We reached Moorundee about two p.m., and found it almost surrounded by water. Mr. Scott was from home, and the fair mistress of the demesne engaged, I suppose, within; as, however, I did not myself join the party on shore, I must delay, till the ladies return, my inquiries after Mrs. Scott and the news of the Murray.
We left Mr. Scott’s about five p.m., and steamed on all night, the weather still rather cold. About sunrise, I found the steamer had entered the magnificent valley below the Reedy Creek, comprising Mr. Baker’s “run”—a tract of great extent, named, I believe, Wall—and where, in point of scenery, the character of that river becomes wholly changed. Here, the Murray, leaving the confined channel of forest, which for so many hundred miles has enclosed its course, issues into a wide vale, terminating in an extended basin, which though much encumbered with reeds, yet in the contour of its outlines, and the diversified variety of its wooded or rocky slopes, far surpasses any other portion of the river we had as yet seen. The volume, too, of the stream is here very considerable, its breadth being nearly 350 yards; whilst sailing majestically on its surface we descry numerous black swans in close and amicable contiguity with flocks of unsightly pelicans. Continuing to pass through a country of this kind, we soon leave behind us the granite formation, with the huge “boulders” of rock which mark its character; and after meeting an island, in mid-stream, again enter upon an Arcadian country, which, undulating in small rounded hills, dotted with trees of moderate height, bears some resemblance to the shores of Greece. Strange to say, however, as the land appears good, even if occasionally rocky, there is scarcely a habitation to be seen; though here, one would say, is quite the scene to realize the poet’s dream, the
“Speluncæ vivique lacus, ac frigida tempe,
Mugitusque boûm, mollesque sub arbore somni.”
About twenty-four measured miles (according to Mr. Mason) from Wellington, in the vicinity of the granite masses, visible from the deck, is a large rock, at present under water, but visible when the river is low. The next object I find worthy of notice is a “mob” of sixty or seventy horses, seemingly lost in wonder at the smoking and noise-making intruder upon their wonted solitude. After a time they lose their fears, and, fascinated as it were with the novel sight and sound, follow us in wild confusion along the rugged shores.
Thursday, October 13th, quarter to one p.m.—We are now at Wellington, where, amongst the spectators on the sandy banks, I observe His Excellency’s police-orderly, who, coming on board, informs us that the horses are here. Sir Henry Young having, however, determined to terminate his voyage only at the completion of the enterprise, by the arrival of the steamer with her first cargo, the Golden Fleece,[30] at her starting point, the Goolwa, the horses are ordered to that point. Being, however, myself, desirous of returning to Adelaide at once, and his Excellency spontaneously giving me the option of so doing, I here determine to bid adieu to the river, and place myself with the least possible delay on one of the horses which the trooper brought from Adelaide some days ago.
Here then, I leave the Murray! and I do so in the firm belief that, whether it is to become in the future—as it has been, perhaps prophetically, designated—the “Australian Nile;” or whether it is to be the connecting link and general highway of the Australian capitals, existing and to be; this river is of incalculable advantage to the whole of Australasia, and its steam navigation, thus far successfully accomplished, an event worthy of record and narration by far abler pens than mine.
After a glance at Captain Cadell’s canvas boat, I left Wellington a little after two p.m. on the 13th, mounted on a horse hired by Mr. Grainger, and by no means remarkable for speed. The excellent natural road runs for some miles over fine plains covered with wild flowers, and affording, I should imagine, rich pasturage, with some lakes adjacent. Thence you arrive at a tract of dreary and sandy scrub, rendered still more disagreeable by a road which is quite a reflection upon a civilized district, and from the number of stumps, which like “trous de loup” project from it, is really a most dangerous thoroughfare. At about eighteen or twenty miles from Wellington, is Langhorne’s Creek, a settlement, near which I was shown the finest wheat in the Colony, and where there is a tolerable inn, with moderate charges and prompt attendance. Leaving this, the road—one place excepted, a most superior natural one, passes through a fine open forest country, fed over by abundant cattle, whose condition testifies to the quality of their food. Strathalbyn is then reached; it is a most flourishing settlement, and boasts a good inn; in the vicinity are some mines, worked for seven years, and shortly to be turned to more profit by the introduction of expensive machinery, which, possibly may be transported thither via Wellington and the Murray, the approach from Adelaide, being, I am told, scarcely passable for heavily loaded drays. I arrived at Strathalbyn a little after six! and about nine, a further detachment of our party, consisting of Messrs. Davenport, Andrews, and Allen, came in, having left Wellington just after me in a sort of dog-cart. The following morning between seven and eight, I left for Adelaide; the trooper, with his Excellency’s horses, proceeding onward to the Goolwa, distant about twenty miles. I found the country from Strathalbyn to the capital exceedingly beautiful, combining, indeed, every variety of forest scenery, water alone excepted. Its aspect is Devonian; but between Strathalbyn and Macclesfield is encountered a conglomerate of hills, heaped together in such wild and mountainous confusion, that to construct a highway might have puzzled General Wade himself. It must, however, at some time or other be done, for at present the road is execrable; and when the land is so fine, and the settlements between Adelaide and the Murray so important, it is perhaps bad policy, not to say almost an injustice, to leave the inhabitants without good means of communication. Some miles, however, beyond the Echunga diggings—a tract of gravelly waste, honeycombed as it were with pits, there is now constructing a new line of road, passing Crafer’s (ten miles from Adelaide), which, though cut through a difficult country, and not apparently formed in strict accordance with “Henry Law,” will, doubtless, be made highly available to the interests of the settlers of Mount Barker, Strathalbyn, &c.
About Glen Osmond, for a distance of some miles, the views are splendid, comprising the whole of the Adelaide plains, and a vast and magnificent sea-view extending completely across the Gulf of St. Vincent. The town itself lies spread out below the hills as upon a map; but perhaps from the want of spires or lofty buildings, the City of Adelaide is not, from a distance, very imposing in appearance. Descending Glen Osmond, three or four miles of hard, if not good, road, brings the traveller to the town, which—rather tired, I confess—I reached about half-past four p.m.; my horse being equally knocked up with myself, though the distance from Strathalbyn is not more than thirty-eight miles.
Sir Henry Young left the steamer the same evening (Friday, October 14), at the Goolwa, after a smooth passage across the Lake, and took up his quarters for the night at Port Elliot. The next day, accompanied by Mr. Grainger, His Excellency rode into Adelaide, a distance of about fifty-eight miles.