doubt but that the feathered races migrating upon them rested at that point, for a time, so I was led to conclude that the country to which they went would in a great measure resemble that which they had left--that birds which delighted in rich valleys, or kept on lofty hills, surely would not go into deserts and into a flat country; and therefore it was that I was led to hope, that as the fact of large migrations from various parts of the continent to one particular part, seemed to indicate the existence either of deserts or of water to a certain distance, so the point at which migration might be presumed to terminate would be found a richer country than any which intervened. On the late expedition, I accidentally fell into the line of migration to the north-west, and birds that I was aware visited Van Diemen's Land passed us, after watering, to that point of the compass. Cockatoos would frequently perch in our trees at night, and wing their way to the north-west after a few hours of rest; and to the same point wild fowl, bitterns, pigeons, parrots, and parroquets winged their way, pursued by numerous birds of the Accipitrine class. From these indications I was led still more to conclude that I might hope for the realization of my anticipations if I could force my own way to the necessary distance.
During our stay at Moorundi, the weather had been beautifully fine, although it rained so much in the hills. A light frost generally covered the ground, and a mist rose from the valley of the Murray at early dawn; but both soon disappeared before the sun, and the noon-day temperature was delicious--nothing indeed could exceed the luxury of the climate of that low region at that season of the year, August.
Colonel Gawler's Camp on the Murray
We had directed Kenny, the policeman, and Tampawang, to bivouac in the valley in which we ourselves intended to sleep, but we saw nothing of them on our arrival there. The night was bitter cold, insomuch that we could hardly keep ourselves warm, notwithstanding that we laid under shelter of a blazing log. As dawn broke upon us, we prepared for our departure, being anxious to escape from the misty valley to the clearer atmosphere on the higher ground. At eight a.m. we passed the Great Bend of the Murray, and I once more found myself riding over ground every inch of which was familiar to me, since not only on my several journeys down and up the river had I particularly noticed this spot, but I had visited it in 1840 with Colonel Gawler, the then Governor of South Australia; who, finding that he required relaxation from his duties, invited me to accompany him on an excursion he proposed taking to the eastward of the Mount Lofty Range, for the purpose of examining the country along the shores of Lake Victoria and the River Murray, as far as the Great Bend. It was a part of the province at that time but little known save by the overlanders, and the Governor thought that by personally ascertaining the capabilities of the country contiguous to the Murray, he might throw open certain parts of it for location. Being at that time Surveyor-General of the Province, I was glad of such an opportunity to extend my own knowledge of the province to the north and northeast of Adelaide, more especially as this journey gave me an opportunity to cross from the river to the hills westward of the Great Bend. Not only was the land on the Murray soon afterwards occupied to that point, but Colonel Gawler and I also visited the more distant country on that occasion. Since my return, indeed, from my recent labours, the line of the Murray is occupied to within a short distance of the remoter stations of the colony of New South Wales, and there can be no doubt but that in the course of a few years the stock stations from the respective colonies will meet. I was afraid, when I came the second time down the Murray, that I had exaggerated the number of acres in the valley, but on further examination, it appears to me that I did not do so; for as the traveller approaches Lake Victoria the flats are very extensive, but more liable to inundation than those on the higher points of the river, for being so little elevated above the level of the water, especially those covered with reeds, the smallest rise in the stream affects them. Lake Victoria, although it looks like a clear and open sea, as you look from the point of Pomundi, which projects into it to the south, is after all exceedingly shallow, and is rapidly filling up from the decay of seaweed and the deposits brought into it yearly by the floods of the Murray. No doubt but that future generations will see that fine sheet of water confined to a comparatively narrow bed, and pursuing its course through a rich and extensive plain. When such shall be the case, and that the strength of the Murray shall be brought to bear in one point only, it is probable its sea mouth will be navigable, and that the scenery on this river will be enlivened by the white sails of vessels on its ample bosom. I can fancy that nothing would be more beautiful than the prospect of vessels, however small they might be, coming with swelling sails along its reaches. It may, however, be said, that it will be a distant day when such things shall be realized. There is both reason and truth in the remark; but Time, with his silent work, has already raised the flats in the valley of the Murray, and as we are now benefiting by his labours, so it is to be hoped will our posterity. However that may be, for it is a matter only of curious speculation, nothing will stay the progress of improvement in a colony which has received such an impulse as the province of South Australia. As men retain their peculiarities, so, I believe, do communities; and where a desirable object is to be gained, I shall be mistaken if it is lost from a want of spirit in that colony. Purposing, however, to devote a few pages to the more particular notice of the state of South Australia, and the prospects it holds out to those who may desire to seek in other lands more comforts and a better fortune than they could command in their native country, I shall not here make any further observation.
The morning, which had been so cold, gradually became more genial as the sun rose above us, and both Mr. Eyre and myself forgot that we had so lately been shivering, under the influence of the more agreeable temperature which then prevailed.
As we turned the Great Bend of the Murray, and pursued an easterly course, we rode along the base of some low hills of tertiary fossil formation, the summits of which form the table land of the interior. We were on an upper flat, and consequently considerably above the level of the water as it then was. In riding along, Tenbury pointed out a line of rubbish and sticks, such as is left to mark the line of any inundation, and he told us, that, when he was a boy, he recollected the floods having risen so high in the valley as to wash the foot of these hills. He stated, that there had been no previous warning; that the weather was beautifully fine, and that no rain had fallen; and he added that the natives were ignorant whence the water came, but that it came from a long way off. According to Tenbury's account, the river must have been fully five and twenty feet higher than it usually rises; and judging from his age, this occurrence might have taken place some twenty years before. As we proceed up the Darling, we shall see a clue to this phenomenon. But why, it may be asked, do not such floods more frequently occur? Is it that the climate is drier than it once was, and that the rains are less frequent? There are vestiges of floods over every part of the continent; but the decay of debris and other rubbish is so slow, that one cannot safely calculate how long it may have been deposited where they are so universally to be found.
After passing the Great Bend, as I have already stated, we turned to the eastward and overtook Mr. Poole at noon, not more than eight miles distant. Some of the bullocks had strayed, and he had consequently been prevented from starting so early as he would otherwise have done. The animals had, however, been recovered before we reached the party, and were yoked up; we pushed on therefore to a distance of nine miles, cutting across from angle to angle of the river, but ultimately turned into one of the flats and encamped for the night. We passed during the day through some low bushes of cypresses and other stunted shrubs, but they were not so thick as to impede our heavy drays, by the weight of which every tree they came in contact with was brought to the ground. A meridian altitude of Vega placed us in lat. 34 degrees 4 minutes 20 seconds S., by which it appeared that we had made four miles of southing, the Great Bend being in lat. 34 degrees. Kenny and Tampawang had joined the party before we overtook it, and Flood arrived in the course of the afternoon. The cattle had an abundance of feed round our tents, and near a lagoon at the upper end of the flat. The thermometer stood at 40 degrees at 7 p.m., with the wind at west.
On the morning of the 26th we availed ourselves of the first favourable point to ascend from the river flats to the higher ground, since it prevented our following the windings of the river and shortened our day's journey. In doing this we sometimes travelled at a considerable distance from the Murray--the surface of the country was