ssing
a portion of it arrived at the camp at half-past five. The floods were
just crossing the dray tracks as we passed, and gradually advancing into
the basin. The ground was cracked and marked with narrow but deep
fissures into which the waters fell as they rolled onwards, and it was
really surprising to see the immense quantity these chasms required to
fill them.

Having taken leave of the Darling, it may be as well that I should make a
few general remarks upon it. The reader will have observed from my
description, that the scenery on the banks is picturesque and cheerful,
that its trees though of smaller size than those on the Murray, are more
graceful and have a denser foliage and more drooping habit, and that the
flats contiguous to the stream are abundantly grassy. I have described
the river as I found it, but I would not have the reader suppose that it
always presents the same luxuriant appearance, for not many months before
this period my persevering friend Mr. Eyre, on a journey up its banks,
could hardly find grass sufficient for his horses. There was not a blade
of vegetation on the flats, but little water in the river, and the whole
scenery wore a most barren appearance. Countries, however, the summer
heat of which is so excessive, as in Australia, are always subject to
such changes, nor is it any argument against their soil, that it should
at one season of the year look bare and herbless. That part of the
Darling between Laidley's Ponds and its junction with the Murray, a
distance of about 100 miles in a direct line, had not been previously
explored, nor had I time to lay it regularly down. I should say from the
appearance of its channel that it is seldom very deep, frequently dry at
intervals, and that its floods are uncertain, sudden, and very temporary.
That they rise rapidly may be implied from the fact that in two days the
floods we witnessed rose more than nine feet, and that they come from the
higher branches of the river there can be no doubt, since the Darling has
no tributary between Laidley's Ponds and Fort Bourke. I have no doubt but
the whole line of the river will sooner or later be occupied, and that
both its soil and climate will be found to suit the purpose both of the
grazier and the agriculturist. Be that as it may, I regretted abandoning
it, for I felt assured that in doing so our difficulties and trials would
commence.

Our camp at Cawndilla was on the right bank of the Williorara, ab