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°.
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.]
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°.
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°.
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°.
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°.
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.°
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.
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°.
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°.