We reached Moorundee about two p.m., and found it almost surrounded by water. Mr. Scott was from home, and the fair mistress of the demesne engaged, I suppose, within; as, however, I did not myself join the party on shore, I must delay, till the ladies return, my inquiries after Mrs. Scott and the news of the Murray. We left Mr. Scott’s about five p.m., and steamed on all night, the weather still rather cold. About sunrise, I found the steamer had entered the magnificent valley below the Reedy Creek, comprising Mr. Baker’s “run”—a tract of great extent, named, I believe, Wall—and where, in point of scenery, the character of that river becomes wholly changed. Here, the Murray, leaving the confined channel of forest, which for so many hundred miles has enclosed its course, issues into a wide vale, terminating in an extended basin, which though much encumbered with reeds, yet in the contour of its outlines, and the diversified variety of its wooded or rocky slopes, far surpasses any other portion of the river we had as yet seen. The volume, too, of the stream is here very considerable, its breadth being nearly 350 yards; whilst sailing majestically on its surface we descry numerous black swans in close and amicable contiguity with flocks of unsightly pelicans. Continuing to pass through a country of this kind, we soon leave behind us the granite formation, with the huge “boulders” of rock which mark its character; and after meeting an island, in mid-stream, again enter upon an Arcadian country, which, undulating in small rounded hills, dotted with trees of moderate height, bears some resemblance to the shores of Greece. Strange to say, however, as the land appears good, even if occasionally rocky, there is scarcely a habitation to be seen; though here, one would say, is quite the scene to realize the poet’s dream, the “Speluncæ vivique lacus, ac frigida tempe, Mugitusque boûm, mollesque sub arbore somni.” About twenty-four measured miles (according to Mr. Mason) from Wellington, in the vicinity of the granite masses, visible from the deck, is a large rock, at present under water, but visible when the river is low. The next object I find worthy of notice is a “mob” of sixty or seventy horses, seemingly lost in wonder at the smoking and noise-making intruder upon their wonted solitude. After a time they lose their fears, and, fascinated as it were with the novel sight and sound, follow us in wild confusion along the rugged shores.