t fell with a tremendous crash, and was, when we next
passed that way, a mere heap of ashes.

ACCIDENTS.

Shortly before it commenced raining, the dogs started an emu, and took
after it, followed by M'Leay and myself. We failed in killing it, and I
was unfortunate enough to lose a most excellent watch upon the
occasion, which in regularity was superior to the chronometer I had
with me.

As there was no hope of the weather clearing up, I sent M'Leay and one
of the blacks with the flour to the river, with directions to pile it
up and cover it with tarpaulins, as soon as possible, remaining myself
to bring up the drays. It was not, however, until after 4 p.m. that we
gained the river-side, or that we were enabled to get into shelter.
Fraser met with a sad accident while assisting the driver of the teams,
who, accidentally, struck him with the end of the lash of his whip in
the eye, and cut the lower lid in two. The poor fellow fell to the
ground as if he had been shot, and really, from the report of the whip,
I was at first uncertain of the nature of the accident.

PONDEBADGERY.

We had gradually ascended some hills; and as the sweep of the valley
led southerly, we continued along it until we got to its very head;
then, crossing the ridge we descended the opposite side, towards a
beautiful plain, on the further extremity of which the river line was
marked by the dark-leafed casuarina. In spite of the badness of the
weather and the misfortunes of the day, I could not but admire the
beauty of the scene. We were obliged to remain stationary the following
day, in consequence of one of the drays being out of repair, and
requiring a new axle-tree. I could hardly regret the necessity that
kept us in so delightful a spot. This plain, which the natives called
Pondebadgery, and in which a station has since been formed, is about
two miles in breadth, by about three and a-half in length. It is
surrounded apparently on every side by hills. The river running E. and
W. forms its southern boundary. The hills by which we had entered it,
terminating abruptly on the river to the north-east, form a semi-circle
round it to the N.N.W. where a valley, the end of which cannot be seen,
runs to the north-west, of about half a mile in breadth. On the
opposite side of the river moderate hills rise over each other, and
leave little space between them and its banks. The Morumbidgee itself,
with an increased breadth, averaging from seventy to eigh