of the creeks however prevented our again approaching it for several days. Shortly after leaving the river we turned more to the eastward, having gained its most northern reach. About noon we fell in with a few natives, who did not trouble themselves much about us, but we found that their backwardness was rather the result of timidity at seeing such a party than anything else. We traversed large and well-grassed flats almost all day long, and ultimately encamped on the banks of a creek of some size, opposite to our tents the floods had made an island, on which we put our cattle for security during the night.
Mr. Eyre and I were again disappointed in an attempt to gain the banks of the Murray, but we returned to the camp with a numerous retinue of men, women, and children, who treated us to a corrobori at night. The several descriptions which have been given by others of these scenes, might render it unnecessary for me to give my account of such here; but as my ideas of these ceremonies may differ from that of other travellers, I shall trespass on the patience of my readers for a few moments to describe them. However rude and savage a corrobori may appear to those to whom they are new, they are, in truth, plays or rather dramas, which it takes both time and practice to excel in. Distant tribes visiting any other teach them their corrobori, and the natives think as much of them as we should do of the finest play at Covent Garden. Although there is a great sameness in these performances they nevertheless differ. There is always a great bustle when a corrobori is to be performed, and the men screw themselves up to the acting point, as our actors do by other means than these poor creatures possess. On the present occasion there was not time for excitement; our's was as it were a family corrobori, or private theatricals, in which we were let into the secrets of what takes place behind the scenes. A party of the Darling natives had lately visited the Murray, and had taught our friends their corrobori, in which, however, they were not perfect; and there was consequently a want of that excitement which is exhibited when they have their lesson at their fingers' ends, and are free to give impulse to those feelings, which are the heart and soul of a corrobori.
We had some difficulty in persuading our friends to exhibit, and we owed success rather to Mr. Eyre's influence than any anxiety on the part of the natives themselves. However, at last we persuaded the men to go and paint themselves, whilst the women prepared the ground. It was pitch dark, and ranging themselves in a line near a large tree, they each lit a small fire, and had a supply of dry leaves to give effect to the acting. On their commencing their chanting, the men came forward, emerging from the darkness into the obscure light shed by the yet uncherished fires, like spectres. After some performance, at a given signal, a handful of dry leaves was thrown on each fire, which instantly blazing up lighted the whole scene, and shewed the dusky figures of the performers painted and agitated with admirable effect, but the fires gradually lowering, all were soon again left in obscurity.
But, as I have observed, for some reason or other the thing was not carried on with spirit, and we soon retired from it; nevertheless, it is a ceremony well worth seeing, and which in truth requires some little nerve to witness for the first time.
We had now arrived at Camboli's haunt, and were introduced by him to his wife and children, of whom he seemed very proud; but a more ugly partner, or more ugly brats, a poor Benedict could not have been blessed with. Whether it was that he wished to remain behind, for he had not been very active on the road, or taken that interest in our proceedings which Nadbuck had done; or that our praises of his wife and pickaninnies had had any effect I know not, but he would not leave his family, and so remained with them when we left on the following morning. The neighbourhood of our camp was, however, one of great celebrity--since in it some of the most remarkable and most tragical events had taken place. It was near it that the volunteers who went out to rescue Mr. Inman's sheep, which had been seized by the natives to the number of 4,000, were driven back and forced to retreat; not, I would beg to be understood, from want of spirit, but because they were fairly overpowered and caught in a trap. The whole of the party, indeed, behaved with admirable coolness, and one of them, Mr. Charles Hawker, as well as their leader, Mr. Fidd, shewed a degree of moderation and forbearance on the occasion that was highly to their credit. Here also was the Hornet's Nest, where the natives offered battle to my gallant friend, Major O'Halloran, whose instructions forbade his striking the first blow. I can fancy that his warm blood was up at seeing himself defied by the self-confident natives; but they were too wise to commence an attack, and the parties, therefore, separated without coming to blows. Here, or near this spot also, the old white-headed native, who used to attend the overland parties, was shot by Miller, a discharged soldier, I am sorry to say, of my own regiment. This old man had accompanied me for several days in my boat, when I went down the Murray to the sea coast in 1830, and I had made him a present, which he had preserved, and shewed to the first overland party that came down the river, and thenceforward he became the guide of the parties that followed along that line. He attended me when I came overland from Sydney, in 1838, on which occasion he recognised me, and would sleep no where but at my tent door. He was shot by Miller in cold blood, whilst talking to one of the men of the party of which unfortunately he had the charge; but retribution soon followed. Miller was shortly afterwards severely wounded by the natives; and, having aneurism of the heart, was cautioned by his medical attendant never to use violent exercise; but, disregarding this, when he had nearly recovered, he went one day to visit a friend at the gaol in which he ought to have been confined, and in springing over a ditch near it, fell dead on the other side, and wholly unprepared to appear before that tribunal, to which he will one day or other be summoned, to answer for this and other similar crimes.
About a dozen natives followed us from our camp, on the morning of the 8th. We again struck the creek, on which we had rested, and which had turned to our right at 2½ miles on an east by south course, and followed along its banks, until it again trended too much to the south. We crossed alluvial flats of considerable extent, on which there was an abundance of grass. Just at the point at which we turned from the creek, we ascended a small sand hill, covered with the amaryllis, then beautifully in flower. The latitude of this little hill, from which the cliffs on the most northern reach of the Murray bore N. 170 degrees E. distant four miles, was 33 degrees 57 minutes 11 seconds; so that the Murray does not extend northwards beyond latitude 34 degrees 1 minutes or thereabouts. We again struck the creek, the course of which had been marked by gum-trees, at six miles, and were forced by it to the N.E., but ultimately turned it and descended southwards to the river; but as we were cut off from it we encamped on a lagoon of great length, backed by hills of a yellow and white colour, the rock being a soft and friable sandstone, slightly encrusted with salt. We had, shortly before we halted, passed a salt lagoon in the centre of one of the grassy flats, but such anomalies are not uncommon in the valley of the Murray. That part of the river which I have described, from the point where we shot the bullock to this lagoon, appeared to me admirably adapted for a cattle station, and has since been occupied as such.
As I have observed, the lagoon on which we encamped was backed by hills of 150 or 200 feet elevation, which were covered with thick brush wood. The flat between us and these hills was unusually barren, and all the trees at the side of the lagoon were dead. Whether this was owing to there being salt in the ground or to some other cause, there was here but little grass for the cattle to eat, so that, although they were watched, twenty of them managed to crawl away, and we were consequently delayed above an hour and a half after our usual hour of starting, and commenced our day's journey wanting two of our complement, but we stumbled upon them in passing through the brush, in which they were very comfortably lying down. We travelled for about six miles through a miserable undulating country of sand and scrub. At noon we were abreast of a little sandy peak that was visible from our camp, and is a prominent feature hereabouts. This peak Mr. Browne and I ascended, though very little to our gratification, for the view from it was as usual over a sea of scrub to whatever quarter we turned. The peak itself was nothing more than a sandy eminence on which neither tree or shrub was growing, and the whole locality was so much in unison with it, that we called it "Mount Misery." After passing this hill, and forcing through some stunted brush, we debouched on open plains and got once more on the overland road, which was distinctly marked by a line of bright green grass, that was springing up in the furrows the drays had left. This road took us to the edge of a precipitous embankment, from which we overlooked the river flowing beneath it. This embankment was 60 or 70 feet high, and presented a steep wall to the river; for although the Murray had lost the fossil cliffs it was still flanked by