About one we reached Mr. Chapman’s (Paringa), conspicuous from afar by a tri-coloured flag with the words “_Cead mille failthea_” inscribed thereon—having passed this morning through a more open country, and if not more picturesque, certainly of a bolder character. This consisted of ranges of bold red cliffs, which, at a distance, bore some resemblance to the Avon or the Wye. On a nearer approach, however, their rugged aspect and scanty verdure—a few scrub bushes, interspersed with pines and gum trees—belied so soft a simile; and, but for their waterworn appearance, I would now rather liken them in feature to the wilder scenery of portions of the rivers in the west of Brittany. We wooded again in the evening, and then steamed on till one or two a.m., of Tuesday, the 11th of October, having been all rather disturbed during the night by an awful crash amongst the gum trees; this, however, appeared more formidable than it really was, and committed no other havoc but an addition to the honourable scars which the _Lady Augusta_—now “stove in” in various places—bears upon her sides. Now, we pursue our way through a more varied country, particularly about Talibka (Mr. Wigley’s), to the “North-West Bend,” which we hope to reach this evening; the weather remaining cool and cloudy, and far more like an English than an Australian climate. Our wooding place this evening bears quite a resemblance, the sandy soil excepted, to an English park; and sweeping round it, above the stream, is a fine range of bold cliffs. Last night we managed to get the _Eureka_ aground, and she was not set afloat again without considerable exertion of steam force. The shadows cast by the trees, which overhang the water, render night navigation somewhat difficult, and though we pressed on with full power we did not succeed in reaching the Bend, as we anticipated. Meanwhile the stores are getting less, and yesterday we had nothing but champagne at dinner, instead of the accustomed layer of good draught port. This is something like the guardsman roughing it on his beefsteak and his bottle of port, but that, in this part of the world, there is never any fear of being without the staple commodity—good mutton. The _Lady Augusta_ left her boat this morning at the wooding station,[29] and we were consequently unable to land at Mr. Walsh’s, which appears one of the prettiest stations on the river. Mr. W., however, came on board in a nice little wherry, reminding one more of the Thames than the Murray, and left some newspapers, which have again put us in possession of the state of affairs in Adelaide. Our party, however, complain that they contain no news; though I have, myself, been much amused, I may say interested, by a journal of our trip up to Swan Hill, which appears in the _Register_; nor am I sorry to find therein, from the report of the Select Committee of the Legislative Council on the proposed Civil List, that my salary, amongst others, is likely to be doubled.