up abreast of us.  When we arrived at Richmond Hill it became necessary to cross the river; but the question was, how this should be effected?  Deedora immediately offered his canoe.  We accepted of it and, Mr. Dawes and the soldier putting their clothes into it, pushed it before them, and by alternately wading and swimming, soon passed.  On the opposite shore sat several natives, to whom Deedora called, by which precaution the arrival of the strangers produced no alarm.  On the contrary, they received them with every mark of benevolence.  Deedora, in the meanwhile, sat talking with the sergeant and me.  Soon after, another native, named Morunga, brought back the canoe, and now came our turn to cross.  The sergeant (from a foolish trick which had been played upon him when he was a boy) was excessively timorous of water, and could not swim.  Morunga offered to conduct him, and they got into the canoe together; but, his fears returning, he jumped out and refused to proceed.  I endeavoured to animate him, and Morunga ridiculed his apprehensions, making signs of the ease and dispatch with which he would land him; but he resolved to paddle over by himself, which, by dint of good management and keeping his position very steadily, he performed.  It was now become necessary to bring over the canoe a third time for my accommodation, which was instantly done, and I entered it with Deedora.  But, like the sergeant, I was so disordered at seeing the water within a hair’s breadth of the level of our skiff (which brought to my remembrance a former disaster I had experienced on this river) that I jumped out, about knee-deep, and determined to swim over, which I effected.  My clothes, half our knapsacks, and three of our guns yet remained to be transported across.  These I recommended to the care of our grim ferrymen, who instantaneously loaded their boat with them and delivered them on the opposite bank, without damage or diminution.

During this long trial of their patience and courtesy—­in the latter part of which I was entirely in their power, from their having possession of our arms—­they had manifested no ungenerous sign of taking advantage of the helplessness and dependance of our situation; no rude curiosity to pry into the packages with which they were entrusted; or no sordid desire to possess the contents of them; although among them were articles exposed to view, of which it afterwards appeared they knew the use, and longed for the benefit.  Let the banks of those rivers, “known to song”, let him whose travels have lain among polished nations produce me a brighter example of disinterested urbanity than was shown by these denizens of a barbarous clime to a set of destitute wanderers on the side of the Hawkesbury.