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.
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.
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:
"Their rising all at once was as the sound
Of thunder heard remote."
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°.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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°.