GOOD EFFECTS OF SKYROCKETS.

When night came on we saw their fires behind the trees at a little distance from the river, and we also heard their voices; but to complete the effect of our coolness in the evening, which certainly must have puzzled them, considering our kindness in the morning, I sent up a rocket, after which their very fires disappeared, and we heard their voices no more.

February 10.

From this camp the first day’s journey homeward along our old track was parallel to the river; the second left its banks and led in a south-east direction to Rodrigo Ponds, where we had encamped on the 17th of January.  On emerging from the wooded margin of the river this morning, I struck into a new direction, leaving the natives to believe that we still followed the beaten track towards our old camp on the Gwydir; where they would no doubt await us that evening, while we pursued the bearing of 64 degrees East of South, in hopes to pass a quiet night at Rodrigo Ponds, thus stealing a march upon them—­a manoeuvre which we successfully accomplished.

After proceeding some miles in the new direction we found some very bad swampy ground before us.  It was covered with holes brim full of water; and we at length arrived where long reeds grew in extensive patches.  The inequalities of the surface owing to these holes required the nicest care in conducting the carts between them, but after frequent halts I was glad to back out of this swamp, and only regained the firm ground by considerable turnings and windings.  We were not far probably from the Namoi in that reedy region, but it might have been very extensive.  On regaining its eastern skirts I resumed the course pursued in the morning, and passed through a tract where the grass and trees were to a considerable extent on fire.  At length however we recognised the park-like scenery which we had formerly crossed; and with no small pleasure again we fell in with our former track, at a distance of about three miles short of our old camp at Rodrigo Ponds.

FUNERAL DIRGE BY A NATIVE FEMALE.

While I stood near this spot, awaiting the arrival of the party which was still at some distance, I overheard a female singing.  The notes were pleasing and very different from the monotonous strains of the natives in general.  Just then I had been admiring the calm repose of the surrounding landscape, gilded by the beams of a splendid setting sun, and anticipating a quiet night for the party.  The soft sounds, so expressive of tranquillity and peace, were in perfect unison with the scene around.  Nothing could have been more romantic, nevertheless I could most willingly have dispensed with the accompaniment at that time, so associated were all our ideas of the natives, with murder and pillage.  When my men came up I directed them to give a hurra, in hopes that it would put the party, whoever they might be, to flight.  Yet after a cheer about as rough as English throats could well utter, the sweet strain, to my surprise, continued,