, material wealth is often represented by gold, and followers of beauty "are bound in silken slavery"; yet aren’t beauty and gold as insignificant as dust when weighed in the minds of the lofty against glory or immortality? When the shadow one chases is worth more and lasts longer than the substance, it’s easy to say that "Man is but a shadow, and life a dream." These were my thoughts on this day of rest in the midst of a desert, shielded from the sun’s rays by a blanket, uncertain of how long these dreams would remain undisturbed.
"The mind is its own place, and in itself Can make a heaven of hell: a hell of heaven!"
"The mind is its own space, and within it Can create a paradise out of pain: a torment out of bliss!"
Thermometer, at 6 p.m., 90°.
Thermometer, 6 p.m., 90°F.
28TH SEPTEMBER.—Thermometer, at 6 a.m., 63°. The horses were much refreshed by that day's repose, and we this morning continued our journey in an easterly direction, over downs and through open scrubs, meeting no impediment from brigalow. We crossed the various branches of a considerable tributary coming from E.S.E., the only water seen this day, besides the great river; which we met with, exactly where, according to its general course, it was to be looked for. We crossed it, and encamped on the right bank of the northern river, at the place where I had previously crossed.
28TH SEPTEMBER.—Thermometer, at 6 a.m., 63°. The horses were well-rested from their break, and this morning we continued our journey heading east, over hills and through open scrub, facing no obstacles from brigalow. We crossed several branches of a significant tributary coming from the southeast, the only water we encountered today apart from the major river, which we found exactly where we expected it based on its usual path. We crossed it and set up camp on the right bank of the northern river, at the spot where I had crossed before.
This day I had discovered, from the highest parts of the downs, a range to the S. W., and was able to intersect some of the principal hills, and so determine its place and direction. I named the most westerly feature, Mount Gray; the lofty central mass, the Gowen Range, and a bold summit forming the eastern portion, Mount Koenig. I had now obtained data sufficient to enable me to determine the extent of the lower basin of the river, by laying down the position and direction of the nearest ranges. The last-mentioned appeared flat-topped, and presented yellow cliffs like sandstone. At 6 p.m., the temperature was 81°.
Today, I discovered, from the highest points of the hills, a range to the southwest, and I was able to outline some of the main hills, which helped me figure out its location and direction. I named the farthest western feature Mount Gray; the tall central mass the Gowen Range, and a prominent peak on the eastern side Mount Koenig. I now had enough information to determine the extent of the lower river basin by marking the position and direction of the closest ranges. The last one I mentioned looked flat-topped and had yellow cliffs that resembled sandstone. At 6 p.m., the temperature was 81°.
29TH SEPTEMBER.—At 6 a.m., the thermometer was 59°. Re-crossing the river, I travelled, in a straight line, towards my camp of 19th September: thus, performing in one, the journeys of two former days. We crossed the main channel we had previously traced down, thus identifying it. The country was, in general, open; the downs well covered with grass, and redolent with the rich perfume of lilies and strange flowers, which grew all over them amongst the grass. We arrived at the spot I sought, and there encamped. Our provisions were nearly out; the sun having reduced the men's sugar, and melted the bacon, which had been boiled before we set out. This was an unfortunate blunder. Bacon, in such warm weather, should be carried uncooked, and our's might have then been very good. The men jocosely remarked, that, although we had out-manoeuvred the natives, the weather had been so hot that, nevertheless, we could not "save our bacon." Thermometer, at 5 p.m., 83°.
29TH SEPTEMBER.—At 6 a.m., the thermometer read 59°. I crossed the river again and headed straight toward my camp from 19th September, effectively combining the journeys of the past two days. We crossed the main channel we had traced before, confirming its path. The landscape was mostly open, with hills covered in grass and filled with the sweet scent of lilies and other strange flowers growing among the grass. We reached the spot I was looking for and set up camp. Our supplies were nearly depleted; the sun had turned the sugar for the men into syrup and melted the bacon we had cooked before leaving. This was a regrettable mistake. In such warm weather, bacon should be carried uncooked, and ours might have been fine then. The men joked that, even though we had outsmarted the locals, the hot weather still meant we couldn’t “save our bacon.” The thermometer read 83° at 5 p.m.
30TH SEPTEMBER.—Thermometer, at 7 a.m., 67°. I found, by my map, that I might very much shorten the homeward route to next camp (that of 18th September), by travelling towards it in a straight line across the downs. We accordingly set out on the bearing of 5½° S. of E., and hit the spot exactly at a distance of eighteen miles; arriving early, so as to afford some good rest to our horses. We crossed open downs chiefly, passed through a narrow belt of brigalow (about a mile wide), and twice crossed a tributary to the river, which tributary we thus discovered. The water-course on which we had again encamped, arose in open downs of fine firm clay, and it was pleasant to see a great river thus supplied by the waters collected only amongst the swelling undulations and valleys of the country through which it passed, like the rivers of Europe. The river we had discovered, seemed, in this respect, essentially different from others in Australia, which usually arise in mountains, and appear to be rather designed to convey water into regions where it is wanting, than to carry off any surplus from the surfaces over which they run.
30TH SEPTEMBER.—At 7 a.m., the thermometer read 67°. I noticed on my map that I could significantly shorten our path back to the next camp (from September 18) by heading straight across the downs. So, we set off with a bearing of 5½° S. of E. and reached our destination exactly eighteen miles away, arriving early to give our horses a good rest. We mostly crossed open downs, passed through a narrow stretch of brigalow (about a mile wide), and crossed a tributary to the river twice, which we discovered along the way. The water-course where we camped again rose in open downs of solid clay, and it was nice to see a large river fed by waters collected solely from the gentle hills and valleys of the country, similar to the rivers in Europe. The river we found appeared to be fundamentally different from most others in Australia, which typically originate in mountains and seem more focused on channeling water to areas in need rather than draining excess from the land they traverse.
1ST OCTOBER.—Our track back across the downs, brought again into view the Northern range, and I now named the prominent mountain at its salient, Mount Northampton, in honour of the noble marquis at the head of the Royal Society. The range to the southward also appeared above the trees of the valley, and I gave the name of Mount Inniskillen to the salient mountain, which appeared so remarkable a feature to us on first advancing into that region, from the eastward. We again reached the river this day, after traversing the wide plains. Its woods still resounded with the plaintive cooing of a dove, which I had not seen elsewhere. At a distance, the sound resembled the distant cooy of female natives, and we at first took it for their voices until we ascertained whence these notes came. I had arrived at a fine reach of the river, and while watering the horses, preparatory to leaving its banks, (to make a short cut on our former route,) when a pair of these birds appeared on a bough over head, so near that I could take a drawing, by which I have since ascertained the bird to have been GEOPELIA CUNEATA.
1ST OCTOBER.—Our route back across the downs brought the Northern range into view again, and I named the prominent mountain at its peak Mount Northampton, in honor of the noble marquis leading the Royal Society. The range to the south also emerged above the trees of the valley, and I named the notable mountain Mount Inniskillen, which stood out to us as we first entered that area from the east. We reached the river again today after crossing the wide plains. Its woods were still filled with the sad cooing of a dove that I hadn’t seen anywhere else. At a distance, the sound resembled the distant cooing of local women, and we initially thought it was their voices until we figured out where the sounds were coming from. I had arrived at a lovely stretch of the river, and while watering the horses to prepare for leaving its banks (to take a shortcut on our previous route), a pair of these birds appeared on a branch overhead, close enough for me to sketch, which I later identified as GEOPELIA CUNEATA.
But the river we were about to leave required a name, for no natives could be made to understand our questions, even had they been more willing than they were to communicate at all. It seemed to me, to deserve a great name, being of much importance, as leading from temperate into tropical regions, where water was the essential requisite,—a river leading to India; the "nacimiento de la especeria," or REGION WHERE SPICES GREW: the grand goal, in short, of explorers by sea and land, from Columbus downwards. This river seemed to me typical of God's providence, in conveying living waters into a dry parched land, and thus affording access to open and extensive pastoral regions, likely to be soon peopled by civilised inhabitants. It was with sentiments of devotion, zeal, and loyalty, that I therefore gave to this river the name of my gracious sovereign, Queen Victoria. There seemed to be much novelty in the plants along its banks. The shells of the fresh-water mussle (UNIO), which lay about the old fires of the natives, exceeded in size any we had seen elsewhere. I measured one, and found it six inches long, and three and a half broad. On the plains near this spot, grew a beautiful little ACACIA, resembling A. PENDULA, but a distinct species, according to Mr. Bentham.[*] We crossed the open downs and our former route, hastening to make the tributary river before night. We reached the channel by sunset; the moon was nearly full, and we continued to search in the bed for water, until we again fell in with our former track, near the place where we had watered our horses on the morning of the 17th September. On hastening to the pond, we found the intense heat of the last twelve days had dried it up, and we were obliged to encamp without water; a most unpleasant privation after a ride of thirty miles, under an almost vertical sun. The river must receive a great addition below this branch from the Northampton ranges, entering probably about that great bend we had this day cut off; leaving the deep reaches formerly seen there, on our left, or to the northward. An uncommon drought had not only dried up the waters of this river, but killed much of the brigalow scrub so effectually, that the dead trunks alone remained on vast tracts, thus becoming open downs.
But the river we were about to leave needed a name, since the locals couldn’t understand our questions, even if they had been more willing to talk. It seemed to me that it deserved a grand title, being important as it connected temperate to tropical regions, where water was essential—a river leading to India; the "nacimiento de la especeria," or REGION WHERE SPICES GREW: the ultimate goal, in short, of explorers since Columbus. This river struck me as a sign of God’s providence, bringing life-giving water to a dry, parched land, and thus opening up vast pastoral regions that were likely to be settled by civilized people soon. With feelings of devotion, zeal, and loyalty, I named this river after my gracious sovereign, Queen Victoria. There appeared to be many new plants along its banks. The shells of the fresh-water mussel (UNIO), found around the old fires of the locals, were larger than any we had seen before. I measured one and found it to be six inches long and three and a half inches wide. On the plains nearby, there was a beautiful little ACACIA that looked like A. PENDULA but was a distinct species, according to Mr. Bentham.[*] We crossed the open downs and our previous route, rushing to reach the tributary river before nightfall. We arrived at the channel by sunset; the moon was almost full, and we continued to look for water in the riverbed until we found our earlier trail, near where we watered our horses on the morning of September 17th. When we hurried to the pond, we discovered that the intense heat of the past twelve days had dried it up, forcing us to camp without water; a very unpleasant situation after a thirty-mile ride under nearly vertical sun. The river must be receiving a large influx of water below this branch from the Northampton ranges, probably entering around that significant curve we had cut off today, leaving the deeper sections we had previously observed to our left, or further north. An unusual drought had not only dried up the waters of this river but had also killed much of the brigalow scrub so thoroughly that only the dead trunks remained across vast areas, turning them into open downs.
[* A. VICTORIAE (Benth. MS.) glabra, glauca, ramulis teretibus, phyllodiis linearibus subfalcatis obtusis basi angustatis crassis enervibus, glandulâ prope basin immersâ, pedunculis glaberrimis gracilibus racemosis capitulo parvo 12-20-floro multoties longioribus.]
[* A. VICTORIAE (Benth. MS.) smooth, bluish, with rounded stems, linear, slightly curved blunt leaf-like structures that are narrow at the base and thick, lacking prominent veins, with a gland near the base immersed, very smooth slender raceme stalks much longer than the small flower heads with 12-20 blooms.]
2D OCTOBER.—At 6 a.m. the thermometer gave a temperature of 59°. The height above the sea was 1081 feet. In tracing back our old track, I sent Corporal Graham to examine a part of the river channel likely to contain water, and the report of his pistol some time after in the woods, welcomer than sweetest music to our ears just then, guided us to the spot, where he had found a small pond containing enough for all our wants. For the men, having no more tea or sugar, a good drink was all that was required; the poor fellows prepared my tea not the less assiduously, although I could have had but little comfort in drinking it under such circumstances, without endeavouring to share what was almost indivisible. We this day performed a long journey, reaching our former bivouac, of the 16th September, on Graham's creek, at an early hour. Three emus were seen feeding close by; but, although several attempts were made to get near them, with a horse stalking, we could not kill any of them.
2D OCTOBER.—At 6 a.m., the thermometer read 59°. We were 1081 feet above sea level. As we retraced our old route, I sent Corporal Graham to check a section of the river channel that might have water, and we heard the sound of his pistol in the woods a while later, which was music to our ears—it led us to where he found a small pond with enough water for all our needs. The men had run out of tea and sugar, so all we needed was a decent drink; the poor guys still prepared my tea with great care, even though I could barely enjoy it under the circumstances, trying to share what was almost impossible to divide. We traveled a long distance that day, reaching our previous campsite from September 16 at Graham's creek early on. We spotted three emus feeding nearby, but despite several attempts to sneak up on them with a horse, we couldn't catch any.
3D OCTOBER.—Soon after we had quitted our bivouac, the emus were again seen on the plains. I could not deny the men the opportunity thus afforded them of obtaining some food; for, although they concealed their hunger from me, I knew they were living on bread and water. Graham succeeded in wounding one of the birds, which, nevertheless, escaped. He then chased a female followed by about a dozen young ones, towards us, when we caught three. It had occurred to me this morning, to mark and number the bivouacs we had occupied thus far, for the purpose of future reference, when any other party might proceed, or be sent again, into this country. I had, therefore, cut the number 73 on a tree at this bivouac of 3d October, under the initials N.S.W. We pursued a straight course over the downs, east by compass, until we joined our old route along the water-course, from our camp near the gap, and this brought us back, at an early hour to that spot, where I marked a tree with the figures 72.
3D OCTOBER.—Soon after we left our camp, we spotted emus again on the plains. I couldn't deny the men the chance to get some food; even though they hid their hunger from me, I knew they were surviving on bread and water. Graham managed to wound one of the birds, but it got away. He then chased a female followed by about a dozen chicks toward us, and we caught three. This morning, I thought it would be a good idea to mark and number the camps we had used so far for future reference, in case any other group came here again. So, I carved the number 73 into a tree at this camp on the 3rd of October, along with the initials N.S.W. We headed straight east across the downs until we rejoined our previous route along the watercourse, from our camp near the gap, which brought us back to the spot where I marked a tree with the number 72.
4TH OCTOBER.—We recrossed the brigalow range, (where the temperature, at 9 a.m., was 79°,) and alighted by the pond at the junction of the Nivelle and Nive; near where we had passed the night of the 12th September. This day we again saw the CALLITRIS; a tree so characteristic of sandy soils, but of which we had not observed a single specimen in the extensive country beyond. Marked 71 on a tree.
4TH OCTOBER.—We crossed the brigalow range again, (where the temperature at 9 a.m. was 79°,) and stopped by the pond at the junction of the Nivelle and Nive; near where we had spent the night of September 12th. Today we saw the CALLITRIS again; a tree that is typical of sandy soils, but we hadn’t seen a single one in the vast area beyond. Marked 71 on a tree.
5TH OCTOBER.—Soon after we left our bivouac, I saw in the grass before me, a large snake. This was rather a novelty to us, being almost the first we had seen in these northern regions of Australia. I dismounted, and went forward to strike it with a piece of wood. Yuranigh did the same, both missed it, when it unexpectedly turned upon us, took a position on higher ground beside a large tree, then descended with head erect, moving nimbly towards the horses, and the rest of the party. The deadly reptile glided straight to the forefeet of my horse, touched the fetlock with his head, but did not bite; then passed to the hind legs and did the same, fortunately the horse stood quietly. The snake darted thence towards one of the men, who was about to throw a stick at him, and was next in the act of pursuing Yuranigh, when Graham gave him a charge of small shot, which crippled his movements until he could be despatched. This snake was of a brown colour, red spotted on the belly, about six feet long, and five inches in circumference. I had never before known any Australian snake to attack a party, but we had certainly brought the attack on ourselves. We made a good cut on our former circuitous route when tracing down the river Nive, and arrived at our former bivouac at an early hour. This was fortunate, as all the ponds, formerly full of good water, had, in the interim, dried up; and I proceeded to cross the scrubby range, by pursuing a straight direction towards Mount Pluto. But some magnetic influence so deranged my compass, that, on reaching the crest of the range, I found that mountain bore nearly east instead of N. E. N. I saw three of my fixed points, however, by which, with my pocket sextant, I could ascertain our true position, which proved to be very wide of my intended course. It was, like many other accidental frustrations of my plans in this journey, an aberration that did us good, for we had thereby avoided the bad scrub formerly passed through, and also a rocky part of the range. We next descended into a valley in which, after following down a dry watercourse two miles, we found a fine pond of water, exactly as the sun was setting. This day I had shot a curious bird, somewhat resembling a small turkey, in a tree. The feathers were black; the head was bare and red. This fowl was apparently of the galinaceous tribe. The flesh was delicious, and afforded a most timely dinner to the party. A numerous body of natives had followed our former track across the rocky ranges we traversed this day, as appeared by their foot-marks, and Yuranigh also discovered, in the same manner, that three natives had this morning preceded us on our return; nevertheless we saw none of these denizens of the woods.
5TH OCTOBER.—Shortly after we left our camp, I spotted a large snake in the grass ahead of me. This was quite a surprise for us, as it was one of the first we had seen in these northern parts of Australia. I got off my horse and moved closer to try and hit it with a stick. Yuranigh did the same, but we both missed. The snake unexpectedly turned towards us, positioned itself on higher ground next to a large tree, and then came down with its head held high, moving quickly towards the horses and the rest of the group. The dangerous snake slithered right to my horse’s front legs, touched its fetlock with its head, but didn’t bite; then it moved to the back legs and did the same, fortunately, my horse stood calmly. The snake then shot towards one of the men, who was about to throw a stick at it, and began to chase Yuranigh when Graham shot it with small pellets, which hindered its movement until we could finish it off. The snake was brown with red spots on its belly, about six feet long, and five inches around. I had never seen an Australian snake attack a group before, but we had definitely provoked it. We took a good shortcut on our earlier winding route while following the Nive River and reached our previous camp early. This was lucky because all the ponds that had been full of good water had dried up in the meantime; so I started crossing the scrubby range, going straight towards Mount Pluto. However, some magnetic interference messed up my compass, and upon reaching the top of the range, I found that the mountain was nearly east instead of northeast. I spotted three of my reference points, which allowed me to use my pocket sextant to figure out our actual location, which turned out to be quite far from my intended path. This was one of those unexpected setbacks during this journey that ended up being beneficial, as we avoided the bad scrub we had gone through before, as well as a rocky part of the range. We then went down into a valley where, after following a dry creek bed for two miles, we found a nice pond of water just as the sun was setting. Earlier that day, I had shot a strange bird that looked a bit like a small turkey, perched in a tree. Its feathers were black, and its head was bare and red. This bird seemed to belong to the gallinaceous family. The meat was delicious and made for a timely dinner for the group. A large group of natives had followed our earlier path across the rocky ranges we traversed today, as shown by their footprints, and Yuranigh also discovered that three natives had walked ahead of us this morning on our way back; still, we didn’t see any of these inhabitants of the woods.
6TH OCTOBER.—Thermometer, at 6 a.m., 48°. Height above the sea, 696 feet. This day we hoped to rejoin the party at the camp of the Pyramids; but the journey was long, and it included an ascent of Mount Pluto, from which I had still to observe some important angles. I marked this bivouac, with 70 cut on a tree, the two last being, respectively marked, 71 and 72, as already stated; these numbers continuing the series from LXIX, my lowest camp on the Belyando.
6TH OCTOBER.—Thermometer at 6 a.m. was 48°. Elevation above sea level, 696 feet. Today we aimed to reconnect with the group at the Pyramids camp; however, the trek was lengthy and involved climbing Mount Pluto, where I still needed to measure some important angles. I noted this campsite with 70 carved into a tree, with the last two being marked 71 and 72, as previously mentioned; these numbers continue the series from LXIX, my lowest campsite on the Belyando.
The scrub is thick about these volcanic ranges, but on the downs and plains of Central Australia, that impediment disappears. My men and myself were in rags from passing through these scrubs, and we rejoiced at the prospect of rejoining, this day, our countrymen at the Pyramids. I found a fine open forest between the ponds where we had formerly passed the night, and Mount Pluto; and we crossed several water-courses, the grass on their banks being green and young, because the old grass had been burnt off by the natives. These water-courses form the highest sources of the Salvator. We were at no very considerable elevation above the sea where we had slept (696 feet), yet we found the air on the mountains much cooler than that of the interior plains. There was much Callitris in the woods passed through this day; and the soil, although well covered with grass, was sandy. I ascended Mount Pluto by the N. W. side, where the loose fragments of trap, on a very steep slope, obstruct the growth of a thorny scrub, covering other parts of the mountain sides. The view from the summit was very favourable for my purpose, and I passed an hour and a half in taking angles on all distant points. Mount Owen and Mount Kilsyth were both visible; Buckland's Table-land in the East, and some of the recently discovered ranges in the west, were just visible across the trap-rock range, which connected Mount Playfair with Mount Hutton; which range almost shut out the view to the westward. In the S. W., some very remarkable features appeared to terminate westward, in abrupt cliffs over a low country, into which the Maran (as far as known), the Warrego, and the Nive, seem to carry their waters. What that country is, was a most interesting point, which I was very reluctant to leave still a mystery. No volcanic hills appeared to the westward of this trio, which thus seem to mark the place where the upheaving forces have most affected the interior structure of Australia. The temperature on Mount Pluto, at noon, was 90°; and the elevation above the sea, 2420 feet.
The scrub is thick around these volcanic ranges, but on the downs and plains of Central Australia, that obstacle disappears. My crew and I were in tatters from pushing through the scrub, and we were excited about the chance to meet up with our fellow countrymen at the Pyramids today. I found a nice open forest between the ponds where we had spent the night before and Mount Pluto; we crossed several streams, with green, young grass on their banks since the old grass had been burned off by the natives. These streams form the highest sources of the Salvator. We weren't very high above sea level where we had slept (696 feet), yet we found the air on the mountains much cooler than that of the interior plains. There were plenty of Callitris trees in the woods we passed through today, and although the soil was well-covered with grass, it was sandy. I climbed Mount Pluto from the northwest side, where loose bits of rock on a steep slope made it hard for thorny scrub to grow, unlike other parts of the mountain. The view from the top was excellent for my purpose, and I spent an hour and a half taking angles on all the distant points. Mount Owen and Mount Kilsyth were both in sight; Buckland's Table-land in the east, and some of the newly discovered ranges in the west, were just visible across the trap-rock range that connected Mount Playfair with Mount Hutton, which almost blocked the view to the west. In the southwest, some very notable features appeared to end in steep cliffs over a low area, into which the Maran (as far as known), the Warrego, and the Nive seem to flow. What that area is remains a fascinating mystery I was very reluctant to leave unsolved. No volcanic hills were visible to the west of this trio, which seem to indicate where the forces of upheaval have most affected Australia's interior structure. The temperature on Mount Pluto at noon was 90°F; and the elevation above sea level was 2420 feet.
On descending to where I had left the horses, we mounted, and struck into the old outward track; but we had difficulty in following it, although it was not above a month old. We saw many kangaroos to the eastward of Mount Pluto, but could not get a shot at any. I had seen much smoke in the direction of our camp, and was anxious about the safety of the party left there. We reached it before sunset, and were received with loud cheers. All were well, the natives had not come near, the cattle were in high condition. Mr. Stephenson had a fine collection of insects, and some curious plants. My man Brown had contrived to eke out the provisions so as to have enough to take us back to Mr. Kennedy. The grass looked green and luxuriant about the camp, and the spot proved a most refreshing home both to us and to our jaded horses, on whose backs we had almost constantly been for nearly a month. The party had collected specimens of XEROTES LEUCOCEPHALA; BOSSIOEA CARINALIS; the purple INDIGOFERA AUSTRALIS; XEROTES MULTIFLORA; the DODONOEA HIRTELLA of Miquel, a hairy shrub with pinnated leaves; EVOLVULUS LINIFOLIUS; GOODENIA PULCHELLA Benth.; HIBBERTIA CANESCENS; these had been found on the rocky ground near the camp, some on the sides, and even near the summits of the pyramids. On the sandy flats at the foot of these hills, were gathered, AJUGA AUSTRALIS; DAMPIERA ADPRESSA, a gay, though, almost leafless herb, with blue flowers nestling in grey wool; three miles below the camp a species of VIGNA, closely allied to V. CAPENSIS Walp., was found; and among the larger forest trees was a Eucalyptus, allied to, but probably distinct from, the E. SIDEROXYLON A. Cunn.
On our way back to where we had left the horses, we got on and followed the old outward path, but it was hard to stick to it, even though it was only about a month old. We spotted many kangaroos to the east of Mount Pluto but couldn’t get a shot at any of them. I had seen a lot of smoke in the direction of our camp and was worried about the safety of the group we had left there. We arrived before sunset and were greeted with loud cheers. Everyone was safe, the natives hadn’t come near, and the cattle were in great condition. Mr. Stephenson had gathered an impressive collection of insects and some interesting plants. My man Brown managed to stretch the provisions so we had enough to take us back to Mr. Kennedy. The grass looked green and lush around the camp, making it a refreshing place for both us and our tired horses, who we had been riding for almost a month. The group had collected specimens of XEROTES LEUCOCEPHALA; BOSSIOEA CARINALIS; the purple INDIGOFERA AUSTRALIS; XEROTES MULTIFLORA; the DODONOEA HIRTELLA of Miquel, a hairy shrub with feather-like leaves; EVOLVULUS LINIFOLIUS; GOODENIA PULCHELLA Benth.; HIBBERTIA CANESCENS; these were found on the rocky ground near the camp, some on the slopes, and even near the tops of the pyramids. On the sandy flats at the bottom of these hills, they gathered AJUGA AUSTRALIS; DAMPIERA ADPRESSA, a colorful, yet almost leafless herb, with blue flowers nestled in gray wool; three miles below the camp, a species of VIGNA, closely related to V. CAPENSIS Walp., was found; and among the larger forest trees was a Eucalyptus, related to, but likely distinct from, the E. SIDEROXYLON A. Cunn.
The LABICHEA DIGITATA was now in fruit; the JACKSONIA SCOPARIA formed a shrub, ten or twelve feet high, occupying sandy places, and having much resemblance to the common broom of Europe. The ACACIA CUNNINGHAMII grew about the same height; the GREVILLEA LONGISTYLA was seen on the sandstone, forming a shrub seven or eight feet high; and there also grew the pretty ZIERIA FRAZERI[*]; the DODONOEA MOLLIS was a small shrub six feet high, whereof the fruit was now ripe; the LEUCOPOGON CUSPIDATUS, also small. A PIMELEA near P. LINIFOLIA formed a shrub, only two feet high, growing on the rocks; the HOVEA LANCEOLATA, grew ten feet high in similar situations; the LEPTOSPERMUM SERICATUM was still abundant on the sandstone rocks, and amongst these also grew the POMAX HIRTA, a plant six inches high.
The LABICHEA DIGITATA was now bearing fruit; the JACKSONIA SCOPARIA formed a shrub about ten to twelve feet tall, thriving in sandy areas, looking a lot like the common broom found in Europe. The ACACIA CUNNINGHAMII reached a similar height; the GREVILLEA LONGISTYLA appeared on the sandstone, growing into a shrub around seven or eight feet high; and there was also the lovely ZIERIA FRAZERI[*]; the DODONOEA MOLLIS was a small shrub six feet tall, with ripe fruit; the LEUCOPOGON CUSPIDATUS was also small. A PIMELEA near P. LINIFOLIA made a shrub only two feet tall, growing on the rocks; the HOVEA LANCEOLATA grew to ten feet high in similar conditions; the LEPTOSPERMUM SERICATUM was still plentiful on the sandstone rocks, and among these also grew the POMAX HIRTA, a six-inch-high plant.
[* Z. FRASERI (Hook. MS.); ramulis junioribus puberulis, foliis impunctatis brevissime petiolatis, foliolis lanceolatis acutis marginibus leviter revolutis subtus pallidis pubescenti-sericeis, pedunculis trifloris folio brevioribus.—Very distinct from all other ZIERIOE. Detected by Fraser on Mount Lindsay.]
[* Z. FRASERI (Hook. MS.); with young branches that are hairy, leaves without spots and very short petioles, leaflets that are lance-shaped and pointed with slightly rolled edges, pale and silky-hairy underneath, and flower stalks with three flowers that are shorter than the leaf. —Very distinct from all other ZIERIOE. Discovered by Fraser on Mount Lindsay.]
At the base of these mountains, a slight variety of ACACIA VISCIDULA formed a bush twelve feet high; a variety of BORONIA BIPINNATA formed a small upright shrub, with flowers larger than usual; and much finer specimens were now also found, of the white and red flowered BORONIA ERIANTHA; the DODONOEA PEDUNCULARIS was loaded with its fruit; the SCHIDIOMYRTUS TENELLUS, or a new species nearly allied to it, formed a shrub six feet high. A variety of AOTUS MOLLIS, with rather less downy leaves and rather smaller calyxes; the ACACIA LONGISPICATA, with its silvery leaves and long spikes of yellow blossoms, acquired a stature of twelve feet, at the foot of the rocks; and small specimens of the beautiful LINSCHOTENIA DISCOLOR, which we had also observed, in a finer state, near Mount Pluto. The LABICHEA DIGITATA was abundant in sheltered ravines amongst the rocks; and, also, the DODONOEA ACEROSA, loaded with its four-winged reddish fruit, formed a shrub there four feet high. On the flats at the base of these ranges, grew the stiff, hard leaved, glutinous TRIODIA PUNGENS, with fine erect panicles of purple and green flowers (the first occasion this, on which I had seen this plant in flower). The BRUNONIA SERICEA continued to appear; also a minute species of ALTERNANTHERA. The DIANELLA STRUMOSA formed a coarse, sedgy herbage, relieved by its large panicles of blue flowers; and a fine species of Dogbane near TABERNOEMONTANA, and probably not distinct from that genus, according to Sir William Hooker. A shrub, five feet high, which proved to be a new species of ACACIA, also grew at the foot of the precipices[*]; a new and very distinct species of LOGANIA[**]; a new RUTIDOSIS, a tall herbaceous perennial[***]; a fine, new, long leaved GREVILLEA, with yellow flowers.[****] A woolly-leaved KERAUDRENIA, with inconspicuous flowers[*****]; and, in the open forest, a pretty species of Comesperm, about five feet high, with rosy flowers, and smooth or downy stems; it was allied to C. RETUSA.[******]
At the base of these mountains, a slight variety of ACACIA VISCIDULA formed a bush twelve feet high; a variety of BORONIA BIPINNATA became a small upright shrub with larger-than-usual flowers; and finer specimens of the white and red-flowered BORONIA ERIANTHA were also found. The DODONOEA PEDUNCULARIS was loaded with its fruit, and the SCHIDIOMYRTUS TENELLUS, or a closely related new species, formed a shrub six feet tall. A variety of AOTUS MOLLIS had slightly less downy leaves and smaller calyxes; the ACACIA LONGISPICATA, with its silvery leaves and long spikes of yellow blossoms, grew to twelve feet at the foot of the rocks. Small specimens of the beautiful LINSCHOTENIA DISCOLOR, which we had also observed in a better state near Mount Pluto, were present. The LABICHEA DIGITATA was abundant in sheltered ravines among the rocks; likewise, the DODONOEA ACEROSA, heavy with its four-winged reddish fruit, formed a four-foot-high shrub there. On the flats at the base of these ranges grew the stiff, hard-leaved, glutinous TRIODIA PUNGENS, featuring fine upright panicles of purple and green flowers (the first time I had seen this plant flowering). The BRUNONIA SERICEA continued to appear, alongside a small species of ALTERNANTHERA. The DIANELLA STRUMOSA formed a coarse, sedgy growth, highlighted by large panicles of blue flowers, and there was a fine species of Dogbane near TABERNOEMONTANA, likely not distinct from that genus, according to Sir William Hooker. A five-foot-high shrub that turned out to be a new species of ACACIA also grew at the bottom of the cliffs[*]; a new and very distinct species of LOGANIA[**]; a new RUTIDOSIS, a tall herbaceous perennial[***]; and a lovely new, long-leaved GREVILLEA with yellow flowers.[****] There was also a woolly-leaved KERAUDRENIA with inconspicuous flowers[*****]; and, in the open forest, a charming species of Comesperm about five feet high, featuring rosy flowers and smooth or downy stems; it was related to C. RETUSA.[******]
[* A. UNCIFERA (Benth. MS.) molliter velutino-pubescens, ramulis subteretibus, stipulis subulatis caducissimis, phyllodiis falcatoellipticis v. oblique oblongis utrinque acutis uncinato-mucronatis minute 1-2- glandulosis, racemis polycephalis phyllodio paullo longioribus, capitulis multifloris tomentosis.—Near A. CALEYI and A. VESTITA. Phyllodia from an inch and a half to two inches long, half an inch broad, resembling much in shape those of A. MYRTIFOLIA.]
[* A. UNCIFERA (Benth. MS.) has a soft, velvety covering, with somewhat cylindrical branches, very narrow and fragile stipules, and phyllodes that are sickle-shaped to elliptical or obliquely elongated, sharp at both ends and slightly curved with tiny, 1-2 glandular features. Its racemes are multi-headed and a bit longer than the phyllodes, and the flower heads are multi-flowered and hairy. — It is similar to A. CALEYI and A. VESTITA. The phyllodes measure about one and a half to two inches long and half an inch wide, closely resembling those of A. MYRTIFOLIA.]
[** L. CORDIFOLIA (Hook. MS.); herbacea erecta estipulata glabra, foliis cordato-acuminatis sessilibus 3-5-nerviis, racemis corymbosis axillaribus terminalibusque in paniculam contractam terminalem foliosam magis minusve congestis.]
[** L. CORDIFOLIA (Hook. MS.); upright herb with no stipules, smooth leaves that are heart-shaped and tapered, attached directly and with 3-5 veins, in corymb-like clusters that are axillary and terminal, forming a more or less compact terminal leafy panicle.]
[*** R. ARACHNOIDEA (Hook. MS.); elata, arachnoideo-tomentosa, foliis remotis lanceolatis acuminatis calloso-cuspidatis, panicula laxa, ramis longis polycephalis, capitulis aggregatis, involucris ovatis.—A widely distinct species from the only hitherto described species of this genus (R. HELICHRYSOIDES), both in the leaves and flower-heads.]
[*** R. ARACHNOIDEA (Hook. MS.); tall, covered in fine hairs, with long, lance-shaped leaves that are pointed and have a thick tip, a loose flower cluster, long branching clusters with multiple heads, and oval flower bracts.—This species is quite different from the only previously described species of this genus (R. HELICHRYSOIDES), in terms of both the leaves and flower heads.]
[**** G. JUNCIFOLIA (Hook. MS.); ramis angulatis pubescenti-sericeis, foliis rigidis angustissime linearibus elongatis semiteretibus acutis glabris marginibus revolutis, racemis ovatis multifloris, pedicellis perianthiisque sericeis, ovariis sessilibus longissime albosericeis, stylis glabris, folliculis oblique ovatis sericeo-tomentosis.]
[**** G. JUNCIFOLIA (Hook. MS.); with angular hairy branches, rigidly narrow elongated linear leaves that are sharp and smooth with curled edges, oval clusters with many flowers, silky pedicels and perianths, very long white silky sessile ovaries, smooth styles, and obliquely oval silky-tomentose follicles.]
[***** K. ? INTEGRIFOLIA (Hook. MS.); foliis oblongo-lanceolatis apiculatis subtus pannoso-tomentosis marginibus costa nervisque glandulosis.—In this the styles are connected at the apex, free below. The capsule is deeply 5-lobed. The anthers are remarkably curved outwards, like a horse-shoe, which is not the case in true KERAUDRENIA. W. I. H.]
[***** K. ? INTEGRIFOLIA (Hook. MS.); with oblong-lanceolate leaves that are pointed, covered underneath with a woolly texture, and have glandular margins and veins. — In this plant, the styles connect at the top and are free below. The capsule is deeply 5-lobed. The anthers are notably curved outward, resembling a horseshoe, which is different from true KERAUDRENIA. W. I. H.]
[****** C. SYLVESTRIS (Lindl. MS.); erecta a basi divisa, caulibus pubescentibus glabrisve, foliis oblongis mucronatis, racemis corymbosis terminalibus, bracteis deciduis, corollae lobo medio integerrimo.]
[****** C. SYLVESTRIS (Lindl. MS.); standing upright, divided at the base, with fuzzy or smooth stems, elongated leaves with pointed tips, terminal corymb-like racemes, drop-away bracts, and a fully intact middle lobe of the corolla.]
On the rocky slopes, or crests, were found, also, various new plants which have been since described, viz. A small shrub, with leaves from three to four inches long, found to be a new species of CONOSPERMUM[*]; a small shrubby species of LABICHEA[**]; an inconspicuous shrub, two feet high, was a new species of MICRANTHEUM, allied to M. ERICOIDES, Desf.[***]; a downy DODONOEA, very near D. PEDUNCULARIS, but with thinner truncated leaves, and more glutinous fruit[****]; and, on the edge of the mountain, grew a curious new Acacia, resembling a pine tree[*****], but with the stature of a shrub, and a GREVILLEA, forming a shrub seven or eight feet high.[*]
On the rocky slopes and peaks, several new plants were discovered, which have since been described. There’s a small shrub with leaves three to four inches long, identified as a new species of CONOSPERMUM[*]; a small shrubby type of LABICHEA[**]; an unimpressive shrub about two feet tall that is a new species of MICRANTHEUM, related to M. ERICOIDES, Desf.[***]; a fuzzy DODONAEA, very similar to D. PEDUNCULARIS, but with thinner, rounded leaves and stickier fruit[****]; and on the edge of the mountain, a unique new Acacia that looks like a pine tree[*****], but is the height of a shrub, along with a GREVILLEA that grows into a shrub seven or eight feet tall.[*]
[* C. SPHACELATUM (Hook. MS); foliis linearibus subfalcatis sphacelatoapiculatis molliter incano-pubescentibus inferne longe attenuatis uninerviis paniculis pedunculatis corymbosis, floribus bracteisque sericeis.]
[* C. SPHACELATUM (Hook. MS); with linear, slightly falcate leaves that are softly covered in grayish hairs, gradually tapering at the base, with a single nerve, and flower clusters with stalks in a corymbose arrangement, featuring silky flowers and bracts.]
[** L. RUPESTRIS (Benth. MS.) glabra vel vix in partibus novellis puberula, foliis sessilibus plerisque trifoliolatis, foliolis lineari-oblongis spinosomucronatis coriaceis marginatis terminali lateralibus bis pluriesve longiore, antheris subaequalibus conformibus.]
[** L. RUPESTRIS (Benth. MS.) smooth or barely pubescent in some new parts, with mostly sessile leaves that are trifoliate, having linear-oblong, spiny-mucronate, leathery leaflets with bordered terminal and lateral ones that are two or more times longer, and with nearly equal, conforming anthers.]
[*** M. TRIANDRUM (Hook. MS.); foliis cuneatis solitariis, floribus masculis triandris.]
[*** M. TRIANDRUM (Hook. MS.); with solitary wedge-shaped leaves, three-stamened male flowers.]
[**** D. PUBESCENS (Lindl. MS.); minutissime pubescens, viscosa, foliis brevibus apice triangularibus tridentatis truncatisque, capsulis tetrapteris pedunculatis alis rotundatis.]
[**** D. PUBESCENS (Lindl. MS.); very finely hairy, sticky, with short leaves that are triangular at the tips, three-toothed, and blunt, and capsules with four wings on stalks that have rounded edges.]
[***** A. PINIFOLIA (Benth. MS.) glabra ramulis teretibus, phyllodiis erectosubincurvis longe lineari-filiformibus nervo utrinque prominenti subtetragonis breviter pungenti-mucronatis, pedunculis solitariis brevissimis, capitulis multifloris, sepalis spathulatis liberis v. vix basi cohaerentibus.—Very near A. PUGIONIFORMIS, but the phyllodia are five, six, or more inches long, being longer even than in A. CALAMIFOLIA. It differs from the latter species in the inflorescence and calyx.]
[***** A. PINIFOLIA (Benth. MS.) has smooth, rounded branches and upright, slightly curved leaves that are long and thread-like, with a prominent nerve on both sides, almost square in shape and ending in a short, sharp tip. The flower stalks are solitary and very short, with many flowers in the clusters, and the sepals are spoon-shaped and free or barely attached at the base. — It closely resembles A. PUGIONIFORMIS, but the leaves can be five, six, or more inches long, even longer than those of A. CALAMIFOLIA. It differs from the latter species in terms of its flower arrangement and calyx.]
[****** G. LONGISTYLA (Hook. MS.); ramis pubescentibus, foliis longissime linearibus acutis basi attenuatis margine subrevolutis supra glabris subtus albo-tomentosis, racemis oblongo-ovatis, perianthiis glandulosis, ovariis semiglobosis stipitatis sericeo-hirsutissimis, stylo longissimo glabro. —Leaves a span and more long; flowers rather large, apparently purple.]
[****** G. LONGISTYLA (Hook. MS.); with fuzzy branches, leaves that are very long and narrow, pointed and tapering at the base, slightly curled at the edges, smooth on top, and white-fuzzy underneath, with elongated-oval racemes, glandular perianths, semi-globular ovaries on long hairy stems, and an extremely long, smooth style. —Leaves a span and more long; flowers are quite large, seemingly purple.]
Chapter VIII.
SINGULAR FOSSILS NEAR THE CAMP.—INTERESTING PLANTS DISCOVERED.—ASCENT OF MOUNT FARADAY.—RETURN TO THE WARREGO.—A NATIVE OLD MAN.—PASS BY MOUNT OWEN.—THE MARANOÀ.—RECROSS THE MINOR STREAMS.—ITS TRIBUTARIES.—NONDESCRIPT ANIMAL.—POSSESSION CREEK.—A HORSE KILLED BY ACCIDENT.—APPROACH THE CAMP OF MR. KENNEDY.—FIND ALL WELL THERE.—MANY PLANTS FOUND THERE.—HIS ACCOUNT OF THE NATIVES' VISITS.—RIDE TO MOUNT SOWERBY.—FOSSILS FOUND THERE.——THE WHOLE PARTY FINALLY QUITS THE DEPÔT CAMP.—TRACE THE MARANÒA DOWNWARDS.—OPEN DOWNS ON ITS BANKS.—WATER SCARCE.—REQUISITE PONDS.—REACH ITS JUNCTION WITH THE BALONNE.—TRACES OF HORSEMEN ALONG OUR OLD TRACK.—THE PARTY ARRIVES, AND HALTS, AT ST. GEORGE'S BRIDGE.—MR. KENNEDY SENT TO RECONNOITRE THE COUNTRY IN A DIRECT LINE TOWARDS MOUNT RIDDELL.
SINGULAR FOSSILS NEAR THE CAMP.—INTERESTING PLANTS DISCOVERED.—ASCENT OF MOUNT FARADAY.—RETURN TO THE WARREGO.—AN ELDERLY NATIVE MAN.—PASS BY MOUNT OWEN.—THE MARANOÀ.—RECROSS THE SMALLER STREAMS.—ITS TRIBUTARIES.—UNIDENTIFIED ANIMAL.—POSSESSION CREEK.—A HORSE KILLED BY ACCIDENT.—APPROACH THE CAMP OF MR. KENNEDY.—FIND EVERYTHING WELL THERE.—MANY PLANTS DISCOVERED THERE.—HIS ACCOUNT OF THE NATIVES' VISITS.—RIDE TO MOUNT SOWERBY.—FOSSILS DISCOVERED THERE.——THE ENTIRE GROUP FINALLY LEAVES THE DEPÔT CAMP.—TRACE THE MARANÒA DOWNSTREAM.—OPEN DOWNS ALONG ITS BANKS.—WATER IS SCARCE.—NECESSARY PONDS.—REACH ITS JUNCTION WITH THE BALONNE.—SIGNS OF HORSEMEN ALONG OUR OLD PATH.—THE GROUP ARRIVES AND STOPS AT ST. GEORGE'S BRIDGE.—MR. KENNEDY SENT TO EXPLORE THE LAND STRAIGHT TOWARDS MOUNT RIDDELL.
7TH AND 8TH OCTOBER.—THESE two days were devoted to the completion of my maps of the late tour, and of drawings of two of the birds seen on the Victoria. Our horses required a day or two's rest, and I had enough to do in my tent, although the heat was intense.
7TH AND 8TH OCTOBER.—I spent these two days finishing the maps from my recent trip and drawing two of the birds I saw near the Victoria. Our horses needed a day or two to recover, and I had plenty to keep me busy in my tent, even though the heat was scorching.
9TH OCTOBER.—Once more I rode into the lower country a few miles, to take a sketch of another remarkable hill. In the afternoon I examined the sandstone caverns in the hill opposite to our camp; some very curious organic remains having been found there by one of the party during my absence. I found that these occurred on the lower side of sandstone strata, and that they had become denuded by the decomposition of sandstone underneath. We were to leave this camp next morning. The men were on very reduced rations, and I was apprehensive that we might be disappointed in our search for water in many places where we had before encamped and found it. In the afternoon, the sky became suddenly overcast, distant thunder was heard; and the southern portion of the heavens, over the country to which we were about to return, was evidently discharging some heavy rain there. At twilight, the rain commenced to fall heavily at our camp, and continued to do so during four hours. Such a supply came most opportunely for us, and, although I could not be so vain as to suppose that the thunder rolled only for our benefit alone, I felt as thankful as though it had. This day I saw on the cavernous hill the woolly ACTINOTUS HELIANTHI, one of the most singular of umbelliferous plants; and, on descending to the base, a white variety of the COMESPERMA SYLVESTRIS, with smooth branches: unlike the kind observed in September, it did not grow above one foot high. A small shrub grew on the rocks, a pretty little Calytrix, near C. MICROPHYLLA A Cunn. (from Port Essington and Melville Island); but the branches, with their leaves, are more stout, and the bracts more obtuse. Sir W. Hooker supposes it to be a new species. We here found this day a woolly-leaved plant, with long branching panicles of brilliantly blue flowers, which Professor de Vriese has ascertained to be a new genus of the natural order of Goodeniads, and which he calls LINSCHOTENIA DISCOLOR.[*] Thermometer, meter, at sunrise, 60°; at noon, 94°; at 4 p.m., 76°; at 9, 64°;—with wet bulb, 64°.
9TH OCTOBER.—Once again, I rode a few miles into the low country to sketch another notable hill. In the afternoon, I checked out the sandstone caves on the hill across from our camp; some curious organic remains had been discovered there by one of the group while I was gone. I found that these were situated on the lower side of the sandstone layers and had been exposed due to the erosion of the sandstone underneath. We were set to leave this camp the next morning. The men were on very limited rations, and I was worried that we might not find water in several places where we had previously camped and found it. In the afternoon, the sky suddenly became overcast, and we heard distant thunder; the southern part of the sky, over the area we were about to return to, was obviously experiencing heavy rain. At twilight, it began to rain heavily at our camp, continuing for four hours. This downpour came at just the right time for us, and while I couldn't be so arrogant as to think that the thunder echoed just for us, I felt as grateful as if it had. That day, I saw on the rocky hill the woolly ACTINOTUS HELIANTHI, one of the most unusual umbelliferous plants; and as I descended to the base, I spotted a white variety of COMESPERMA SYLVESTRIS, with smooth branches: unlike the version seen in September, it didn't grow taller than one foot. A small shrub grew on the rocks, a pretty little Calytrix, similar to C. MICROPHYLLA A Cunn. (from Port Essington and Melville Island); however, its branches and leaves are thicker, and the bracts are more blunt. Sir W. Hooker thinks it might be a new species. That day, we also found a woolly-leaved plant with long branching spikes of bright blue flowers, which Professor de Vriese has confirmed to be a new genus in the Goodeniads family, naming it LINSCHOTENIA DISCOLOR.[*] Thermometer readings at sunrise were 60°; at noon, 94°; at 4 p.m., 76°; and at 9, 64°—with a wet bulb reading of 64°.
[* LINSCHOTENIA DE VRIESE. Calyx superus, limbo obsoleto. Corollae quinquefidae tubo hine fisso, lobis majoribus margine utroque auriculato-crispis, alatisve, duobus minoribus lanceolatis, interne appendice proprio cuculliformi instructis. Antherae imberbes, cohaerentes. Filamenta libera, quandoque subflexuosa. Ovarium uniovulatum; stylus inflexus; stigmatis indusium ore nudum; semen in nuce solitarium. Genus dicatum Jano Huigenio Linschotenio, geographo, navarcho, itineratori seculi XVI., qui historiae naturalis, imprimis vero geographiae et rei nauticae progressui eximie profuit. Linschotenia Dampierae proxime habitu et plurimis cum floris, tum habitus characteribus, paracolla cuculliforme ab omnibus Goodeniacearum generibus huc usque cognitis, diversa. L. DISCOLOR, suffruticosa, erecta, albo-lineata, foliis alternis, petiolatis, oblongis, acutis, integris, planis, superne pallide viridibus, glaberrimis, inferne densissime albo-lanatis. Inflorescentia spicata, ramosa, griseo-lanata, floribus subsessilibus, basi bracteolatis, corollis quinquelobis, lilacinis, extus griseo-barbatis; paracorollis nigrescentibus. Legit anno 1846, Praefectus militaris nobil. T. L. Mitchell in Nova-Hollandia subtropica. Planta elegantissima, inter Scaevolas persimilis habitu SC. REINWARDTII de Vriese in LEHM. PL. PREISS. videtur esse suffruticosa. Caulis est teres. Folia sunt alterna, fere 7 cent. longa et 1½ cent. lata, petiolata, petiolo ad insertionem quodammodo crassiore, fere ½ cent. longo, integerrima, utrinque acuta, nervo medio crassiore, subtus lanata, fere alutacea, albissima; superne viridia, opaca; bracteae lineari-lanceolatae, utraque superficie lanatae, acutae; rhachis elongata, fere 10-15 cent. longa, inferne albo-lanata, sursum griseo-lanata. Pedunculi communes 5-10 cent. longi, patentes, alterni, griseo-tomentosi. Flores alterni, sessiles, bracteolati, bracteolis suboppositis; calyces villosi, limbis obsoletis; corollae persistentis lobis marginibus inflexis, externe medio calycis instar hirsutis, interne glaberrimis: cucullis corollae badiis, convexis, uno latere hiantibus, interiori mediaeque loborum parti affixis; filamenta libera, filiformia, antherae his continuae, glabrae. Stigma capitatum, indusio imberbe. —DE VRIESE.]
[* LINSCHOTENIA DE VRIESE. Upper calyx with a faded edge. The five-lobed corolla has a tube that splits here, with larger lobes that have crisped ear-like margins, and two smaller lance-shaped lobes with their own cap-like appendage on the inside. The anthers are smooth and fused together. The filaments are free, sometimes slightly bent. The ovary has one ovule; the style is bent; the stigma has a bare cup at the mouth; the seed is solitary in its pod. The genus is dedicated to Jan Huigen Linschoten, a 16th-century geographer, naval captain, and traveler, who greatly contributed to the advancement of natural history, particularly geography and nautical sciences. Linschotenia closely resembles Dampiera and has many floral characteristics as well as a cap-like structure differing from all other known genera in the Goodeniaceae family thus far. L. DISCOLOR is a shrubby plant, upright, with white stripes, alternating leaves on petioles, oblong, sharp-tipped, whole, flat, pale green on top and densely white-woolly underneath. The inflorescence is branched and spike-like, gray-woolly, with subsessile flowers, bracteolated at the base, five-lobed lilac corollas with gray beards on the outside; the paracorollas are darkening. Collected in 1846 by military officer T. L. Mitchell in subtropical New Holland. An extremely elegant plant, resembling SC. REINWARDTII by De Vriese in LEHM. PL. PREISS., appears to be shrubby. The stem is round. The leaves are alternate, about 7 cm long and 1½ cm wide, with petioles that are somewhat thicker at the base, nearly ½ cm long, completely entire, pointed at both ends, with a thicker midrib, woolly on the underside, almost leather-like and very white; on top, they are green and dull; the bracts are linear-lanceolate, woolly on both surfaces, and sharp-tipped; the rachis is elongated, about 10-15 cm long, woolly white underneath and gray-woolly above. The common peduncles are 5-10 cm long, spreading, alternate, and covered with gray fuzz. The flowers are alternate, subsessile, with bracteoles that are somewhat opposite; the calyces are hairy, with faded edges; the corollas persist with lobes having turned-in edges, the outside hairy like the calyx in the middle, and smooth on the inside: the cap-like corolla is brownish, convex, gaping on one side, attached to the central part of the interior lobes; the filaments are free and thread-like, the smooth anthers are attached to them. The stigma is rounded, and the cup is smooth. —DE VRIESE.]
10TH OCTOBER.—We commenced our retreat with cattle and horses in fine condition, and with water in every crevice of the rocks. That in the reedy swamp near the pyramids, had a sulphureous taste, and nausea and weak-stomach were complained of by some of the men. I certainly did not think the swamp a very desirable neighbour, with the thermometer sometimes above 100°, and therefore I was more desirous to retire from it. As the party returned along their former track, I went to the summit of Mount Faraday, and observed a number of useful angles for my map. Mr. Stephenson was with me, and found some new plants and insects, while I ascertained the height, by the barometer, to be 2523 feet above the sea. The plants growing there were COMMELINA UNDULATA, THYSANOTUS ELATIOR, PLECTRANTHUS PARVIFLORUS, the yellow VIGNA LANCEOLATA, with a villous form of AJUGA AUSTRALIS, and a little PILOTHECA, with narrow, closepressed leaves.[*] The mountain is volcanic, the broken side of the crater being towards the N.W. Some compact basalt appeared near the summit. On reaching the Warrego in the evening, we found the party had arrived there at 3 p.m., the distance travelled comprising two former days' journeys. They had also found water close to the camp, where none had been when they had been there before. Many beautiful shrubs were now beginning to bloom. The BURSARIA INCANA was now covered with its panicles of white flowers; the OZOTHAMNUS DIOSMOEFOLIUS, a shrub four feet high, was loaded with small bulbs of snow white flowers; a downy variety of LOTUS AUSTRALIS, with pink flowers[*], was common on the open ground; the ACACIA PODALYRIOEFOLIA was now forming its fruit; in the open forest we found a beautiful little GOMPHOLOBIUM[***]; the HAKEA PURPUREA, a spiny-leaved, hard shrub, with numerous crimson leaves[****], and the EUPHORBIA EREMOPHILA, an inconspicuous species of SPURGE.[*****] Mr. Stephenson and I had been so busy collecting these on our way back, that we only reached the camp at sunset. Thermometer, at sunrise, 58°; at noon, 75°; at 4 p.m., 82; at 9, 62°;—with wet bulb, 59°.
10TH OCTOBER.—We started our retreat with cattle and horses in great shape, and there was water in every crack of the rocks. The water in the reedy swamp near the pyramids had a sulfur taste, and some of the men complained of nausea and an upset stomach. I definitely didn’t think the swamp was a very pleasant neighbor, especially since the temperature sometimes went above 100°, so I was eager to get away from it. As the group made their way back along the same path, I climbed to the top of Mount Faraday and noted several useful angles for my map. Mr. Stephenson was with me and discovered some new plants and insects, while I measured the height using the barometer, which was 2523 feet above sea level. The plants growing there included COMMELINA UNDULATA, THYSANOTUS ELATIOR, PLECTRANTHUS PARVIFLORUS, the yellow VIGNA LANCEOLATA, with a hairy version of AJUGA AUSTRALIS, and a small PILOTHECA with narrow, closely packed leaves.[*] The mountain is volcanic, with the broken side of the crater facing the N.W. Some solid basalt appeared near the summit. When we reached the Warrego in the evening, we found the party had arrived there at 3 p.m., covering the distance of the previous two days' journeys. They had also found water close to the camp, where it hadn’t been before. Many beautiful shrubs were now starting to bloom. The BURSARIA INCANA was covered in clusters of white flowers; the OZOTHAMNUS DIOSMOEFOLIUS, a four-foot-high shrub, was loaded with small bulbs of snow-white flowers; a fuzzy variety of LOTUS AUSTRALIS, with pink flowers[*], was common in the open ground; the ACACIA PODALYRIOEFOLIA was developing its fruit; in the open forest, we found a lovely little GOMPHOLOBIUM[***]; the HAKEA PURPUREA, a spiny, tough shrub, had numerous crimson leaves[****], and the EUPHORBIA EREMOPHILA, an inconspicuous type of SPURGE.[*****] Mr. Stephenson and I were so busy gathering these on our way back that we only got to the camp at sunset. The thermometer read 58° at sunrise; 75° at noon; 82° at 4 p.m.; and 62° at 9 p.m.—with a wet bulb reading of 59°.
[* P. CILIATA (Hook. MS.); ramulis pilosis, foliis erectis subimbricatis linearibus obtusis ciliatis dorso convexis glandulosis superne planis nudis, petalis ovali-ellipticis obtusis marginibus extus albopubescentibus. —Allied to P. AUSTRALIS, but different in the leaves, which are here ciliated at the margin, very glandulous on the back; and in the flowers, which are smaller, the petals more obtuse, and having a broad, white line of pubescence round the margin at the back.]
[* P. CILIATA (Hook. MS.); with hairy stems, upright, overlapping, linear leaves that are blunt-tipped, fringed along the edges, rounded on the back, glandular, flat on top, and smooth, with oval-elliptic, blunt petals that have white hairs on the outer edges. —Related to P. AUSTRALIS, but distinct in the leaves, which have fringed edges, are very glandular on the back; and in the flowers, which are smaller, with more blunt petals, and have a broad, white hairy line around the edges at the back.]
[** L. AUSTRALIS var. PUBESCENS, ramis pedunculisque pilis mollibus patentibus vestitis. G. B.]
[** L. AUSTRALIS var. PUBESCENS, branches and flower stalks covered in soft, spreading hairs. G. B.]
[*** G. FOLIOLOSUM (Benth. MS.) foliis impari-pinnatis, foliolis 15-25 obovato-truncatis obcordatisve glabris, petiolis ramulisque pilosulis, racemis terminalibus subcorymbosis laxis paucifloris. Fruticulus ramosissimus foliolis confertis vix lineam longis.]
[*** G. FOLIOLOSUM (Benth. MS.) has pinnate leaves with 15-25 smooth, obovate to truncate or heart-shaped leaflets, and its petioles and twigs are slightly hairy. It features loose, few-flowered racemes that are terminal and somewhat corymbose. This shrub is highly branched with densely packed leaflets that are barely longer than a line.]
[**** H. PURPUREA (Hook. MS.) foliis tereti-filiformibus rigidis trifidis segmentis simplicibus furcatisve mucronatis glabris, floribus purpureis pedicellisque glabris, capsulis obovatis acutis lignosis stipitatis subtuberculatis.]
[**** H. PURPUREA (Hook. MS.) with rigid, thread-like leaves that are three-parted, with either simple or forked, pointed, smooth segments, purple flowers, smooth pedicels, and woody, sharply obovate capsules that are stalked and slightly tuberculated.]
[***** E. EREMOPHILA (All. Cunn. in Hook. Herb.); fruticosa, ramulis fastigiatis foliisque parvis linearibus dentato-scrratis glabris, capsulis globosotriangularibus laevibus glabris.—Collected by Allan Cunningham in Dirk Hartog's island.]
[***** E. EREMOPHILA (All. Cunn. in Hook. Herb.); a shrubby plant with upright branches, small linear leaves that are jagged on the edges and smooth, and capsules that are round-triangular, smooth, and hairless.—Collected by Allan Cunningham on Dirk Hartog's island.]
11TH OCTOBER.—Following the chord of the arc described by our journeys of 30th June, and 1st July, on tracing down the Warregò, I made the furthest of the two camps, by a straight line of nine miles, passing through a fine open forest country. The pond, which formerly supplied us here, was now quite dry, but one much larger in a rocky bed was found a few hundred yards further up the river. Thermometer, at sunrise, 54°; at noon, 80°; at 4 p.m. 88°; at 9, 57°;—with wet bulb, 52°.
11TH OCTOBER.—Following the path we traveled on 30th June and 1st July, I traced down the Warregò and reached the furthest of the two camps in a straight line of nine miles, passing through a beautiful open forest area. The pond that used to provide us with water was completely dry, but we found a much larger one in a rocky bed a few hundred yards further up the river. The thermometer registered 54° at sunrise, 80° at noon, 88° at 4 p.m., and 57° at 9 p.m.—with a wet bulb reading of 52°.
12TH OCTOBER.—This day we also turned two former days' journeys into one, and arrived at Camp XXXVIII. by 2 p.m., the ponds at the intermediate camp (XXXIX.) being dry. Nevertheless, the recent rains had left some water in rocky hollows, at which we could water our horses on the way. By the river side this morning, we found a variety of the HELIPTERUM ANTHEMOIDES, D.C., with the leaves pubescent and the scales of the involucre paler. The silky grass, IMPERATA ARUNDINACEA, occurred in the swampy flat we crossed before we encamped. Soon after we set out in the morning, an old man was seen coming along the valley towards us, without at first seeing the party. When he did, which was not until he had come very near, he uttered a sort of scream, "OOEY!", and ran up amongst some rocks beyond the water-course, nor would he stop, when repeatedly called to by Yuranigh. He carried a firestick, a small bag on his back, and some bomarengs under his left arm. His hair was grey but very bushy, and he looked fat. The poor fellow was dreadfully frightened, which I much regretted, for I might otherwise have obtained from him some information about the ultimate course of the Warrego, etc. We found water in one of the rocky ponds near our former encampment, but others in which some had formerly been found, were dry, and I was not without some doubt about finding water, on our way back to join Mr. Kennedy. Thermometer, at sunrise, 42°; at noon, 87°; at 4 p.m., 96°; at 9, 78°;—with wet bulb, 60°.
12TH OCTOBER.—Today, we combined the journeys of the last two days into one and reached Camp XXXVIII by 2 p.m., as the ponds at the intermediate camp (XXXIX.) were dry. However, recent rains had left some water in rocky hollows where we could water our horses along the way. This morning by the river, we found a variety of HELIPTERUM ANTHEMOIDES, D.C., with fuzzy leaves and lighter scales on the involucre. The silky grass, IMPERATA ARUNDINACEA, was present in the swampy flat we crossed before setting up camp. Shortly after we started in the morning, we spotted an old man coming down the valley towards us, initially unaware of our presence. When he noticed us, only when he got very close, he let out a sort of scream, "OOEY!", and ran off among some rocks beyond the watercourse, refusing to stop despite Yuranigh's repeated calls. He had a firestick, a small bag on his back, and some boomerangs under his left arm. His hair was grey but very bushy, and he appeared overweight. The poor man was extremely frightened, which I regretted, as I might have gathered some information from him about the final route of the Warrego, etc. We found water in one of the rocky ponds near our last campsite, but other spots that had previously contained water were now dry, leaving me unsure about finding water on our way back to join Mr. Kennedy. Thermometer readings were 42° at sunrise; 87° at noon; 96° at 4 p.m.; and 78° at 9 p.m.; with a wet bulb temperature of 60°.
13TH OCTOBER.—The night was uncommonly hot, thermometer 79° here, where in June last it had been as low as 7°. The sky had been clouded, but the morning cleared up, and we enjoyed a cool breeze in passing amongst the sandstone gullies. On arriving at the foot of Mount Owen the day became very sultry, and there was a haziness in the air. On Mount Owen Mr. Stephenson found a new species of VIGNA with yellow flowers[*], and the SWAINSONIA PHACOIDES, conspicuous with its pink flowers. We took up our old ground over the gullies, and I went in quest of water. The ponds formerly here, had dried up, but Yuranigh found a deep one in the solid rock, containing enough for months. It was inaccessible to horses, but with a bucket we watered both these and the bullocks. The mercurial column was low, the sky became overcast, and a slight shower raised our hopes that at length rain might fall in sufficient quantity to relieve us from the difficulty about water, in returning towards Mr. Kennedy's camp. Thermometer, at sunrise, 63°; at noon, 79°; at 4 p.m., 76°; at 9, 64°;—with wet bulb, 59°.
13TH OCTOBER.—The night was unusually hot, with a temperature of 79° here, while in June it had dropped as low as 7°. The sky had been cloudy, but it cleared up in the morning, and we enjoyed a cool breeze as we passed through the sandstone gullies. When we reached the base of Mount Owen, the day became very humid, and there was a haze in the air. On Mount Owen, Mr. Stephenson discovered a new species of VIGNA with yellow flowers[*], and the SWAINSONIA PHACOIDES stood out with its pink flowers. We returned to our previous spot over the gullies, and I went searching for water. The ponds that were here before had dried up, but Yuranigh found a deep one in the solid rock, containing enough for months. It was too steep for horses to access, but we used a bucket to water both them and the bullocks. The mercury was low, the sky became overcast, and a light shower raised our hopes that rain might finally fall in enough quantity to ease our water troubles on the way back to Mr. Kennedy's camp. Thermometer readings were 63° at sunrise; 79° at noon; 76° at 4 p.m.; and 64° at 9, with a wet bulb reading of 59°.
[* V. LANCEOLATA (Benth. MS.) glabra volubilis, foliolis lanceolatis reticulatis integris v. basi hastato-lobatis, pedunculis folio multo longioribus apice paucifloris, calyce glabro campanulato dentibus tubo brevioribus, carina rostrata acuta.—Flowers smaller than in V. VILLOSA, but of the same form.]
[* V. LANCEOLATA (Benth. MS.) smooth twining plant, with lance-shaped leaves that are netted and either entire or lobed at the base, flower stalks that are much longer than the leaf and topped with a few flowers, a smooth bell-shaped calyx with teeth shorter than the tube, and a sharp pointed keel.—Flowers smaller than in V. VILLOSA, but of the same shape.]
14TH OCTOBER.—During the night several smart showers fell, and at daybreak the sky seemed set for rain. When we set off it rained rather heavily. I took a new direction, and got into a gully which led to our former track of 17th June. Crossing it, I passed into the bed of the Maranòa, and followed it down with the carts, until we arrived at the large pond in solid rock, to which I had sent the bullocks on the 18th June. Here we encamped, and I marked a tree with the number 74, as it might be necessary on future occasions to refer to where a permanent supply of water may be found in that part of the country. Thermometer, at sunrise, 60°; at noon, 71°; at 4 p.m., 66°; at 9, 52°;—with wet bulb, 48°.
14TH OCTOBER.—Several heavy showers fell overnight, and by dawn, the sky looked like it was going to rain. When we set out, it was coming down pretty hard. I took a new route and ended up in a gully that led us back to our previous path from 17th June. After crossing it, I went into the bed of the Maranòa and followed it down with the carts until we reached the large pond in solid rock, where I had sent the bullocks on 18th June. We set up camp here, and I marked a tree with the number 74, since it could be useful to refer back to this location for a reliable water source in the future. The thermometer read 60° at sunrise, 71° at noon, 66° at 4 p.m., and 52° at 9 p.m., with a wet bulb temperature of 48°.
15TH OCTOBER.—Last evening the wind blew keenly, and the night was cold, the temperature very different from that experienced of late. The morning presented a thick haze and drizzling rain, this kind of weather being rather favourable for crossing the loose sandy surface, which the men dreaded, remembering how it had before affected their eyes. I at first endeavoured to travel this day along the river bank, but I found its course so tortuous, and the country on its banks so hilly and rocky, that I left it, and proceeded in a direction that would intersect the former track. We thus passed through a fine open forest, fell in with our old track at a convenient point, and found water still in the pond at the camp of 15th June, where we therefore again set up our tents. The sky had cleared up, and the air was pleasantly cool, with a fine breeze blowing from S.E. On the river bank, we observed this day the native bramble, or Australian form of RUBUS PARVIFOLIUS, L. A small nondescript animal ran before Mr. Stephenson and myself this morning. It started from a little bush at the foot of a tree, had large ears, a short black tail, ran like a hare, and left a similar track. It was about the size of a small rabbit. The death of our dogs on the Bogan, under the intense heat and drought, had been a very serious loss to us, as we found on many occasions like this; and where kangaroos, of apparently rare species, escaped from us from our having no dogs. We were, also, from want of such dogs, much more exposed to attacks of the natives. Evening again cloudy. Thermometer, at sunrise, 45°; at noon, 64°; at 4 p.m., 67°; at 9, 57°;—with wet bulb, 50°.
15TH OCTOBER.—Last night the wind blew sharply, and it was cold, a big change from the weather we’ve had lately. This morning started with a thick fog and light rain, which was actually better for crossing the loose sandy ground that the men were worried about, remembering how it had affected their eyes before. At first, I tried to travel along the riverbank today, but I found its path so winding, and the area along its banks so hilly and rocky, that I decided to leave it behind and headed in a direction that would cross our previous route. We moved through a nice open forest, reconnected with our old trail at a good spot, and found there was still water in the pond at the camp from June 15th, so we set up our tents there again. The sky had cleared, and the air was pleasantly cool with a nice breeze blowing from the southeast. On the riverbank, we noticed the native bramble, or the Australian type of RUBUS PARVIFOLIUS, L. This morning, a small unidentified animal darted in front of Mr. Stephenson and me. It jumped from a little bush at the base of a tree, had big ears, a short black tail, ran like a hare, and left a similar track. It was about the size of a small rabbit. The loss of our dogs on the Bogan due to the extreme heat and drought was a serious blow for us, as we discovered many times like this; kangaroos of seemingly rare species got away from us because we didn’t have dogs. Without those dogs, we were also much more vulnerable to attacks from the natives. The evening was cloudy again. Thermometer, at sunrise, 45°; at noon, 64°; at 4 p.m., 67°; at 9 p.m., 57°;—with a wet bulb reading of 50°.
16TH OCTOBER.—A clear cool morning, with a fine refreshing breeze from east, succeeded the cloudy weather of yesterday. I crossed the little river, and travelled straight towards Camp XXXVII. On the higher ground grew a heath-like bush, (ERIOSTEMON RHOMBEUM,) three or four feet high. At a distance of only nine miles, we came upon the little river beside that camp, and fell into the old track a mile on beyond it; and, early in the day, we arrived at a chain of ponds, half-way to the next camp at Possession Creek. The ponds where I went to encamp were dry; but, on following the water-course downwards, I came to its junction with the Maranòa, at half a mile from the camp, and found a large basin of water at that point. Here, the NOTELOEA PUNCTATA was no longer a low trailing bush, but a shrub ten or twelve feet high, with the appearance of a European PHILLYREA. On the wet ground at the river bank, grew an entire-leaved variety (?) of PLANTAGO VARIA. The wild carrot, DAUCUS BRACHIATUS, with an annual wiry root, was also seen in the rich ground near the river. Yuranigh found more of the native tobacco, which the men eagerly asked for some of. This was a variety of the southern NICOTIANA SUAVEOLENS, with white flowers, and smoother leaves. Thermometer, at sunrise, 37°; at noon, 70°; at 4 p.m., 76°; at 9, 51°; —with wet bulb, 42°. Height above the sea, 1315 feet. (Camp 75.)
16TH OCTOBER.—It was a clear, cool morning with a refreshing breeze coming from the east, following yesterday's cloudy weather. I crossed the small river and headed straight towards Camp XXXVII. On the higher ground, there were heath-like bushes (ERIOSTEMON RHOMBEUM) that grew three to four feet tall. After just nine miles, we reached the small river next to the camp and picked up the old track a mile beyond it. Early in the day, we arrived at a chain of ponds, halfway to the next camp at Possession Creek. The ponds where I planned to set up camp were dry, but when I followed the watercourse downstream, I reached its junction with the Maranòa, half a mile from the camp, where I found a large basin of water. Here, the NOTELOEA PUNCTATA was no longer a low trailing bush but had grown into a shrub ten to twelve feet high, resembling a European PHILLYREA. On the wet ground by the riverbank, there was a whole-leaved variety (?) of PLANTAGO VARIA. I also spotted wild carrot, DAUCUS BRACHIATUS, which has a wiry annual root, in the rich soil near the river. Yuranigh discovered more native tobacco, which the men eagerly requested. This was a type of southern NICOTIANA SUAVEOLENS, with white flowers and smoother leaves. The thermometer read 37° at sunrise, 70° at noon, 76° at 4 p.m., and 51° at 9 p.m., with a wet bulb reading of 42°. Height above sea level was 1315 feet. (Camp 75.)
17TH OCTOBER.—The thermometer stood as low as the freezing point this morning, and the day was cooled by a wind from the N. E. In crossing Possession Creck, we saw nothing of the formerly belligerent natives. From Camp XXXIII, I took a direct course to Camp XXXII, where we arrived early. No water remaining in the adjacent ponds, I followed the dry channel down to its junction, and found the Maranòa full of water; this point being three quarters of a mile from our camp. We had this day passed over a fine open forest country, in which were also groves of the ACACIA PENDULA. The vegetation, in general, seemed drooping, from the want of rain; but the whole was available for grazing purposes. We saw, this day, plants of PYCNOSORUS GLOBOSUS, in the dry forest land; and the purple-flowered RUELLIA AUSTRALIS. The ACACIA SPECTABILIS formed a spreading bush, about eight feet high. The HOVEA LEIOCARPA, and CONVOLVULUS ERUBESCENS, were also found; with a new MYRIOGYNE[*], and a small shrub, three feet high, with narrow, blunt, glaueous leaves, tasting like rum. A small fruit, with the fragrance of an orange, proved to be a new species of TRIPHASIA.[**]
17TH OCTOBER.—The thermometer dropped to freezing point this morning, and a chill wind from the N.E. swept through the day. While crossing Possession Creek, we didn't see any of the previously aggressive natives. From Camp XXXIII, I headed straight to Camp XXXII, arriving early. With no water left in the nearby ponds, I followed the dry creek bed until it met the Maranò, which was full of water—about three quarters of a mile from our camp. Today, we traversed a beautiful open forest area, which also had clumps of ACACIA PENDULA. Overall, the vegetation looked wilted due to the lack of rain; however, it was still good for grazing. We encountered PYCNOSORUS GLOBOSUS plants in the dry forest and the purple-flowered RUELLIA AUSTRALIS. The ACACIA SPECTABILIS formed a wide bush about eight feet tall. We also discovered HOVEA LEIOCARPA and CONVOLVULUS ERUBESCENS, along with a new MYRIOGYNE[*] and a small shrub, around three feet high, with narrow, blunt, glaucous leaves that had a rum-like taste. A small fruit that smelled like an orange turned out to be a new species of TRIPHASIA.[**]
[* M. RACEMOSA (Hook. MS.) radice perenni fusiformi superne multicipiti, caulibus decumbentibus, foliis lineari-cuneatis grosse serratis punctatis, capitulis in racemis subnudis terminalibus.—Very different from any described MYRIOGYNE, in the terminal racemed capitula.]
[* M. RACEMOSA (Hook. MS.) has perennial, spindle-shaped roots, multiple stems that lie flat, linear-wedge-shaped leaves with coarse serrations and dotted patterns, and flower heads in nearly bare terminal racemes.—It is very different from any described MYRIOGYNE, in the terminal racemed flower heads.]
[** T. GLAUCA (Lindl. MS.); spinosa, foliis coriaceis integerrimis crenatisque linearibus glaucis obtusis retusisque, floribus trimeris dodecandris 2-3nis brevi-pedicellatis.]
[** T. GLAUCA (Lindl. MS.); spiny, with leathery, completely smooth leaves that are linear, bluish, obtuse, and blunt, flowers in groups of three, with twelve to thirteen stamens, having short flower stalks.]
It is much to be regretted, that the specimens gathered here of the brigalow, should have been so imperfect that they could not be described. If an Acacia, Mr. Bentham says, it is different from any he knows.
It’s unfortunate that the samples collected here of the brigalow are so incomplete that they can’t be described. If it is an Acacia, Mr. Bentham says, it's unlike any he knows.
The vicinity of the river here affords security for a supply of water, in seasons like the present, when any contained in the smaller channels may be dried up. In the afternoon we lost a horse, which fell from a precipitous part of the bank, at the junction of the creek with the river. One man was leading four, when one horse kicked another, which, falling perpendicularly, from a height of about forty feet, was so much hurt as to be unable to rise. The folly, or rather obstinacy of the man, leading so many together, on the verge of a precipice, was contrary to particular orders previously given, and which ought to have been enforced by Graham, who was in charge. Thermometer, at sunrise, 32°; at noon, 78°; at 4 p.m., 79°; at 9, 60°;—with wet bulb, 45°.
The area around the river provides a reliable water supply, especially in seasons like now when the smaller channels might be dried up. In the afternoon, we lost a horse that fell from a steep part of the bank at the point where the creek meets the river. One man was leading four horses when one kicked another, causing it to fall straight down from a height of about forty feet, injuring it so badly that it couldn't get up. The man's foolishness, or rather his stubbornness, in leading so many together near a cliff went against specific orders that had been given and should have been enforced by Graham, who was in charge. The thermometer readings were: at sunrise, 32°; at noon, 78°; at 4 p.m., 79°; and at 9 p.m., 60°—with a wet bulb reading of 45°.
18TH OCTOBER.—The horse, still unable to get on his legs, and apparently dying, was shot, and buried in the sand of the bed of the creek. This loss, when we were so near our depôt camp, was much to be regretted, as we should have otherwise taken back every bullock and horse, after an absence, from that camp, of four months and fifteen days. We saw not a single native about the woods or the river, and were, therefore, the more anxious to know how Mr. Kennedy and the natives had agreed at the depôt camp, now within a day's ride of us. We continued to follow our former track to Camp XXXI, and it may be remarked, to their credit, that the aborigines had not attempted to deface any of these marked trees. It might have occurred, even to them, that such marks were preparatory to the advent of more white men into their country. The fine, deep reaches in the river, looked still full and unfailing; and a short journey to-morrow would take us to the camp of the rest of the party. We this day found a little jasmine in flower, of which Mr. Stephenson had formerly collected the seeds. It was white, not more than a foot high, with solitary white flowers, emitting a delightful fragrance, and it grew in the light sandy forest land.[*] A tree loaded with pods, which the natives eat, has been determined by Sir William Hooker to be the BRACHYCHITON POPULNEUM, Br., or STERCULIA HETEROPHYLLA of Cunn. Here was picked up a singular little annual plant, belonging to the genus PIMELEA, with hairy, loose spikes of minute green flowers[**]; and by the river we found the CALANDRINIA BALONENSIS.
18TH OCTOBER.—The horse, still unable to stand and clearly dying, was shot and buried in the sand at the creek bed. This loss, especially since we were so close to our depot camp, was greatly regrettable, as we otherwise would have returned with every bullock and horse after being away from that camp for four months and fifteen days. We didn’t see a single native in the woods or by the river, which made us even more eager to find out how Mr. Kennedy and the natives had fared at the depot camp, now just a day's ride away. We continued to follow our previous path to Camp XXXI, and it's worth noting that the aborigines had not tried to damage any of these marked trees. They might have realized that such marks indicated the arrival of more white men into their land. The beautiful, deep spots in the river still looked full and reliable, and a short journey tomorrow would lead us to the camp of the rest of the party. Today, we found a little jasmine in bloom, of which Mr. Stephenson had previously collected the seeds. It was white, no more than a foot tall, with single white flowers that gave off a wonderful fragrance, growing in the light sandy forest. A tree heavy with pods that the natives eat has been identified by Sir William Hooker as the BRACHYCHITON POPULNEUM, Br., or STERCULIA HETEROPHYLLA of Cunn. We also came across a unique little annual plant from the genus PIMELEA, featuring hairy, loose spikes of tiny green flowers; and along the river, we discovered the CALANDRINIA BALONENSIS.
[* J. SUAVISSIMUM (Lindl. MS.); herbaceum, ramis angulatis, foliis sessilibus simplicibus alternis oppositisque lineari-lanceolatis, pedunculis solitariis unifloris supra medium bibracteatis foliis longioribus, sepalis subulatis, corollae laciniis 5-7 acutissimis.]
[* J. SUAVISSIMUM (Lindl. MS.); herbaceous, with angular branches, leaves that are simple and alternate or opposite in a linear-lanceolate shape, solitary flower stalks that are single-flowered, with two bracts above the middle that are longer than the leaves, with needle-like sepals and corolla lobes that are 5-7 pointed.]
[** P. TRICHOSTACHYA (Lindl. MS.); annua, foliis alternis linearibus pilis paucis adpressis, spicis laxis terminalibus villosissimis.]
[** P. TRICHOSTACHYA (Lindl. MS.); annual, with alternately arranged linear leaves covered in a few pressed hairs, and loosely terminal spikes that are very hairy.]
The morrow was looked forward to with impatience. Four months and a half had the main body of the party been stationary; and that was a long time to look back upon, with the expectation that it had remained undisturbed, although isolated in a country still claimed and possessed by savages. Thermometer, at sunrise, 38°; at noon, 83°; at 4 p.m., 86°; at 9, 64°;—with wet bulb, 48°.
The next day was eagerly awaited. The main group had been in one place for four and a half months, which felt like a long time, especially knowing they were in a remote area still inhabited by wild people. The thermometer read 38° at sunrise, 83° at noon, 86° at 4 p.m., and 64° at 9 p.m.—with a wet bulb reading of 48°.
19TH OCTOBER.—The party was early in motion along the old track. Leaving the intermediate camp to the left, we struck across the country so as to hit the track again within a few miles of the depôt camp. Old tracks of cattle, when the earth had been soft, and the print of A SHOE, were the first traces of the white man's existence we met with; nor did we see any thing more conclusive, until the tents on the cliffs overhanging the river were visible through the trees. We saw men, also, and even recognised some of them, before our party was observed; nor did they see us advancing, with a flag on the cart, until Brown sounded the bugle. Immediately all were in motion, Mr. Kennedy coming forward to the cliffs, while the whole party received us with cheers, to which my men heartily responded. Mr. Kennedy ran down the cliffs to meet me, and was the first to give me the gratifying intelligence that the whole party were well; that the cattle and sheep were safe and fat; and, that the aborigines had never molested them. A good stock-yard had been set up; a storehouse had also been built; a garden had been fenced in, and contained lettuce, radishes, melons, cucumbers. Indeed, the whole establishment evinced the good effects of order and discipline. Drysdale, the storekeeper, had collected many birds and plants, and had also been careful of the stores. The orphan from the Bogan, little Dicky, had grown very much, and seemed a very intelligent boy; and the little intercourse Mr. Kennedy had had with the aborigines, limited as it was, by my instructions to him, was curiously characteristic of the tact and originality of this singular race. On one occasion, when on being informed that natives were near, he had hastened to meet them, taking little Dicky with him, he found remaining only a female and her mother, a remarkably old woman, who had before concealed herself among the reeds. The daughter on his approach sung a beautiful song, rapidly running through the whole gammut. Then bowing her head, she presented the back of it to him, and placing her stone-tomahawk in his hand, she bade him strike. Mr. Kennedy threw the tomahawk on the ground; and seeing the grey head amongst the reeds, he prevailed on the mother to come out. She was hideous in person, which was much more AFFREUX from the excessive rage with which she seemed to denounce the white men;—her fiend-like eyes flashing fire, as if prophetic of the advent of another race, and the certain failure of her own.
19TH OCTOBER.—The group started early along the old path. Leaving the camp to the left, we crossed the land to reconnect with the track just a few miles from the supply camp. We first noticed old cattle tracks in the soft earth and a shoe print, which were the first signs of white people we encountered. We didn’t see anything more definitive until the tents on the cliffs overlooking the river came into view through the trees. We spotted some men and even recognized a few of them before they saw us; they didn’t notice our approach, marked by a flag on the cart, until Brown sounded the bugle. Instantly, everyone sprang into action, with Mr. Kennedy moving toward the cliffs, while the entire group welcomed us with cheers, which my men responded to heartily. Mr. Kennedy hurried down the cliffs to greet me and was the first to share the great news that everyone was well, the cattle and sheep were safe and healthy, and the Indigenous people hadn’t disturbed them. A good stockyard had been set up; a storehouse had been built, and a garden had been enclosed, growing lettuce, radishes, melons, and cucumbers. Indeed, the whole setup showed the positive impact of order and discipline. Drysdale, the storekeeper, had collected various birds and plants, and he had also taken good care of the supplies. Little Dicky, the orphan from the Bogan, had grown a lot and appeared to be a very bright boy. The limited interactions Mr. Kennedy had with the Indigenous people, due to my instructions, were quite telling of the cleverness and uniqueness of this remarkable group. One time, when he was informed that there were natives nearby, he rushed to meet them, taking little Dicky along. He found only a woman and her elderly mother, who had previously hidden among the reeds. Upon his approach, the daughter sang a beautiful song, quickly covering all the notes. Then, bowing her head, she turned her back to him, placed her stone tomahawk in his hand, and urged him to strike. Mr. Kennedy threw the tomahawk on the ground; noticing the elderly woman among the reeds, he convinced her to come out. She was very unattractive, and her looks were made even worse by the intense anger she seemed to express towards the white men—her fierce eyes flashed with rage, as if foreseeing the arrival of another race and the inevitable decline of her own.
The daughter seemed, at first, to treat lightly the ire of her aged parent, playfully patting with her finger her mother's fearfully protruding lip. Mr. Kennedy endeavoured to ascertain, through Dicky, the downward course of the river, and she seemed to express, and to point also, that the river passed southerly into the Balonne, which river she named, and even the Culgòa: she seemed to say the name of that locality was "Mundì." Neither of these females had any covering, but the younger wore, by way of ornament, a page of last year's Nautical Almanac, suspended by a cord from her neck. The mother continuing implacable, the daughter, with a graceful expression of respect for her, and courtesy to the stranger, waved her arm for him to retire, which gesture Mr. Kennedy and Dicky immediately obeyed. At another interview, a scheme to decoy Dicky away was tried, as related thus in Mr. Kennedy's journal:—"Sunday, 26th July. Prayers were read at 11 a.m., after which, having been told by Drysdale that the natives were still near the camp, and that there was a native amongst them who could make himself more intelligible to Dicky than the rest, I had started down the river to see them to collect what information I could, and then induce them to go farther from the camp. I had not gone far before the cooys from the tents made me aware that the natives were by this time in sight. I therefore returned, and the first object that caught my eye was the bait—a gin, dancing before some admiring spectators; and behind her was a fine, lusty native advancing by great strides, as he considered the graceful movements of his gin were gaining as fast upon the hearts of the white men. On going up to him Dicky put the usual questions as to the name of the river, and its general course. His reply to the first was not very satisfactory, but our impression was that he called it Bàlun. With respect to its course, he plainly said that it joined the Balonne; repeatedly pointing in the direction of that river and then following with his hand, the various windings of this branch; repeating the while some word implying 'walk, walk,' and ending with 'Balonne.' He knew the names of the mountains Bindàngo and Bindyègo. After this conversation he took some fat, which he appeared to have brought for the purpose, and anointed Dicky by chewing it, and then spitting upon his head and face. He next whispered to him, and (as Dicky says) invited him to join them. I then motioned to the men, who were looking on at a short distance, to go to the camp; and as they obeyed, I made the same signs to the native to move in the opposite direction, which he at length did with evident reluctance and disappointment, throwing away his green bough, and continually looking back as he retired. I desired Dicky to tell him never to come near our tents, and that no white man should go to his camp."
The daughter initially seemed to take her elderly parent's anger lightly, playfully tapping her mother's noticeably protruding lip with her finger. Mr. Kennedy tried to find out, through Dicky, the path of the river, and she appeared to indicate that the river flowed south into the Balonne, which she named, and even the Culgùa: she seemed to say that the name of that place was "Mundì." Neither of the women had any clothing, but the younger one wore, as an accessory, a page from last year's Nautical Almanac hanging from a cord around her neck. With the mother remaining unforgiving, the daughter, showing a graceful respect for her and courtesy to the stranger, gestured for him to leave, which Mr. Kennedy and Dicky complied with immediately. At another meeting, a plan to lure Dicky away was attempted, as noted in Mr. Kennedy's journal:—"Sunday, 26th July. Prayers were read at 11 a.m., after which, having been informed by Drysdale that the natives were still near the camp, and that there was a native among them who could communicate with Dicky more clearly than the others, I headed down the river to meet them in order to gather any information I could, and then encourage them to move further from the camp. I hadn’t gone far when the cries from the tents alerted me that the natives were now in view. I turned back, and the first thing I noticed was the bait—a woman dancing in front of some fascinated spectators; behind her, a strong native advanced quickly, believing that the graceful movements of the woman were winning over the hearts of the white men. Approaching him, Dicky asked the usual questions about the name of the river and its general course. His reply to the first was not very clear, but we thought he called it Bàlun. Concerning its course, he clearly stated that it joined the Balonne; he repeatedly pointed in the direction of that river and then followed with his hand the various twists of this branch while repeating a word that meant 'walk, walk,' ending with 'Balonne.' He knew the names of the mountains Bindàngo and Bindyègo. After this conversation, he took some fat, which he seemed to have brought for this purpose, and rubbed it on Dicky by chewing it and then spitting it on his head and face. He then whispered to him, and as Dicky said, invited him to join them. I then signaled to the men who were watching from a short distance to go back to the camp; and as they followed my signal, I made the same gestures to the native to move in the opposite direction, which he eventually did with clear reluctance and disappointment, tossing aside his green branch and frequently looking back as he left. I instructed Dicky to tell him never to come near our tents, and that no white man should go to his camp."
It seems that one family only inhabits these parts, as only three huts at most were to be seen in any part of the country, either up or down the river; a very fortunate circumstance for our party, obliged to remain so long at one spot, after such a formal notice had been given to quit it, as our visitors of the 30th of May gave during my absence. Mr. Drysdale, the store-keeper, had collected an herbarium during the long sojourn of the party at that camp, which included many new plants. In August, plants had begun to blossom; and in September various novelties had been found in flower. In August, he gathered EURYBIA SUBSPICATA, Hook. EURYBIOPSIS MACRORHIZA; or a species allied to it. ACACIA DECORA; GOODENIA CORONOPIFOLIA R. Br.; CONVOLVULUS ERUBESCENS; a hairy variety of BORONIA BIPINNATA, with smaller flowers than usual, and most of the leaves simply pinnate. A cruciferous plant, probably new; two new species of EURYBIA and CALOTIS, SENECIO CARNOSULUS? D. C. An ASPERULA? with the habit of Galium. MYOPORUM DULCE; VERONICA PLEBEIA; an acerose LEUCOPOGON; a species of violet, with small, densely-spiked flowers (was covered with wild bees in search of its honey). A species of BRUNONIA, apparently the same as the B. SIMPLEX of the north bank of the Darling, but taller and less hairy. A NYSSANTHES, apparently undescribed; SWAINSONA CORONILLOEFOLIA; a small variety of SALSOLA AUSTRALIS; XEROTES DECOMPOSITA, a hard-leaved, sedgy plant; a fine LEUCOPOGON, with unilateral flowers; and another species with yellowish blossoms, both perhaps new. A pretty little grass belonging to the genus PAPPOPHORUM, with a blackish green colour.[*] A magnificent new ACACIA, with leaves nearly a foot long.[**] A minute annual CALANDRINIA.[***] An ERODIUM, closely resembling the European E. LITTOREUM, Arn. and Benth., from Isle of St. Lucie; it was also found by A. Cunningham in the swamps of the Lachlan. A new PROSTANTHERA, with indented glandular viscid leaves.[****] A beautiful ever-lasting plant belonging to the genus HELIPTERES.[*****] A new LEPTOCYAMUS, with slender, trailing, hairy stems.[******] SIDA VIRGATA (Hook. MS.)[*******] SIDA FILIFORMIS (A. Cunn.).[********] A new DODONOEA in the way of the D. CUNEATA of the colony, with long, slender flower stalks.[*********]
It seems that only one family lives around here, as we could see at most three huts in any part of the area, whether upriver or downriver. This was a fortunate situation for our group, which had to stay in one place for so long after such a formal notice was given to leave, as our visitors on May 30th indicated during my absence. Mr. Drysdale, the storekeeper, had collected a herbarium during the lengthy stay of the group at that campsite, which included many new plants. By August, the plants had started to bloom, and in September, various new flowers were discovered. In August, he collected EURYBIA SUBSPICATA, Hook. EURYBIOPSIS MACRORHIZA; or a closely related species. ACACIA DECORA; GOODENIA CORONOPIFOLIA R. Br.; CONVOLVULUS ERUBESCENS; a hairy variety of BORONIA BIPINNATA, with smaller flowers than usual, and most of the leaves simply pinnate. A cruciferous plant, probably new; two new species of EURYBIA and CALOTIS, SENECIO CARNOSULUS? D. C. An ASPERULA? that resembles Galium. MYOPORUM DULCE; VERONICA PLEBEIA; an acerose LEUCOPOGON; a species of violet with small, densely-packed flowers (which was surrounded by wild bees looking for honey). A species of BRUNONIA, seemingly the same as B. SIMPLEX from the north bank of the Darling, but taller and less hairy. A NYSSANTHES that appears to be undescribed; SWAINSONA CORONILLOEFOLIA; a small variety of SALSOLA AUSTRALIS; XEROTES DECOMPOSITA, a tough-leaved, sedgy plant; a lovely LEUCOPOGON with unilateral flowers; and another species with yellowish blossoms, both likely to be new. A pretty little grass from the genus PAPPOPHORUM, with a dark green color.[*] A magnificent new ACACIA, with leaves nearly a foot long.[**] A tiny annual CALANDRINIA.[***] An ERODIUM, closely resembling the European E. LITTOREUM, Arn. and Benth., from Isle of St. Lucie; it was also found by A. Cunningham in the swamps of the Lachlan. A new PROSTANTHERA with indented, glandular, sticky leaves.[****] A beautiful everlasting plant from the genus HELIPTERES.[*****] A new LEPTOCYAMUS with thin, trailing, hairy stems.[******] SIDA VIRGATA (Hook. MS.)[*******] SIDA FILIFORMIS (A. Cunn.).[********] A new DODONOEA similar to D. CUNEATA from the colony, with long, slender flower stalks.[*********]
[* P. VIRENS (Lindl. MS.); pumilum, caespitosum, aristis 9 plumosis rigidis apice nudis, spicâ compositâ laxâ tenui villosâ, glumis pilosis, paleis sericeo-pilosis, foliis tactu scabris vaginis pilosis juxta ligulam villosis.]
[* P. VIRENS (Lindl. MS.); small, tufted, with 9 rigid, feathery bristles at the ends, a loose, thin, hairy spike, hairy glumes, silky-hairy scales, leaves rough to the touch with hairy sheaths next to the ligule, hairy.]*
[** A. MACRADENIA (Benth. MS.); glabra, ramulis angulatis, phyllodiis elongatis subfalcatis acutiusculis basi longe angustatis marginatis crassiusculis uninervibus penniveniis nitidis glandula magna prope basin, racemis brevibus polycephalis flexuosis subpaniculatis, capitulis multifloris, calyce breviter dentato apice corollaque aureo-hispidulis, ovario tomentoso.—Near A. FALCIFORMIS D. C. Phyllodia eight to ten inches, or near a foot long, from six to ten lines broad.]
[** A. MACRADENIA (Benth. MS.); smooth, with angular branches, elongated, slightly curved leaf-like structures that are somewhat sharp at the tips, narrow at the base, bordered and somewhat thick, with a single vein. The leaves are shiny with a large gland near the base. The clusters are short, multi-headed, flexuous, and somewhat panicle-like, with many-flowered heads, a calyx that is briefly toothed at the top, and a corolla that is somewhat golden and hairy, with a fuzzy ovary. — Similar to A. FALCIFORMIS D. C. The leaf-like structures are eight to ten inches, or nearly a foot long, six to ten lines wide.]
[*** C. PUSILLA (Lindl. MS.); foliis equitantibus subacinaciformibus radicalibus, caulibus simplicibus racemosis v. unifloris, floribus longè pedunculatis infimis divaricatis, floribus minutis 8-andris.]
[*** C. PUSILLA (Lindl. MS.); with overlapping, sickle-shaped basal leaves, simple stems with racemes or single flowers, the lowest flowers having long peduncles and spreading out, and small 8-stamen flowers.]
[**** P. EUPHRASIOIDES (Benth. MS.) tota viscoso-villosa, foliis linearioblongis pinnatifido-dentatis ad axillas subfasciculatis, floribus paucisaxillaribus breviter pedicellatis, calycis labiis integris, antherarum calcare longiore loculum superante.—The foliage and flowers look at first sight very much like those of some of the AUSTRALIAN EUPHRASIOE. The leaves are about three lines long.]
[**** P. EUPHRASIOIDES (Benth. MS.) is completely covered in viscous hairs, with linear-oblong leaves that are pinnatifid-toothed and arranged in small clusters at the axils. It has a few short-stemmed flowers, with undivided lobes on the calyx, and the anthers have a spur that extends beyond the chamber. The foliage and flowers initially resemble those of some AUSTRALIAN EUPHRASIOE. The leaves are about three lines long.]
[***** H. GLUTINOSA (Hook. MS.); piloso-glandulosa, viscosa, foliis angustolinearibus cuspidato-acuminatissimis, capitulis solitariis.—Young buds rich rose-colour: full blown capitula pure white, the involucre having a slight tinge of purple.]
[***** H. GLUTINOSA (Hook. MS.); hairy-glandular, sticky, with narrow linear leaves that are sharply pointed and acuminate, solitary flower heads.—Young buds are a rich rose color: fully opened flower heads are pure white, with the outer bracts having a slight purple tint.]
[****** L. LATIFOLIUS (Benth. MS.); molliter villosus, foliolis membranaceis oblique obovatis ovalibusque utrinque adpresse pubescentibus villosisve, calycibus subsessilibus villosis.]
[****** L. LATIFOLIUS (Benth. MS.); soft and hairy, with membranous leaflets that are oblique, obovate, and oval, densely covered with soft hairs on both sides, and with hairy, almost sessile calyces.]
[******* S. FILIFORMIS (All. Cunn. MS.); tota stellato-tomentosa, ramis patentissimis elongatis, foliis brevissime petiolatis cordato-ovatis crenato-serratis, pedunculis axillaribus unifloris gracillimis folio triplo longioribus, calyce 5-fido petalis duplo breviore.]
[******* S. FILIFORMIS (All. Cunn. MS.); completely starry and fuzzy, with widely spreading elongated branches, leaves with very short petioles that are heart-shaped to oval with scalloped edges, slender axillary peduncles with one flower that are three times longer than the leaf, and a calyx that is 5-parted and shorter than the petals by double.]
[******** S. VIRGATA (Hook. MS.); ramis elongatis virgatis stellato-tomentosis, foliis brevissime petiolatis lineari-oblongis serratis supra pubescentivelutinis subtus calyceque 5-fido stellato-pannosis fulvescentibus, stipulis acicularibus rigidis spinescentibus, pedunculis axillaribus unifloris folio brevioribus, petalis (flavis) calyce duplo longioribus.]
[******** S. VIRGATA (Hook. MS.); with long, branching stems covered in star-like hairs, leaves that are very short-stalked, linear-oblong, serrated on top, and soft pubescent underneath; the calyx and five-part structure are covered in rusty star-like hairs; with rigid, needle-like stipules; and axillary flower stems that are shorter than the leaf, with petals (yellow) that are twice as long as the calyx.]
[********* D. PEDUNCULARIS (Lindl. MS.); viscosa, glabra, foliis rigidis elongatis spathulatis acutis tridentatis integrisque lobo medio majore, pedicellis 1-3-filiformibus, capsulis tetrapteris viscosis alis coriaceis rotundatis.]
[********* D. PEDUNCULARIS (Lindl. MS.); sticky, smooth, with rigid, elongated, spatula-shaped leaves that are sharp, tripartite, and with a larger middle lobe, having 1-3 slender flower stalks, and capsules that are four-winged, sticky, with round, leathery wings.]
In September, were gathered in water-holes on the ranges, RANUNCULUS SESSILIFLORUS, Br. in De Cand.; and near the camp the hard-leaved XEROTES LAXA; JUSTICIA MEDIA; EVOLVULUS LINIFOLIUS; GOODENIA FLAGELLIFERA De Vr.; CHLOANTHES STOECHADIS; the beautiful ACACIA SPECTABILIS, loaded with yellow flowers, on the banks of the river S. W. of the camp. A broader haired variet of ACACIAPENNIFOLIA; BOERHAAVIA MUTABILIS, Br. ? TECOMA OXLEYI; ACACIA CUNNINGHAMII; CARISSA OVATA Br.? a spiny, zigzag, shrub with shining leaves and white flowers; CASSIA ZYGOPHYLLA. A variety of SIDA PISIFORMIS, A. Cunn., with closer leaves and a browner pubescence; SIDA (Abutilon) FRAZERI Hook. var. PUMILA. KERAUDRENIA INTEGRIFOLIA; LEPTOCYAMUS LATIFOLIUS; POMAX HIRTA? D. C., or a variety. EREMOPHILA MITCHELLII var.? LATIFOLIA (Benth. MS.). DODONOEA ACEROSA, A. HELICHRYSUM? near H. ODORUM D. C., but with the leaves downy on both sides. PIMELEA COLORANS, a plant found by A. Cunningham along the river Macquarie. STACKHOUSIA MURICATA, Lindl., which is, perhaps, not distinct from S. SPATULATA, Sieb. A PODOLEPIS, resembling P. RUGATA Labill. PODOLEPIS LONGIPEDATA, D. C. SOLANUM BIFLORUM, a grey-leaved, dwarf, herbaceous plant. RANUNCULUS PLEBEIUS, very like an English buttercup. A PLEURANDRA, near P. ERICIFOLIA, probably a variety. RUELLIA AUSTRALIS; PITTOSPORUM SALICINUM. One of the Dodder laurels (CASSYTHA PUBESCENS, R. Br.), a species also found near Port Jackson. VIGNA LANCEOLATA; XEROTES LONGIFOLIA, a very common, hard-leaved plant. ANTHERICUM BULBOSUM, R. Br. GERANIUM PARVIFLORUM? or one nearly allied to it: exactly the same species is found in Van Diemen's Land. HELIPTERUM ANTHEMOIDES? D. C., but smaller in all its parts. NEPTUNIA GRACILIS; BRUNONIA SERICEA; SIDA, apparently new. A new and fine species of MENTHA.[*] A new, round-leaved species of PROSTANTHERA.[**] A new species of SWAINSONA[***]; PLEURANDRA CISTOIDEA (Hook. MS.).[****] A new TRICHINIUM, with conical flower-heads.[*****] A species of HIBISCUS, with purple flowers.[******] A new species of DAVIESIA, with spiny, shaggy leaves.[*******] Thermometer, at sunrise, 46°; at noon, 81°; at 4 p.m., 75°; at 9, 50°; —with wet bulb, 47°.
In September, we found the following plants in water-holes on the ranges: RANUNCULUS SESSILIFLORUS, Br. in De Cand.; nearby was the hard-leaved XEROTES LAXA; JUSTICIA MEDIA; EVOLVULUS LINIFOLIUS; GOODENIA FLAGELLIFERA De Vr.; CHLOANTHES STOECHADIS; the stunning ACACIA SPECTABILIS, covered in yellow flowers, along the banks of the river southwest of the camp. There was a broader-haired variety of ACACIA PENNIFOLIA; BOERHAAVIA MUTABILIS, Br.? TECOMA OXLEYI; ACACIA CUNNINGHAMII; CARISSA OVATA Br.? a spiny, zigzag shrub with shiny leaves and white flowers; CASSIA ZYGOPHYLLA. A variety of SIDA PISIFORMIS, A. Cunn., with closer leaves and a browner fuzz; SIDA (Abutilon) FRAZERI Hook. var. PUMILA. KERAUDRENIA INTEGRIFOLIA; LEPTOCYAMUS LATIFOLIUS; POMAX HIRTA? D. C., or a variety. EREMOPHILA MITCHELLII var.? LATIFOLIA (Benth. MS.). DODONAEA ACEROSA, A. HELICHRYSUM? similar to H. ODORUM D. C., but with downy leaves on both sides. PIMELEA COLORANS, a plant discovered by A. Cunningham along the Macquarie River. STACKHOUSIA MURICATA, Lindl., which might not be different from S. SPATULATA, Sieb. A PODOLEPIS that looks like P. RUGATA Labill. PODOLEPIS LONGIPEDATA, D. C. SOLANUM BIFLORUM, a grey-leaved, dwarf herbaceous plant. RANUNCULUS PLEBEIUS, very similar to an English buttercup. A PLEURANDRA, close to P. ERICIFOLIA, likely a variety. RUELLIA AUSTRALIS; PITTOSPORUM SALICINUM. One of the Dodder laurels (CASSYTHA PUBESCENS, R. Br.), also found near Port Jackson. VIGNA LANCEOLATA; XEROTES LONGIFOLIA, a very common, hard-leaved plant. ANTHERICUM BULBOSUM, R. Br. GERANIUM PARVIFLORUM? or a closely related one: the same species is found in Van Diemen's Land. HELIPTERUM ANTHEMOIDES? D. C., but smaller in all its parts. NEPTUNIA GRACILIS; BRUNONIA SERICEA; SIDA, apparently new. A new and fine species of MENTHA.[*] A new, round-leaved species of PROSTANTHERA.[**] A new species of SWAINSONA[***]; PLEURANDRA CISTOIDEA (Hook. MS.).[****] A new TRICHINIUM, with conical flower heads.[*****] A species of HIBISCUS, with purple flowers.[******] A new species of DAVIESIA, with spiny, shaggy leaves.[*******] Thermometer readings were 46° at sunrise, 81° at noon, 75° at 4 p.m., and 50° at 9 p.m.; with a wet bulb reading of 47°.
[* M. GRANDIFLORA (Benth. MS.); molliter pubescens, caulibus erectis, foliis petiolatis ovatis acutiusculis dentatis planis verticillatis laxis sexfloris, calycis dentibus lanceolato-subulatis intus vix pilosis, corolla calyce subduplo longiore, staminibus exsertis.—Near M. AUSTRALIS Br., but the leaves broader and flowers larger.]
[* M. GRANDIFLORA (Benth. MS.); softly hairy, with upright stems, leaves that are ovate with slightly pointed, toothed edges, arranged in loose whorls and producing six flowers, the teeth of the calyx lanceolate and somewhat needle-like with barely any hairs inside, the corolla about twice as long as the calyx, with protruding stamens.—Similar to M. AUSTRALIS Br., but with broader leaves and larger flowers.]
[** P. RINGENS (Benth. MS.); ramulis puberulis, foliis petiolatis rhombeoorbiculatis integerrimis utrinque opacis glandulosis, calycis glandulosi glabri labiis integris, corollae labio superiore subgaleato, antherarum calcaribus loculo brevioribus.—Foliage nearly that of P. RHOMBEA. Flowers much larger.]
[** P. RINGENS (Benth. MS.); with slightly hairy branches, petiolate leaves shaped like diamond circles, entirely smooth on both sides with glossy glands, a smooth calyx with whole lips, a corolla with a slightly hooded upper lip, and anthers with spurs shorter than the chamber.—Foliage is similar to that of P. RHOMBEA. Flowers are significantly larger.]
[*** S. PHACOIDES (Benth. MS.); decumbens molliter pubescens, foliolis 13- 15-linearibus cuneatisve, pedunculis folio longioribus apice paucifloris, legumine brevissime stipitato villoso.—A low plant with much the habit of several PHACAS or ASTRAGALI. Flower yellow, smaller than in S. CORONILLOEFOLIA.]
[*** S. PHACOIDES (Benth. MS.); a low-growing plant with soft hairs, featuring 13-15 linear or wedge-shaped leaflets, flower stalks longer than the leaves, and a few flowers at the tip. The pod is very short-stalked and hairy. — A low plant similar in appearance to several PHACAS or ASTRAGALI. The flower is yellow and smaller than that of S. CORONILLOEFOLIA.]
[**** P. CISTOIDEA (Hook. MS.); pilis stellatis brevibus rigidis asperis, foliis angusto-linearibus obtusis marginibus revolutis, floribus in ramos breves solitariis, staminibus sub-12 unilateralibus, filamentis infra medium inaequaliter connexis antheras longitudine aequantibus, ovario parvo globoso lanato.]
[**** P. CISTOIDEA (Hook. MS.); with short, stiff, star-like hairs, narrow linear leaves with blunt tips and rolled edges, flowers on short branches solitary, with about 12 stamens arranged on one side, filaments unevenly connected below the middle equal in length to the anthers, and a small, globular ovary covered in wool.]
[***** T. CONICUM (Lindl. MS.); hirto-pubescens, caule basi diviso, ramis ascendentibus subsimplicibus, foliis lineari-lanceolatis acutis, spicâ conicâ, bracteis unincrviis mucronatis glabris, rachi tomentosâ.
[***** T. CONICUM (Lindl. MS.); hairy and pubescent, with a stem that divides at the base, branching upwards in a mostly simple manner, leaves that are narrow-lance shaped and sharp, with a conical spike, bracts that are unarmed, pointed, and smooth, and a tomentose rachis.]
[****** H. STURTII (Hook. MS.); suffruticosus ubique subtus praecipue dense stellatim tomentosus, foliis petiolatis oblongo-ovatis ellipticisve obtusis grosse crenato-serratis, pedunculis axillaribus unifloris solitariis folio brevioribus, involucro monophyllo ..... turbinato 6-8-fido calycem 5-fidum aequante, capsulis hispidissimis.—This species was also found by Capt. Sturt in the south interior. The flowers are purple, sometimes yellowish in drying. The involucre is very remarkable, monophyllous, broad at top and 6 or 8-cleft, almost wholly concealing the calyx.—W. J. H.]
[****** H. STURTII (Hook. MS.); shrub-like everywhere, especially dense and starry-tomentose underneath, with petiolate leaves that are oblong-ovate or elliptical with blunt, coarsely crenate-serrate edges, axillary flower stalks that are solitary and shorter than the leaves, a single leaf involucre... turbinate, 6-8 lobed, equal to a 5-lobed calyx, and very bristly capsules. — This species was also discovered by Capt. Sturt in the southern interior. The flowers are purple, occasionally yellowish when dried. The involucre is particularly noteworthy, having a single leaf, broad at the top and 6 or 8 clefts, almost completely hiding the calyx. — W. J. H.]
[******* D. FILIPES (Benth. MS.); ramis hirsutis inermibus, foliis ovalioblongis sublanceolatisve apice spinoso-mucronatis planis pubescentibus, pedicellis filiformibus folio demum longioribus in pedunculo brevissimo solitariis geminisve.]
[******* D. FILIPES (Benth. MS.); branches hairy and unarmed, leaves oval-oblong or slightly lance-shaped with a spiny-mucronate tip, flat and pubescent, pedicels threadlike and longer than the leaf, on a very short peduncle, solitary or in pairs.]
20TH OCTOBER.—It was necessary to halt here a day or two, that the blacksmith might have time to repair the light carts, and shoe the horses. I took a ride this day with Mr. Kennedy to a hill some miles eastward of the camp, in which he had found some remarkable fossils. The hill consisted of a red ferruguinous sandstone, in parts of which were imbedded univalve and bivalve shells, pieces of water-worn or burnt wood, and what seemed fragments of bone. To some of the portions of wood, young shells adhered, but others bore, evidently, marks of fire; showing the black scarified parts, and those left untouched or unscarified, very plainly. Other portions of woods had their ends waterworn, and were full of long cracks, such as appear in wood long exposed to the sun. These specimens were, in general, silicified: but the outer parts came off in soft flakes resembling rotten bark, being equally pliant, although they felt gritty, like sand, between the teeth. This hill was rather isolated, but portions of tabular masses, forming the range of St. George's Pass, and in contact with the volcanic hill of Mount Kennedy which forms a nucleus to these cliffy ranges, being about 9 miles N. E. of this hill, to which, from its contents, I gave the name of Mount Sowerby. The weeping GEIJERA PENDULA again occurred in abundance near Mount Sowerby; the CAPPARIS LASIANTHA was climbing up the rocks there, and amongst the grasses we observed a species of the genus LAPPAGO, perhaps not distinct from the Indian L. BIFLORA. Thermometer, at sunrise, 39°; at noon, 56°; 4 p.m., 87°; at 9, 67°; with wet bulb, 52°.
20TH OCTOBER.—We needed to stop here for a day or two so the blacksmith could fix the light carts and put shoes on the horses. Today, I took a ride with Mr. Kennedy to a hill a few miles east of the camp, where he had found some interesting fossils. The hill was made of red ferruginous sandstone, which contained univalve and bivalve shells, pieces of water-worn or burnt wood, and what appeared to be bone fragments. Some pieces of wood had young shells attached to them, while others clearly showed signs of fire, with blackened areas and untouched parts visible. Other pieces of wood were water-worn at the ends and had long cracks, like wood that's been exposed to the sun for a long time. Most of these specimens were silicified, but the outer layers peeled off in soft flakes that felt like rotten bark—pliable yet gritty, like sand, between the teeth. This hill was somewhat isolated, but there were portions of flat masses forming the range of St. George's Pass, which was close to the volcanic hill of Mount Kennedy, about 9 miles northeast of this hill. Based on its contents, I named it Mount Sowerby. The weeping GEIJERA PENDULA was plentiful near Mount Sowerby, and the CAPPARIS LASIANTHA was climbing up the rocks there. Among the grasses, we spotted a species from the genus LAPPAGO, possibly not different from the Indian L. BIFLORA. The thermometer read 39° at sunrise, 56° at noon, 87° at 4 p.m., and 67° at 9 p.m.; the wet bulb was at 52°.
21ST OCTOBER.—I took a ride with Mr. Kennedy to the summit to which I had attached his name, having occasion to take a back angle from it on Mount Owen, and one or two other points. I could there show him many of the distant summits to the northward of the country, I was about to lay down on my map. We rode over a fine tract of forest land, extending from the camp to the foot of the mountain, a distance of about twelve miles. On the high range grew a profusion of a beautiful little PTEROSTYLIS, quite new, but in the way of P. RUFA[*], a single specimen of a new KENNEDYA was gathered there.[**] On the plains we found a curious new form of the genus DANTHONIA, much resembling wheat in ear[***], and a new JASMINE, with a rich perfume, resembling I. LINEARE, but with short axillary corymbs of flowers. This species has been named by Dr. Lindley after myself.[****] We found also the SOLANUM VIOLACEUM with its violet flowers and orange spines. A fine wiry herbage was formed by the LAXMANNIA GRACILIS, now in flower, ERYTHROEA AUSTIALIS D. C., a smallflowered species of CENTAURY, the DIANELLA RARA, R. Br. and SALVIA PLEBEIA. Thermometer, at sunrise, 48°; at noon, 85°; at 4, p.m., 84°; at 9, 65° with wet bulb, 52°.
21ST OCTOBER.—I took a ride with Mr. Kennedy to the peak that I named after him, as I needed to take a back angle view from it on Mount Owen, and a couple of other points. There, I could show him many of the distant peaks to the north of the country that I was about to map out. We rode over some beautiful forest land, stretching from the camp to the base of the mountain, about twelve miles away. On the high range, there was a lot of a beautiful little PTEROSTYLIS, quite new, similar to P. RUFA[*], and I collected a single specimen of a new KENNEDYA there.[**] In the plains, we discovered an interesting new form of DANTHONIA that closely resembles wheat in ear[***], along with a new JASMINE that had a rich fragrance, similar to I. LINEARE, but with short axillary clusters of flowers. This species has been named by Dr. Lindley after me.[****] We also found SOLANUM VIOLACEUM with its violet flowers and orange spines. The fine wiry herbage included LAXMANNIA GRACILIS, now in bloom, ERYTHROEA AUSTRALIS D. C., a small-flowered species of CENTAURY, DIANELLA RARA, R. Br., and SALVIA PLEBEIA. The thermometer read 48° at sunrise; 85° at noon; 84° at 4 p.m.; and 65° at 9, with a wet bulb reading of 52°.
[* P. MITCHELLII (Lindl. MS.); foliis omnibus radicalibus stellatis, vaginis scapi multiflori 3 remotis, scpalis setaceo-acuminatis, labelli laminâ ovato-lineari obtusâ canaliculatâ supra pilis (luteis) articulatis crinitâ.]
[* P. MITCHELLII (Lindl. MS.); with all star-shaped basal leaves, featuring scapes with 3 remote multi-flowered sheaths, the scape bracts being bristle-tipped, and the lip having a blunt, oval-linear, channel-like blade covered above with articulated yellow hairs.]
[** K. PROCURRENS (Benth. MS.); foliolis 3 ellipticis ovatisve mucronulatis utrinque hirtellis subtus reticulatis, stipulis subcordato-lanceolatis acutissimis striatis, pedunculis versus apicem plurifloris petiolo multo longioribus, floribus subnutantibus.—Flowers considerably smaller than in K. PROSTRATA, and petals narrower.]
[** K. PROCURRENS (Benth. MS.); leaves with 3 elliptical or oval tips that are slightly pointed and hairy on both sides, with a network pattern on the underside, stipules that are heart-shaped and lance-like with sharp edges and stripes, flower stalks that are much longer than the petiole and have multiple flowers towards the top, flowers that droop slightly.—Flowers are significantly smaller than in K. PROSTRATA, and the petals are narrower.]
[*** D. TRITICOIDES (Lindl. MS.); culmo ramoso stricto, foliis glabris margine spinoso-scabris basi planis apice involutis, spicâ cylindraceâ distichâ secundâ, spiculis subtrifloris flore summo mutico abortiente, paleae inferioris dorso lanatae aristâ rectâ glumâ mucronatâ multinervi longiore.]
[*** D. TRITICOIDES (Lindl. MS.); a branched, upright stem with smooth leaves that have a spiny and rough edge, flat at the base and curled at the tip, a cylindrical spike arranged in two rows, with spikelets that are mostly three-flowered, the top flower often abortive, lower glumes with a woolly back and a straight awn, with a longer, pointed, multi-veined glume.]
[**** J. MITCHELLII; foliis ternatis glabris; foliolis linearibus linearilanceolatisque, ramis teretibus, corymbis axillaribus subsessilibus foliis multo brevioribus, calycibus pubescentibus subtruncatis 5-dentatis, corollae limbo 5-fido acuto.]
[**** J. MITCHELLII; with smooth, three-part leaves; leaflets that are linear and linear-lanceolate, with round stems, axillary corymbs that are nearly sessile and much shorter than the leaves, calyxes that are pubescent and somewhat truncate with 5 teeth, and a corolla with a sharp 5-parted border.]
22D OCTOBER.—The information Mr. Kennedy had gathered from the natives, about the final course of the river; his surveys thereof, which, even on foot, he had extended sixteen miles (eight miles each way from the camp), and the fact, that the fish of the Balonne, Cod, or GRISTES PEELII had, at length been caught in it, all led to the conclusion that this river was no other than the tributary which on the 24th, of April I at first followed up, and afterwards halted and wrote back to Mr. Kennedy about. By following this down, the probability that we should find water seemed greater, than by returning along our old track, where we had left behind some ponds so small that we could not hope to find any water remaining, especially at two of the camps between us and Bindango, I therefore determined to follow this river downward, and to survey its course. We left the depôt camp this morning, and to avoid some overhanging cliffs on the river, we travelled first over an open tract. The camp we left, namely, XXIX, or "MOONDI," or the "second depôt camp," will be found a valuable cattle-station or sheep-station, by the first squatter coming this way. The runs about it are very extensive; the natives few and inoffensive, and the stock-yard etc., left there, renders it very complete. I must not omit, however, to mention, that the water had become slightly brackish, but not so as to be unpalatable, or even, indeed, perceptible, except to persons unused to it. The large reach had fallen two feet since the party first occupied that station. In other reaches lower down, that we passed during this day's journey, the water was perfectly sweet. I proceeded about thirteen miles with the light party, and encamped at the junction of a little river from the N. W. formerly crossed by me (on my ride of 23d May). A new poppy was found on the flats by the river, near PAPAVER DUBIUM; but the leaves, when dry, became darkgreen not pale; the aculei are too numerous and stout, pectant not depressed, and the flowers very small. The teams and drays did not arrive as expected, and the men with me had not brought any provisions with them. We saw natives in the woods before we encamped, and parts of the grass on fire. A beautifully worked net, laid carefully under a piece of bark, having two curiously carved stakes attached to it, was found by Mr. Kennedy, who made deep impressions of his boots in the soil near it, that the natives might see that white men had been there, and had left the net untouched. Thermometer, at sunrise, 47°; at noon, 81°; at 4 p.m., 85°; at 9, 70°; with wet bulb, 56°. Height above the sea, 1185 feet (Camp 76).
22D OCTOBER.—The information Mr. Kennedy gathered from the locals about the end course of the river, his surveys of it, which he extended up to sixteen miles (eight miles in each direction from the camp), and the fact that the fish of the Balonne, Cod, or GRISTES PEELII had finally been caught in it, all led to the conclusion that this river was the same tributary I initially followed on April 24th, before stopping and writing back to Mr. Kennedy about it. Following this river downstream seemed to offer a better chance of finding water than going back along our previous path, where we had left behind some small ponds that likely had no water left, especially at two of the camps between us and Bindango. Therefore, I decided to follow this river downstream and survey its course. We left the depot camp this morning and, to avoid some overhanging cliffs along the river, we first traveled over an open stretch. The camp we left, known as XXIX, or "MOONDI," or the "second depot camp," will be a valuable cattle or sheep station for the first squatter coming this way. The surrounding land is very extensive; the locals are few and harmless, and the stockyard and other facilities left there make it very suitable. I should mention that the water had become slightly brackish, but it wasn't unpleasant or even noticeable except to those unaccustomed to it. The large stretch of water had dropped two feet since our party first occupied that station. In other stretches lower down that we passed during today’s journey, the water was perfectly fresh. I traveled about thirteen miles with the light party and set up camp at the junction of a small river coming from the northwest that I had previously crossed during my ride on May 23rd. A new type of poppy was found on the flats by the river, near PAPAVER DUBIUM; however, the dried leaves turned dark green rather than pale. The prickles are too numerous and strong, pectinate rather than depressed, and the flowers are very small. The teams and drays did not arrive as expected, and the men with me hadn’t brought any provisions. We saw locals in the woods before we set up camp, and parts of the grass were on fire. Mr. Kennedy discovered a beautifully crafted net, carefully placed under a piece of bark, with two interestingly carved stakes attached to it. He made deep impressions of his boots in the soil nearby so the locals would see that white men had been there and had left the net untouched. The thermometer read 47° at sunrise, 81° at noon, 85° at 4 p.m., and 70° at 9 p.m., with a wet bulb reading of 56°. The height above sea level was 1185 feet (Camp 76).
23RD OCTOBER.—We were obliged to halt, and await the arrival of the drays, which only took place at ½ past 11, a.m. The cattle were found to be so fat and fresh, that the drivers could not get them along faster. Mr. Stephenson obtained a specimen of the dove observed by me on the Victoria. (GEOPALIA CUNEATA). I had heard the note in the woods, and directed his attention to it. The SWANSONIA CORONILLOEFOLIA adorned the rich flats with its crimson pear-shaped blossoms, and the CROTALARIA DISSITIFLORA, was also in flower, but smaller than usual; more rigid, with a denser silky pubescence, and smaller, shorter leaflets. The SIDA (Abutilon) FRAZERI (Hook. M S.)[*] and also the CLEMATIS STENOPHYLLA[**], were found on this part of the river. Thermometer, at sunrise, 48°; at noon, 91°; at 4 p.m., 93°; at 9, 65°;—with wet bulb, 53°.
23RD OCTOBER.—We had to stop and wait for the drays, which finally arrived at 11:30 a.m. The cattle were so well-fed and energetic that the drivers couldn’t get them to move any faster. Mr. Stephenson managed to collect a specimen of the dove I saw near the Victoria (GEOPALIA CUNEATA). I had heard its call in the woods and pointed it out to him. The SWANSONIA CORONILLOEFOLIA brightened the lush fields with its crimson, pear-shaped flowers, and the CROTALARIA DISSITIFLORA was also blooming, though smaller than usual; it was stiffer, with a thicker silky hair covering, and had smaller, shorter leaves. We also found the SIDA (Abutilon) FRAZERI (Hook. M S.)[*] and the CLEMATIS STENOPHYLLA[**] along this part of the river. The thermometer read 48° at sunrise; 91° at noon; 93° at 4 p.m.; and 65° at 9 p.m., with a wet bulb temperature of 53°.
[* S. (ABUTILON) FRASERI (Hook. MS.); tota stellato-pubescens, foliis ovatiscordatis acutis argutè crenato-serratis, petiolo folium aequante, pedunculis axillaribus solitariis unifloris apicem versus articulatis, calycis 5-partiti segmentis ovato-lanceolatis.—SIDA DUMOSA, J. Backhouse MS. in Hook. Herb. (not Swartz). This has a most extensive range; having been found at Moreton Bay by Mr. Backhouse, at Brisbane River by Fraser and Smith, and in other parts of this colony by All. Cunningham.]
[* S. (ABUTILON) FRASERI (Hook. MS.); completely starry and fuzzy, with heart-shaped leaves that are sharply serrated, the petiole equal in length to the leaf, solitary unifloral axillary flower stalks articulated towards the top, and the calyx having five lobes that are oval-lanceolate.—SIDA DUMOSA, J. Backhouse MS. in Hook. Herb. (not Swartz). This species has a very extensive distribution; it has been found at Moreton Bay by Mr. Backhouse, at Brisbane River by Fraser and Smith, and in other areas of this colony by All. Cunningham.]
[** C. STENOPHYLLA Fraser in Hook. Herb. C. OCCIDENTALIS A. Cunn. in Hook. Herb.—Very nearly allied to C. MICROPHYLLA of De Cand. Syst. i. p. 147. but in that the carpels are said to be glabrous.]
[** C. STENOPHYLLA Fraser in Hook. Herb. C. OCCIDENTALIS A. Cunn. in Hook. Herb.—Very closely related to C. MICROPHYLLA of De Cand. Syst. i. p. 147, except that the carpels are described as smooth.]
24TH OCTOBER.—Soon after leaving the camp this morning, we entered upon an open country, the downs extending before us from the right bank of the river, the course of which was somewhat to the eastward of south. The cattle came on faster this day, and we encamped on the skirts of the plain, near a fine reach of water in the river. We were now upwards of twenty miles to the westward of Bindango, with abundance of water; whereas I had always looked back to much difficulty in returning by that route, as the ponds near it were likely to be dried up. I had seen the higher parts of these downs from the summit of Bindango, but did not then suspect that a large river was in the midst of them, whose course was so favourable for a traveller proceeding northward. The discovery of these extensive downs was an important incident in this journey, watered as they were by a fine river; especially as the country to the N. W. was open or thinly wooded, and likely to be found so as far as the central downs and plains on the banks of the river Victoria. A new and very remarkable Ventilago was found this day.[*] I now again numbered the camps, continuing the series backwards, by a different character; this was numbered 77; the last, 76. The utility of these numbers along our surveyed line will be admitted, when the country is taken up, as they will not only serve to identify localities with the map, but may also enable the land-surveyors to connect local surveys with the general map of the country. The sky was overcast with thunder-clouds in the afternoon, and the mercurial column was low; but no rain fell, and a clear starry sky, at 9 p.m., admitted of our observations as usual. Thermometer, at sunrise, 53°; at noon, 85°; at 4 p.m., 83°; at 9, 58°;—with wet bulb, 47°. Height above the sea, 1295 feet. (Camp 77.)
24TH OCTOBER.—Soon after leaving camp this morning, we entered an open area, with the downs stretching out before us from the right bank of the river, which flowed somewhat to the east of south. The cattle moved faster today, and we set up camp at the edge of the plain, near a nice stretch of water in the river. We were now more than twenty miles west of Bindango, with plenty of water; while I had always thought it would be difficult to return by that route, as the ponds nearby were likely to be dried up. I had seen the higher areas of these downs from the top of Bindango, but didn’t realize then that a large river flowed in the middle of them, offering a favorable path for someone traveling north. Discovering these vast downs was an important moment in this journey, especially since they were fed by a beautiful river; the land to the northwest was open or sparsely wooded, likely staying that way all the way to the central downs and plains along the Victoria River. A new and very notable Ventilago was discovered today.[*] I also began numbering the camps again, continuing the sequence backwards with a different character; this one was numbered 77, and the last was 76. The usefulness of these numbers along our surveyed route will be clear when the land is officially mapped, as they will not only help identify locations on the map but may also assist land surveyors in connecting local surveys with the overall map of the region. The sky was covered with thunderclouds in the afternoon, and the mercury was low; however, no rain fell, and a clear starry sky at 9 p.m. allowed us to make our usual observations. Thermometer readings were 53° at sunrise, 85° at noon, 83° at 4 p.m., and 58° at 9 p.m., with a wet bulb reading of 47°. Height above sea level: 1295 feet. (Camp 77.)
[* V. VIMINALIS (Hook. MS.); foliis anguste elongato-lanceolatis integerrimis nervis costa parallelis, paniculis axillaribus terminalibusque.—The other hitherto known species of the genus, have broad leaves, more or less denticulate, with patent nerves. The flowers and fruit entirely accord with those of the genus.—W. J. H. "Tree 20 feet high, growing on high sandy ridges."]
[* V. VIMINALIS (Hook. MS.); with narrow elongated lanceolate leaves that are completely smooth and parallel-veined, featuring axillary and terminal panicles. — The other known species of this genus have broader leaves that are somewhat toothed, with spreading veins. The flowers and fruits align perfectly with those of the genus. — W. J. H. "Tree reaches 20 feet high, found on high sandy ridges."]
25TH OCTOBER.—We continued in the direction of a column of smoke I had perceived yesterday, believing that there I should intersect the river, or at least find water. We found the open downs at length, hemmed in by ACACIA PENDULA, growing openly; but which gave place to a scrub, as we approached some ridges. These ridges consisted of red gravel; the scrub contained callitris, casuarina, silver-leaved iron-bark, malga and brigalow, the two latter growing so thickly as to compel me to turn eastward to avoid them. This elevated rocky ground was found more extensive than I had expected, throwing down many water-courses to the east and north-east; but, at length, we made the river, and encamped after a journey of 10 1/3; miles. It there ran through a deep valley, due south, with a broad channel, in which we found a reach of water covered with ducks. The country beyond it, to the eastward, over which our former route passed, appeared like high table-land in bluey distance; but neither of the mountains Bindango or Bindyego were visible from the country traversed by the party this day. Thermometer, at sunrise, 43°; at noon, 81°; at 4 p.m., 94°; at 9, 65°;—with wet bulb, 51°. Height above the sea, 1186 feet. (Camp 78.)
25TH OCTOBER.—We kept heading toward a column of smoke I had seen yesterday, thinking that there I would meet the river, or at least find some water. Eventually, we reached the open plains, bordered by ACACIA PENDULA, which were growing in the open; but as we got closer to some ridges, it shifted to scrub. These ridges were made of red gravel; the scrub included callitris, casuarina, silver-leaved iron-bark, malga, and brigalow, with the latter two growing so densely that I had to divert eastward to avoid them. This elevated rocky area turned out to be more extensive than I had anticipated, draining several water-courses to the east and northeast; finally, we found the river and set up camp after traveling 10 1/3 miles. It flowed through a deep valley heading due south, with a wide channel where we spotted a stretch of water filled with ducks. The area beyond it to the east, which our previous route traversed, looked like a high plateau in the hazy distance; however, neither Bindango nor Bindyego mountains were visible from the area we crossed today. The thermometer read 43° at sunrise, 81° at noon, 94° at 4 p.m., and 65° at 9 p.m.—with a wet bulb reading of 51°. The altitude was 1186 feet above sea level. (Camp 78.)
26TH OCTOBER.—A river coming into the Maranòa, about a mile from our camp, was apparently the river Amby; but without having traced its course throughout, I could not feel certain of this, after all I had seen of these rivers: I think this was the same, however. We kept the Maranòa on our left during the whole of this day's journey, and were thus able to pursue a tolerably straight line in the direction of about 20° E. of S. At length, arriving at the junction of an important tributary from the N. W., full of water, and seeing another also join from the east, I crossed the main channel and encamped on the left bank, in sight of a reach of broad blue water below the junction, of an extent which reminded us of the Balonne itself. The valley of the river seemed bounded by continuous ranges of high land, which looked in the back-ground like table-land. Recently, much grass and bushes had been burnt, along the banks of the river, by the natives; and we this day passed over a tract where the grass was still in a blaze on both sides of us. Crows and hawks hovered over the flames, apparently intent on depriving the devouring clement of whatever prey more properly belonged to them. In a dry part of the bed of the river, I met with many instances of a singular habit of the eelfish (JEWFISH) PLOTOSUS TANDANUS.[*] I had previously observed, elsewhere, in the aquatic weeds growing in extensive reaches, clear circular openings, showing white parts of the bottom, over which one or two fishes continually swam round in circles. I now found in the dry bed, that such circles consisted of a raised edge of sand, and were filled with stones, some as large as a man's closed fist. Yuranigh told me that this was the nest of a pair of these fish, and that they carried the stones there, and made it. The general bed of the river where I saw these nests, consisted wholly of deep firm sand; and that the fish had some way of carrying or moving stones to such spots, seemed evident, but for what purpose I could not discover. Thermometer, at sunrise, 56°; at noon, 83°; at 4 P. M., 93°; at 9, 75°;—with wet bulb, 59°.
26TH OCTOBER.—A river flowing into the Maranòa, about a mile from our camp, seemed to be the river Amby; but without having traced its full course, I couldn’t be certain, considering all I had seen of these rivers: I think it was the same one, though. We kept the Maranòa on our left during the whole day’s journey, allowing us to travel in a fairly straight line towards about 20° E. of S. Finally, we reached the junction of an important tributary from the N.W., which was full of water, and saw another joining from the east. I crossed the main channel and set up camp on the left bank, overlooking a stretch of broad blue water below the junction, which reminded us of the Balonne itself. The river valley appeared to be surrounded by continuous ranges of high terrain, resembling table-land in the background. Recently, much grass and brush had been burned along the riverbanks by the locals; and we passed through an area where the grass was still on fire on both sides. Crows and hawks circled above the flames, clearly intent on snatching any prey that rightly belonged to them. In a dry section of the riverbed, I encountered multiple examples of a peculiar behavior from the eelfish (JEWFISH) PLOTOSUS TANDANUS.[*] I had previously noticed, elsewhere, clear circular openings in the aquatic weeds, revealing white patches of the bottom, with one or two fish swimming in circles around them. I now discovered in the dry riverbed that these circles had a raised edge of sand and were filled with stones, some as large as a closed fist. Yuranigh informed me that this was the nest of a pair of these fish, and that they brought the stones there to create it. The general bed of the river where I observed these nests was made up entirely of deep, firm sand; it seemed evident that the fish had a method for bringing or moving stones to these areas, but I couldn't figure out their purpose. Thermometer readings at sunrise were 56°; at noon, 83°; at 4 P.M., 93°; at 9, 75°;—with a wet bulb reading of 59°.
[* See Pl. 6. fig. 2. p. 44. vol. i. of Three Expeditions.]
[* See Pl. 6. fig. 2. p. 44. vol. i. of Three Expeditions.]
27TH OCTOBER.—We now travelled along the left bank of the river, and found the country tolerably open. The ADRIANIA ACERIFOLIA grew on an islet in the river.[*] This still pursued a remarkably straight course, and contained abundance of water. After passing over a place where the bush was on fire, we saw a female in the act of climbing a tree. When she had ascended about eight feet, she remained stationary, looking at us without any appearance of dismay. I continued to pursue a straight-forward course, but told Yuranigh to inquire, EN PASSANT, what was the name of the river; to which question she replied, in his own language, "The name of that water is Maranòa:" thus confirming the name we had already understood, however indirectly, to be that of the river. It proved the accuracy of my servant Brown's ear, for it was first communicated to him, during my absence, by the old chief at Bindango. The gin appeared to be climbing in search of honey. To state that this female wore no sort of clothing, were superfluous to any reader of this journal who may have been in such interior parts of Australia. After travelling about fourteen miles, we came upon a fine reach of the river, and encamped beside it. Thermometer, at sunrise, 59°; at noon, 68°; at 4 p.m., 95°; at 9, 77°; —wet bulb, 65°. Height above the sea, 832 feet. (Camp 80.)
27TH OCTOBER.—We traveled along the left bank of the river and found the land fairly open. The ADRIANIA ACERIFOLIA was growing on an island in the river.[*] The river maintained a remarkably straight path and had plenty of water. After passing through an area where the bush was on fire, we spotted a woman climbing a tree. When she had gone up about eight feet, she stopped, looking at us without any sign of fear. I kept moving forward but asked Yuranigh to casually find out the name of the river; she answered in his language, "The name of that water is Maranòa," confirming the name we had already indirectly learned was that of the river. This showed that my servant Brown’s ear for languages was accurate, as the old chief at Bindango had first mentioned it to him while I was away. The woman seemed to be climbing in search of honey. It would be unnecessary to mention that this woman wore no clothing to any readers of this journal who may have been in such remote areas of Australia. After traveling about fourteen miles, we reached a beautiful stretch of the river and set up camp beside it. Thermometer readings: at sunrise, 59°; at noon, 68°; at 4 p.m., 95°; at 9 p.m., 77°;—wet bulb, 65°. Height above sea level, 832 feet. (Camp 80.)
[* A. ACERIFOLIA (CROTON ACERIFOLIUM All. Cunn. MS.); foliis cordato-ovatis trifidis segmentis acuminatis grosse inaequaliter sinuato-serratis, subtus bracteisque pubescenti-tomentosis.—Shrub three feet high. Flowers scarlet. Collected by Allan Cunningham along the Lachlan river.]
[* A. ACERIFOLIA (CROTON ACERIFOLIUM All. Cunn. MS.); leaves heart-shaped to oval with three pointed lobes, coarsely unevenly wavy-toothed, and downy-tomentose underneath along with the bracts.—Shrub three feet tall. Flowers are scarlet. Collected by Allan Cunningham along the Lachlan River.]
28TH OCTOBER.—Heavy rain was falling soon after day-break, and I most willingly sat still in my tent, hoping the rain would continue. Just in sight of it grew a picturesque tree: the half-dead, half-alive aspect presented by the same sort of tree, was not unfrequent in the Australian woods; and I was induced to sketch this specimen, as highly characteristic of the scenery. These trees, "so wither'd and so wild in their attire," generally appear under the shelter of other taller trees; have half their branches dead, the part still in foliage drooping like the willow, the leaf being very small. It is an Acacia (A. VARIANS), and I was informed by Yuranigh that it is the Upas of Australia; the natives call it "Goobang," and use a bough of it to poison the fish in waterholes. They are too honest and fair in their fights to think of poisoning their weapons. The aspect of this half-dead tree is certainly characteristic of its deleterious qualities, in the wild romantic outline resembling Shakspeare's lean, poison-selling apothecary,—
28TH OCTOBER.—It was pouring rain shortly after dawn, and I was more than happy to stay put in my tent, hoping the rain would keep coming. Right outside, there was a picturesque tree: the half-dead, half-alive look often found in the Australian woods. I felt inspired to sketch this tree as it perfectly represented the scenery. These trees, "so wither'd and so wild in their attire," usually grow under the protection of taller trees; they have half-dead branches, and the part that’s still leafy hangs down like a willow, with very small leaves. It’s an Acacia (A. VARIANS), and Yuranigh told me it’s known as the Upas of Australia; the locals call it "Goobang" and use its branches to poison fish in waterholes. They’re too honest and fair in their fights to consider poisoning their weapons. The look of this half-dead tree definitely reflects its harmful properties, with its wild, romantic shape resembling Shakespeare's lean, poison-selling apothecary,—
—"who dwelt about the very gates of death, Pale misery had worn him to the bones."
—"who lived on the edge of death, Pale misery had left him skeletal."
Some good soaking rain fell until about 10 a.m., after which we had a cool day and cloudy sky. The rain ensured to us at least dew on the grass for a morning or two; and this, with the prospect of finding the channel dry lower down, was a great advantage. Thermometer, at sunrise, 61°; at noon, 75°; at 4 p.m., 76°; at 9, 60°;—wet bulb, 51°.
Some nice soaking rain fell until around 10 a.m., after which we had a cool day and a cloudy sky. The rain guaranteed us at least some dew on the grass for a morning or two; and this, along with the chance of finding the channel dry further down, was a big advantage. Thermometer readings: at sunrise, 61°; at noon, 75°; at 4 p.m., 76°; at 9, 60°;—wet bulb, 51°.
29TH OCTOBER.—A clear cool morning. We travelled this day with so much ease, that we got over twenty miles without apparent fatigue, to bullocks or horses. The necessity for travelling so far arose from the utter want of water in the river bed. The course was very direct; the country was open, and clothed with rich verdure on which our cattle could have reposed, doubtless with great satisfaction, both to themselves and drivers, had water also been at hand; but after travelling over, and measuring twenty miles, we were obliged to encamp without any. As this seemed only a branch of the river. I sent Corporal Graham to ascertain what was beyond, while I, with Yuranigh, examined this channel backwards. We found no water in either direction, but Corporal Graham discovered the main channel at a mile and a half westward from our camp, and traced it to near the junction with the ana-branch on which we were encamped. We discovered this day a club and shield, such as the natives use on the Belyando, carefully put away upon a sort of scaffold of bark, and covered with bark. The shield was made of very light wood, the face being rounded, and having been covered with a dark varnish like japan; for which the surface had been made rough by crossed lines, resembling those made on the first coat of plaster. It was evident, from the marks on this shield, that the clubs were frequently used as missiles.[*] Each man of the tribe that visited my camp on the Belyando, carried three or four of these, but no shields; a plain indication that they were not then armed for war against other aborigines. Thermometer, at sunrise, 36°; at noon, 68°; at 4 p.m., 73°; at 9, 49°;—with wet bulb, 40°.
29TH OCTOBER.—A clear, cool morning. We traveled today with such ease that we covered twenty miles without tiring our bullocks or horses. We needed to go so far because there was no water in the riverbed. The route was straightforward; the land was open and covered with lush greenery that our cattle would have enjoyed resting on, much to their and the drivers' satisfaction, if only water had been available. However, after traveling and measuring twenty miles, we had to set up camp without any water. Since this seemed to be just a branch of the river, I sent Corporal Graham to find out what was beyond it, while Yuranigh and I examined this channel upstream. We found no water in either direction, but Corporal Graham discovered the main channel a mile and a half west of our camp and traced it close to where it joined the branch we were camping on. Today, we found a club and shield, similar to those used by the natives on the Belyando, carefully stored on a type of bark scaffold and covered with bark. The shield was made of very light wood, rounded on the front, and coated with a dark varnish that looked like Japanese lacquer; the surface was made rough with crossed lines, resembling those made on the first coat of plaster. It was clear from the marks on this shield that the clubs were often used as projectiles. Each man from the tribe that visited my camp on the Belyando carried three or four of these, but no shields; a clear sign that they were not armed for conflict with other indigenous people. Thermometer readings: at sunrise, 36°; at noon, 68°; at 4 p.m., 73°; at 9, 49°;—with wet bulb, 40°.
[* Deposited in the British Museum (60, 61.).]
[* Deposited in the British Museum (60, 61.).]
30TH OCTOBER.—We were now fifty-two miles from the junction of the dry channel we crossed by the Balonne, and forty from the nearest part of our former route, in advancing into this country. The risk of want of water was worth encountering in the most direct line homewards, which was by following down this river. I travelled, as straight as the bush would allow, towards the junction; Graham examining the channel while we proceeded. No water was found where the rivers united. Having halted the small party with me, I followed one branch many miles with Yuranigh, but all we could find were some wells, dug by natives, in a part of the sandy bed; in one of which Yuranigh found, by a long bough he thrust in, that there was moisture about five feet below the surface. I returned, determined to encamp near this, and dig a well. The bullock teams had also arrived when I returned to the party, and I learnt that Drysdale, having observed that my little dog Procyon came in wet, had been led to the discovery of a lagoon about three miles back, at which the cattle had been already watered. I immediately encamped. At finding water the dog was most expert, the native next, we inferior to both. We had come about fifteen miles, and I wished to lay down the journey on the map. On doing this, I found we had at length attained a point from whence, in case of necessity, we could go as far as the Balonne, even if no water were found in the country intervening, the direct distance being under forty miles. During the afternoon, a still larger lagoon was found, higher up than the first. I resolved to give the cattle a day's rest, and then to proceed prepared, by well watering them previously, to travel on to the Balonne, but not with much expectation that scarcity of water would oblige us to go so far. Thermometer, at sunrise, 34°; at noon, 70°; at 4 P. M., 78°; at 9, 60°;—with wet bulb, 46°.
30TH OCTOBER.—We were now fifty-two miles from the junction of the dry channel we crossed by the Balonne, and forty miles from the closest point of our previous route as we moved further into this area. The risk of running low on water was worth taking by following the river directly towards home. I traveled as straight as the bush would allow me toward the junction, while Graham checked the channel as we moved. No water was found where the rivers met. After stopping the small group with me, I followed one branch for many miles with Yuranigh, but all we discovered were some wells dug by natives in a section of the sandy bed; in one, Yuranigh found moisture about five feet below the surface by using a long branch. I returned, determined to set up camp nearby and dig a well. The bullock teams had also arrived when I got back to the group, and I learned that Drysdale, noticing my little dog Procyon was wet, had found a lagoon about three miles back where the cattle had already been watered. I quickly set up camp. The dog was the best at finding water, the native was next, and we were not as skilled as either of them. We had traveled about fifteen miles, and I wanted to plot the journey on the map. When I did this, I realized we had finally reached a point where, if necessary, we could get to the Balonne, even if we found no water along the way, with a direct distance of under forty miles. In the afternoon, we discovered an even larger lagoon further up from the first one. I decided to rest the cattle for a day, then continue prepared by giving them a good drink beforehand to get to the Balonne, though I didn’t expect that water scarcity would force us to go that far. Thermometer, at sunrise, 34°; at noon, 70°; at 4 P.M., 78°; at 9, 60°;—with wet bulb, 46°.
31ST OCTOBER.—Two men were sent to the westward, where they found a dry sandy country with pines, the same as that seen by me on my first ride from St. George's bridge to the N.W., on the 18th of April. I was myself engaged at the camp, on my general map of the country. Thermometer, at sunrise, 33°; at noon, 81°; at 4 p.m., 84°; at 9, 51° —wet bulb, 43°. Height above the sea, 882 feet.
31ST OCTOBER.—Two men were sent westward, where they discovered a dry, sandy area with pines, similar to what I observed during my first ride from St. George's bridge to the northwest on April 18th. Meanwhile, I was busy at the camp, working on my general map of the region. The thermometer read 33° at sunrise, 81° at noon, 84° at 4 p.m., and 51° at 9 p.m.—wet bulb, 43°. The elevation above sea level is 882 feet.
1ST NOVEMBER.—The cattle and horses, having been all night loose beside Drysdale's ponds, were brought in early, and we then proceeded. After travelling about eight miles, over ground bearing traces of inundation, and looking, as we proceeded, into the river channel for water, Yuranigh found a lagoon in a hollow parallel to the river, and I encamped, resolved to reduce as much as possible the distance to be traversed in uncertainty about finding water. We had, however, found rocky ridges on the left, like bergs to the river; and the voices of natives in the woods, as well as these ridges, redeemed the country from the aspect of drought. This was but a small portion of the fine pastoral country, traversed by this river, where we found the channel dry; and I think this want was compensated by many lagoons and watercourses in that back country extending to the little river from Mount Abundance, the Cogoon.
1ST NOVEMBER.—The cattle and horses, having been loose all night next to Drysdale's ponds, were rounded up early, and we then set off. After traveling about eight miles over ground that showed signs of flooding and keeping an eye on the river channel for water, Yuranigh found a lagoon in a hollow next to the river, and I decided to set up camp, determined to minimize the distance we had to cover without knowing if we’d find water. However, we did come across rocky ridges on the left, rising like icebergs beside the river; and the sounds of natives in the woods, along with these ridges, gave the area a better appearance than just drought. This was only a small part of the beautiful pastoral land along this river, where we found the channel dry; but I believe this lack of water was balanced out by numerous lagoons and watercourses in the backcountry that stretched to the little river from Mount Abundance, the Cogoon.
2D NOVEMBER.—After watering all the animals, we went forward, prepared to go on to the Balonne, even if we should meet with no water until we arrived at that river. We found, however, that the country we were to traverse was well watered. Three miles on from our camp, the country appeared quite verdant, and park-like in its woods. The channel of the river was bordered with green reeds, and contained a deep reach of sparkling water. The river took a turn to the eastward, and, in the angle formed by its again turning south, a little tributary entered it from the north, which was full of ponds of water, and had not long ceased to run. This came from the rocky tract situated between our old line of route, along the little river Cogoon near Mount First View, and the Maranòa. The water now found supplied the only link wanting in our explored line along the last mentioned river, and I had no doubt that, by crossing that country more directly towards the upper part of the Maranòa, a supply would be found at convenient stages. On crossing the little tributary (which I called Requisite Ponds), we found that the river resumed its straight course towards the Balonne; and, in latitude 27° 31' 37" S., we again saw green reeds and a good pond, beside which we encamped. Thermometer, at sunrise, 50°; at noon, 76°; at 4 p.m., 79°; at 9, 63°; —with wet bulb, 61°. (Camp 82.) Height above the sea, 969 feet.
2D NOVEMBER.—After watering all the animals, we moved on, ready to continue toward the Balonne, even if we didn't find any water until we reached that river. However, we discovered that the area we were crossing was well-watered. Three miles from our camp, the landscape looked lush and park-like with its woods. The riverbank was lined with green reeds and had a deep section of sparkling water. The river turned east, and in the angle it made by turning south again, a small tributary flowed in from the north, filled with ponds, and it hadn’t been running for long. This tributary came from the rocky area between our previous route along the little Cogoon River near Mount First View and the Maranòa. The water we found now was the only missing link in our previously explored route along the latter river, and I was certain that by crossing the land more directly toward the upper part of the Maranòa, we would find water at convenient points. After crossing the small tributary (which I named Requisite Ponds), we noticed that the river continued straight toward the Balonne; and at latitude 27° 31' 37" S., we saw green reeds and a nice pond, where we set up camp. Thermometer readings: at sunrise, 50°; at noon, 76°; at 4 p.m., 79°; at 9 p.m., 63°; with a wet bulb temperature of 61°. (Camp 82.) Elevation above sea level, 969 feet.
3D NOVEMBER.—The river accompanied us but a short way this day, as I had determined to follow a straight line towards the junction with the Balonne, aware that the course of the river, for ten or twelve miles above that point, turned very much to the westward. We passed through much open forest, and over much sandy ground, on which the callitris always appeared to predominate. Little scrub lay in our way. At length, plains again appeared before us through the trees; and, beyond them, after travelling twenty-two miles, we saw before us the river line, running north-east. We crossed it, and still continued to travel on towards the main river; but night overtook us when not far distant from it, so that we were obliged to encamp within the distance of a mile and a half, after a journey, with carts, of 26½ miles. Here occurred the only Epiphyte observed during the expedition. It was growing in the dead parts of trees in the forest, and proved to be the CYMBIDIUM CANALICULATUM of Brown. One of the specimens had a raceme of flowers above a foot long. The fragrant JASMINUM MITCHELLII occurred, with narrower leaves than usual, at the foot of the forest trees. JUSTICIA ADSCENDENS, an inconspicuous weed, covered the plains in large tufts. The MELALEUCA TRICHOSTACHYA was there; and on the plains, and in open forests, grew a woolly. ANDROPOGON, which appeared not to be distinct from the A. BOMBYCINUS. In the open forest grew, here and there, the delicate COESIA OCCIDENTALIS, and on the plains a small species of HEDYOTIS; a new CALOCEPHALUS in bunches[*], and a creeping plant, with yellow flowers, since found to be a new species of GOODENIA.[**] Thermometer, at sunrise, 51°; at noon, 85°; at 4 p.m., 86°; at 9, 66°;—with wet bulb, 54°. Height above the sea, 819 feet.
3D NOVEMBER.—The river only accompanied us for a short distance today, as I planned to head straight towards the junction with the Balonne, knowing that the river's path turned significantly west for about ten or twelve miles above that point. We traveled through a lot of open forest and over sandy ground, where callitris trees were the most common. There wasn’t much scrub in our way. Eventually, plains came into view through the trees, and after traveling twenty-two miles, we saw the river line running northeast. We crossed it and continued on toward the main river; however, night caught up with us just a mile and a half away. We had to set up camp after covering a total of 26½ miles with the carts. Here, we found the only epiphyte noted during the expedition. It was growing in the dead parts of trees in the forest and turned out to be the CYMBIDIUM CANALICULATUM of Brown. One specimen had a flower spike over a foot long. The fragrant JASMINUM MITCHELLII was present, with narrower leaves than usual, at the base of the forest trees. JUSTICIA ADSCENDENS, an inconspicuous weed, covered the plains in large clumps. The MELALEUCA TRICHOSTACHYA was there too, and on the plains and in open forests grew a woolly ANDROPOGON, which seemed indistinguishable from A. BOMBYCINUS. In the open forest, we sporadically found the delicate COESIA OCCIDENTALIS, and on the plains, a small type of HEDYOTIS; a new CALOCEPHALUS in bunches[*], and a creeping plant with yellow flowers, later identified as a new species of GOODENIA.[**] The thermometer readings were 51° at sunrise, 85° at noon, 86° at 4 p.m., and 66° at 9 p.m., with a wet bulb reading of 54°. Our elevation was 819 feet above sea level.
[* C. GNAPHALIOIDES (Hook. MS.); annua erecta arachnoidea superne dichotome ramosa, foliis linearibus, capitulorum glomerulis laxiusculis corymbosis, involucri cylindracei squamis pellucidis albis.—Probably a distinct genus.]
[* C. GNAPHALIOIDES (Hook. MS.); annual upright, spider-web-like plant with forked branches at the top, having narrow leaves and loosely clustered flower heads in corymbs, with a cylindrical involucre and translucent white scales.—Probably a distinct genus.]
[** G. FLAGELLIFERA (de Vriese MS.); herbacea, glabra, foliis radicalibus longe petiolatis, spathulatis, flagellis elongatis: floribus radicalibus, axillaribus, longissime pedunculatis; calyce supero, quinquefido, laciniis lineari-lanceolatis, bibracteolato; corolla bilabiata flava, labio superiore fisso; fllamentis et antheris liberis; stigmatis indusio ciliato; flagellis folii-et floriferis valde elongatis capsula prismatica, biloculari; seminibus marginatis compressis; flagellis floriferis; floribus in axilla folii ovatorotundati, auriculati, subamplexicaulis, contentis, brevius pedunculatis.—Folia radicalia, 8-10 cent. longa, 1½-2 cent. lata, apice rotundata, subrepandula, deorsum attenuata, subdecurrentia, utrinque glaberrima, subtus pallidiora; folia flagellorum bracteiformia, ovata, subrotunda, uno vel utroque latere auriculata, alterutra auricula multo minore, floribus vero in bractearum illarum axillis, reliquis multo minoribus neque ad normam perfectis, brevius pedunculatis. Affinis species G. HEDERACEOE.—DE VR.]
[** G. FLAGELLIFERA (de Vriese MS.); herbaceous, smooth, with long-stemmed, spatula-shaped radical leaves, and elongated flagella: flowers are radical, axillary, and very long-stemmed; with a superior calyx, five-parted, with linear-lanceolate segments, and two bracts; the corolla is yellow and bilabiate, with a fixed upper lip; filaments and anthers are free; the stigma has a ciliated inducium; the flagella for both leaves and flowers are very elongated with a prismatic, two-chambered capsule; seeds are compressed with margins; flowering flagella; flowers in the axils of ovate-round, eared, and slightly clasping leaves, contained, with shorter stems. — Radical leaves are 8-10 cm long, 1½-2 cm wide, rounded at the tip, somewhat wavy, tapering downward, slightly decurrent, very smooth on both sides, with the underside lighter; the flagella leaves are bract-like, ovate, slightly round, with one or both sides eared, one ear much smaller than the other, while flowers appear in the axils of those bracts, the others much smaller and not perfectly formed, with shorter stems. Related species G. HEDERACEOE. — DE VR.]
4TH NOVEMBER.—At an early hour we proceeded, and had the satisfaction soon to find our old wheeltracks along the bank of the majestic Balonne. This truly noble river was here as broad as the Thames at Richmond; its banks were verdant with a luxuriant crop of grass, and the merry notes of numerous birds gave the whole scene a most cheering appearance; especially to us who were again upon a route connected with home, and at a point 200 miles nearer to it, than where we had last seen that route. We had since made the discovery, and completed the survey, of the lower Maranòa, a river which had brought us in a very straight direction back to this point; and by tracing this down, we had established a well watered line of route back to the fine regions we had discovered in the more remote interior. I marked a tree at this camp (83.), which mark is intended to show where this route turns towards the Maranòa x. being marked at the next camp back along the old track. In the Balonne, huge cod-fish (GRISTES PEELII) were caught this afternoon; indeed, we already felt comparatively at home, although still far from the settled districts, and strangers to all that had been passing in the world during seven months. I was busy endeavouring to complete my maps before other cares should divert my attention from the one subject that had occupied it so long. But in perusing nature's own book, I could, at leisure, think sometimes on many other subjects, and I fancied myself wiser than when I set out,—much improved in health,—bronzed and bearded; sunproof, fly-proof, and water-proof: that is to say, proof against the want of it, "LUCUS A NON LUCENDO." Thermometer, at sunrise, 44°; at noon, 76°; at 4 p.m., 85°; at 9, 71°;—wet bulb, 59°. Height above the sea, 738 feet.
4TH NOVEMBER.—Early in the morning, we set off and soon found comfort in recognizing our old wheel tracks along the banks of the majestic Balonne. This impressive river was as wide as the Thames at Richmond; its banks were lush with thick grass, and the cheerful sounds of numerous birds made the whole scene feel uplifting, especially for us as we were once again on a route connected to home, now 200 miles closer than when we last saw it. Since then, we had discovered and finished surveying the lower Maranòa, a river that had guided us straight back to this point; by tracing it, we created a well-watered route back to the beautiful areas we had found deeper in the interior. I marked a tree at this camp (83.) to indicate where this route turns towards the Maranòa x, marked at the next camp back along the old track. This afternoon, we caught large codfish (GRISTES PEELII) in the Balonne; we already felt somewhat at home, even though we were still far from settled areas and unaware of what had been happening in the world for the past seven months. I was focused on finishing my maps before other matters distracted me from the one subject that had occupied my thoughts for so long. But while enjoying nature's beauty, I found time to think about many other topics too, and I felt wiser than when I started—much healthier—tanned and bearded; sun-proof, fly-proof, and water-proof: that is, resistant to the lack of it, "LUCUS A NON LUCENDO." Thermometer readings were 44° at sunrise, 76° at noon, 85° at 4 p.m., and 71° at 9 p.m.;—wet bulb at 59°. Height above sea level: 738 feet.
5TH NOVEMBER.—We now travelled back along our old track towards Camp VIII., at St. George's Bridge, where the first depôt had been stationed; the tracks of several horsemen, returning after rain, were visible along our route, and the prints of natives' feet with them. How far these parties had been further on, along the other route by which we had advanced, we could not then ascertain. In the course of our ride this day, we came suddenly upon two females, who were so busy digging roots on a plain crossed by our track, that we were too near to admit of their running off before they perceived us; they therefore remained on the spot until we went up to them. They informed us, through Yuranigh, that "the tracks were those of five white men on horseback, who had been accompanied by natives on foot. They came there about one moon before then, and had been looking very much all about; these females could not think what for." We took up our old position, overlooking the rocky bed of the river. Pieces of old iron had been left untouched by the natives, both at this camp, and were found on our old track in returning. As these articles were such as they could have made great use of, I considered their leaving them a proof of their good disposition towards the exploring party; and of the very favourable impression we had made formerly on the aborigines, at the interview with the assembled tribes of this river. In the scrubs adjacent, we found, for the first time, the ripe fruit of the "Quandang" (FUSANUS ACUMINATUS), and several shrubs in flower that we thought new to botany. Thermometer, at sunrise, 44°; at noon, 76°; at 4 p.m., 85°; at 9, 71°;—wet bulb, 59°.
5TH NOVEMBER.—We traveled back along our old route towards Camp VIII, at St. George's Bridge, where the first depot had been set up. We could see the tracks of several horsemen returning after the rain along our path, along with footprints from the locals. We couldn't tell how far these groups had gone along the other route we had taken earlier. During our ride that day, we unexpectedly came across two women who were so focused on digging roots in a field that they didn't notice us until we were too close for them to escape. They stayed where they were until we approached them. Through Yuranigh, they told us that "the tracks were those of five white men on horseback, who had been accompanied by locals on foot. They came here about a month ago and had been looking around a lot; these women couldn't figure out why." We took our old position, overlooking the rocky riverbed. We found pieces of old iron that the locals had left untouched, both at this camp and along our old route on the way back. Since these items were something they could have used, I took their leaving them as a sign of their good attitude towards the exploring party and the positive impression we had made on the aborigines during our previous meeting with the tribes along this river. In the nearby scrub, we found, for the first time, ripe fruit from the Quandang (FUSANUS ACUMINATUS), along with several flowering shrubs that we thought were new to botany. The thermometer readings were 44° at sunrise, 76° at noon, 85° at 4 p.m., and 71° at 9;—wet bulb, 59°.
Chapter IX.
MR. KENNEDY SENT TO EXPLORE THE MOONI PONDS.—I COMPLETE THE MAPS.—EXCESSIVE HEAT AGAIN.—NEW PLANTS FOUND.—MR. KENNEDY RETURNS—AFTER SUFFERING MUCH FROM THE HEAT AND DROUGHT.—CORPORAL GRAHAM SENT WITH DESPATCHES FOR THE GOVERNOR OF NEW SOUTH WALES.—THE PARTY CROSSES THE BALONNE—BY ST. GEORGE'S BRIDGE.—REACHES THE MOONI PONDS—OR RIVER.—TRACKS OF CATTLE AND HORSES NUMEROUS.—A WHITE WOMAN MET WITH.—CATTLE STATIONS.—HEAVY AND CONTINUED RAIN RETARDS THE PARTY.—FLOODS ALMOST SURROUND THE CAMP.—THE WATERS KEPT BACK BY A DAM OF SAND.—AFTER SEVENTEEN DAYS HALT, THE PARTY CROSSES FROM THE MOONI TO THE BARWAN.—A FLOOD IN THE BARWAN.—PASSAGE WITH THE BOATS.—MUSQUITOES NUMEROUS AFTER THE RAIN.—STRAY HORSES JOIN OURS.—THE MAAL ALSO FLOODED.—CROSS IT WITH THE BOATS.—THE MEEI CROSSED.—CROSS OTHER BRANCHES OF THE GWYDIR.—RECOGNISE MOUNT RIDDELL.—ENTER ON EXTENSIVE PLAINS.—SNODGRASS LAGOON.—A YOUNG SQUATTER.—LEAVE THE PARTY IN CHARGE OF MR. KENNEDY.—RIDE HOMEWARDS.
MR. KENNEDY SENT TO EXPLORE THE MOONI PONDS.—I FINISH THE MAPS.—IT'S VERY HOT AGAIN.—DISCOVERED NEW PLANTS.—MR. KENNEDY RETURNS—AFTER ENDURING A LOT OF HEAT AND DROUGHT.—CORPORAL GRAHAM IS SENT WITH MESSAGES FOR THE GOVERNOR OF NEW SOUTH WALES.—THE GROUP CROSSES THE BALONNE—THROUGH ST. GEORGE'S BRIDGE.—ARRIVES AT THE MOONI PONDS—OR RIVER.—THERE ARE MANY TRACKS OF CATTLE AND HORSES.—MET A WHITE WOMAN.—CATTLE STATIONS AROUND.—HEAVY AND CONTINUOUS RAIN DELAYS THE GROUP.—FLOODS ALMOST ENCIRCLE THE CAMP.—THE WATER IS BLOCKED BY A DAM OF SAND.—AFTER SEVENTEEN DAYS OF WAITING, THE GROUP CROSSES FROM THE MOONI TO THE BARWAN.—A FLOOD IN THE BARWAN.—CROSSING WITH THE BOATS.—NUMEROUS MOSQUITOES AFTER THE RAIN.—STRAY HORSES JOIN OURS.—THE MAAL IS ALSO FLOODED.—CROSS IT WITH THE BOATS.—CROSS THE MEEI.—CROSS OTHER BRANCHES OF THE GWYDIR.—IDENTIFY MOUNT RIDDELL.—ENTER EXTENSIVE PLAINS.—SNODGRASS LAGOON.—A YOUNG SQUATTER.—LEAVE THE GROUP IN THE CARE OF MR. KENNEDY.—RIDE BACK HOME.
5TH to 9TH NOVEMBER.—These days I devoted to the protracting of angles taken on the Victoria, and the last day to writing my despatch to the Government; and on this morning (the 9th) I sent Mr. Kennedy, followed by Corporal Graham and John Douglas, to examine the country in the direction of the furthest point attained by me on my journey of 1831; that was on the Barwan (Karaula) in latitude 29° 2' S., and bearing about 20° E. of S. from this camp. A chain of ponds, called the "Mooni" ponds, were said to water the intervening country, and I wished to ascertain whether they were favourable for the connection of our recently explored route, with the termination of that marked out by me in 1831, when my journey, undertaken expressly with the same objects in view, was accidentally frustrated.
5TH to 9TH NOVEMBER.—I spent these days measuring angles taken from the Victoria, and on the last day, I wrote my report to the Government. On the morning of the 9th, I sent Mr. Kennedy, followed by Corporal Graham and John Douglas, to investigate the area towards the furthest point I reached during my journey in 1831; that was on the Barwan (Karaula) at latitude 29° 2' S., and about 20° E. of S. from this camp. A series of ponds, known as the "Mooni" ponds, were said to supply water to the surrounding area, and I wanted to find out if they could help connect our recently explored route with the endpoint I marked in 1831, when my journey—taken for precisely the same purposes—was unexpectedly interrupted.
Corporal Graham was to go forward to the postoffice at Tamworth with the despatches, when Mr. Kennedy, having ascertained the situation of the Mooni ponds, should return. In the meanwhile, I continued to finish maps and drawings, although suffering much inconvenience from excessive heat, under a tent infested with numerous flies. The banks of the river were gay with the purple flowers of SWAINSONA CORONILLOEFOLIA; FUSANUS ACUMINATUS, produced its crimson-coloured fruit, which Yuranigh brought us from the bush; the spotted bark tree, ELOEODENDRON MACULOSUM, was also in these scrubs. A yellow-flowered herbaceous plant, has been determined by Professor De Vriese to be identical with the Swan River GOODENIA PULCHELLA. A salt plant, greedily eaten by the cattle, proved to be a variety of the ATRIPLEX NUMMULARIS, observed in February on the Macquarie. A species of GREWIA, in fruit, appeared to be the same as the G. RICHARDIANA of Walpers. The TRICHINIUM FUSIFORME R. Br., was covered with its globular, shaggy flower-heads, in the sandy open parts of the forest. A very remarkable shrub, five or six feet high, with the foliage of a Phyllirea, and spreading branches, was loaded with short racemes of white flowers. It proved to be a plant of the natural order of Bixads, and allied to MELICYTUS, but with hermaphrodite flowers.[*] A submerged plant, in the water, was found to be a new species of MYRIOPHYLLUM, with tuberculate fruit.[**] CASSIA CORONILLOIDES, a low shrub, was in flower.[***] A shrubby MYOPORUM put forth sweet and edible fruit.[****] A new ELOEODENDRON, with small panicles of white flowers, formed a forest tree twenty feet high, remarkable for its spotted bark.[*****] A fir-leaved CASSIA, with thin, sickle-leaved pods, formed a bush, from four to five feet high.[******] A new blue-flowered MORGANIA, decorated the river-bank[*******]; lastly, a new species of indigo[********], completed the list of plants we gathered at this season at the camp over St. George's Bridge.
Corporal Graham was supposed to head to the post office in Tamworth with the dispatches when Mr. Kennedy returned after checking the situation at the Mooni ponds. In the meantime, I kept working on maps and drawings, though I was quite uncomfortable due to the intense heat inside a tent swarming with flies. The riverbanks were vibrant with the purple flowers of SWAINSONA CORONILLOEFOLIA; FUSANUS ACUMINATUS produced its bright red fruit, which Yuranigh brought us from the bush; the spotted bark tree, ELOEODENDRON MACULOSUM, was also present in these scrubs. A yellow-flowered herbaceous plant was identified by Professor De Vriese as the same as the Swan River GOODENIA PULCHELLA. A salt plant, eagerly eaten by the cattle, turned out to be a variety of ATRIPLEX NUMMULARIS, which we had seen in February on the Macquarie. A species of GREWIA, bearing fruit, seemed to match G. RICHARDIANA described by Walpers. The TRICHINIUM FUSIFORME R. Br. had its round, shaggy flower heads in the sandy clearings of the forest. A striking shrub, five or six feet tall, with foliage like Phyllirea and spreading branches, was covered in short clusters of white flowers. It turned out to be a plant from the Bixads family, related to MELICYTUS, but with hermaphrodite flowers.[*] A submerged plant in the water was a new species of MYRIOPHYLLUM, featuring tuberculate fruit.[**] CASSIA CORONILLOIDES, a low shrub, was in bloom.[***] A shrubby MYOPORUM produced sweet and edible fruit.[****] A new ELOEODENDRON, with small clusters of white flowers, grew into a forest tree twenty feet high, notable for its spotted bark.[*****] A fir-leaved CASSIA, with slender, sickle-shaped pods, formed a bush, standing four to five feet high.[******] A new blue-flowered MORGANIA adorned the riverbank[*******]; finally, a new species of indigo[********] rounded out the list of plants we collected at the camp over St. George's Bridge this season.
[* M. ? OLEASTER (Lindl. MS.); glaberrimus, foliis lineari-lanceolatis supra griseis subtus virentibus venosis racemis strictis multo longioribus, floribus hermaphroditis.—OBS. SEP. 5. PET. 5 hypog. imbricata. ST. 5 in margine disci magni inserta. OVAR. ovatum 1-loc. plac. 3-par. STYLUS simplex. STIGMA parvum 3-dent. FRUCTUS ignotus, verisim. carnosus.]
[* M. ? OLEASTER (Lindl. MS.); smooth, with narrow-lanceolate leaves that are grayish on top and green underneath, with prominent veins, and with much longer upright racemes, and hermaphroditic flowers.—OBS. SEP. 5. PET. 5 hypog. imbricata. ST. 5 inserted at the edge of the large disc. OVAR. oval 1-loc. plac. 3-par. STYLUS simple. STIGMA small 3-toothed. FRUCTUS unknown, likely fleshy.]
[** M. VERRUCOSUM (Lindl. MS.); foliis submersis capillaceo-multifidis emersis ternatim verticillatis ovatis pinnatifidis, floribus octandris, fructibus tuberculatis.]
[** M. VERRUCOSUM (Lindl. MS.); with submerged leaves that are hair-like and many-forked, emerging in whorls of three, ovate, and finely divided, with eight-parted flowers and tuberculated fruits.]
[*** C. CORONILLOIDES (A. Cunn. MS.); ramis subangulatis petiolisque minute puberulis, foliolis 8-10-jugis lineari-oblongis obtusiusculis glabris, glandula cylindrica inter par infimum, racemis axillaribus 2-3-floris folio multo brevioribus.—Very near C. AUSTRALIS, but the leaflets are fewer and smaller, and the subulate glands of that species are wanting.—G. B.
[*** C. CORONILLOIDES (A. Cunn. MS.); branches somewhat angled with slightly fuzzy petioles, leaflets 8-10 pairs, linear-oblong and somewhat blunt, smooth, with a cylindrical gland between the lower pair, axillary racemes with 2-3 flowers much shorter than the leaf.—Very similar to C. AUSTRALIS, but has fewer and smaller leaflets, and the needle-like glands found in that species are absent.—G. B.]
[**** M. DULCE (Benth. MS.); ramulis laevibus, foliis anguste lanceolatis planis acutis uninervibus basi angustatis, laciniis calycinis linearilanceolatis acutis brevibus, corollae limbo imberbi.—Intermediate between M. TENUIFOLIUM Br. and M. DESERTI Cunn.]
[**** M. DULCE (Benth. MS.); with smooth branches, narrow lance-shaped flat leaves with sharp points and a single vein that tapers at the base, short sharp linear-lanceolate calyx lobes, and a corolla limb that is unarmed.—Intermediate between M. TENUIFOLIUM Br. and M. DESERTI Cunn.]
[***** E. MACULOSUM (Lindl. MS.); inerme, foliis linearibus obovatis integerrimis obtusis, paniculis terminalibus ultra folia evectis.]
[***** E. MACULOSUM (Lindl. MS.); unarmed, with linear obovate leaves that are perfectly smooth and blunt, and terminal panicles extending beyond the leaves.]
[****** C. CIRCINNATA (Benth. MS.); glabriuscula, petiolis phyllodineis lineari-subteretibus, foliolis nullis, racemis phyllodio plerumque brevioribus 1-2-floris, legumine plano glabro cincinnato v. spiraliter contorto.—Phyllodia one to one and a half inch long, resembling the leaflets of C. HETEROLOBA. Pod like that of several PITHECOLOBIA, but not yet ripe.]
[****** C. CIRCINNATA (Benth. MS.); smooth, with petioles that are linear to somewhat rounded, having no leaflets, and with racemes of phyllodia that are usually shorter and 1-2 flowers. The pod is flat, smooth, and either curled or spirally twisted. — Phyllodia are about one to one and a half inches long, resembling the leaflets of C. HETEROLOBA. The pod looks similar to those of several PITHECOLOBIA, but it is not ripe yet.]
[******* M. FLORIBUNDA (Benth. MS.); dense glandulosa, caeterum glabra, ramis strictis dense foliosis foliis linearibus rarissime dentatis, pedicellis plerisque geminis folio florali multo brevioribus.—This is a very distinct species which was also gathered by Sir T. Mitchell in 1836, but my specimen was not complete enough to describe it accurately, the branches are thickly covered with leaves and flowers. The lower leaves are one to two inches long, the flowers blue, like those of M. GLABRA. G.B.]
[******* M. FLORIBUNDA (Benth. MS.); densely glandular, otherwise smooth, with strictly upright branches that are densely leafed, having rarely toothed linear leaves, with most pedicels being much shorter than the floral leaf in pairs.—This is a very distinct species, which was also collected by Sir T. Mitchell in 1836, but my specimen wasn't complete enough to describe it accurately; the branches are thickly covered with leaves and flowers. The lower leaves are one to two inches long, and the flowers are blue, like those of M. GLABRA. G.B.]
[******** I. BREVIDENS (Benth. MS.) fruticosa, gracilis, pilis parvis canescens, foliolis 6-10-jugis cum impari oppositis obovatis subplanis mucronatis v. emarginatis utrinque strigosis, racemis multifloris laxis folia vix superantibus, bracteis minutis, calycis villosuli dentibus brevissimis obtusis, corolla pubescente, legumine strigilloso incurvo.—It has much the aspect of I. MICRANTHA (Bunge), but the flowers are not quite so small, and the teeth of the calyx are very different.]
[******** I. BREVIDENS (Benth. MS.) shrubby, slender, with small grayish hairs, leaflets 6-10 in pairs, with unevenly opposite, obovate, slightly flat, pointed or notched on both sides, strigose, in loose clusters with many flowers that barely exceed the leaves, with tiny bracts, short and blunt teeth on the hairy calyx, fuzzy corolla, and curved, strigose pod. — It looks a lot like I. MICRANTHA (Bunge), but the flowers are not quite as small, and the teeth of the calyx are very different.]
15TH NOVEMBER.—Mr. Kennedy having been absent much longer than was expected, at length appeared on the opposite bank of the river with Douglas, both being on foot, and Douglas leading only one (strange) horse. The information Mr. Kennedy brought me was favourable to the project of uniting this route with that to the Barwan, and the (now) settled district of the Nammoy. He had found that the Mooni ran nearly north and south, and that its banks were occupied with cattle-stations to within a day's ride of our camp. This ride of discovery had, however, cost the lives of two of our horses, the bearing already mentioned as the direction given for Mr. Kennedy's guidance having been TRUE and not magnetic. Pursuing that bearing BY COMPASS, Mr. Kennedy had ridden almost parallel to the Mooni, sixty-three miles, without hitting them, or finding water. The heat was intense, one of the horses died, and the men were very ill; when they at length reached these ponds. In returning, he had travelled by the stations, and borrowed the horse brought back, from the station nearest to us, occupied by Messrs. Hook. From these gentlemen Mr. Kennedy had ascertained that Sir Charles Fitzroy was the new Governor.
15TH NOVEMBER.—Mr. Kennedy, having been away much longer than expected, finally appeared on the opposite bank of the river with Douglas. They were both on foot, and Douglas was leading only one unusual horse. The information Mr. Kennedy brought me was positive for the plan to connect this route with the one to the Barwan and the now established district of the Nammoy. He discovered that the Mooni River ran nearly north and south, and its banks were occupied by cattle stations within a day's ride from our camp. However, this exploration cost two of our horses their lives, as the bearing already mentioned for Mr. Kennedy's guidance was TRUE and not magnetic. Following that bearing BY COMPASS, Mr. Kennedy rode almost parallel to the Mooni for sixty-three miles without encountering them or finding any water. The heat was extreme; one horse died, and the men were very sick by the time they finally reached these ponds. On the way back, he traveled by the stations and borrowed the horse he brought back from the nearest station, which was occupied by Messrs. Hook. From these gentlemen, Mr. Kennedy learned that Sir Charles Fitzroy was the new Governor.
17TH NOVEMBER.—The whole party crossed the Balonne by St. George's Bridge, and I arrived, the same afternoon, with a small advanced party on the Mooni, which we made in latitude 28° 17' 51" S. The channel was full of water, and thus we completed the last link wanted to form a chain of communication DIRECT FROM SYDNEY, to the furthest limits we had explored. The ground was imprinted with the hoofs of cattle, and we already felt as if at home. The day was one of extreme heat without any wind; the thermometer stood at 104° in the shade. Yet the horses drew the carts easily twenty-four miles and a quarter. We had passed over a country covered with excellent grass, consisting chiefly of plains and open forest, with scrubs of ACACIA PENDULA, and a soil of clay. In the scrubs we found a new species of CANTHIUM, a shrub ten or twelve feet high; and in the open forest ACACIA NERIIFOLIA was observed in fruit; HIBISCUS STURTII Hook.; an Evolvulus related to SERICEUS; a new yellow CROTALARIA[*] ; and a noble new species of STENOCHILUS, with willowy leaves and large trumpet flowers.[**] Thermometer, at sunrise, rise, 62°; at noon, 103°; at 4 p.m., 104°; at 9, 81°;—with wet bulb, 67°. Height above the sea, 622 feet. (Camp 84.)
17TH NOVEMBER.—The entire group crossed the Balonne via St. George's Bridge, and I arrived that same afternoon with a small advance team at the Mooni, located at latitude 28° 17' 51" S. The channel was full of water, allowing us to complete the final connection needed to create a direct communication line from SYDNEY to the furthest reaches we had explored. The ground bore the marks of cattle hooves, and we already felt at home. The day was extremely hot with no wind; the thermometer read 104° in the shade. Despite the heat, the horses managed to pull the carts easily for twenty-four and a quarter miles. We traveled through an area abundant with excellent grass, mainly consisting of plains and open forest, with patches of ACACIA PENDULA, and clay soil. In the scrubs, we discovered a new species of CANTHIUM, a shrub about ten to twelve feet tall; in the open forest, we noted ACACIA NERIIFOLIA in fruit, HIBISCUS STURTII Hook.; a related Evolvulus to SERICEUS; a new yellow CROTALARIA[*]; and a magnificent new species of STENOCHILUS with slender leaves and large trumpet-like flowers.[**] The thermometer readings were 62° at sunrise, 103° at noon, 104° at 4 p.m., and 81° at 9 p.m., with a wet bulb measurement of 67°. Height above sea level was 622 feet. (Camp 84.)
[* C. DISSITIFLORA (Benth. MS.); herbacea, laxe ramosa, stipulis setaceis, foliolis elliptico-oblongis rarius ovalibus obtusis supra glabris subtus ramulisque pube tenui subcanescentibus, racemis erectis oppositifoliis elongatis, floribus (ultra 20) distantibus, carinae rostro brevi recto, ovulis numerosis, legumine breviter stipitato pubescente.—Very near to C. SENEGALENSIS among the LONGIROSTRES, but the habit is more rigid, the leaflets rather larger, the beak of the keel shorter, and the pod (which is only very young in the specimen) is borne on a short stalk.]
[* C. DISSITIFLORA (Benth. MS.); herbaceous, loosely branched, with needle-like stipules, leaflets that are elliptic-oblong or occasionally oval and blunt, smooth on top and covered with fine whitish hairs underneath and on the branches, erect racemes with opposite, elongated leaves, flowers (more than 20) spaced apart, the keel with a short, straight beak, numerous ovules, and a short-stalked, pubescent pod.—Very similar to C. SENEGALENSIS among the LONGIROSTRES, but the growth is stiffer, the leaflets are somewhat larger, the beak of the keel is shorter, and the pod (which is only very young in the specimen) is attached to a short stalk.]
[** S. (PLATYCHILUS) BIGNONIAEFLORUS (Benth. MS.); glaber viscosus-foliis longe lanceolatis linearibusve apice subuncinato, calycis foliolis latis acutis, corollae glabrae ventricosae laciniis obtusissimis infima dilatata subtriloba vix caeteris magis soluta, staminibus vix exsertis.—Leaves three to six inches long, two to six lines broad, thick and clammy. Flowers above an inch long, remarkable for the broad divisions of the corolla, and the general form much that of a BIGNONIA. This difference in the form of the corolla, would perhaps justify the placing it into a distinct genus instead of a mere section, especially as that peculiarity which gave the name of STENOCHILUS does not exist, were it not that the forms of the corolla are so different in different other species, that they will not furnish generic characters where the habit is similar.—G. B.]
[** S. (PLATYCHILUS) BIGNONIAEFLORUS (Benth. MS.); smooth plant with sticky, long lance-shaped or linear leaves that taper to a point, with broad sharp calyx lobes, and a smooth, swollen corolla with very blunt segments, the lower part slightly three-lobed and not much more separated than the others, with stamens barely protruding. — Leaves are three to six inches long and two to six lines wide, thick and sticky. Flowers are over an inch long, notable for the broad segments of the corolla, resembling the overall shape of a BIGNONIA. This difference in corolla shape might justify placing it in a separate genus rather than just a section, especially since the unique characteristic that gave the name STENOCHILUS is absent. However, the variation in corolla shapes among other species is so broad that they do not provide distinct generic traits when the plant’s overall look is similar. — G. B.]
18TH NOVEMBER.—The teams came in very early, not having been above one mile behind. I remained encamped there, in the expectation of some decided change of weather. The night had been oppressively hot. The season during which we had been beyond the Balonne, viz., that between the 23rd April and 5th November, was the most proper for visiting the tropical regions of Australia.
18TH NOVEMBER.—The teams arrived very early, only about a mile behind. I stayed camped here, hoping for a significant change in the weather. The night had been unbearably hot. The time we spent beyond the Balonne, from April 23rd to November 5th, was the best period for exploring the tropical regions of Australia.
Here we found TRICORYNE ELATIOR, a delicate yellow-flowered plant; a species of the genus Fugosia near F. DIGITATA, a plant of Senegambia, but less glabrous, and with the leaflets of the involucre much larger. MORGANIA GLABRA, a little erect herbaceous plant, having the appearance of being parasitical on roots; ACACIA VARIANS, in the open forest, in rich soil. ANTHERICUM BULBOSUM, formerly seen on the Narran. In the thick forest, a shrub six feet high with small white flowers, CATHA CUNNINGHAMII[*] (Hook. MS.), and a new species of VIGNA very near V. LANCEOLATA, though very different in habit.[**] Thermometer, at sunrise, 58°; at noon, 102°; at 4 p.m., 103°; at 9, 76°;—with wet bulb, 64°.
Here we found TRICORYNE ELATIOR, a delicate plant with yellow flowers; a species from the genus Fugosia, close to F. DIGITATA, a plant from Senegambia, but less smooth and with much larger leaflets in the involucre. MORGANIA GLABRA, a small upright herbaceous plant, looks like it's parasitic on roots; ACACIA VARIANS, found in the open forest, thriving in rich soil. ANTHERICUM BULBOSUM, previously seen on the Narran. In the dense forest, there's a six-foot shrub with small white flowers, CATHA CUNNINGHAMII[*] (Hook. MS.), and a new species of VIGNA that is very similar to V. LANCEOLATA, although quite different in growth form.[**] The thermometer read 58° at sunrise; 102° at noon; 103° at 4 p.m.; and 76° at 9 p.m.;—with a wet bulb reading of 64°.
[* C. CUNNINGHAMII (Hook. MS.); inermis, foliis lineari-lanceolatis rigidis mucronato-acutis integerrimis subfalcatis superne latioribus basi in petiolum perbrevem attenuatis, floribus axillaribus fasciculatis, pedunculis simplicibus vel racemosis bracteolatis.]
[* C. CUNNINGHAMII (Hook. MS.); spineless, with narrow-lanceolate leaves that are rigid, sharply pointed, entirely smooth, and slightly curved at the top, wider near the base and tapering down to a very short petiole, featuring axillary flowers that are clustered, with simple or racemose peduncles that have small bracts.]
[* V. SUBERECTA (Benth. MS.); leviter pubescens, suberecta, ramosissima, foliolis lato-lanceolatis basi integris vel hastato-trilobatis, pedunculis folio subbrevioribus apice paucifloris, calycis pubescentis campanulati dentibus tubo subaequilongis, carina rostrata acuta, legumine puberulo.]
[* V. SUBERECTA (Benth. MS.); slightly hairy, upright, very branched, with broad lance-shaped leaflets that are either entire at the base or hastate-trilobed, flower stalks slightly shorter than the leaves with a few flowers at the top, a hairy campanulate calyx with teeth that are about the same length as the tube, a sharp, beaked keel, and a hairy pod.]
19TH NOVEMBER.—The party moved off at an early hour. The tracks of cattle and horses became more and more numerous as we proceeded, and the channel of the little river was full of water, on which a large species of duck was very plentiful. At length we came upon the track of wheels, and followed them towards the station; which was not yet visible when our young native, Dicky, fell a shouting and laughing, drawing my attention to what certainly was a "RARA AVIS" to him. This was a white woman going with pails to milk the cows, and the first white female he could ever have seen. The jeering laugh of the young savage was amusing, as he pointed to that swaddled, straw-bonneted object, as something curious in natural history, to which my attention, as he thought, would be rivetted: but the sight was, nevertheless, a welcome one to all the party. Soon two comfortable stations, one on each side of the river, appeared before us; and the neatly dressed mother of two chubby white children stood at the door of one of them. I had a memorandum from Mr. Kennedy to call at the other, to thank the owner for lending him a horse; and there I first entered again under a roof, and a most agreeable cover it did seem to me after living nearly a year under canvass, in houseless wilds. These were cattle stations, and both appeared to be well-laid out for the purpose, and upon a scale more substantial and worthy of it, than I had hitherto seen in squatting districts. The placing of two such stations thus near each other, is a good arrangement, not only affording better security against the depredations of natives, but also as banishing that aspect of solitude and loneliness such places in general present; and in the outset of such a life, implanting, in the still uncultivated soil, the germs of social union, on the solid basis of mutual protection.
19TH NOVEMBER.—The group set off early in the morning. The signs of cattle and horses became more frequent as we moved along, and the little river's channel was full of water, swarming with a large species of duck. Eventually, we came across the tracks of wheels and followed them toward the station, which wasn’t visible yet when our young native, Dicky, started shouting and laughing, drawing my attention to what must have been a “RARA AVIS” for him. This was a white woman heading to milk the cows, the first white female he had ever seen. The playful laughter of the young boy was amusing as he pointed at that bundled-up figure in a straw bonnet, thinking it would capture my attention; nevertheless, the sight was a pleasant one for the whole group. Soon, two comfortable stations appeared before us, one on each side of the river, and at the door of one stood a neatly dressed mother with two chubby white kids. I had a note from Mr. Kennedy to stop by the other station to thank the owner for lending him a horse, and there I first stepped back under a roof, which felt incredibly welcoming after nearly a year spent under canvas in the wild. These were cattle stations, both well laid out for their purpose, and on a scale more substantial and impressive than I had previously seen in squatting districts. Having two such stations nearby is a smart arrangement, not only providing better security against native attacks but also reducing the feeling of isolation and loneliness that typically characterizes such places, and at the start of such a life, cultivating the seeds of social connection on the solid foundation of mutual protection.
I continued to travel some miles beyond these stations, for the sake of obtaining better grass for our cattle; and thus lengthened the journey to near twenty miles, in very warm weather, the thermometer being 104° in the shade. Thermometer, at sunrise, 58°; at noon, 102°; at 4 p.m., 104°; at 9, 75°;—with wet bulb, 63°. (Camp 85.) Latitude, 28° 30' 51" S.
I kept traveling a few miles past these stations to find better grass for our cattle, which made the trip nearly twenty miles in very hot weather, with the thermometer reading 104° in the shade. The thermometer showed 58° at sunrise, 102° at noon, 104° at 4 p.m., and 75° at 9 p.m., with a wet bulb reading of 63°. (Camp 85.) Latitude, 28° 30' 51" S.
20TH NOVEMBER.—Travelling south by compass, we found a tolerably open forest, and the Mooni on our left, until we fell in with Mr. Kennedy's track on riding back. Following this (as he had been guided back by an experienced stockman), we at length crossed the Mooni, and fell into a cart-track leading southward, and at a few miles beyond where we fell into that track, we encamped on the left bank of the Mooni; a tree at this camp being marked 86. Again we saw, in the woods about this camp, the HYLOCOCCUS SERICEUS R. Br., a remarkable tree, with oblong leaves, and fruit resembling a small orange. It is a curious genus, and belongs to the poisonous order of Spurgeworts. We found here also, the HELICHRYSUM SEMIPAPPOSUM D. C.; ACACIA SPECTABILIS; a new species of BEYERIA, near B. VISCOSA, Mig.; the variety of CASSIA SOPHERA (Linn.) cultivated in some botanical gardens, under the name of C. SOPHERELLA; a beautiful tree with pinnate leaves and spreading panicles of large white flowers, called THOUINIA AUSTRALIS; the EUCALYPTUS BICOLOR A. Cunn. MS., a species closely allied to E. HOEMATOMMA Sm., but the marginal nerve is not so close to the edge of the leaf (this is the "bastard box" of the carpenters); a fine new large-flowered SIDA[*]; and it appears that the "Yarra" tree of the natives here, is a new Eucalyptus, which Sir William Hooker calls E. ACUMINATA.[**]
20TH NOVEMBER.—Traveling south using our compass, we found a relatively open forest with the Mooni River on our left until we encountered Mr. Kennedy's trail while riding back. Following this trail (as he had been led back by an experienced stockman), we eventually crossed the Mooni and came across a cart track leading southward. A few miles beyond where we joined that track, we set up camp on the left bank of the Mooni, with a tree at this camp marked as 86. Once again, we noticed in the woods around this camp the HYLOCOCCUS SERICEUS R. Br., a notable tree with oblong leaves and fruit resembling a small orange. It’s an interesting genus and belongs to the toxic family of Spurgeworts. We also discovered the HELICHRYSUM SEMIPAPPOSUM D. C.; ACACIA SPECTABILIS; a new species of BEYERIA, close to B. VISCOSA, Mig.; the variety of CASSIA SOPHERA (Linn.) found in some botanical gardens, known as C. SOPHERELLA; a stunning tree with pinnate leaves and broad clusters of large white flowers called THOUINIA AUSTRALIS; the EUCALYPTUS BICOLOR A. Cunn. MS., a species closely related to E. HOEMATOMMA Sm., but with the marginal nerve not as close to the edge of the leaf (this is the "bastard box" used by carpenters); a beautiful new large-flowered SIDA[*]; and it seems that the "Yarra" tree referred to by the locals here is a new Eucalyptus, which Sir William Hooker has named E. ACUMINATA.[**]
[* S. (ABUTILON) TUBULOSA (All. Cunn. MS.); tota velutino-pubescens, foliis cordato-ovatis (sinu profundo angusto) sublonge acuminatis dentatoserratis, stipulis subulatis flaccidis, pedunculis axillaribus solitariis unifloris folio brevioribus, calyce elongato tubuloso 5-fido laciniis acuminatis, petalis (flavis) vix duplo brevioribus.—W. J. H.]
[* S. (ABUTILON) TUBULOSA (All. Cunn. MS.); entirely velvety pubescent, with cordate-ovate leaves (deeply narrow sinus) slightly elongated and acuminate, serrated, with slender soft stipules, solitary unifloral axillary peduncles shorter than the leaf, with an elongated tubular calyx divided into 5 acuminate lobes, and petals (yellow) barely twice as short.—W. J. H.]
[** E. ACUMINATA (Hook. MS.); foliis alternis petiolatis lanceolatis longe acuminatis subaristatis penninerviis glaucis reticulatis nervis lateralibus a margine remotiusculis, floribus umbellatis (4-6-floris), umbellis pedunculatis, calycis tubo hemisphaerico in pedicellum gracilem attenuato, calyptra conico-acuminato calycis tubum superante.]
[** E. ACUMINATA (Hook. MS.); with alternate petiole leaves that are lanceolate, long-pointed, slightly awned, pinnate veined, glaucous, with reticulated lateral veins set a bit away from the margin, flowers in umbels (4-6 flowers), umbellate with pedunculated stems, the calyx tube being hemispheric and tapering into a slender pedicel, and a conical-acuminate calyptra that extends beyond the calyx tube.]
Just as we sat down here, rain came on; the wind changed to S. W. and the sky looked more portentous of rainy weather than we had ever seen it on this journey. Now this was the first country in which we had any reason to dread wet weather, since we crossed the Culgoa about the beginning of April. Here rain would render the ground impassable, and inundate the country. The mercury in the barometer was falling, and so was the rain. Thermometer, at sunrise, 61°; at noon, 62°; at 4 p.m., 57°; at 9, 53°;—with wet bulb, 53°.
Just as we sat down, it started to rain; the wind shifted to the southwest, and the sky looked more ominous for rainy weather than we had ever seen during this trip. This was the first place where we really had to worry about wet weather since we crossed the Culgoa at the beginning of April. Here, rain would turn the ground into a quagmire and flood the area. The mercury in the barometer was dropping, and so was the rain. The thermometer read 61° at sunrise, 62° at noon, 57° at 4 p.m., and 53° at 9 p.m., with a wet bulb reading of 53°.
21ST NOVEMBER.—The wind had shifted from E. to S. W., and the rain had set in,—to proceed was quite impossible. The coolness of a cloudy day rendered the tent much more agreeable and convenient for finishing maps in, than one under the extremely hot sunshine which mine had been recently exposed to so long at St. George's Bridge. I had now, therefore, a good opportunity of completing the maps. The great heat which had prevailed during so many successive days there, portended some such change as this; and we were thus likely to be caught in that very region so subject to inundation, which I was formerly so careful to avoid, that I endeavoured to travel so as to be within reach of a hilly country. For that reason chiefly I had proceeded into the interior, by the circuitous route of Fort Bourke.
21ST NOVEMBER.—The wind had shifted from E. to S.W., and the rain had started, making it impossible to continue. The coolness of a cloudy day made the tent much more comfortable for finishing maps than it had been under the intense heat of the sun at St. George's Bridge. So now, I had a great chance to complete the maps. The extreme heat we had experienced for so many days suggested this kind of change was coming; and we were likely to find ourselves in that area prone to flooding, which I had been very careful to avoid, trying to stay close to more hilly terrain. That’s why I took the long way into the interior through Fort Bourke.
21ST NOVEMBER TO 7TH DECEMBER.—The sky resembled that in Poussin's picture of the Deluge; and to one who had contended a whole year with scarcity of water, in regions where this coming supply had so long been due, the reflection would often occur, that this rain, if it had fallen a year sooner, might have expedited that journey very much indeed; whereas it was now very likely to retard the return of the party. This was the only spot where such a rain could have seriously impeded our progress; the waters of the great rivers were sure to come down, and we had still to traverse extensive low tracts, where, in 1831, I had seen the marks of floods on trees, which had left an impression still remaining on my mind, that I thought it very desirable then, to get my party safe out of these flats as soon as possible.
21ST NOVEMBER TO 7TH DECEMBER.—The sky looked like something out of Poussin's painting of the Deluge; and for someone who had spent an entire year struggling with water shortages in areas where this much-needed rain had been overdue, it often struck me that if this rain had arrived a year earlier, it could have greatly sped up our journey. Now, however, it was more likely to delay our return. This was the only place where such rain could have seriously slowed us down; the waters of the major rivers were bound to rise, and we still had to cross large low areas where, in 1831, I had seen the signs of flooding on trees, leaving a lasting impression on me. I felt it was very important to get my party safely out of these lowlands as soon as possible.
On the 28th November, or eight days after the rains set in, the Mooni waters came down, at first slowly, but gradually filling up the channel, until they rose to such a height, as to oblige me to move three of the drays. During the night, the rising inundation began to spread over the lower parts of the surface back from the river; while the current came down with such rapidity, and, judging from marks of former inundations on the trunks of box-trees ("GOBORRA"), it appeared probable the water might reach our camp. I therefore determined to move it by daylight to a sand-hill, about a quarter of a mile back from the river. This was effected in good time, and only in time. Between the camp beside the Mooni, and that we afterwards established on the sand-hill, there was a hollow by which the rising floods would pass to an extensive tract of low ground almost surrounding our camp on the sand-hill, and which would, probably, render our passage out of that position difficult, even after the waters had subsided. I therefore employed the men in throwing up a dam across this hollow, between our hill-camp and the river, so as to prevent the inundation from passing that way. We had no better material than sand to oppose to this water; yet, by throwing up enough, we succeeded in arresting the waters there, although they rose to the height of two feet four inches on the upper side of our dam, and gave, to the country above it, the appearance of a vast lake, covering our old encampment; so that the figures 86 cut on a tree, were the only traces of it that remained above water. Our camp on the sand-hill was elevated above the sea 641 feet, or about 80 feet higher than the river. The waters continued to rise until the 2d of December, when they became stationary; and next day they began slowly to subside. By the evening of the 5th, they had receded from the dam; and the sky, which had been lowering until the 1st, began to present clouds of less ominous form. Still the return of clear weather was slow, and accompanied by thunder-showers. Plants put forth their blossoms as soon as the sun re-appeared; amongst others, the DIDISCUS PILOSUS Benth.; a pretty little umbelliferous plant. BOERHAAVIA was again seen here; CARISSA OVATA, a shrub three feet high, with spiny branches, and very sweet white flowers; the NEPTUNIA GRACILIS also, with the appearance of a sensitive plant, was seen in the open flats. It was only on the 7th that a crust had been formed on the earth, sufficiently firm for the cattle to travel upon; and we embraced the earliest opportunity of quitting that camp, where the superabundance of water had detained us seventeen days. Musquitoes now tormented us exceedingly, and had obliged us to tether the horses at night, to prevent them from straying. We this day passed over the soil without finding the wheels to sink much, until we arrived at Johnston's station, five miles from our camp, and where I had been told the ground was firm. There, on the contrary, we encountered the only two swamps at all difficult. Even the drays got through them, however, and I gladly quitted the banks of the Mooni, taking a straight direction towards the Barwan, and encamped ten miles from the former. That central ground between the Mooni and the Barwan, had brigalow growing upon it, was firm, and in some hollows we found water. A heavy thunder-shower fell at sunset, but we were on such firm soil, that I was under no apprehension that it would have the effect of retarding our journey.
On November 28th, eight days after the rains began, the Mooni River started to rise. At first, it came down slowly, but gradually filled the channel until it reached a level that forced me to move three of the drays. During the night, the rising flood began to spread over the lower areas back from the river, and the current was so swift that, based on previous flood marks on the trunks of box trees ("GOBORRA"), it seemed likely the water could reach our camp. Therefore, I decided to move it during the day to a sand hill about a quarter of a mile back from the river. We managed to relocate just in time. Between our camp by the Mooni and the new one on the sand hill, there was a dip that would allow the rising water to flow toward a large area of low ground almost surrounding our camp on the sand hill, potentially making our exit difficult even after the water receded. So, I had the men build a dam across this dip, between our hill camp and the river, to stop the floodwaters from passing that way. We only had sand to work with, but by piling it high enough, we managed to hold back the water, even though it rose to two feet four inches on the upstream side of our dam, creating the appearance of a vast lake that covered our old camp site, leaving only the carved number 86 on a tree visible above water. Our camp on the sand hill was raised 641 feet above sea level, about 80 feet higher than the river. The water kept rising until December 2nd, when it stabilized, and the next day it began to slowly recede. By the evening of the 5th, it had fallen away from the dam, and the sky, which had been dark until the 1st, started to show less threatening clouds. However, clear weather returned slowly, accompanied by thunder showers. Plants began to bloom again as soon as the sun came back, including the DIDISCUS PILOSUS Benth, a lovely little umbrella-shaped plant. We also spotted BOERHAAVIA and CARISSA OVATA, a three-foot-high shrub with spiny branches and sweet white flowers, along with NEPTUNIA GRACILIS, which looked like a sensitive plant, in the open flats. It wasn't until the 7th that the ground had formed a crust strong enough for the cattle to walk on, and we seized the first chance to leave that camp, where we had been held for seventeen days by too much water. Mosquitoes tormented us a lot, forcing us to tie up the horses at night to keep them from wandering. That day, we traveled over land without much sinking of the wheels until we reached Johnston's station, five miles from our camp, where I had been told the ground was solid. There, however, we encountered the only two difficult swamps. Even so, the drays made it through, and I was eager to leave the banks of the Mooni, heading straight for the Barwan, and set up camp ten miles from the former. The central area between the Mooni and the Barwan had brigalow trees, was firm, and we found water in some dips. A heavy thunderstorm hit at sunset, but we were on solid ground, so I wasn't worried it would delay our journey.
8TH DECEMBER.—Thermometer, at 6 a.m., 69°. Height above the sea, 782 feet. Having determined our position on the map, I now chose such a direction for our homeward route, as would form the most eligible general line of communication between Sydney and the Maranòa. It seemed desirable that this should cross the Barwan (the Karaula of my journey of 1831), some miles above the point where I had formerly reached that river; and thus avoid the soft low ground upon the Nammoy, falling into my old track about Snodgrass lagoon, or when in sight of Mount Riddell. With this view, our latitude being 28° 57' 20" S., longitude 149° 11' E., I chose the bearing of S.S.E. (or rather 23½° E. of S.), for my homeward guidance; and this morning I travelled, over a good firm surface, for sixteen miles in that direction, when we arrived at the bank of the Barwan and there encamped. We had passed through some open scrub, chiefly of the rosewood kind, and crossed several small grassy plains; saw one or two patches of brigalow, but very little callitris. An improvement was visible in the quality of the grass, when we came within the distance of about two miles from the river; and open forests or plains of richer soil, its usual concomitants, plainly enough indicated the presence of the Barwan (or "Darling"). In the country we traversed, we saw no cart tracks; but the deep impressions of a few stray cattle, apparently pursued by natives, were visible throughout the scrubs. There was still a considerable flood in the river, although the water had been recently much higher, as was obvious from the state of the banks. Latitude, 28° 37' 20" S. Height above the sea, 590 feet.
8TH DECEMBER.—Thermometer, at 6 a.m., 69°. Height above sea level, 782 feet. After figuring out our location on the map, I decided on the best direction for our route back home, aiming to create the most efficient line of travel between Sydney and the Maranòa. It seemed wise for this route to cross the Barwan (the Karaula from my journey in 1831) a few miles upstream from where I had previously reached that river; this way, we could avoid the soft low ground near the Nammoy, reconnecting with my old path around Snodgrass lagoon, or when nearing Mount Riddell. With this goal in mind, and our latitude at 28° 57' 20" S., longitude 149° 11' E., I set my course to S.S.E. (or about 23½° E. of S.) for guidance home; this morning, I traveled over solid ground for sixteen miles in that direction until we reached the bank of the Barwan and set up camp there. We passed through some open scrub, mostly of the rosewood variety, and crossed several small grassy plains; we spotted a few patches of brigalow, but not much callitris. The quality of the grass visibly improved as we got about two miles from the river, and the open forests or plains with richer soil—typical companions of the Barwan (or "Darling")—clearly indicated its proximity. In the area we covered, we didn’t see any cart tracks; however, the deep impressions of a few stray cattle, likely being chased by locals, were visible throughout the scrubs. The river still had considerable flooding, although the water level had recently been much higher, as evident from the state of the banks. Latitude, 28° 37' 20" S. Height above sea level, 590 feet.
9TH DECEMBER.—All hands were busy this morning in making preparations for crossing the Barwan. The boats were soon put together, and on reconnoitring the river in one of them, I soon found a favourable place for swimming the cattle and horses at, and which was effected without accident. The unloaded drays were next drawn through the river at the same place; which was about three hundred yards lower down the river than that at which we had encamped, and which was marked by the number 87, cut on a tree. My former camp on this river in 1831, for want of such a mark, could not be recognised. According to my surveys, it should have been found seventeen miles lower down the river. All our stores and equipment were carried across in the boats. These looked well in the water; their trim appearance and utility, then renewed my regret that I had not reached the navigable portion of the Victoria, and that its channel had been so empty. Perhaps more efficient portable boats never were constructed, or carried so far inland undamaged. They were creditable to the maker, Mr. Struth of Sydney. By their means, the whole party was comfortably encamped this afternoon, on the left bank of the Barwan, just before a heavy thunder-shower came down. The river had fallen several feet during the day. Thermometer, at 6 p.m., 82°.
9TH DECEMBER.—Everyone was busy this morning getting ready to cross the Barwan. The boats were quickly assembled, and while scouting the river in one of them, I found a good spot to swim the cattle and horses across, which went off without any issues. Next, the empty drays were pulled through the river at the same spot, which was about three hundred yards downstream from where we had set up camp, marked by the number 87 carved into a tree. My previous camp on this river in 1831 couldn’t be recognized due to the lack of such a marker. According to my surveys, it should have been about seventeen miles further down the river. All our supplies and equipment were transported across in the boats. They looked great in the water; their neat appearance and practicality made me regret not having reached the navigable part of the Victoria and that its channel had been so dry. Perhaps no more efficient portable boats were ever built or transported this far inland in good condition. They were a testament to the craftsmanship of Mr. Struth of Sydney. Thanks to them, the entire party was comfortably set up this afternoon on the left bank of the Barwan, just before a heavy thunderstorm hit. The river had dropped several feet during the day. The thermometer read 82° at 6 p.m.
10TH DECEMBER.—At 6 a.m. thermometer 68°. The mosquitoes were most tormenting; as was well expressed by one of the men outside my tent, who remarked to his companion, "That the more you punishes 'em, the more they brings you to the scratch:" a tolerable pun for one of "the fancy," of which class we had rather too many in the party. The horses, although tethered and close spancelled, could not be secured, even thus. Some had broken away and strayed during the night. It was ascertained by Yuranigh, that four other strange horses were with ours, having come amongst them and led them astray. These had broken loose from a neigh- bouring station, whence a native came to the men I had left to await the horses at the Barwan, and took back the strange horses. I had gone forward with the party, still pursuing the same bearing, and came thus upon the "Maäl," a channel not usually deep, but, at the time, so full of water, with a very slight current in it, that here again we were obliged to employ the boats. This channel was distant 5½ miles from where we had crossed the Barwan. The bullocks were made to swim across in the yokes, drawing the empty drays through, which they accomplished very well; "RARÎ NANTES IN GURGITE VASTO." The loads were carried in the boats, and the horses taken across, as before. The camp was established at an early hour on the left bank of the "Maal," which camp I caused to be marked 88, in figures cut on an iron bark tree. Latitude, 29° 1' 20" S. This seemed to be the same channel crossed by me on 5th February, 1832, at a similar distance from the main river.
10TH DECEMBER.—At 6 a.m., the thermometer read 68°. The mosquitoes were incredibly bothersome, as one of the men outside my tent expressed to his companion, "The more you swat them, the more they come at you:" a decent pun from someone in "the fancy," of which we had a few too many in our group. The horses, even though they were tethered and closely tied, couldn’t be kept secure. Some had broken loose and wandered off during the night. Yuranigh discovered that four strange horses had joined ours, leading them astray. These horses had escaped from a nearby station, where a local came to the men I had left to wait for the horses at the Barwan and took back the unfamiliar ones. I moved ahead with the group, still following the same path, and soon reached the "Maäl," a channel that usually isn't very deep, but at that time was so full of water, with only a slight current, that we had to use the boats again. This channel was 5½ miles from where we crossed the Barwan. The bullocks swam across while still in their yokes, pulling the empty drays behind them, which they did successfully; "RARÎ NANTES IN GURGITE VASTO." The loads were transported in the boats, and the horses were taken across as before. The camp was set up early on the left bank of the "Maal," which I marked as camp 88 by carving figures on an iron bark tree. Latitude, 29° 1' 20" S. This seemed to be the same channel I crossed on 5th February, 1832, at a similar distance from the main river.
11TH DECEMBER.—Thermometer, at 7 a.m., 70°. We continued to travel homewards on the same bearing; thus tracing with our wheels, a direct line of road from Sydney to the northern interior and coast. The plains were gay with the blue flowers of a new CYCLOGYNE[*]; a new CANTHIUM, was in fruit[**]; and we found also a species of Malva, which Sir William Hooker has determined to be MALVA OVATA (Cav.), or scarcely differing from that species, except in the rather soft and short hairs to the calyx (not long and rigid): the two ends of the curved carpels are equal or blunt; but in M. OVATA the upper one is longer and attenuated into a short beak. The same plant was found by Frazer along the Brisbane. The THYSANOTUS ELATIOR was again found here; and a shrubby CRUCIFEROUS plant, quite woody at the base, with very narrow linear setaceous pinnatifid leaves,[***] and linear curved torulose silicules. A new HAKEA with stout needle like leaves, was also found this day in the scrub. We met with no impediment for eighteen miles, when I encamped, although without reaching water enough for our cattle. I knew we could not expect to meet with any watercourse between the Barwan and the Gwydir; which latter river I wished to cross as soon as possible, in hopes then to meet with roads and inhabitants. Even cattle-tracks had again become rare in this intermediate ground, although the grass was in its best state, and most exuberant abundance. We crossed much open plain, and passed through several shady forests of casuarina. A curious provision of nature for the distribution of the seeds of a parasitical plant was observed here, each seed being enclosed within a sort of pulp, like bird-lime, insoluble in water; the whole resembling a very thin-skinned berry. On this being broken, probably by birds, the bird-lime is apt to attach the seed to trees or branches, and so the parasitical growth commences. On the plains, the blue flowers of a large variety of MORGANIA GLABRA caught the eye: the rare and little known HETERODENDRON OLOEFOLIUM of Desfontaines, a genus referred to Soapworts by Mr. Planchon. We found also this day, a new POLYMERIA with erect stems, silky leaves, and pink flowers.[****] Height above the sea, 554 feet.
11TH DECEMBER.—Thermometer, at 7 a.m., 70°. We continued heading home on the same course, creating a direct path from Sydney to the northern interior and coast with our wheels. The plains were bright with the blue flowers of a new CYCLOGYNE[*]; a new CANTHIUM was bearing fruit[**]; and we also discovered a type of Malva, which Sir William Hooker identified as MALVA OVATA (Cav.), or almost the same as that species, except for the somewhat soft and short hairs on the calyx (not long and stiff): the two ends of the curved carpels are equal or blunt, but in M. OVATA the upper one is longer and tapers into a short beak. This same plant was found by Frazer along the Brisbane. The THYSANOTUS ELATIOR was spotted here again; and a shrubby CRUCIFEROUS plant, quite woody at the base, with very narrow, linear, setaceous pinnatifid leaves,[***] and linear curved torulose silicules. A new HAKEA with thick, needle-like leaves was also discovered this day in the scrub. We faced no obstacles for eighteen miles when I set up camp, though we couldn't find enough water for our cattle. I knew we couldn’t expect to find any watercourses between the Barwan and the Gwydir; I wanted to cross the latter river as soon as possible, hoping to find roads and people. Even cattle tracks had become uncommon in this area, even though the grass was in its best condition and most abundant. We crossed a lot of open plain and went through several shady forests of casuarina. A fascinating natural method for spreading the seeds of a parasitic plant was observed here, with each seed enclosed in a sort of pulp, like bird-lime, that dissolves in water; the whole thing resembled a very thin-skinned berry. When this is broken, probably by birds, the bird-lime tends to stick the seed to trees or branches, starting the parasitic growth. On the plains, the blue flowers of a large variety of MORGANIA GLABRA attracted attention: the rare and little-known HETERODENDRON OLOEFOLIUM of Desfontaines, a genus categorized as Soapworts by Mr. Planchon. We also found a new POLYMERIA with upright stems, silky leaves, and pink flowers.[****] Height above the sea, 554 feet.
[* C. SWAINSONIOIDES (Benth. MS.); foliolis 8-11 anguste oblongis, racemis laxis dissitifloris, carina spiraliter contorta.—Habit of a SWAINSONIA or LESSERTIA. Flowers blue, as in the original Swan river species (C. CANESCENS). That has not a spirally-twisted keel, but the structure is indicated both by the circinnate apex of the style, and by a slight curl at the summit of the keel.]
[* C. SWAINSONIOIDES (Benth. MS.); 8-11 narrowly oblong leaflets, with loosely arranged flower racemes, and a keel that is spirally twisted.—It resembles a SWAINSONIA or LESSERTIA. The flowers are blue, similar to the original species from the Swan River (C. CANESCENS). This one doesn’t have a spirally twisted keel, but the structure is shown by the circular tip of the style and a slight curl at the top of the keel.]
[** C. OLEIFOLIUM (Hook. MS.); foliis obovato-oblongis obtusis glaucis basi in petiolum gracilem attenuatis, stipulis parvis acutis, fructibus didymis.]
[** C. OLEIFOLIUM (Hook. MS.); with broad, blunt, glaucous leaves that taper to a slender petiole at the base, small sharp stipules, and twin fruits.]
[*** H. LONGICUSPIS (Hook. MS.); rigida glaberrima, ramis junioribus subpubescentibus, foliis bi-triuncialibus tereti-filiformibus rigidis strictis longe mucronatis, perianthiis glabris, capsulis suboblique ovatis lignosis glabris brevi-acuminatis.]
[*** H. LONGICUSPIS (Hook. MS.); stiff and smooth, with young branches that are somewhat hairy, leaves that are two to three times divided, cylindrical and thread-like, rigid and upright, with long pointed tips, smooth bracts, and capsules that are slightly obliquely egg-shaped, woody, hairless, and short-pointed.]
[**** P. LONGIFOLIA (Lindl. MS.); erecta, foliis sericeo-nitentibus linearilanceolatis auriculatis, pedunculis unifloris foliis multo brevioribus.]
[**** P. LONGIFOLIA (Lindl. MS.); upright, with silky-shiny linear-lanceolate leaves that have auricles, and single-flower peduncles that are much shorter than the leaves.]
12TH DECEMBER.—Thermometer, at 6 a.m., 67°. Passing over a similar sort of country for some miles (and through a scrub, on first leaving the camp), we at length came upon a more open country, where the ground seemed to fall southward. Cattle-tracks were again numerous, and cow-dung abundant, an article in much request with us just then, its smoke being a valuable specific for keeping off the mosquitoes, when a little of it was burnt before a tent. We next came upon more spacious plains than any we had seen southward of the Balonne; and I recognised, with great pleasure and satisfaction, the blue peak of Mount Riddell, distant 61 miles. This seemed to peep through the obscurity of fifteen laborious years, that had intervened since I had given a name to that summit. It now proved the accuracy of my recent survey, appearing exactly in the direction, where, according to my maps, I pointed my glass to look for it. Like the face of an old friend, which, as the Persian proverb says, "brighteneth the eyes," so this required clear eyes to be seen at all; even Yuranigh, could not at first be persuaded that it was not a cloud. This fine peak must always be a good landmark on these vast plains, and may yet brighten the eye of the traveller from India, when emerging from the level regions upon the Barwan. We next perceived at a distance, a cloud of dust raised by a numerous herd of cattle, and came upon a water-course, or branch of the Gwydir, called, I believe, the "Meei." As I wanted to cross the Gwydir, I crossed this and continued; met with another deep ditch or channel, four miles beyond the Meei; and, at three miles beyond that, another: none of these resembling the Gwydir I had formerly seen. I had ridden twenty-five miles, and hastened back to meet the carts, and encamped them just beyond the first-mentioned of these two water-courses. The heavy drays were, of course, far behind. Latitude, 29° 34' 41" S. Height above the sea, 553 feet.
12TH DECEMBER.—Thermometer, at 6 a.m., 67°. We traveled across a similar type of terrain for a few miles (starting through some scrub right after leaving the camp) until we finally reached more open land, where the ground appeared to slope downward to the south. Cattle tracks were plentiful, and there was a lot of cow dung, which we greatly appreciated at that moment since burning a bit of it in front of the tent helped keep the mosquitoes away. Next, we encountered larger plains than any we had seen south of the Balonne, and I was thrilled and satisfied to see the blue peak of Mount Riddell, which was 61 miles away. It felt like a glimpse through the haze of the fifteen hard years that had passed since I named that summit. It confirmed the accuracy of my recent survey, appearing exactly in the direction I had looked for it according to my maps. Like the face of an old friend, as the Persian saying goes, it “brightens the eyes,” but it required sharp vision to see it at all; even Yuranigh was initially convinced it was just a cloud. This impressive peak is sure to be a good landmark on these vast plains and might still catch the eye of travelers from India when they rise from the flat areas of the Barwan. We then noticed a cloud of dust in the distance created by a large herd of cattle and came across a watercourse, or a branch of the Gwydir, known, I believe, as the "Meei." I wanted to cross the Gwydir, so I went over this and continued; I encountered another deep ditch or channel four miles beyond the Meei, and then another three miles after that; none of these resembled the Gwydir I had seen before. I had traveled twenty-five miles and hurried back to meet the carts, camping just beyond the first of these two watercourses. The heavy drays, of course, were way behind. Latitude, 29° 34' 41" S. Height above sea level, 553 feet.
13TH DECEMBER.—Thermometer, at 10 a.m., 70°. The drays joined us early, having performed an immense distance yesterday. This being Sunday, rest for the remainder of the day was both proper and necessary. I found we were within a less distance of Snodgrass Lagoon, than we were from the camp we had left the previous day. I expected to fall in with some road, when we reached the country to which I had formerly led the way. At sunset the sky seemed charged with rain, and the barometer had fallen 2½ millimetres; much thunder, and but a slight shower followed, after which the sky cleared up. Heavy rain there, must have caused much difficulty and delay to the party, as we were upon low levels subject to inundation. Height above the sea, 499 feet. Thermometer, at 6 p.m., 88°.
13TH DECEMBER.—Thermometer, at 10 a.m., 70°. The carts arrived early, having covered a long distance yesterday. Since it was Sunday, it was both appropriate and necessary to rest for the rest of the day. I discovered we were closer to Snodgrass Lagoon than we had been to the camp we left the day before. I expected to come across some road once we reached the area I had previously navigated. At sunset, the sky looked like it was going to rain, and the barometer had dropped by 2.5 millimetres; there was a lot of thunder, and only a light shower followed, after which the sky cleared up. Any heavy rain there would have caused significant trouble and delays for the group, as we were in low areas prone to flooding. Height above sea level: 499 feet. Thermometer, at 6 p.m., 88°.
14TH DECEMBER.—Thermometer, at 6 a.m., 76°. During the night, and at day-break, heavy rain pattered on my tent, but a streak of the blue sky appeared in the N.W., which increased; and before 7 a.m. the sun shone on the ground, and dried it so that we could proceed. We crossed a channel of the river, at three miles, which is called the "Moomings;" and still I doubted whether we had not yet to cross the main channel of the Gwydir, having seen no current in any of those channels I had crossed. I had however already crossed the latitude of the river I had formerly seen; and, coming soon to rising ground, and seeing before me the wide-spread plains of my former journey, I was convinced that the late rains had not extended to the Gwydir, and that this river had been crossed by us in these several channels. At length, I arrived at the lagoon I had named, in former times, after Colonel Snodgrass; thus terminating this journey, having travelled in a direct line the last seventy-three miles of it, to meet at this point the line from Sydney, traced by me thus far in the year 1831. Height above the level of the sea, 545 feet. Thermometer, at 7 p.m., 87°. The temporary occupation of the country by squatters, imprints but few traces of colonization. Cattle-tracks were visible, certainly, but nothing else. No track remained along the line which I had so many years before laboured to mark out. Having ordered some of the men to look out for a stockman, one was at length caught, and persuaded to come to my tent, but not without some apprehension that the people he had come amongst so suddenly were robbers. He was a youth, evidently of the Anglo-Saxon race, in a state of transition to the condition of an Australian stockman. His fair locks strayed wildly from under a light straw hat about the ears of an honest English face, and the large stock whip in his hand explained what he was about,—"in search of some stray cattle." He had evidently never heard of exploring expeditions, past or present; nor of such a name as "Snodgrass Lagoon." Mount Riddell was called "Cow hill," according to him. Knew there was a road to Maitland, but of Sydney he seemed to require some minutes to recal the recollection. He had come from the station of Mr.——, where he was employed as stockman. Came out from England about six years ago with a brother. When asked if his brother was with him, he said "No." To my next question, as to the rest of his relatives, a tear was the only reply, and I pushed my inquiries no further.
14TH DECEMBER.—Thermometer, at 6 a.m., 76°. During the night and at dawn, heavy rain tapped on my tent, but a glimpse of blue sky appeared in the northwest, which grew larger; by 7 a.m. the sun was shining on the ground, drying it up so we could continue. We crossed a river channel called the "Moomings" after three miles, but I still questioned whether we had crossed the main channel of the Gwydir, as I had seen no current in any of the channels I had already crossed. I had, however, crossed the latitude of the river I had encountered earlier. Soon I reached higher ground and saw the wide plains I had traveled before, convincing me that the recent rains had not reached the Gwydir and that we had crossed this river through the various channels. Finally, I arrived at the lagoon I had named after Colonel Snodgrass, thus concluding this journey, having traveled in a direct line the last seventy-three miles to meet this point on the line from Sydney, which I had traced so far in 1831. Height above sea level, 545 feet. Thermometer, at 7 p.m., 87°. The temporary occupation of the area by squatters leaves only a few signs of colonization. Cattle tracks were visible, certainly, but nothing else. No track remained along the path I had worked so hard to mark out years before. After instructing some of the men to look for a stockman, one was eventually found and convinced to come to my tent, though he was understandably nervous that the people he had suddenly encountered might be thieves. He was a young man, clearly of Anglo-Saxon descent, in the process of becoming an Australian stockman. His fair hair was tousled under a light straw hat, framing an honest English face, and the large stock whip in his hand indicated his purpose—"in search of some stray cattle." He clearly had no idea about exploring expeditions, past or present; nor had he heard of any place called "Snodgrass Lagoon." He referred to Mount Riddell as "Cow Hill." He knew there was a road to Maitland, but he seemed to take a moment to recall anything about Sydney. He had come from Mr.——'s station, where he worked as a stockman. He arrived from England about six years ago with a brother. When I asked if his brother was with him, he replied, "No." To my next question about the rest of his family, he simply shed a tear, and I refrained from asking more.
16TH DECEMBER.—I left the camp, accompanied by Mr. Kennedy, and, in looking for my old route, we soon arrived at cattle stations. The lagoon was full, and the first station we saw was on the opposite bank; but having crossed some miles higher, we arrived at one, where the master and some men were busy in the stockyard, and there we were hospitably received. It was then about 2 p.m., and tea mixed with milk was set before us, with a quart pot full of fine salt, and some hard-boiled eggs. Having put into my tea a table-spoonful of the salt, mistaking it for sugar, and there being no sugar, I had two strong reasons for not taking much tea. Fortunately for me, however, I did eat one of the hard-boiled eggs, for from that hour I was doomed to fast two days. There I bade Mr. Kennedy farewell, leaving him in charge of the party, and proceeded along a cart-track homewards, followed by John Douglas, and a led horse. Before we could arrive at the station where I intended to halt, night overtook us on a plain, with very heavy rain, and total darkness. The cart-track was no longer visible, and, after groping on some way without it, we were obliged to alight and sit in the mud, without the shelter of even a tree, until day-break. Daylight exhibited the station not above two miles off, but that did not avail us much; for, on awaking the inmates, and asking them for some breakfast, the hut-keeper shook his head, and said he had no provisions to spare. Once more I struck away from these "abodes of civilized men," to look for my old track, which had been traced along the base of the Nundawàr Range, where the bold outlines of Mounts Lindesay and Forbes hung dimly, like shadows of the past, amongst clouds lighted by beams from the rising sun. After having been long in unknown regions, time and distance seem of little consequence when we return to those previously known; and thus the whole day soon passed in looking for my former track. But I sought it in vain; and was glad at night to turn towards the banks of the Nammoy, in search of a cattle-station. Since I had first explored that country to which my wheel-tracks marked and led the way, station after station had been taken up by squatters, not by following any line of route, but rather according to the course of the river, for the sake of water; and in such cases, the beaten track from station to station, no matter how crooked, becomes the road. Thus it is, in the fortuitous occupation of Australia, that order and arrangement may precede, and be followed only by "CHAOS come again." I arrived about sunset, at Mr. Cyrus Doyle's station near the Nammoy, where I was hospitably entertained by a man in charge of it, who rode eight miles in twenty minutes only, to borrow some tea and sugar for me, and who lived on very friendly terms with some old natives who remembered me, and my first advance into that country.
16TH DECEMBER.—I left the camp with Mr. Kennedy, and as we searched for my old route, we quickly found ourselves at some cattle stations. The lagoon was full, and the first station we spotted was on the opposite bank; after crossing a few miles higher up, we reached a station where the owner and some workers were busy in the stockyard, and they welcomed us warmly. It was around 2 p.m., and they served us tea mixed with milk, a quart pot full of salt, and some hard-boiled eggs. I mistakenly added a tablespoon of salt to my tea instead of sugar, and since there was no sugar available, I had two strong reasons for not drinking much tea. Luckily, I did eat one of the hard-boiled eggs because from that moment, I was set to fast for two days. I said goodbye to Mr. Kennedy, leaving him in charge of the group, and made my way along a cart-track homeward, followed by John Douglas and a led horse. Before we could reach the station where I intended to stop, night fell on a plain, bringing heavy rain and complete darkness. The cart-track disappeared, and after searching for a while without it, we had no choice but to get off and sit in the mud, with no shelter even from a tree, until dawn. When daylight came, we saw the station just two miles away, but that didn’t help much; when I woke the residents and asked for breakfast, the hut-keeper shook his head and said he had no food to spare. Once again, I set off from these "homes of civilized men" to search for my old track, which had been marked along the base of the Nundawàr Range, where the striking shapes of Mounts Lindesay and Forbes loomed faintly, like echoes of the past, among clouds lit by the rays of the rising sun. After spending a long time in unfamiliar territory, time and distance seem less important when returning to places once known; and so the whole day slipped away as I searched for my previous route. But I looked in vain and was relieved by nightfall to head toward the banks of the Nammoy in search of a cattle station. Since I first explored this land marked by my wheel-tracks, squatters had set up station after station, not by following any specific route but rather along the river for the sake of water; in such cases, the traveled path from station to station, no matter how winding, becomes the road. Thus, in the random occupation of Australia, order and structure may emerge, only to be followed by "CHAOS come again." I arrived around sunset at Mr. Cyrus Doyle's station near the Nammoy, where I was warmly welcomed by the man in charge, who rode eight miles in twenty minutes just to borrow some tea and sugar for me, and who maintained friendly relations with some old locals who remembered me and my initial journey into that land.
18TH DECEMBER.—At 6 a.m., Thermometer 75°. Height above the sea 750 feet. Guided by one of these natives, I reached the "great road," saw many wool drays upon it, before I arrived at Maule's creek; and I endeavoured, for a considerable time, to pass two gentlemen in a gig, and wearing veils, who were driving a lot of mares before them, and who seemed to derive amusement from making their mares keep pace with my entire horse.
18TH DECEMBER.—At 6 a.m., the thermometer read 75°. Elevation above sea level was 750 feet. With the help of one of the locals, I got to the "great road" and saw many wool carts on it before I reached Maule's Creek. I spent quite a while trying to pass two gentlemen in a gig, wearing veils, who were herding a group of mares in front of them. They seemed to be enjoying the challenge of keeping their mares at the same pace as my entire horse.
The road this day traversed the luxuriant flats of the Nammoy, one of the richest districts in the colony, as the fat cattle on the banks of the river sufficiently attested. The mountains behind, afforded equally eligible runs for sheep. Nothing could surpass the beauty of the scenery, amid abundance of water, umbrageous trees, cattle, verdure, and distant mountains. I was most comfortably lodged that night at Mr. Wentworth's station on the Nammoy, elevated above the sea 1055 feet, and next day I reached the dwelling of a resident squatter, and saw a lady in a comfortable house near the very spot, where, fifteen years before, I had taken a lonely walk by the then unknown Nammoy, the first white man permitted there to discover a "flowery desert."[*] I was most kindly welcomed by this family; but I asked in vain, even there, to be favoured with the perusal of a newspaper. When I expressed anxiety about my numerous family, and spoke of my long absence of a year, I observed a tear in the lady's eye, which I then thought the product of mere sensibility; but I learnt subsequently, that she was aware the newspapers she possessed, and out of sympathy withheld, would have apprised me of the death of a son, which sad tidings were only communicated to me some days after.[**]
The road I traveled that day ran through the lush flats of the Nammoy, one of the wealthiest areas in the colony, as the plump cattle by the river clearly showed. The mountains in the background offered great grazing land for sheep. The scenery was stunning, filled with plenty of water, shady trees, cattle, greenery, and distant mountains. That night, I had a comfortable stay at Mr. Wentworth's station on the Nammoy, which was 1,055 feet above sea level. The next day, I arrived at the home of a local squatter and met a lady in a cozy house near the exact place where, fifteen years earlier, I had taken a solitary walk by the then-unknown Nammoy, the first white man allowed to discover a "flowery desert."[*] This family welcomed me warmly; however, I asked in vain for a newspaper. When I shared my worry about my large family and mentioned my year-long absence, I noticed a tear in the lady's eye, which I initially thought was just a moment of sensitivity. Later, I learned that she was aware the newspapers she had, and chose not to show me, would have informed me about the death of a son—sad news that I only received several days later.[**]
[* Three Expeditions, etc., vol. i. p. 54.]
[* Three Expeditions, etc., vol. i. p. 54.]
[** He died on the 16th July, at the age of eighteen, from the want of medical aid, when surveying, in winter, the Australian Alps. His grave, trodden by cattle hoofs, is in a desolate unconsecrated spot. He had served the public, gratis, upwards of two years, as a draughtsman and surveyor.]
[** He died on July 16th, at eighteen, due to a lack of medical help while surveying the Australian Alps in winter. His grave, trampled by cattle hooves, is in a lonely, unmarked place. He had given over two years of free service to the public as a draftsman and surveyor.]
Chapter X.
MR. KENNEDY CONDUCTS THE PARTY TO SYDNEY.—PROCEEDS OF THE SALE OF THE CATTLE AND EQUIPMENT.—APPLIED TO THE REFITTING OF A LIGHT PARTY ON HORSEBACK.—MR. KENNEDY'S INSTRUCTIONS TO TRACE DOWN THE VICTORIA.—Of the aborigines.—CHARACTER OF YURANIGH.—IMPEDIMENTS TO THEIR CIVILIZATION.—Of the Convicts.—THEIR USES IN THE COLONY.—CHARACTER OF THOSE OF THE PARTY.—DIFFERENT CLASSES OF CRIMINALS.—THE UNFORTUNATE AND THE DEPRAVED.—Of the present Colony of New South Wales.—NATURAL STATE. —CAPABILITIES.—ITS TEMPORARY USES.—ULTIMATE COLONIZATION.—RETENTION OF WATER.—NEW SYSTEMS OF AGRICULTURE REQUISITE.—GROWTH OF COTTON AND SUGAR ALONG THE EASTERN COAST.—THE VINE AND THE OLIVE.—WHEAT CROPS.—DIFFICULTY OF ACCESS TO MARKETS.—ROADS.—PROJECTED RAILWAYS.—Conclusion.—ORIGIN OF THIS SURVEY.—ITS PRIMARY OBJECTS. —ULTIMATE TENDENCY.—MY RESPONSIBILITY TO THE IMPERIAL GOVERNMENT.—CO-OPERATION OF THE COLONIAL LEGISLATURE.—FINAL REPORT.—GREAT GEOGRAPHICAL FEATURES.—THE NATURAL DIVISIONS OF THE TERRITORY.—PORT BOWEN—CAPRICORNIA.—GULF OF CARPENTARIA—AUSTRALINDIA.
MR. KENNEDY LEADS THE PARTY TO SYDNEY.—PROCEEDS FROM THE SALE OF THE CATTLE AND EQUIPMENT.—USED TO REFIT A SMALL HORSEBACK PARTY.—MR. KENNEDY'S INSTRUCTIONS TO TRACK DOWN THE VICTORIA.—About the aborigines.—CHARACTER OF YURANIGH.—BARRIERS TO THEIR CIVILIZATION.—About the Convicts.—THEIR ROLES IN THE COLONY.—CHARACTER OF THOSE IN THE PARTY.—DIFFERENT TYPES OF CRIMINALS.—THE UNFORTUNATE AND THE DEPRAVED.—About the current Colony of New South Wales.—NATURAL STATE.—CAPABILITIES.—ITS TEMPORARY USES.—FUTURE COLONIZATION.—WATER CONSERVATION.—NEW AGRICULTURAL SYSTEMS NEEDED.—COTTON AND SUGAR GROWTH ALONG THE EASTERN COAST.—VINES AND OLIVES.—WHEAT PRODUCTION.—CHALLENGES IN ACCESSING MARKETS.—ROADS.—PLANNED RAILWAYS.—Conclusion.—ORIGIN OF THIS SURVEY.—ITS PRIMARY GOALS.—ULTIMATE PURPOSE.—MY RESPONSIBILITY TO THE IMPERIAL GOVERNMENT.—COOPERATION WITH THE COLONIAL LEGISLATURE.—FINAL REPORT.—IMPORTANT GEOGRAPHICAL FEATURES.—NATURAL DIVISIONS OF THE TERRITORY.—PORT BOWEN—CAPRICORNIA.—GULF OF CARPENTARIA—AUSTRALINDIA.
The party which I had left in charge of Mr. Kennedy near Snodgrass Lagoon arrived in the neighbourhood of Sydney on the 20th of January, and the new Governor, Sir Charles Fitzroy, kindly granted such gratuities to the most deserving of my men as I had recommended, and also sent the names to England of such prisoners as His Excellency thought deserving of Her Majesty's gracious pardon.
The group I had left in charge of Mr. Kennedy near Snodgrass Lagoon reached the area around Sydney on January 20th, and the new Governor, Sir Charles Fitzroy, generously provided rewards to the most deserving of my men as I had suggested, and also forwarded the names of prisoners that His Excellency believed were worthy of Her Majesty's kind pardon to England.
The sale of the cattle and equipment produced about 500L.; and as Mr. Kennedy volunteered his services, when the proper season should arrive (March), to trace down the course of the river Victoria with a light party on horseback, I submitted a plan to Sir Charles Fitzroy, and obtained His Excellency's permission to send this officer to survey the river, and to apply the above-mentioned proceeds of sale in providing the equipment of his party. Mr. Kennedy finally left Sydney about the middle of March, with a party of eight men, all well mounted and leading spare horses, with two light carts carrying a stock of provisions for fourteen months. The following copy of his instructions will show what Mr. Kennedy was required to do.
The sale of the cattle and equipment brought in about £500. Since Mr. Kennedy offered his services to explore the course of the Victoria River on horseback when the right season arrived (in March), I presented a plan to Sir Charles Fitzroy and got His Excellency's approval to send this officer to survey the river. We decided to use the proceeds from the sale to provide equipment for his team. Mr. Kennedy finally left Sydney around mid-March with a group of eight men, all well-mounted and leading spare horses, along with two light carts stocked with provisions for fourteen months. The following copy of his instructions will outline what Mr. Kennedy was tasked with.
* * *
Understood. Please provide the text for me to modernize.
Surveyor-General's Office,
Sydney, 22d February, 1847.
Surveyor-General's Office,
Sydney, February 22, 1847.
"Sir,
"Hey,"
"His Excellency the Governor having been pleased to sanction my proposal for the further exploration of the river Victoria with a small party to be sent under your command; I have now the honour to enclose to you a copy of instructions by which I was guided in conducting the late expedition into the northern interior, and I have to request that you will conform thereto, as much as the following particular instructions for your especial guidance may permit.
"His Excellency the Governor has approved my proposal for further exploration of the Victoria River with a small team under your command. I am now honored to enclose a copy of the instructions I followed during the recent expedition into the northern interior, and I ask that you adhere to these as much as possible, along with the specific instructions provided for your guidance."
"You will as early as possible return by the road across Liverpool Plains so as to fall into the return route of the late expedition before you leave the settled districts, and in this manner you will recross the Balonne at St. George's Bridge, take the route back to Camp (83), and thence by the route along the Maranoa to Camp (XXIX), beyond which you will proceed as hereinafter detailed, with reference to the accompanying tracing of my survey.
"You should return by the road across Liverpool Plains as soon as you can to connect with the route of the recent expedition before leaving the developed areas. This way, you will cross the Balonne again at St. George's Bridge, follow the path back to Camp (83), and then take the route along the Maranoa to Camp (XXIX). After that, you will continue as detailed below, with reference to the attached map of my survey."
"You will cross the Maranoa at Camp (XXIX), and continue along my return route until you reach Camp (75). I beg you will be particular so far in looking for the track of my party returning, as you will perceive by the map that many very circuitous detours may be thus avoided. But beyond Camp (75), about seven miles, you will have to leave my return track on your right, and not cross a little river there at all, but go along my old advance track to Camp (XXXIV). Thence you will proceed by Camps (XXXV) and (XXXVI), in order to approach the bed of the Warregò in the direction of my ride of 14th June, in a general N. W. direction. It is very desirable that you should keep my horse tracks there; but this I can scarcely expect, and I can only therefore request that you will proceed as closely in that direction as you can. The bed of the Warregò may be looked for at a distance further on, equal to that of my ride of 14th June.
"You'll cross the Maranoa at Camp (XXIX) and follow my return route until you get to Camp (75). Please pay close attention to finding the path my party took back, as you'll see on the map that this will help you avoid many winding detours. However, beyond Camp (75), about seven miles ahead, you'll need to leave my return path on your right and not cross the small river there at all. Instead, follow my original route to Camp (XXXIV). From there, you'll continue to Camps (XXXV) and (XXXVI) to head towards the bed of the Warregò, following the path I took on June 14th, generally heading northwest. It’s important to keep an eye on my horse tracks in that area, but I understand this might be difficult, so I can only ask that you stay as close to that direction as possible. You can expect to find the bed of the Warregò at a distance similar to that of my ride on June 14th."
"You will next pursue the course of the Warregò upwards towards Mount Playfair, which the accompanying map will be sufficient to guide you to. You will follow up the Cùnno Creek, leaving Mount Playfair on your right or to the eastward, and you will thus fall into the line of my horse-track about the spot where I spoke to an old native female. I wish you would then take some pains to travel in the direction of my track from the head of Cùnno through the Brigalow, which is comparatively open, in the direction of my bivouac of 11th September.
"You will next travel up the Warregò towards Mount Playfair, which the map provided will be enough to guide you. Follow Cùnno Creek, keeping Mount Playfair to your right or east, and you’ll intersect my horse track near where I spoke to an old native woman. I’d appreciate it if you could make an effort to go in the direction of my track from the head of Cùnno through the Brigalow, which is relatively open, towards my campsite from September 11th."
"Keeping the direction of my track of next day, you will arrive at a low, but stony, ridge (A) (across which you must be careful how you pass your carts, but it is of no breadth), and you will descend into a flat, from which you will ascend another stony ridge (B), of no greater height but more asperity than the first, and covered with fallen timber. You will have about a mile of that sort of difficulty to deal with on the higher part, but by turning then to the right, you will fall into a well watered valley, which will lead you to the Nive. In the whole of your route thus far, you can meet with no difficulty in tracing it, guided by the map, and following these instructions; but if Douglas should be with you, he will no doubt recognize the country through which he passed with me. It is very important that you should keep that route, as leading to the Victoria in a very straight direction from Sydney, and a direction in which, should your return be delayed beyond the time for which your party is to be provisioned, it is probable, that any party sent after you to your aid or assistance would proceed to look for you. After you shall have reached the Nive and Camp (77), you cannot have any difficulty in finding Camp (72) near the Gap, and from that valley you have only to follow down the watercourse to be certain that you are on my track to the Victoria, and, as you have been instructed to take an expert native with you, you ought to find still my horse's track across the downs, cutting off large bends of the river. But beyond Camps 16th September or 1st October, you must keep by the river along my route back, and not follow the circuitous track which I took through Brigalow to the westward. After about four miles by the river, you will see, by the map, that my return track again crossed the outward track over the downs, so that you may fall into the route westward of the great northern bend of the Victoria. I fear you must depend on the latitude, pace measurement, and bearings, for ascertaining the situations of my camps of 29th September and 28th September. You will see by the map how generally straight my journeys were between these points, and how important it would be for you to know the situation of the camp of 28th September, that you may thence set out westward in the direction of my return route, instead of following the main channel throughout the very circuitous turn it then takes to the northward. Beyond the lowest point attained by me, or the point (wherever that may be) to which you will be able to identify the accompanying map with my track, of course it will be your duty to pursue the river, and determine the course thereof as accurately as your light equipment and consequent rapid progress, may permit. You may, however, employ the same means by which I have mapped that river so far; and, for your guidance, I shall add the particulars of my method of measuring the relative distances. If you count the strokes of either of your horse's fore feet, either walking or trotting, you will find them to be upon an average, about 950 to a mile. In a field-book, as you note each change of bearing, you have only to note down also the number of paces (which soon becomes a habit); and to keep count of these, it is only necessary to carry about thirty-five or forty small pieces of wood, like dice (beans or peas would do), in one waistcoat pocket, and, at the end of every 100 paces, remove one to the empty pocket on the opposite side. At each change of bearing, you count these, adding the odd numbers to the number of hundreds, ascertained by the dice, to be counted and returned at each change of bearing to the other pocket. You should have a higher pocket for your watch, and keep the two lower waisctoat pockets for this important purpose.
"Following the path I mapped out for you for the next day, you’ll reach a low, rocky ridge (A) that you need to be careful crossing with your carts, though it’s not very wide. Then you’ll go down into a flat area, from which you’ll climb another rocky ridge (B). This ridge isn’t taller but is rougher than the first and has fallen trees scattered around. You’ll navigate about a mile of this kind of tough terrain in the higher part, but when you turn right, you’ll find a well-watered valley that will lead you to the Nive. Up until this point, you shouldn’t have any trouble following the route if you have the map and are following these instructions. If Douglas is with you, he will likely recognize the area he traveled through with me. It's crucial that you stick to this route as it leads directly to the Victoria from Sydney. If your return is delayed beyond when your group is scheduled to be provisioned, it’s likely that any search party sent to help you will follow this path. Once you reach the Nive and Camp (77), you should have no trouble finding Camp (72) near the Gap. From that valley, just follow the watercourse to ensure you're on my track to the Victoria. Since you were instructed to take an experienced local with you, you should still be able to find my horse’s trail across the downs, which cuts off large loops of the river. However, past Camps from September 16 or October 1, you must stick to the river along my return path and not follow the longer way I took through Brigalow to the west. After about four miles by the river, you will see on the map that my return path crossed the outward track over the downs, allowing you to access the route westward of the great northern bend of the Victoria. Unfortunately, you’ll need to rely on latitude, pace measurement, and bearings to pinpoint my camps from September 28 and September 29. The map shows that my journeys between these points were quite straight, and it's important for you to know where the camp from September 28 is located so you can head west in the direction of my return route instead of following the main channel, which takes a long detour northward. Beyond the lowest point I reached, or wherever you can match the accompanying map with my track, you will need to follow the river and determine its course as accurately as you can with your lightweight gear and the speed that allows. However, you can use the same methods I used to map that river so far. For your guidance, I’ll share how I measured relative distances. If you count the steps of either of your horse’s front feet, whether walking or trotting, you’ll find they average about 950 steps per mile. In a field book, as you mark each change in direction, also note the number of paces (which soon becomes second nature); to keep track of these, carry about thirty-five or forty small pieces of wood, like dice (beans or peas work too), in one pocket of your waistcoat. At the end of every 100 paces, move one piece to your other empty pocket. At each change in direction, count these and add the leftover numbers to the hundreds marked by the dice, which should be counted and switched back to the other pocket at each change in direction. You should keep a higher pocket for your watch and use the two lower waistcoat pockets for this important task."
"Now, to plot such a survey, you have only to take the half-inch scale of equal parts (on the 6-inch scale in every case of instruments), and allowing TEN for a hundred, the half-inch will represent 1000 paces. You may thus lay down any broken number of paces to a true scale, and so obtain a tolerably accurate map of each day's journey. The latitude will, after all, determine finally the scale of paces; and you can, at leisure, adjust each day's journey by its general bearing between different latitudes; and, subsequently, introduce the details. You will soon find the results sufficiently accurate to afford some criterion of even the variation of the needle, when the course happens to be nearly east or west, and when, of course, it behoves you to be very well acquainted with the rate of your horse's paces, as determined by differences of latitude. You will be careful to intersect the prominent points of any range that may appear on the horizon; and the nature of the rock also should be ascertained in the country examined: small specimens, with letters of reference, will be sufficient for this. Specimens of the grasses, and of the flower or seed of new trees, should be also preserved, with dates, in a small herbarium. But the principal object of the journey being the determination of the course of the Victoria, and the discovery of a convenient route to the head of the Gulph of Carpentaria, the accomplishment of these great objects must be steadily kept in view, without regard to minor considerations. Should the channel finally spread into an extensive bed, whether dry or swampy, you will adhere, as a general rule, to the eastern side or shore, as, in the event of any scarcity of water, the high land known to be there will thus be more speedily accessible to you; and I am also strongly of opinion, that you would cross in such a route more tributaries from the east than from the west. On arriving at or near the Gulph of Carpentaria, I have particularly to caution you against remaining longer than may be unavoidable there, or, indeed, in any one place, in any part of your route, where natives may be numerous.
"To create a survey, simply use a half-inch scale that divides into equal parts (using a 6-inch scale for instruments), and if you allow TEN to represent a hundred, the half-inch will equal 1000 paces. This way, you can accurately map out any distance traveled each day. The latitude will ultimately dictate the scale of paces, and you can adjust each day's journey based on its general direction across different latitudes, adding in the details afterward. You'll soon find the results accurate enough to gauge variations in the compass, especially when traveling nearly east or west, so it’s essential to know your horse's pace, which can vary by latitude. Pay attention to prominent landmarks on the horizon, and make sure to note the type of rock in the areas you explore. Small samples with labels will do just fine for this. You should also collect samples of grasses, flowers, or seeds from new trees, with dates, to create a small herbarium. However, remember that the main goal of your journey is to find the course of the Victoria River and a suitable route to the head of the Gulf of Carpentaria. Keep your focus on these significant objectives, regardless of any minor issues. If the channel widens into a large area, whether dry or swampy, it's best to stick to the eastern side since it will give you quicker access to higher ground in case of water shortages. I also believe you'll encounter more tributaries coming from the east than from the west. Once you reach or get close to the Gulf of Carpentaria, be cautious not to stay longer than necessary in any location where there may be a lot of natives."
"Having completed (at least roughly) the map of your general route, it will be in your power in returning, to take out detours, and cut off angles, by previously ascertaining the proper bearings for doing so; and when so returning, it would be convenient to number your camps, that the route and the country may be better described by you, and recognised afterwards by others. These numbers may be cut in common figures on trees; and if, as I hope, you should reach the Gulph, you can commence them there: you may prefix C to each number commencing with 1, thus avoiding any confusion with the numbers of my numbered camps on the Victoria.
"Now that you’ve roughly mapped out your general route, you'll have the freedom to take detours and shortcut your path on the way back by figuring out the right directions for doing so. When you return, it would be helpful to number your camps so that you can explain the route and the area more clearly, making it easier for others to recognize later. You can carve these numbers in standard figures on trees, and if, as I hope, you reach the Gulf, you can start numbering them there. Just add a ‘C’ in front of each number starting with 1, which will help avoid any mix-up with the numbers of my camps on the Victoria."
"On returning to the colony, you will report to me, or to the officer in charge of the Survey Department, the progress and results of your journey.
"Once you return to the colony, you'll need to report to me or to the officer in charge of the Survey Department about the progress and results of your trip."
"I have the honour to be,
Sir,
Your obedient servant,
"I am honored to be,
Sir,
Your devoted servant,
"T. L. MITCHELL,
SURVEYOR-GENERAL.
T. L. MITCHELL,
Surveyor General.
"E. B. C. Kennedy, Esq. J. P.
Assistant Surveyor,
Sydney."
"E. B. C. Kennedy, Esq. J. P.
Assistant Surveyor,
Sydney."
OF THE ABORIGINES.
There is no subject connected with New South Wales, or Australia, less understood in England than the character and condition of the aboriginal natives. They have been described as the lowest in the scale of humanity, yet I found those who accompanied me superior in penetration and judgment to the white men composing my party. Their means of subsistence and their habits, are both extremely simple; but they are adjusted with admirable fitness to the few resources afforded by such a country, in its wild state. What these resources are, and how they are economised by the natives, can only be learnt by an extensive acquaintance with the interior; and the knowledge of a few simple facts, bearing on this subject, may not be wholly devoid of interest. Fire, grass, kangaroos, and human inhabitants, seem all dependent on each other for existence in Australia; for any one of these being wanting, the others could no longer continue. Fire is necessary to burn the grass, and form those open forests, in which we find the large forest-kangaroo; the native applies that fire to the grass at certain seasons, in order that a young green crop may subsequently spring up, and so attract and enable him to kill or take the kangaroo with nets. In summer, the burning of long grass also discloses vermin, birds' nests, etc., on which the females and children, who chiefly burn the grass, feed. But for this simple process, the Australian woods had probably contained as thick a jungle as those of New Zealand or America, instead of the open forests in which the white men now find grass for their cattle, to the exclusion of the kangaroo, which is well-known to forsake all those parts of the colony where cattle run. The intrusion therefore of cattle is by itself sufficient to produce the extirpation of the native race, by limiting their means of existence; and this must work such extensive changes in Australia as never entered into the contemplation of the local authorities. The squatters, it is true, have also been obliged to burn the old grass occasionally on their runs; but so little has this been understood by the Imperial Government that an order against the burning of the grass was once sent out, on the representations of a traveller in the south. The omission of the annual periodical burning by natives, of the grass and young saplings, has already produced in the open forest lands nearest to Sydney, thick forests of young trees, where, formerly, a man might gallop without impediment, and see whole miles before him. Kangaroos are no longer to be seen there; the grass is choked by underwood; neither are there natives to burn the grass, nor is fire longer desirable there amongst the fences of the settler. The occupation of the territory by the white race seems thus to involve, as an inevitable result, the extirpation of the aborigines; and it may well be pleaded, in extenuation of any adverse feelings these may show towards the white men, that these consequences, although so little considered by the intruders, must be obvious to the natives, with their usual acuteness, as soon as cattle enter on their territory. The foregoing journal affords instances of the habits of the natives in these respects. Silently, but surely, that extirpation of aborigines is going forward in grazing districts, even where protectors of aborigines have been most active; and in Van Diemen's Land, the race has been extirpated, even before that of the kangaroos, under an agency still more destructive.
There is no topic related to New South Wales or Australia that is less understood in England than the character and situation of the Aboriginal natives. They have been labeled as the lowest in humanity, yet I found those who traveled with me to be more perceptive and discerning than the white men in my group. Their way of sustenance and their lifestyles are both very simple, but they are perfectly suited to the limited resources that such a wild land provides. What these resources are and how the natives use them can only be learned through extensive exploration of the interior; knowing a few straightforward facts about this topic may still be of interest. Fire, grass, kangaroos, and human inhabitants all seem to depend on each other for survival in Australia; if any one of these were missing, the others could not survive. Fire is essential for burning the grass and creating the open forests where the large forest kangaroo is found. The natives use fire on the grass during certain seasons so that fresh green growth can come up, drawing in the kangaroos and allowing them to hunt or trap them with nets. In summer, burning the long grass also reveals vermin, bird nests, etc., which the women and children, who primarily do the burning, then use for food. Without this simple practice, the Australian woods would likely be as dense as those in New Zealand or America, instead of the open forests where white men now find grass for their cattle, excluding the kangaroo, which is known to avoid areas where cattle roam. The presence of cattle alone is enough to threaten the native population by limiting their means of survival, and this will lead to significant changes in Australia that the local authorities have not considered. True, the squatters have needed to occasionally burn the old grass on their lands, but the Imperial Government has understood so little about this that at one point they sent an order against burning the grass based on the claims of a traveler from the south. The lack of annual burning of grass and young saplings by the natives has already resulted in dense thickets of young trees in the open forest areas closest to Sydney, where a person could previously ride freely and see for miles. Kangaroos are no longer visible there; the grass is overrun with underbrush, and there are no longer any natives to burn the grass, nor is fire desirable among the settler's fences. The occupation of the territory by the white race appears to inevitably lead to the extinction of the Aboriginal people; it can be argued that any negative feelings they hold towards the white men are understandable, as these consequences, although not considered by the newcomers, must be obvious to the natives with their usual sharpness as soon as cattle enter their lands. The above journal provides examples of the natives' habits in this regard. Quietly but surely, the extinction of the Aboriginal people is occurring in grazing areas, even where those tasked with their protection have been most active; in Van Diemen's Land, the race has been wiped out even before the kangaroos, due to an even more destructive influence.
It would be but natural, even admitting these aboriginal inhabitants to be, as men, "only a little lower than the angels," that they should feel disposed, when urged by hunger, to help themselves to some of the cattle or sheep that had fattened on the green pastures kept clear for kangaroos from time immemorial by the fires of the natives and their forefathers; but such cases have been, nevertheless, of rare occurrence, partly because much human life has been sacrificed to the manes of sheep or cattle. No orders of the local government can prevent the perpetration of these atrocities. Government Orders have been put forth in formal obedience to injunctions from home, and the policy of the local authorities has not been influenced by less humane motives.
It would be natural, even if we consider these original inhabitants to be, as people, "only a little lower than the angels," that they might feel compelled, when driven by hunger, to take some of the cattle or sheep that have thrived on the green pastures that have been kept clear for kangaroos by the fires of the natives and their ancestors for generations; however, such incidents have been rare, partly because much human life has been lost over sheep or cattle. No local government orders can stop these atrocities. Government orders have been issued as a formal response to mandates from elsewhere, and the local authorities' policies have not been influenced by more compassionate motives.
It would ill become me to disparage the character of the aborigines, for one of that unfortunate race has been my "guide, companion, councillor, and friend," on the most eventful occasions during this last Journey of Discovery. Yuranigh was small and slender in person, but (as the youth Dicky said, and I believed,) he was of most determined courage and resolution. His intelligence and his judgment rendered him so necessary to me, that he was ever at my elbow, whether on foot or horseback. Confidence in him was never misplaced. He well knew the character of all the white men of the party. Nothing escaped his penetrating eye and quick ear. His brief but oracular sentences were found to be SAGE, though uttered by one deemed a SAVAGE; and his affection and kindness towards the little native Dicky seemed quite paternal. The younger was the willing servant of the elder; who obliged him to wash and clean himself before he allowed him to sleep near him. Yuranigh was particularly clean in his person, frequently washing, and his glossy shining black hair, always well-combed, gave him an uncommonly clean and decent appearance. He had promised himself and Dicky a great reception on returning to Sydney, and was perhaps disappointed. Dicky had never before seen houses, and Yuranigh took much delight in showing him the theatre, and whatever else was likely to gratify his curiosity. The boy was all questions and observation. I was at a loss how to make these natives comfortable; or suitably reward their services. The new Governor kindly granted the small gratuity asked for Yuranigh, and Dicky became a favourite in my family. Both these natives loathed the idea of returning to the woods, as savages; and, as if captivated with the scenes of activity around them, both expressed a desire "to work and live like white men." This shows that, when treated on a footing of equality, as these had been in my party, the Australian native MIGHT be induced to take part in the labours of white men; but at the first annoyance, the old freedom of the bush seems to overmaster their resolutions, and attracts them back to it. Yuranigh was engaged (for wages, and under regular agreement,) as stockman to a gentleman who had cattle in the north, and he took an affecting leave of my family. I carried Dicky to my house in the country, with the intention of having him educated there with my children, provided A TUTOR COULD BE FOUND, which seemed doubtful when I left the colony. It has been long a favourite project with me, to educate an aboriginal native, as a husband for Ballandella, and that their children should form, at least, one civilized family of the native race, upon which the influence of education and religious principles might be fairly tried.
It wouldn’t be right for me to criticize the character of the indigenous people, since one member of that unfortunate group has been my "guide, companion, advisor, and friend" during the most significant moments of this recent Journey of Discovery. Yuranigh was small and slender, but (as the young Dicky said, and I believed) he had a remarkable amount of courage and determination. His intelligence and judgment were so crucial to me that he was always by my side, whether I was walking or riding. My trust in him was never misplaced. He knew the character of all the white men in our group. Nothing escaped his keen eye and sharp ear. His short but wise remarks proved to be insightful, even from someone considered a savage; and his affection and kindness towards little Dicky seemed almost fatherly. The younger boy was eager to serve the elder, who insisted he wash and groom himself before allowing him to sleep nearby. Yuranigh was particularly clean, often washing, and his glossy, well-combed black hair gave him a notably tidy and respectable appearance. He had promised both himself and Dicky a warm welcome when we returned to Sydney and was perhaps disappointed. Dicky had never seen houses before, and Yuranigh took great pleasure in showing him the theater and anything else that might satisfy his curiosity. The boy was full of questions and observations. I struggled with how to make these natives comfortable or appropriately reward their help. The new Governor kindly approved the small gratuity requested for Yuranigh, and Dicky quickly became a favorite in my family. Both of them detested the idea of returning to the wilderness as savages and, seemingly enchanted by the busy scenes around them, expressed a desire "to work and live like white men." This indicates that, when treated as equals, as they had been in my group, an Aboriginal person might consider participating in the works of white men; but at the first sign of trouble, the old freedom of the bush seems to overpower their resolve and draws them back to it. Yuranigh was engaged (for wages, under a formal agreement) as a stockman for a gentleman with cattle in the north, and he took an emotional farewell from my family. I took Dicky to my house in the countryside, planning to have him educated there with my children, provided a TUTOR COULD BE FOUND, which seemed uncertain when I left the colony. I've long had a dream of educating an Aboriginal native as a husband for Ballandella, hoping that their children would form at least one civilized family from the native race, allowing us to fairly test the impact of education and religious principles.
This has never yet been done, although the experiment is one of much interest. It seems scarcely practicable, except by withdrawing the married couple to another country, where the children might be educated, and kept clear of all predilections for a life in the woods. I thought of sending such a pair to some congenial climate, such as the South of Europe, where they should be taught the whole art of cultivating the grape, fig, and olive, as well as the management of other productions of similar latitudes in that hemisphere. They might return to Australia with their family in ten or twelve years; when, in speaking a different language from those about them, they would be less open to the influences that interpose between the employers and the employed in that colony; while the utility of their employment might be of some benefit to it. Were this experiment to succeed, the decent and comfortable condition afforded by industry might raise the aborigines in their own estimation, and inspire them with hope to attain to a state of equality with the white men, which, without having some such examples set before them, must seem to them unattainable. The half-clad native finds himself in a degraded position in the presence of the white population: a mere outcast, obliged to beg a little bread. In his native woods, the "noble savage" knows no such degrading necessity.—All there participate in, and have a share of, Nature's gifts. These, scanty though they be, are open to all. Experience here has proved, and the history of the aborigines of other countries has shown, the absurdity of expecting that any men, "as free as Nature first made man," will condescend to leave their woods, and come under all the restraints imposed by civilisation, purely from choice, unless they can do so on terms of the most perfect equality. Surely it behoves the nation so active in the suppression of slavery to consider betimes, in taking up new countries, how the aboriginal races can be preserved; and how the evil effects of spirituous liquors, of gunpowder, and of diseases more inimical to them than even slavery, may be counteracted.
This has never been done before, even though it's a fascinating experiment. It seems nearly impossible unless the married couple is moved to another country, where the children could be raised away from any preference for a life in the woods. I thought about sending such a couple to a suitable climate, like Southern Europe, where they could learn to cultivate grapes, figs, and olives, as well as manage other crops typical of that region. They could return to Australia with their family in ten or twelve years; speaking a different language from those around them would make them less influenced by the issues that exist between employers and employees in that area, while the skills they acquire could be beneficial. If this experiment works, the decent and comfortable lifestyle provided by their work might elevate the aborigines' self-esteem and inspire them to seek equality with white people, which must seem impossible to them without seeing such examples. The half-clothed native feels degraded in front of the white population, like an outcast who has to beg for food. In his natural environment, the "noble savage" doesn't face such a degrading necessity. Everyone there shares in Nature's gifts. Although limited, these resources are available to all. Experience has shown here, and the history of aborigines in other countries has demonstrated, the absurdity of expecting free men, "as nature first made man," to leave their woods and accept the constraints of civilization simply by choice, unless they can do so as equals. It is surely the responsibility of a nation so engaged in anti-slavery efforts to consider how to preserve indigenous races when taking over new lands, and how to counteract the harmful effects of alcohol, gunpowder, and diseases that are more detrimental to them than even slavery.
OF THE CONVICTS.
The prisoners who had hitherto formed the bulk of all the exploring parties previously led by me into the interior of New South Wales, were chosen chiefly from amongst men employed on the roads, who had acquired good recommendations from their immediate overseers; but, on this last occasion, the men forming the party were for the most part chosen from amongst those still remaining in Cockatoo Island, the worst and most irreclaimable of their class.
The prisoners who had previously made up most of the exploring teams I led into the interior of New South Wales were mainly selected from those working on the roads, having received positive recommendations from their direct supervisors. However, on this last occasion, the men in the party were mostly picked from those still on Cockatoo Island, the worst and most hopeless of their group.
The concentration of convicts in that island was intended, I believe, to follow out the Norfolk Island system, keeping the men under rigorous surveillance, and making them work at their respective trades, or as labourers. Even there, so near to Sydney, that labour, so available to lay the foundations of a colony, might have been employed with great advantage, in constructing a naval arsenal and hospital for our seamen on the Indian station, with a dry dock attached to it for the repair of war-steamers. Such a dock has been long a desideratum at Sydney, and private enterprize might, ere this time, have embarked in a work so essential to an important harbour, had not the Government always possessed the means of cheaply constructing such a work by convict labour, and been thus able at any time to have entered into such competition as might have been very injurious to a private speculator. At Cockatoo Island, blacksmiths, shoemakers, wheelwrights, were at work in their various avocations; all the shoes, for both the men and horses of the expedition, were made there; also one half of the carts, which proved equally good as the other portion, although that was made by the best maker in the colony, a celebrated man.
The concentration of convicts on that island was meant to follow the Norfolk Island approach, keeping the men under strict supervision and making them work at their trades or as laborers. Even there, so close to Sydney, that labor could have been used to lay the groundwork for a colony, like building a naval arsenal and hospital for our sailors on the Indian station, complete with a dry dock for repairing war steamers. Such a dock has long been necessary in Sydney, and private enterprises could have begun such an important project for a key harbor by now, if the government hadn’t always had the means to build it cheaply using convict labor, which allowed them to outcompete private businesses, harming their potential profits. On Cockatoo Island, blacksmiths, shoemakers, and wheelwrights were busy at work in their various trades; all the shoes for both the men and horses of the expedition were made there, as well as half the carts, which were just as good as the other half, even though that was produced by the best craftsman in the colony, a well-known figure.
The eagerness evinced by all these men, so confined in irons on Cockatoo Island, to be employed in an exploring expedition, was such that even the most reckless endeavoured to smooth their rugged fronts, and seemed to wish they had better deserved the recommendation of the superintendent. The prospect of achieving their freedom, by one year of good behaviour in the interior, was cheering to the most depressed soul amongst these prisoners. All pressed eagerly forward with their claims and pretensions, which, unfortunately for the knowing ones, were strictly investigated by Mr. Ormsby the superintendent, and Captain Innes, the visiting magistrate. The selection of such as seemed most eligible was at length made, after careful examination of the phrenological developments and police history of each; and it was not easy to find one without a catalogue of offences, filling a whole page of police-office annals. Still there were redeeming circumstances, corroborated by physical developments, sufficient to guide me in the selection of a party from amongst these prisoners. With them, I mixed one or two faithful Irishmen, on whom I knew I could depend, and two or three of my old followers on former journeys, who had become free.
The eagerness shown by all these men, confined in chains on Cockatoo Island, to join an exploring expedition was such that even the most reckless tried to smooth their rough appearances and seemed to wish they had better earned the superintendent's recommendation. The hope of gaining their freedom after one year of good behavior in the interior was uplifting for even the most downcast among these prisoners. Everyone eagerly pushed forward with their requests and claims, which, unfortunately for the savvy ones, were closely scrutinized by Mr. Ormsby, the superintendent, and Captain Innes, the visiting magistrate. Eventually, a selection was made from those who seemed the most suitable, after carefully examining their physical traits and police records; and it was hard to find anyone without a lengthy list of offenses filling a whole page of police records. Still, there were redeeming circumstances, supported by their physical characteristics, enough to help me choose a party from among these prisoners. I also included one or two loyal Irishmen, whom I knew I could rely on, and two or three of my old companions from previous journeys who had gained their freedom.
This party of convicts, so organized, with such strong inducements to behave well, and so few temptations to lead them astray, may be supposed to have afforded a favourable opportunity for studying the convict character. It may be asked by some, how such a party could have been made to yield submissive obedience for so long a period as a year, away from all other authority, than mere moral controul. This was chiefly because these men were placed in a position where it was so very clearly for their own interest to conduct themselves properly. Accordingly, the greater number, as on all former expeditions, gave the highest satisfaction, submitting cheerfully to privations, enduring hardships, and encountering dangers, apparently willing and resolved to do anything to escape from the degraded condition of a convict. But still there were a few, amounting in all to six, who, even in such a party, animated by such hopes, could not divest themselves of their true character, nor even disguise it for a time, as an expedient for the achievement of their liberty. These men were known amongst the rest as the "flash mob." They spoke the secret language of thieves; were ever intent on robbing the stores, with false keys (called by them SCREWS). They held it to be wrong to exert themselves at any work, if it could be avoided; and would not be seen to endeavour to please, by willing cooperation. They kept themselves out of sight as much as possible; neglected their arms; shot away their ammunition contrary to orders; and ate in secret, whatever they did kill, or whatever fish they caught.
This group of convicts, well organized with strong incentives to behave and few temptations to lead them astray, seemed like a good chance to study convict behavior. Some might wonder how a group could be made to obey for a whole year on their own, without any authority beyond moral control. This was mainly because these men found themselves in a situation where it was clearly in their best interest to act properly. As a result, like on all previous expeditions, most of them were very satisfied, cheerfully enduring hardships, facing dangers, and seemingly willing to do anything to escape the shame of being a convict. However, there were still a few—six in total—who, even in such a hopeful group, couldn’t shake off their true nature or even pretend for a while to achieve their freedom. These men were known to the others as the "flash mob." They spoke the secret language of thieves, were always looking to rob the stores with fake keys (which they called SCREWS). They believed it was wrong to work hard if they could avoid it and wouldn’t bother to make an effort to cooperate. They kept out of sight as much as possible, ignored their weapons, wasted their ammunition against orders, and ate secretly whatever they managed to kill or fish they caught.
Professing to be men of "the Fancy," they made converts of two promising men, who, at first, were highly thought of, and although one of them was finally reclaimed, a hero of the prize ring, it was too obvious that the men, who glory in breaking the laws, and all of whose songs even, express sentiments of dishonesty, can easily lead the unwary and still susceptible of the unfortunate class, into snares from which they cannot afterwards escape if they would. Once made parties to an offence against the law, they are bound as by a spell, to the order of flash-boys, with whom it is held to be base and cowardly to act "upon the square," or HONESTLY in any sense of the word; their order professing to act ever "upon the cross." These men were so well-known to the better disposed and more numerous portion of the party, that the night-guards had to be so arranged, as that the stores or the camp should never be entirely in their hands. Thus a watch was required to be set as regularly over the stores, when the party was close to Sydney, as when it was surrounded by savage tribes in the interior.
Claiming to be part of "the Fancy," they converted two promising individuals, who were initially well-regarded. Although one of them eventually turned his life around and became a champion in the boxing ring, it was clear that those who take pride in breaking the law—and whose songs reflect dishonest sentiments—can easily lure the vulnerable and naive from the unfortunate classes into traps they can't escape from later. Once involved in an illegal act, they are bound like it's a spell to the group of flash-boys, who believe it’s disgraceful and cowardly to act "upon the square," or honestly in any sense; their group insists on always acting "upon the cross." These men were so known among the more respectable and larger portion of the group that the night-watch had to be organized so that the stores or the camp were never completely under their control. Therefore, a watch was needed over the stores as consistently when near Sydney as when surrounded by hostile tribes in the interior.
Between the "flash men" and the other men of the party, there was a wide difference: An old man to whom they once offered some stolen flour, refused it, saying, "I have been led into enough of trouble in my younger days, by flash friends, and now I wish to lead a quiet life." Convicts, in fact, consist of two distinctly different classes: the one, fortunately by far the most numerous, comprising those whose crime was the result of impulse; the other class consisting of those whose principle of action is dishonesty; whose trade is crime, and of whose reformation, there is much less hope. The offenders of the one class, repented of their crime from the moment of conviction; those of the other, know no such word in their vocabulary. The one, is still "a thing of hope and change;" and would eagerly avail himself of every means afforded him to regain the position he had lost; the other, true to his "order," will "die game." For the separation of the wheat from the chaff, a process by no means difficult, the colony of New South Wales was formerly well adapted. The ticket of leave granted to the deserving convict was one of the most perfect of reformatory indulgences; each individual being known to the authorities, and liable, on the least misconduct, to be sent to work on the public roads. The colony of New South Wales has been the means of restoring many of our unfortunate countrymen to positions in which they have shown that loyalty, industry, public spirit, and patriotism, are not always to be extinguished in the breasts of Englishmen, even by fetters and degradation. It is to be regretted that a more vigilant discrimination had not interposed a more marked line between those convicts deserving emancipation, and those whose services are still wanted on the roads and bridges of the colony.
Between the "flash guys" and the other men in the group, there was a big difference: An old man who they once offered some stolen flour turned it down, saying, "I've gotten into enough trouble in my younger days with flashy friends, and now I just want to live a quiet life." Convicts, in reality, are made up of two very different groups: the first, thankfully the much larger one, includes those whose crime was a result of impulse; the second group consists of those whose guiding principle is dishonesty; who make crime their trade, and for whom there is much less hope of change. The offenders in the first group regret their crimes from the moment they’re caught; the second group doesn’t even understand the concept of regret. The first is still "a thing of hope and change;" and would jump at the chance to use every opportunity to regain the position he lost; the second, true to his "code," will "go down fighting." For separating the good from the bad, a process that isn’t very difficult, the colony of New South Wales was formerly very suited. The ticket of leave given to deserving convicts was one of the best forms of reformatory indulgence; each person was known to the authorities and could be sent to work on public roads for even the slightest misconduct. The colony of New South Wales has helped restore many of our unfortunate countrymen to positions where they’ve shown that loyalty, hard work, public spirit, and patriotism are not always extinguished in the hearts of Englishmen, even by chains and degradation. It’s unfortunate that a more careful distinction wasn’t made between those convicts deserving freedom and those whose labor is still needed on the roads and bridges of the colony.
OF THE COLONY OF NEW SOUTH WALES.
There is no country in which labour appears to be more required to render it available to, and habitable by, civilised men, than New South Wales or Australia. Without labour, the inhabitants must be savages, or, at least, such helpless people as we find the aborigines. The squatters' condition is intermediate, temporary, and one of necessity. That country without navigable rivers, intersected by rocky ranges, and subject to uncertain seasons, is unfavourable to agriculture and trade; to social intercourse, and to the moral and physical prosperity of civilised man. With equal truth, it may be observed, that there is no region of earth susceptible of so much improvement, solely by the labour and ingenuity of man. If there be no navigable rivers, there are no unwholesome savannas; if there are rocky ranges, they afford, at least, the means of forming reservoirs of water; and, although it is there uncertain when rain may fall, it is certain that an abundant supply does fall; and the hand of man alone is wanting to preserve that supply and regulate its use. In such a clime, and under such a sun, that most important of elements in cultivation, water, could thus be rendered much more subservient to man's use than it is in other warm regions, where, if the general vegetation be more luxuriant, the air is less salubrious. Sufficient water for all purposes of cultivation, health, and enjoyment, is quite at the command of art and industry in this most luxuriant of climates. Thus, the peculiar disadvantages Australia presents in her wild state, are such as would greatly enhance the value of such a country under the operation of human industry. In such a climate, for instance, an abundance of water would be found a much greater luxury when retained, distributed, and adjusted, by such means, to man's uses, than where an abundance is but the natural product of cloudy skies and frequent rains. Where natural resources exist, but require art and industry for their development, the field is open for the combination of science and skill, the profitable investment of capital, and the useful employment of labour. Such is New South Wales.
There’s no country where labor seems more necessary to make it suitable for and livable by civilized people than New South Wales or Australia. Without labor, the people would have to be savages or, at the very least, as helpless as we see the aborigines. The squatters’ situation is in between, temporary, and driven by necessity. That land, lacking navigable rivers, crossed by rocky ranges, and facing unpredictable seasons, doesn’t favor agriculture or trade; it also hinders social interaction and the overall well-being of civilized people. Equally true is the fact that no other part of the world has such potential for improvement solely through human labor and creativity. While there might not be navigable rivers, there aren’t any unhealthy swamps either; and yes, while there are rocky ranges, they provide a way to create water reservoirs. Even though it’s unpredictable when rain will come, it’s a given that ample rainfall occurs; all that’s missing is human effort to maintain and manage that water supply. In such a climate, under such a sun, the crucial element for farming, water, could be made much more useful for people than in other warm areas, where the vegetation might be thicker but the air is less healthy. There’s more than enough water available for farming, health, and enjoyment, which can be harnessed through human ingenuity and effort in this rich climate. Therefore, the specific challenges Australia presents in its wild state would significantly increase the value of that land when human industry is applied. In such a climate, having a lot of water would be seen as a greater luxury when managed and distributed for human use than where an abundance is simply due to overcast skies and frequent rainfall. Where natural resources are available but require skill and effort for development, there’s an opportunity for the mix of science and expertise, profitable capital investment, and valuable labor. Such is the case in New South Wales.
But the age of such adaptations there is still to come. The future is too much speculated upon; hence no system of agriculture has been yet adjusted to the peculiarities of climate and soil. Instead of studying and adopting the agriculture of similar climates, and the arts by which deficiencies in similar latitudes have from time immemorial been corrected: irrigation, for instance, has not been yet attempted; the natural fertility of the soil has alone been relied on, to compensate, in favourable, seasons, for the deficiencies of others, not favourable, perhaps, for the growth of wheat or barley, but the best imaginable for that of other kinds of productions. So generally available is the structure of the country for the reservation of water by dams, that a small number of these might be made to retain as much of the surface water as might even impart humidity to the atmosphere. This is because the channels of rivers are in general confined by high banks, within which many, or indeed most of them, might be converted by a few dams into canals. To such great purposes convict labour ought to have been applied, had it been possible to have allowed colonization and transportation to work together. But the undulations of the land present everywhere facilities for constructing reservoirs, which heavy showers would fill, and thus afford means sufficient for the purposes of irrigation, were not labour now too scarce there, to admit of the progress of colonization in a manner suitable to the spirit of the age, and character of the nation.
But the time for such changes is still to come. People speculate too much about the future; that's why no farming system has been adapted to the specific climate and soil conditions yet. Instead of studying and using the agricultural methods from similar climates and the techniques that have long corrected deficiencies in similar areas—like irrigation, for example—there hasn't been any effort made. They have instead relied on the natural fertility of the soil to make up for unfavorable seasons, which may not be great for growing wheat or barley but are perfect for other types of crops. The land is generally suited for storing water with dams, so just a few of these could hold enough surface water to even add humidity to the air. This is because the banks of rivers are usually steep, allowing many of them to be transformed into canals with a few dams. Convict labor should have been used for such significant projects, if only colonization and transportation could have been coordinated effectively. However, the varying landscape provides opportunities to create reservoirs, which heavy rains would fill, providing enough water for irrigation, if only there wasn't such a shortage of labor there to support colonization in a way that fits with the spirit of the times and the country's character.
The rich lands along the eastern coast, under a lofty range which supplies abundance of water for the purposes of irrigation, are well adapted for the cultivation of cotton and sugar, and, with labour, nothing could prevent these regions from being made extensively productive of both articles. Of the vine and the olive[*], it remains to be ascertained whether some parts of the country may not be made as productive as Andalusia, for instance, is, in the same parallel of latitude, in the opposite hemisphere. The want of hands alone retards the development of every branch of production derivable from industry in these regions.
The fertile lands along the eastern coast, situated beneath a high range that provides plenty of water for irrigation, are well-suited for growing cotton and sugar. With the right labor, there's nothing stopping these areas from becoming highly productive for both crops. As for grapes and olives[*], it's still unclear whether some parts of the country can be as fruitful as Andalusia, which is at the same latitude but in the opposite hemisphere. The lack of workers is the only thing holding back the growth of various industries in these regions.
[* Five months ago, soon after my return to England, I gave to the Society of Arts two bottles of olive oil, the first samples ever produced, I believe, in Australia. The oil was made by Mr. Kid, superintendent of the Botanic garden at Sydney, from olives grown there, and seemed very clear and good.]
[* Five months ago, shortly after I returned to England, I donated two bottles of olive oil to the Society of Arts, which I believe are the first samples ever produced in Australia. The oil was made by Mr. Kid, the superintendent of the Botanic Garden in Sydney, from olives grown there, and appeared very clear and good.]
Settled districts, back from the coast, at elevations of 1000 feet and upwards, have produced abundant crops of wheat of very superior quality; and, but for the non-completion of the roads between these districts and the capital, in consequence of the withdrawal of convict labour, the progress of agriculture in its adaptation to the soil and climate, and, as a field for the employment of British immigrants, had been much more advanced than it is there.
Settled areas, located away from the coast at elevations of 1,000 feet and higher, have produced plentiful crops of high-quality wheat. However, if the roads connecting these areas to the capital had been completed—unfortunately, the convict labor that was supposed to help with this was withdrawn—agriculture would have progressed more in adapting to the soil and climate, and as a sector for British immigrants to work in, than it currently has.
The roads which were opened by the above means, or proposed to be opened, have become almost impassable, or remain wholly so; and it is, therefore, the less surprising that the colonists look to the possible introduction of railways with much interest. In a country like that around Sydney, where extensive tracts of inferior land must be traversed by roads in order to arrive at lands which are productive and settled, the value and importance of a railway would be greatly enhanced; and calculations have been made to show that a railway between Sydney and the southern districts would pay, even from the traffic at present along that line. The town of Goulburn, 124 miles from Sydney, in an open undulating country, at a considerable height above the sea, is rapidly growing into importance; and, by making either a good road or a railway, between that town and Sydney, access would be gained to very extensive tracts of valuable territory, easily traversed, and to which Goulburn is a sort of centre.
The roads that have been opened or are planned to be opened have become nearly impossible to travel on, or are completely impassable; so it’s not surprising that the colonists are very interested in the potential development of railways. In an area like the one around Sydney, where large stretches of poor land need to be crossed to reach productive and settled regions, the value and significance of a railway would be significantly increased. Some estimates suggest that a railway between Sydney and the southern districts would be profitable, even just from the current traffic along that route. The town of Goulburn, located 124 miles from Sydney in a flat, rolling landscape at a high elevation, is quickly becoming important; establishing either a good road or a railway between Goulburn and Sydney would provide access to extensive areas of valuable land that are easy to travel through, with Goulburn serving as a central point.
On the whole, it may be said that the difficulty of access to the best lands, from the want of good roads to them from the principal port, has, of late years, greatly impeded the introduction of immigrants to the rural districts, and added to the population of Sydney many individuals who had been brought to the colony at the public expense, for the assistance of settlers in the country.
Overall, the lack of good roads connecting the main port to the best land has significantly slowed down the arrival of immigrants to the rural areas in recent years. This has increased the population of Sydney by many individuals who were brought to the colony at public expense to help settlers in the countryside.
CONCLUSION.
The employment of convicts on useful public works was, twenty years ago, a primary object with the government of New South Wales. The location of settlers on their grants by the measurement of their farms, then much in arrear, and the division of the territory into counties, hundreds, and parishes, in order to complete the deeds of grant to settlers, altogether rendered necessary a general survey of the colony, which work I commenced in 1827, EX OFFICIO, and, pursuant to Royal Instructions, sent to the colony in 1825. The time between the years 1827 and 1837 was the most prosperous in the history of the colony of New South Wales, when convicts made good roads, farms were measured up, and the country was surveyed and divided into countries. Colonization extended rapidly to the shores of the southern ocean, and Australia Felix was made known to the British public.
The use of convicts for useful public works was, twenty years ago, a key priority for the government of New South Wales. The placement of settlers on their land grants, which were then significantly delayed, and the division of the territory into counties, hundreds, and parishes to finalize the deeds for settlers, created a need for a comprehensive survey of the colony. I started this work in 1827, EX OFFICIO, following Royal Instructions sent to the colony in 1825. The decade from 1827 to 1837 was the most prosperous period in New South Wales's history, when convicts built good roads, land was surveyed, and the country was divided into regions. Colonization rapidly expanded to the shores of the southern ocean, and Australia Felix was revealed to the British public.
The survey touched the limits of the then unknown country, for the direction of great roads from a centre could not be considered permanent, however limited the colony, without such consideration of their ultimate tendency as could only be given with a knowledge of the whole intervening country. My plans of exploration have been governed by these views and objects, and the journey recorded in these pages was intended to complete the last of three lines radiating from Sydney. One led across the Blue mountains to Bathurst and the western interior as far as the land seemed worth exploring; another by Goulburn to Australia Felix and the southern coast; and, lastly, this, the third general route, to the northern shores at the nearest point, the head of the Gulf of Carpentaria,—from which I trust that by this time my assistant Mr. Kennedy will have returned to Sydney.
The survey reached the edges of the then-unknown country, since the routes of major roads from a central point couldn't be seen as permanent, no matter how small the colony, without considering their ultimate direction, which could only be understood with knowledge of the entire area in between. My exploration plans have been influenced by these thoughts and objectives, and the journey detailed in these pages was meant to complete the last of three paths radiating from Sydney. One went over the Blue Mountains to Bathurst and the western interior as far as the land seemed worth checking out; another route went through Goulburn to Australia Felix and the southern coast; and finally, this third route heads to the northern shores at the nearest point, the head of the Gulf of Carpentaria—where I hope that by now my assistant Mr. Kennedy has returned to Sydney.
Held responsible by the Government for the performance of such a duty[*], I have endeavoured to work out its views with that unity of plan which must result from a mathematical principle, and which has enabled me to bring to a satisfactory conclusion, after the lapse of many years, and in the face of considerable difficulty, an undertaking commenced at the command of my Sovereign, and under the auspices of the British Government. That the Royal Instructions were originally intended for the benefit of the colony of New South Wales is best evinced by the fact that this journey of survey and exploration has been undertaken on the petition of the Legislative Council of the Colony, and performed wholly at the expense of the colony of New South Wales.
Held accountable by the Government for carrying out this duty[*], I have worked to align with their vision using a cohesive plan based on a mathematical principle. This approach has allowed me to successfully conclude an undertaking that began, on the orders of my Sovereign, several years ago, despite facing significant challenges, all while being supported by the British Government. It's clear that the Royal Instructions were initially meant for the benefit of the colony of New South Wales, as evidenced by the fact that this survey and exploration journey was initiated at the request of the Legislative Council of the Colony and has been entirely funded by the colony of New South Wales.
[* Appendix, Letter No. 30/1252., page 431.]
[* Appendix, Letter No. 30/1252., page 431.]
It now remains for me to submit my final "Report," or, in other words, to point out how the geographical knowledge thus acquired may be available for the economical extension of that colonisation which the expansive energies of this great nation seem to require. New South Wales may be benefited, it is true, by the establishment of any additional market on the eastern coast, for her produce; and by a road to the Gulf of Carpentaria; but a timely knowledge of the structure of the interior was necessary to enable the Government to determine on the sites most eligible for centres of colonisation required along the coast. It is now ascertained that a great range separates the coast settlements from the open pastoral country of the interior, as far as the parallel of 25° south. That there it breaks off at the lofty plateau of Buckland's Table Land, which overlooks a much lower country in the north;—a country but lightly wooded, watered by good rivers, and which affords an easy access to extensive pastoral regions in the interior, without the intervention of any such formidable barrier between that interior open country and the coast, as the great range nearer the actual colony. Precisely on that part of the coast, to which the united channels of the water lead, a harbour has been surveyed and approved of by competent naval officers. These geographical facts, therefore, render it easy to define one situation more favourable than any other that might be found along that coast, for the nucleus of a colony, and which would divide almost equally the whole coast line between Sydney and Cape York. I allude to Port Bowen, near Broad Sound; and the river Nogoa, which has been (I believe) called lower down, the Mackenzie. A port on that part of the coast, at the entrance within the reefs, would be advantageous to steam navigation. The occupation of the fine country on the rivers Victoria, Salvator and Claude, must depend on some such sea-port for supplies; and on the occupation of that back-country must again, in a great measure, depend the establishment of a direct line of communication between Sydney and the Gulf of Carpentaria.
It’s now my task to present my final "Report," or, in other words, to highlight how the geographical knowledge obtained can be useful for the economic expansion of colonization, which seems to be needed by the dynamic forces of this great nation. New South Wales could definitely benefit from any new market established on the eastern coast for its products, and from a road to the Gulf of Carpentaria; however, having timely information about the interior's structure was essential for the Government to identify the most suitable sites for colonization centers along the coast. It has now been confirmed that a significant range separates the coastal settlements from the open pastoral lands of the interior, extending to about the 25° south parallel. Here, it drops off at the high plateau of Buckland's Table Land, which looks over a much lower area to the north—an area that is sparsely wooded, has good rivers, and provides easy access to extensive pastoral regions in the interior, without the kind of formidable barrier between this open country and the coast that exists closer to the current colony. Exactly at that part of the coast where the combined channels of the waters lead, a harbor has been surveyed and approved by qualified naval officers. These geographical facts make it clear that one location stands out more favorably than any other that could be found along that coast for the foundation of a colony, which would roughly split the entire coastline between Sydney and Cape York. I'm referring to Port Bowen, near Broad Sound, and the Nogoa River, which I believe is called the Mackenzie further down. A port in that part of the coast, inside the reefs, would be beneficial for steam navigation. The occupation of the excellent land along the Victoria, Salvator, and Claude rivers must rely on such a sea-port for supplies; and the development of that backcountry will, in large part, depend on establishing a direct communication line between Sydney and the Gulf of Carpentaria.
At the head of that gulf, admitting that a practicable and direct line of route can be opened to it, the country, and the sea adjacent, may soon require attention. By timely examination and good arrangement, a commodious place of embarkation may be established there, which might, by degrees, become an important town; where horses might be shipped and conveyed by a short passage to India, free from the hazards of Torres Straits. It would appear from the brief but intelligible description by Captain Flinders, that Wellesley Islands, or Sweer's Island, being both higher than the main land, might be connected with it, by some permanent work, and thus afford a good port for steamers, and shelter and anchorage for other ships. According to the interesting narrative of Captain Stokes, the temperature is remarkably low, and convict labour might there be very usefully employed upon such works. The head of the Gulf of Carpentaria, being that part of the Indian Ocean nearest to Sydney, has appeared of more importance to the colonists, since steam navigation became regular between England and the Indian archipelago. Then it became more desirable for the colonists to know the nature of the interior country between their capital and that northern coast. The interior has been found very open and accessible; the fine country at the head of the Victoria must soon be occupied, and thus divide the whole distance into two equal parts, each of these not much exceeding the distance between Sydney and Melbourne, in Australia Felix; between which places mail-carriages now run twice a week. Thus, while, by the extension of geographical research, the proper fields for colonization are laid open for selection, and prepared for timely arrangements on the part of the Imperial Government; the colonists of New South Wales have promoted the general interests of their fellow subjects at home, by the developement of the resources of the territory around them.
At the top of that gulf, assuming a practical and direct route can be opened to it, the region and the nearby sea may soon need attention. With timely inspection and solid planning, a convenient port could be established there, which might gradually grow into a significant town; a place where horses could be loaded and transported by a short trip to India, avoiding the dangers of Torres Straits. From Captain Flinders' brief but clear description, it seems that Wellesley Islands, or Sweer's Island, being both higher than the mainland, could be linked to it through some permanent structure, providing a good port for steamers and shelter for other ships. According to Captain Stokes' fascinating account, the temperature is notably low, and convict labor could be effectively utilized for such projects. The head of the Gulf of Carpentaria, being the closest part of the Indian Ocean to Sydney, has gained more importance for the colonists since regular steam navigation began between England and the Indian archipelago. It then became even more crucial for colonists to understand the nature of the inland areas between their capital and that northern coast. The interior has proven to be very open and accessible; the excellent land at the head of the Victoria will soon be settled, effectively dividing the total distance into two equal parts, each not much longer than the distance between Sydney and Melbourne, where mail carriages currently run twice a week. Thus, as geographical research expands, the appropriate areas for colonization are being opened for selection and prepared for timely actions by the Imperial Government; the colonists of New South Wales have also advanced the general interests of their fellow subjects back home by developing the resources of their territory.
He "who measured out the sea in the hollow of his hand, and weighed the earth in a balance," has determined, by the condition of these two elements, the situation of the Gulf, and that of the great break in the East Coast range—the one affording the nearest access to an important sea, the other the easy way to a rich interior land. I would, with deference to Him, "who led Israel like a flock," and me in safety through the Australian wilds, distinguish the two regions by timely descriptive names on the map I now lay before the public; Capricornia, to express the country under the tropics, from the parallel of 25° South, where nature has set up her own land-marks, not to be disputed: Australindia, the country on the shores of the most southern part of the Indian archipelago; which two regions may be made conterminous according to natural limits, when such limits can be accurately ascertained.
He "who measured out the sea in the palm of His hand and weighed the earth on a scale," has defined, through the state of these two elements, the location of the Gulf and the significant gap in the East Coast range—one providing the closest access to an important sea, the other offering an easy route to a prosperous inland area. With respect to Him, "who led Israel like a flock," and safely guided me through the Australian wilderness, I would like to identify the two regions with timely descriptive names on the map I am presenting to the public; Capricornia, to represent the land under the tropics, starting at the parallel of 25° South, where nature has established undeniable markers: Australindia, the area along the shores of the southernmost part of the Indian archipelago; these two regions can be made adjacent according to natural boundaries when such boundaries can be accurately defined.
APPENDIX.
The Colonial Secretary to the Surveyor-General of New South Wales.
No. 30/1252.
Colonial Secretary's Office, October 28. 1830.
The Colonial Secretary to the Surveyor-General of New South Wales.
No. 30/1252.
Colonial Secretary's Office, October 28, 1830.
Sir,
Sir,
I have the honour, by the direction of His Excellency the Governor, to inform you that the Right Honourable the Secretary of State has been pleased to signify the King's instructions for the discontinuance of the office of the Commissioners appointed to survey and value the lands of the Colony, and His Majesty's commands that the performance of their duties is for the future to be entrusted to the Surveyor-General, who, with the aid of the Assistant Surveyors, will be held responsible for all arrangements connected with the survey and division of the territory.
I am honored, at the request of His Excellency the Governor, to inform you that the Right Honourable Secretary of State has conveyed the King's instructions to discontinue the office of the Commissioners responsible for surveying and valuing the lands of the Colony. His Majesty has commanded that from now on, these duties will be handled by the Surveyor-General, who, with the help of the Assistant Surveyors, will be responsible for all arrangements related to the survey and division of the territory.
I have the honour to be,
Sir,
Your most obedient servant,
I’m honored to be,
Sir,
Your most respectful servant,
ALEX. M'LEAY.
ALEX. M'LEAY.
To T.L. Mitchell, Esquire,
Surveyor-General.
To T.L. Mitchell, Esq.,
Surveyor-General.
* * * * *
Understood! Please provide the text you'd like me to modernize.
A SYSTEMATICAL LIST OF THE PRINCIPAL PLANTS COLLECTED IN THE FOREGOING JOURNEY.
THOSE MARKED * ARE NEW.
*NEW*
[numerals refer to page numbers in the book]
[numerals refer to page numbers in the book]
FERNS. Adiantum hispidulum, 204, 212. ——assimile, 204. 212. Nothochlaena distans, 212. Grammitis rutaefolia, 212. Cheilanthes tenuifolia, 212. Doodia caudata, 212. Platyzoma microphyllum, 236. GRASSES. Aristida calycina, 33. Arundo Phragmites, 124. * Anthistiria membranacea, LINDL. 88. ——australis PASSIM. ——sp. 97. Andropogon sericeus, 62. ——bombycinus, 378. ——sp. 117. Bromus australis, 61. * Chloris selerantha, LINDL. 31. ——acicularis LINDL. 33. Dactyloctenium radulans, 88. Danthonia pectinata, 319. ——* triticoides LINDL. 365. Erianthus, fulvo aff. 62. Imperata arundinacea, 60. 349. Lappago biflora, 364. Neurachne Mitchelliana, 33. Perotis rara, 139. Panicum laevinode 60. AND PASSIM. Pappophorum gracile, 319. ——* avenaceum LINDL. 320. ——* virens, LINDL. 360. ——* flavescens, LINDL. 34. * Stipa scabra, LINDL. 31. * Sporobolus pallidus, LINDL. 187. Triodia pungens, 177. 340. Triraphis mollis, 88. SEDGES. Cyperus, sp. bulbosa. 124. ——sp. 120. Kyllinga monocephala, 100. MISCELLANEOUS ENDOGENS. Damasonium ovalifolium, 31. Xerotes laxa, 361. ——leucocephala, 198. Cymbidium canaliculatum, 378. * Pterostylis Mitchellii, LINDL. 3 Commelina undulata, 347. Thysanotus elatior, 347. Tricoryne elatior, 387. Laxmannia gracilis, 365. Dianella rara, 366. ——strumosa, 341. GYMNOGENS. Zamia, 209. Callitris sp. n. 187. ——glauca, 298. ——pyramidalis, 93. SPURGEWORTS (EUPHORBIACEAE). * Adriania acerifolia, HOOKER, 371. ——* heterophylla, HOOKER, 124. Beyeria, sp. n. 390. Bertya oleaefolia, 290. Euphorbia hypericifolia? 265. ——* eremophila, A. CUNN. 348. Hylococcus sericeus, 389. * Micrantheum triandrum, HOOKER, 342. Phyllanthus simplex? 106. CUCURBITS. Cucumis pubescens, 110. BIXADS (FLACOURTIACEAE). * Melicytus? oleaster, LINDL. 383. FRANKENIADS. * Frankenia scabra, LINDL. 305. ——* serpyllifolia, LINDL. 305. CAPPARIDS. * Capparis umbonata, LINDL. 257. ——* loranthifolia, LINDL. 220. ——lasiantha, 102. ——Mitchellii, 36. Cleome flava, 127. STERCULIADS. Brachychiton populneum, 355. * Delabechea rupestris MITCHELL, 155. BYTTNEBIADS. * Keraudrenia integrifolia, HOOKER, 341. MALLOWWORTS. Hibiscus Lindleyi? 260. ——* Sturtii, HOOKER, 363. Fugosia digitata? 387. ——sp. 64. Malva ovata, 397. * Sida Frazeri, HOOKER, 368. ——pisiformis, 362. ——* virgata, HOOKER, 361. ——filiformis, A. CUNN. 361. ——tubulosa, CUNN. 390. ——sp. n. 103. LINDENBLOOMS (TILIACEAE). Grewia Richardiana, 383. MILKWORTS (POLYGALACEAE). * Comesperma sylvestris, LINDL. 342. SOAPWORTS (SAPINDACEAE). Thouinia australis, 390. * Dodonaea acerosa, LINDL. 273. ——* filifolia, HOOKER, 241. ——* hirtella, 191. ——* mollis, LINDL. 212. ——* peduncularis, LINDL. 340. 361. ——* pubescens, LINDL. 342. ——* tenuifolia, LINDL. 248. ——* trigona, LINDL. 236. ——* triangularis, 219. ——* vestita, HOOKER, 265. DILLENIADS. Pleurandra ericifolia, 362. ——* cistoidea, HOOKER, 363. Hibbertia canescens, 339. CROWFOOTS (RANUNCULACEAE). Clematis stenophylla, 368. Ranunculus plebeius, 362. ——sessiliflorus, 361. PITTOSPORADS. * Bursaria incana, LINDL. 224. * Pittosporum salicinum, LINDL. 97. ——lanceolatum, 272. EPACRIDS. Leucopogon cuspidatus, 226. CITRONWORTS (AURANTIACEAE). * Triphasia glauca, LINDL. 353. RUEWORTS (RUTACEAE). * Boronia bipinnata, LINDL. 225. ——* eriantha, LINDL. 298. * Eriostemon rhombeum, LINDL. 293. * Geijera parviflora, LINDL. 102. ——* latifolia, LINDL. 236. ——* pendula, LINDL. 251. Heterodendron oleaefolium, 398. * Pilotheca ciliata, HOOKER, 347. * Phebalium glandulosum, HOOKER, 199. * Zieria Frazeri, HOOKER, 339. CRANESBILLS (GERANIACEAE). Geranium parviflorum? 362. Erodium littoreum? 360. PURSLANES (PORTULACACEAE). * Calandrinia balonensis, LINDL. 148. ——* pusilla, LINDL. 360. BUCKWHEATS (POLYGONACEAE). Polygonum acre, 149. ——junceum, 85. NYCTAGOS. Boerhaavia mutabilis, 362. AMARANTHS. Amaranthus undulatus, 102. Alternanthera nodiflora, 35. ——sp. 341. Nyssanthes? 360. * Trichinium semilanatum, LINDL. 45. ——Janatum, 33. 88. ——* conicum, LINDL. 363. ——fusiforme, 383. ——alopecuroideum, 88. 91. CHENOPODS. Ambrina carinata, 127. * Atriplex nummularia, LINDL. 64. ——elaeagnoides, 29 Atriplex semibaccata, 23. * Chenopodium auricomum, LINDL. 94. Enchylaena tomentosa, 102. Kochia brevifolia, 33. 67. ——* thymifolia, LINDL. 56. ——* lanosa, LINDL. 88. ——* villosa, LINDL. 91. Rhagodia parabolica, 53. Salsola australis, 24, etc. Seleroaena uniflora, 72. * Suaeda tamariscina, LINDL. 239. FICOIDS. Mesembryanthemum, sp. 315. DAPHNADS. Pimelea linifolia? 340. ——* trichostachya, LINDL. 355. ——colorans, 362. Exocarpus aphylla, 118. ——spartea, 135. PROTEADS. * Conospermum sphacelatum, HOOKER, 342. * Grevillea Mitchellii, HOOKER, 265. ——* juncifolia, HOOKER, 341. ——floribunda, 212. ——* longistyla, HOOKER, 343. ——sp. 276. * Hakea longicuspis, HOOKER, 397. ——* purpurea, HOOKER, 348. DODDER LAURELS (CASSYTHACEAE). Cassytha pubescens, 362. LEGUMINOUS PLANTS. Acacia conferta, 174. 289. ——Cunninghamii, 204. ——doratoxylon, 289. ——delibrata, 258. ——decora, 359. var. 223. ——* excelsa, BENTH. 225. ——Farnesiana, 256. ——falcata, 221. Acacia holosericea, 256. ——Simsii, 256. ——leucadendron, 258. ——* longespicata, BENTH. 298. ——ixiophylla, 204. ——leptoclada, var. 95. ——* macradenia, BENTH. 360. ——neriifolia, 386. ——pendula, PASSIM. ——pennifolia, 361. ——podalyriifolia, 221. ——* pinifolia, BENTH. 342. ——stenophylla, 81. ——spectabilis, 353. ——salicina, 56. ——triptera, 291. ——* varians, BENTH. 132. ——* Victoriae, BENTH. 333. ——* uncifera, BENTH. 341. ——viscidula, 340. * Aotus mollis, BENTH. 236. * Bossiaea carinalis, BENTH. 290. ——rhombifolia, 294. * Cassia circinata, BENTH. 384. ——* coronilloides, CUNN. 384. ——* zygophylla, BENTH. 288. ——sophera, 390. ——occidentalis, 378. ——heteroloba, 251. * Crotalaria dissitiflora, BENTH. 386. ——* Mitchellii, BENTH. 120. * Cyclogyne swainsonioides, BENTH. 397. * Daviesia filipes, BENTH. 363. * Erythrina vespertilio, BENTH. 218. * Gompholobium foliosum, BENTH. 348. Hardenbergia monophylla, 236. Hovea lanceolata, 212. ——* leiocarpa, BENTH. 289. * Indigofera brevidens, BENTH. 385. ——hirsuta, 122. * Jacksonia ramosissima, BENTH. 258. ——scoparia, 339. * Kennedya procurrens, BENTH. 365. Labichea rupestris, BENTH. 342. * Labich ea digitata, BENTH. 273. * Leptocyamus latifolius, BENTH. 361. * Lotus laevigatus, BENTH. 62. ——australis, var. 348. Neptunia gracilis, 362. * Psoralea eriantha, BENTH. 131. Sesbania aculeata? 106. * Swainsona phacoides, BENTH. 363. Vigna, an capensis? 339. ——* lanceolata, BENTH. 350. ——* suberecta, BENTH. 388. ROSEWORTS. Rubus parvifolius, 351. LOOSESTRIFES (LYTHRACEAE). Lythrum Salicaria, 62. RHAMNADS. Alphitonia excelsa, 201. Cryptandra propinqua, 223. * Ventilago viminalis, HOOKER, 369. SPINDLE TREES (CELASTRACEAE). * Catha Cunninghamii, HOOKER, 387. * Elaeodendron maculosum, LINDL. 384. STACKHOUSIADS. Stackhousia muricata, 362. DOGBANES (APOCYNACEAE). Carissa ovata, 393. Tabernaemontana, sp. 341. * Doobàh, 85. LOGANIADS. * Logania cordifolia, HOOKER, 341. GENTIANWORTS. Erythraea australis, 366. OLIVEWORTS. Notclaea punctata, 352. NIGHTSHADES (SOLANACEAE). Nicotiana suaveolens, 64. Solanum ellipticum, 215. ——furfuraceum, 212. ——biflorum, 362. ——violaceum, 365. ——sp. 85. BINDWEEDS. * Polymeria longifolia, 398. Convolvulus erubescens, 353. Evolvulus, sericeo aff., 386. ——linifolius, 339. LEADWORTS. Plumbago zeylanica, 219. RIBWORTS (PLANTAGINACEAE). Plantago varia, 352. JASMINWORTS. * Jasminum suavissimum, LINDL. 355. ——lineare, 94. ——* Mitchellii, LINDL. 365. EHRETIADS. Halgania, sp. 24. BORAGEWORTS. * Trichodesma sericeum, LINDL. 258. BRUNONIADS. Brunonia sericea, 341. ——simplex? 360. ——* simplex, LINDL. 82. LABIATES. Ajuga australis, var., 236. 347. * Mentha grandiflora, BENTH., 362. Moschosma polystachya, 137. Plectranthus parviflorus, 347. * Prostanthera odoratissima, BENTH., 291. ——* ringens, BENTH., 363. ——* euphrasioides, BENTH., 360. Teucrium recemosum, 31. ——argutum, 198. Salvia plebeia, 366. VERBENES. Chloanthes stoechadis, 298. Vitex, sp. n., 212. MYOPORADS. * Eremophila Mitchelli, BENTH., 31. * Myoporum dulce, 253. ——Cunninghamii, 214. * Stenochilus pubiflorus, BENTH., 273. ——* salicinus, BENTH., 251. ——* curvipes, BENTH., 221. ——* bignoniaeflorus, BENTH., 386. BIGNONIADS. Tecoma Oxleyi, 291. ACANTHADS. Justicia media, 31. 89. 361. ——ascendens, 97. Ruellia australis, 353. FIGWORTS (SCROPHULARIACEAE). Morgania floribunda, 62. 384. Veronica plebeia, 360. GOODENIADS. Dampiera adpressa, 339. Goodenia pulchella, 339. ——* flagellifera, DE VRIESE, 378. ——coronopifolia, 359. ——geniculata, 72. * Linschotenia bicolor, DE VRIESE, 340. 345. * Velleya macrocalyx, DE VRIESE, 258. COMPOSITES. Brachycome, heterodontae prox., 62. * Calotis scapigera, HOOKER, 75. ——cuneifolia, 28. * Calocephalus gnaphalioides, HOOKER., 378. * Eurybia subspicata, HOOKER, 293. Eurybiopsis macrorhiza, 359. Erechthites arguta, 225. * Ethulia Cunninghami, HOOKER, 62. * Flaveria australasica, HOOKER, 118. Helichrysum bracteatum, 79. ——* ramosissimum, HOOK., 83. ——semipapposum, 389. ——odorum? 362. Helipteres anthemoides, 349. ——* glutinosa, HOOK., 361. Minuria heterophylla, 64. Monenteles redolens, 263. * Myriogyne racemosa, HOOK., 353. Ozothamnus diosmaefolius, 347. Podolepis acuminata? 289. ——rugata? 362. ——longipedunculata, 362. Pycnosorus globosus, 353. Rutidosis helichrysoides, 78. ——* arachnoidea, HOOK., 341. Senecio carnosulus? 360. ——Cunninghami, 45. ——brachylaenus, 62. Sphaeranthus hirtus 212. HIPPURIDS (HALORAGACEA). * Haloragis aspera, LINDL., 306. ——* glauca, LINDL., 91. * Myriophyllum verrucosum, LINDL. 384. MYRTLE BLOOMS (MYRTACEAE). Angophora lanceolata, 81. * Callistemon nervosum, LINDL. 235. Eucalyptus sideroxylon, 339. ——* acuminatus, HOOK. 390. Eucalyptus pulverulento aff. 91. ——* melissiodorus, LINDL., 235. ——* citriodorus, HOOKER, 235. ——* populifolius, HOOKER, 204. ——bicolor, 390. ——* viminalis, HOOKER, 157. * Leptospermum sericatum, LINDL. 298. * Melaleuca trichostachya, LINDL. 277. ——* tamariscina, HOOKER, 262. Schidiomyrtus tenellus, 340. * Tristania angustifolia, HOOK. 198. CINCHONADS. Canthium sp. 386. ——* oleifolium, HOOKER, 397. Pomax hirta, 340. STELLATES. Asperula? 360. UMBELLIFERS. Actinotus Helianthi, 345. Daucus brachiatus, 235. Didiscus pilosus, 593. SANDALWORTS (SANTALACEAE). Fusanus acuminatus, 105. Santalum oblongatum 101. LORANTHS. * Loranthus linearifolius, HOOK. 102. ——* aurantiacus, HOOKER, 101. ——* subfalcatus, HOOKER, 224. ——* nutans, CUNN. 158.
FERNS. Adiantum hispidulum, 204, 212. —assimile, 204. 212. Nothochlaena distans, 212. Grammitis rutaefolia, 212. Cheilanthes tenuifolia, 212. Doodia caudata, 212. Platyzoma microphyllum, 236. GRASSES. Aristida calycina, 33. Arundo Phragmites, 124. * Anthistiria membranacea, LINDL. 88. — australis PASSIM. — sp. 97. Andropogon sericeus, 62. — bombycinus, 378. — sp. 117. Bromus australis, 61. * Chloris selerantha, LINDL. 31. — acicularis LINDL. 33. Dactyloctenium radulans, 88. Danthonia pectinata, 319. — * triticoides LINDL. 365. Erianthus, fulvo aff. 62. Imperata arundinacea, 60. 349. Lappago biflora, 364. Neurachne Mitchelliana, 33. Perotis rara, 139. Panicum laevinode 60. AND PASSIM. Pappophorum gracile, 319. — * avenaceum LINDL. 320. — * virens, LINDL. 360. — * flavescens, LINDL. 34. * Stipa scabra, LINDL. 31. * Sporobolus pallidus, LINDL. 187. Triodia pungens, 177. 340. Triraphis mollis, 88. SEDGES. Cyperus, sp. bulbosa. 124. — sp. 120. Kyllinga monocephala, 100. MISCELLANEOUS ENDOGENS. Damasonium ovalifolium, 31. Xerotes laxa, 361. — leucocephala, 198. Cymbidium canaliculatum, 378. * Pterostylis Mitchellii, LINDL. 3 Commelina undulata, 347. Thysanotus elatior, 347. Tricoryne elatior, 387. Laxmannia gracilis, 365. Dianella rara, 366. — strumosa, 341. GYMNOGENS. Zamia, 209. Callitris sp. n. 187. — glauca, 298. — pyramidalis, 93. SPURGEWORTS (EUPHORBIACEAE). * Adriania acerifolia, HOOKER, 371. — * heterophylla, HOOKER, 124. Beyeria, sp. n. 390. Bertya oleaefolia, 290. Euphorbia hypericifolia? 265. — * eremophila, A. CUNN. 348. Hylococcus sericeus, 389. * Micrantheum triandrum, HOOKER, 342. Phyllanthus simplex? 106. CUCURBITS. Cucumis pubescens, 110. BIXADS (FLACOURTIACEAE). * Melicytus? oleaster, LINDL. 383. FRANKENIADS. * Frankenia scabra, LINDL. 305. — * serpyllifolia, LINDL. 305. CAPPARIDS. * Capparis umbonata, LINDL. 257. — * loranthifolia, LINDL. 220. — lasiantha, 102. — Mitchellii, 36. Cleome flava, 127. STERCULIADS. Brachychiton populneum, 355. * Delabechea rupestris MITCHELL, 155. BYTTNEBIADS. * Keraudrenia integrifolia, HOOKER, 341. MALLOWWORTS. Hibiscus Lindleyi? 260. — * Sturtii, HOOKER, 363. Fugosia digitata? 387. — sp. 64. Malva ovata, 397. * Sida Frazeri, HOOKER, 368. — pisiformis, 362. — * virgata, HOOKER, 361. — filiformis, A. CUNN. 361. — tubulosa, CUNN. 390. — sp. n. 103. LINDENBLOOMS (TILIACEAE). Grewia Richardiana, 383. MILKWORTS (POLYGALACEAE). * Comesperma sylvestris, LINDL. 342. SOAPWORTS (SAPINDACEAE). Thouinia australis, 390. * Dodonaea acerosa, LINDL. 273. — * filifolia, HOOKER, 241. — * hirtella, 191. — * mollis, LINDL. 212. — * peduncularis, LINDL. 340. 361. — * pubescens, LINDL. 342. — * tenuifolia, LINDL. 248. — * trigona, LINDL. 236. — * triangularis, 219. — * vestita, HOOKER, 265. DILLENIADS. Pleurandra ericifolia, 362. — * cistoidea, HOOKER, 363. Hibbertia canescens, 339. CROWFOOTS (RANUNCULACEAE). Clematis stenophylla, 368. Ranunculus plebeius, 362. — sessiliflorus, 361. PITTOSPORADS. * Bursaria incana, LINDL. 224. * Pittosporum salicinum, LINDL. 97. — lanceolatum, 272. EPACRIDS. Leucopogon cuspidatus, 226. CITRONWORTS (AURANTIACEAE). * Triphasia glauca, LINDL. 353. RUEWORTS (RUTACEAE). * Boronia bipinnata, LINDL. 225. — * eriantha, LINDL. 298. * Eriostemon rhombeum, LINDL. 293. * Geijera parviflora, LINDL. 102. — * latifolia, LINDL. 236. — * pendula, LINDL. 251. Heterodendron oleaefolium, 398. * Pilotheca ciliata, HOOKER, 347. * Phebalium glandulosum, HOOKER, 199. * Zieria Frazeri, HOOKER, 339. CRANESBILLS (GERANIACEAE). Geranium parviflorum? 362. Erodium littoreum? 360. PURSLANES (PORTULACACEAE). * Calandrinia balonensis, LINDL. 148. — * pusilla, LINDL. 360. BUCKWHEATS (POLYGONACEAE). Polygonum acre, 149. — junceum, 85. NYCTAGOS. Boerhaavia mutabilis, 362. AMARANTHS. Amaranthus undulatus, 102. Alternanthera nodiflora, 35. — sp. 341. Nyssanthes? 360. * Trichinium semilanatum, LINDL. 45. — Janatum, 33. 88. — * conicum, LINDL. 363. — fusiforme, 383. — alopecuroideum, 88. 91. CHENOPODS. Ambrina carinata, 127. * Atriplex nummularia, LINDL. 64. — elaeagnoides, 29 Atriplex semibaccata, 23. * Chenopodium auricomum, LINDL. 94. Enchylaena tomentosa, 102. Kochia brevifolia, 33. 67. — * thymifolia, LINDL. 56. — * lanosa, LINDL. 88. — * villosa, LINDL. 91. Rhagodia parabolica, 53. Salsola australis, 24, etc. Seleroaena uniflora, 72. * Suaeda tamariscina, LINDL. 239. FICOIDS. Mesembryanthemum, sp. 315. DAPHNADS. Pimelea linifolia? 340. — * trichostachya, LINDL. 355. — colorans, 362. Exocarpus aphylla, 118. — spartea, 135. PROTEADS. * Conospermum sphacelatum, HOOKER, 342. * Grevillea Mitchellii, HOOKER, 265. — * juncifolia, HOOKER, 341. — floribunda, 212. — * longistyla, HOOKER, 343. — sp. 276. * Hakea longicuspis, HOOKER, 397. — * purpurea, HOOKER, 348. DODDER LAURELS (CASSYTHACEAE). Cassytha pubescens, 362. LEGUMINOUS PLANTS. Acacia conferta, 174. 289. — Cunninghamii, 204. — doratoxylon, 289. — delibrata, 258. — decora, 359. var. 223. — * excelsa, BENTH. 225. — Farnesiana, 256. — falcata, 221. Acacia holosericea, 256. — Simsii, 256. — leucadendron, 258. — * longespicata, BENTH. 298. — ixiophylla, 204. — leptoclada, var. 95. — * macradenia, BENTH. 360. — neriifolia, 386. — pendula, PASSIM. — pennifolia, 361. — podalyriifolia, 221. — * pinifolia, BENTH. 342. — stenophylla, 81. — spectabilis, 353. — salicina, 56. — triptera, 291. — * varians, BENTH. 132. — * Victoriae, BENTH. 333. — * uncifera, BENTH. 341. — viscidula, 340. * Aotus mollis, BENTH. 236. * Bossiaea carinalis, BENTH. 290. — rhombifolia, 294. * Cassia circinata, BENTH. 384. — * coronilloides, CUNN. 384. — * zygophylla, BENTH. 288. — sophera, 390. — occidentalis, 378. — heteroloba, 251. * Crotalaria dissitiflora, BENTH. 386. — * Mitchellii, BENTH. 120. * Cyclogyne swainsonioides, BENTH. 397. * Daviesia filipes, BENTH. 363. * Erythrina vespertilio, BENTH. 218. * Gompholobium foliosum, BENTH. 348. Hardenbergia monophylla, 236. Hovea lanceolata, 212. — * leiocarpa, BENTH. 289. * Indigofera brevidens, BENTH. 385. — hirsuta, 122. * Jacksonia ramosissima, BENTH. 258. — scoparia, 339. * Kennedya procurrens, BENTH. 365. Labichea rupestris, BENTH. 342. * Labichea digitata, BENTH. 273. * Leptocyamus latifolius, BENTH. 361. * Lotus laevigatus, BENTH. 62. — australis, var. 348. Neptunia gracilis, 362. * Psoralea eriantha, BENTH. 131. Sesbania aculeata? 106. * Swainsona phacoides, BENTH. 363. Vigna, an capensis? 339. — * lanceolata, BENTH. 350. — * suberecta, BENTH. 388. ROSEWORTS. Rubus parvifolius, 351. LOOSESTRIFES (LYTHRACEAE). Lythrum Salicaria, 62. RHAMNADS. Alphitonia excelsa, 201. Cryptandra propinqua, 223. * Ventilago viminalis, HOOKER, 369. SPINDLE TREES (CELASTRACEAE). * Catha Cunninghamii, HOOKER, 387. * Elaeodendron maculosum, LINDL. 384. STACKHOUSIADS. Stackhousia muricata, 362. DOGBANES (APOCYNACEAE). Carissa ovata, 393. Tabernaemontana, sp. 341. * Doobàh, 85. LOGANIADS. * Logania cordifolia, HOOKER, 341. GENTIANWORTS. Erythraea australis, 366. OLIVEWORTS. Notclaea punctata, 352. NIGHTSHADES (SOLANACEAE). Nicotiana suaveolens, 64. Solanum ellipticum, 215. — furfuraceum, 212. — biflorum, 362. — violaceum, 365. — sp. 85. BINDWEEDS. * Polymeria longifolia, 398. Convolvulus erubescens, 353. Evolvulus, sericeo aff., 386. — linifolius, 339. LEADWORTS. Plumbago zeylanica, 219. RIBWORTS (PLANTAGINACEAE). Plantago varia, 352. JASMINWORTS. * Jasminum suavissimum, LINDL. 355. — lineare, 94. — * Mitchellii, LINDL. 365. EHRETIADS. Halgania, sp. 24. BORAGEWORTS. * Trichodesma sericeum, LINDL. 258. BRUNONIADS. Brunonia sericea, 341. — simplex? 360. — * simplex, LINDL. 82. LABIATES. Ajuga australis, var., 236. 347. * Mentha grandiflora, BENTH., 362. Moschosma polystachya, 137. Plectranthus parviflorus, 347. * Prostanthera odoratissima, BENTH., 291. — * ringens, BENTH., 363. — * euphrasioides, BENTH., 360. Teucrium recemosum, 31. — argutum, 198. Salvia plebeia, 366. VERBENES. Chloanthes stoechadis, 298. Vitex, sp. n., 212. MYOPORADS. * Eremophila Mitchelli, BENTH., 31. * Myoporum dulce, 253. — Cunninghamii, 214. * Stenochilus pubiflorus, BENTH., 273. — * salicinus, BENTH., 251. — * curvipes, BENTH., 221. — * bignoniaeflorus, BENTH., 386. BIGNONIADS. Tecoma Oxleyi, 291. ACANTHADS. Justicia media, 31. 89. 361. — ascendens, 97. Ruellia australis, 353. FIGWORTS (SCROPHULARIACEAE). Morgania floribunda, 62. 384. Veronica plebeia, 360. GOODENIADS. Dampiera adpressa, 339. Goodenia pulchella, 339. — * flagellifera, DE VRIESE, 378. — coronopifolia, 359. — geniculata, 72. * Linschotenia bicolor, DE VRIESE, 340. 345. * Velleya macrocalyx, DE VRIESE, 258. COMPOSITES. Brachycome, heterodontae prox., 62. * Calotis scapigera, HOOKER, 75. — cuneifolia, 28. * Calocephalus gnaphalioides, HOOK., 378. * Eurybia subspicata, HOOKER, 293. Eurybiopsis macrorhiza, 359. Erechthites arguta, 225. * Ethulia Cunninghami, HOOKER, 62. * Flaveria australasica, HOOKER, 118. Helichrysum bracteatum, 79. — * ramosissimum, HOOK., 83. — semipapposum, 389. — odorum? 362. Helipteres anthemoides, 349. — * glutinosa, HOOK., 361. Minuria heterophylla, 64. Monenteles redolens, 263. * Myriogyne racemosa, HOOK., 353. Ozothamnus diosmaefolius, 347. Podolepis acuminata? 289. — rugata? 362. — longipedunculata, 362. Pycnosorus globosus, 353. Rutidosis helichrysoides, 78. — * arachnoidea, HOOK., 341. Senecio carnosulus? 360. — Cunninghami, 45. — brachylaenus, 62. Sphaeranthus hirtus 212. HIPPURIDS (HALORAGACEA). * Haloragis aspera, LINDL., 306. — * glauca, LINDL., 91. * Myriophyllum verrucosum, LINDL. 384. MYRTLE BLOOMS (MYRTACEAE). Angophora lanceolata, 81. * Callistemon nervosum, LINDL. 235. Eucalyptus sideroxylon, 339. — * acuminatus, HOOK. 390. Eucalyptus pulverulento aff. 91. — * melissiodorus, LINDL., 235. — * citriodorus, HOOKER, 235. — * populifolius, HOOKER, 204. — bicolor, 390. — * viminalis, HOOKER, 157. * Leptospermum sericatum, LINDL. 298. * Melaleuca trichostachya, LINDL. 277. — * tamariscina, HOOKER, 262. Schidiomyrtus tenellus, 340. * Tristania angustifolia, HOOK. 198. CINCHONADS. Canthium sp. 386. — * oleifolium, HOOKER, 397. Pomax hirta, 340. STELLATES. Asperula? 360. UMBELLIFERS. Actinotus Helianthi, 345. Daucus brachiatus, 235. Didiscus pilosus, 593. SANDALWORTS (SANTALACEAE). Fusanus acuminatus, 105. Santalum oblongatum 101. LORANTHS. * Loranthus linearifolius, HOOK. 102. — * aurantiacus, HOOKER, 101. — * subfalcatus, HOOKER, 224. — * nutans, CUNN. 158.
[* The routes of the party advancing are coloured red (long-short-short-long) on the maps; those by which it returned, blue (short-short-short).]
[* The paths the party took to move forward are marked in red (long-short-short-long) on the maps; the paths they took to return are in blue (short-short-short).]
LONDON, FEB. 15. 1848.
LONDON, FEB 15, 1848.
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