Thursday, October 13th, quarter to one p.m.—We are now at Wellington, where, amongst the spectators on the sandy banks, I observe His Excellency’s police-orderly, who, coming on board, informs us that the horses are here. Sir Henry Young having, however, determined to terminate his voyage only at the completion of the enterprise, by the arrival of the steamer with her first cargo, the Golden Fleece,[30] at her starting point, the Goolwa, the horses are ordered to that point. Being, however, myself, desirous of returning to Adelaide at once, and his Excellency spontaneously giving me the option of so doing, I here determine to bid adieu to the river, and place myself with the least possible delay on one of the horses which the trooper brought from Adelaide some days ago. Here then, I leave the Murray! and I do so in the firm belief that, whether it is to become in the future—as it has been, perhaps prophetically, designated—the “Australian Nile;” or whether it is to be the connecting link and general highway of the Australian capitals, existing and to be; this river is of incalculable advantage to the whole of Australasia, and its steam navigation, thus far successfully accomplished, an event worthy of record and narration by far abler pens than mine. After a glance at Captain Cadell’s canvas boat, I left Wellington a little after two p.m. on the 13th, mounted on a horse hired by Mr. Grainger, and by no means remarkable for speed. The excellent natural road runs for some miles over fine plains covered with wild flowers, and affording, I should imagine, rich pasturage, with some lakes adjacent. Thence you arrive at a tract of dreary and sandy scrub, rendered still more disagreeable by a road which is quite a reflection upon a civilized district, and from the number of stumps, which like “_trous de loup_” project from it, is really a most dangerous thoroughfare. At about eighteen or twenty miles from Wellington, is Langhorne’s Creek, a settlement, near which I was shown the finest wheat in the Colony, and where there is a tolerable inn, with moderate charges and prompt attendance. Leaving this, the road—one place excepted, a most superior natural one, passes through a fine open forest country, fed over by abundant cattle, whose condition testifies to the quality of their food. Strathalbyn is then reached; it is a most flourishing settlement, and boasts a good inn; in the vicinity are some mines, worked for seven years, and shortly to be turned to more profit by the introduction of expensive machinery, which, possibly may be transported thither _via_ Wellington and the Murray, the approach from Adelaide, being, I am told, scarcely passable for heavily loaded drays. I arrived at Strathalbyn a little after six! and about nine, a further detachment of our party, consisting of Messrs. Davenport, Andrews, and Allen, came in, having left Wellington just after me in a sort of dog-cart. The following