and had thrown myself into their power afterwards, as under a kind but firm system I have ever done without the slightest apprehension, they would most assuredly have slain me; and when I assure the reader that I have traversed the country in every direction, meeting numerous tribes of natives, with two men only, and with horses so jaded that it would have been impossible to have escaped, he will believe that I speak my real sentiments.  Equally so the old native, (to whom the net we discovered in the hollow of a tree where we first struck the Darling belonged), evinced the greatest astonishment and gratification, when he found that his treasure had been untouched by us.

The flats of the Darling are certainly of great extent, but their verdure reached no farther than the immediate precincts of the river at this part of its course.  Beyond its immediate neighbourhood they are perfectly bare, but lightly wooded, having low and useless box-trees (the Gobero of Sir Thomas Mitchell), growing on them.  Their soil is a tenacious clay, blistered and rotten.  These flats extend to uncertain distances from the river, and vary in breadth from a quarter of a mile to two miles or more.  Beyond them the country is sandy, desolate, and scrubby.  Pine ridges, generally lying parallel to the stream, render travelling almost impracticable where they exist, whilst the deep fissures and holes on the flats, into which it is impossible to prevent the drays from falling, give but little room for selection.  Our animals were fairly worn out by hard pulling on the one, and being shaken to pieces on the other.

Some days prior to the 29th, Mr. Browne and I, on examining the waters of the river, thought that we observed a more than usual current in it; grass and bark were floating on its surface, and it appeared as if the water was pushed forward by some back impulse.  On the 28th it was still as low as ever; but on the morning of the 29th, when we got up it was wholly changed.  In a few hours it had been converted into a noble river, and had risen more than five feet above its recent level.  It was now pouring along its muddy waters with foaming impetuosity, and carrying away everything before it.  Whence, it may be asked, come these floods? and was it from the same cause that the Murray, as Tenbury stated, rose so suddenly?  Such were the questions that occurred to me.  From the natives I could gather nothing satisfactory.  We were at this time between three and four hundred miles from the sources of the Darling, and I could hardly think that this fresh had come from such a distance.  I was the more disposed to believe, perhaps, because I hoped such would be the case, that it was caused by heavy rains in the hills to the north-west of Laidley’s Ponds, and that it was pouring into the river through that rivulet.