138 JUNCTION OF THE CASTLEREAGH 
on the banks of the Castlereagh, to our arrival at the 
present camp, we never picked up a stone, or a pebble, in 
its bed. 
In the hope that we should fall on some detached pond, 
we pursued our journey on the 29th. The Castlereagh 
gave singular proofs of its violence, as if its waters, con- 
fined in the valley, had a difficuly in escaping from it. We 
had not travelled two miles, when in crossing, as we imagined, 
one of its bights, we found ourselves checked by a broad 
river. A single glimpse of it was sufficient to tell us it was 
the Darling. At a distance of more than ninety miles nearer 
its source, this singular river still preserved its character, 
so strikingly, that it was impossible not to have recognised 
it in a moment. The same steep banks and lofty timber, 
the same deep reaches, alive with fish, were here visible as 
when we left it. A hope naturally arose to our minds, that 
if it was unchanged in other respects, it might have lost 
the saltness that rendered its waters unfit for use ; but in 
this we were disappointed — even its waters continued the 
same. As it was impossible for us to cross the Darling, I 
determined on falling back upon our last encampment, 
which was at a most convenient distance, and of concerting 
measures there for our future movements. Prior to doing 
so, however, I rode to the junction of the Castlereagh with 
the Darling, accompanied by Mr. Hume, a distance of 
about half a mile. Upon the point formed by the two 
streams, there were a number of huts, and on the opposite 
