a balloon for spying at a distance any serious obstacle to their progress in particular directions, and for extending the range of observations which the eye would take of such level lands as are too wide to allow any heights beyond them to come within the compass of their view. The journey might be allowed a year or eighteen months, which would be only at the rate of four or five miles per day. … The author of the present work" ("Universal Geography") "has discoursed this project in conversation with the enlightened and indefatigable traveller, M. Péron, who saw no insuperable obstacle to its probability, except the existence of an immense ocean of sand occupying the whole of the interior of the continent, which to him appeared extremely probable."]
But Flinders was never fated to see the interior of Terra Australis, either from the deck of a ship, or from any point of vantage; he surveyed its shores, suggested the name it now bears—Australia, and left the work of discovery, not even to this day quite completed, to other hands. But though the name of Flinders has not received the world-wide recognition that has been bestowed upon that of Cook, in Australia it should be equally honoured. The land that witnessed his long labours and heroic courage ought not to repay him with forgetfulness.
The crazy state of the INVESTIGATOR having compelled Flinders to terminate his voyage abruptly, a considerable space of coast line was still left on the north, and north-west, that had not been minutely examined. Lieutenant Phillip King, between the years 1818 and 1822, completed the survey left unfinished by Flinders, and the work of marine exploration temporarily ceased.
In looking back over the early history of Australia, the apparently careless manner in which the English became possessed of the whole of the continent is very noticeable. Although the Dutch had so long been acquainted with our shores, and the neighbourhood of their possessions in Java would have afforded them greater facilities for exploration than were held by any other nation, no attempt at colonisation was ever made by them. The apparent poverty, both of the country and the natives, offered the East India Company no inducement to extend their operations. Still, in a vague kind of way, the Dutch claim to the western portion of Australia was recognized. In the patent to the first governor at Port Jackson, the western limit of New South Wales is fixed at 13.5 deg. E. longitude, a position approximating to the boundary of New Holland as fixed by the Dutch, whereby the country was divided into New Holland and Terra Australis. This line of demarcation would bisect the present colony of South Australia. In the early part of this century, the French evidently considered that they had a well-founded claim, both to the discovery and possession of the south coast, west of Nuyts' "Island of St. Peters." The name of "Terre Napoleon" was given to it, Spencer's Gulf becoming "Golfe Bonaparte," and the Gulf of St. Vincent "Golfe Josephine." Malte Brun remarks:—
"The claims of the English have no fixed boundaries; they seem desirous of confounding the whole of New Holland under the modern name which they have given to the east coast, which was minutely explored by Captain Cook. It is worthy of remark that the French geographers had, from a comparison of the tracks navigated by Abel Tasman, previously concluded on the existence and direction of this coast itself."
But neither Dutch nor French claims were ever seriously advanced, and the whole of the continent and adjacent islands were ceded to the English in much the same happy-go-lucky fashion that we recently let slip a large portion of New Guinea. One cause of the apathy displayed was without doubt the forbidding nature of the reports published by all the navigators. The coast line had been examined, and the various inlets followed up without any important or navigable river having been brought to light, and the absence of fresh water streams in such a large continent naturally led thinking men to the conclusion that the inland slope was nothing but an arid desert, parched beneath a rainless sky. The hot winds that had been experienced on the southern coast aided this belief, and the natives when interviewed professed no knowledge beyond the limits of their tribal hunting grounds. The little colony clustered around Rose Hill, and on the shore of Sydney Cove, was shut in by the gloomy gorges and unscaleable precipices of the Caermarthen Hills, that stayed all progress to the westward, and the same frowning barrier had been found to extend north and south.
Men's imaginations were exhausted in picturing the physical appearance of the mysterious interior. Some thought it a vast level plain, where the few and sluggish rivers were lost in shallow lakes, to disappear by evaporation; others again, believed it to be an immense bed of sand where no rivers formed, and the thirsty sands absorbed the scanty rainfall; and many imagined an inland sea connected with the ocean by subterranean outlets: one and all agreed in its inhospitable nature.
There was nothing hopeful nor inspiriting in the outlook to induce men to attempt to penetrate this silent desert, save the love of adventure, and the gratification of a laudable curiosity.
The convicts, who in efforts to regain their liberty, from time to time made desperate attempts to escape, either perished miserably or, daunted by the sterile nature of the land and the hostility of the natives, returned to give themselves up, before reaching any distance from the settlement. The work of exploration was toilsome and difficult, from the lack of beasts of burden. Each member of the party had a heavy pack to carry, and when to that was added the cumbrous firearms and ammunition of those times, a day's journey was no light labour. The weary system of counting the paces all day must have considerably added to the monotony of the march. Two thousand and two hundred paces over good ground were allowed to a mile. When too, nature had barred the way with an apparently insurmountable range, it is not to be wondered at that the area of explored country was not very widely extended during the first twenty years of settlement.
In striking contrast to other portions of the world's surface that have been slowly explored and examined by the European nations, Australia has throughout retained a character of its own. From the coastal formation of most lands, fair indications could be obtained of the character of the interior. Large rivers gave evidence of a defined system of drainage, the crests of snow-topped mountain ranges in the distance were proof of whence these rivers sprang. The native tribes were of higher intelligence, had a partial knowledge of what lay beyond their immediate ken, and could show articles of barter and commerce that they had obtained from more inland residents.
Australia was a silent and sullen blank, and for a century of exploration nature has resisted, step by step, the encroachments on her stronghold, making the invaders pay toll with many a gallant life.
PART II.
The Continent of Australia—Its peculiar formation—The coast range and the highest peaks thereof—The coastal rivers—The inland rivers—Difference of vegetation on the tableland and on the coast—Exception to the rule—Valuable timber of the coast districts—Animals common to the whole continent—Some birds the same—Distinct habits of others—The Australian native and his unknown origin—Water supply—Upheaval.
It was comparatively at a late period in the world's history when Australia was opened up as a field for geographical research; but, notwithstanding that the accumulated knowledge of centuries was thus brought to bear upon it, the characteristic and unique formation of the country set at naught all the approved deductions and theories of the scientific world. A paradox, or, as a clever writer recently put it, "a surviving fragment of the primitive world," with a nature contradictory and inconsistent, as compared even with itself, cut off from the rest of the globe, and left to work out the problem of its existence alone; no wonder it was only after successive generations had toiled at it, that Australia was, even in part, understood.
The interior of Australia is, as is well-known, an immense plain, having an average height of fifteen hundred to two thousand feet, with a decided tilt, or slope, towards the south-west. Round the foot of this tableland, is a terrace of lower country, varying greatly in width. The river systems of the coastal lands, lying between the sea and the foot of the tableland,
