The diamond-sparrow, or spotted pardalote, was also seen. This bird inhabits the whole of the southern parts of the Australian continent, from the western to the eastern border, and is very common in Tasmania. It is nearly always engaged in searching for insects among the foliage both of the tallest trees and the lowest shrubs, in the garden and orchard as in the open forest; and it displays in all its movements a remarkable activity, clinging about in every variety of position, both above and beneath the leaves, with equal facility. Its mode of nest-building differs from that of every other member of the genus to which it belongs. It first excavates, in some neighbouring bank, a hole just large enough to admit of the passage of its body, in a nearly horizontal direction, to the depth of two or three feet; at the end of this burrow or gallery, it forms a chamber; and in this chamber it deposits its nest, which is beautifully woven of strips of the inner bark of the Eucalypti, and lined with finer strips of the same or similar materials. In shape it is spherical, about four inches in diameter, with a lateral hole for an entrance. To prevent the ingress of rain the chamber is raised somewhat higher than the mouth of the hole. Mr. Gould, the Australian naturalist, speaks of these nests as very difficult to detect; they can be found, he says, only by watching for the ingress or egress of the parent birds, as the entrance is generally concealed by herbage or the overhanging roots of a tree. Why so neat a structure as the diamond-sparrow’s nest should be constructed at the end of a gallery or tunnel, into which no light can possibly enter, is beyond comprehension; it is one of those wonderful results of instinct so often brought before us in the economy of the animal kingdom, without our being able to explain them. The diamond-sparrow rears two broods, of four or five each, in the course of the year. Its song or call is a rather harsh, piping note of two syllables, frequently repeated.
The great difficulty which besets the Australian explorer is the want of water. He travels day after day across open grassy plains, relieved by few variations of surface, except the sand ridges, to meet with neither spring nor watercourse. Sometimes he comes upon the native wells, but these, very frequently, are dry or almost dry; he digs well after well himself, but no water rises. Colonel Warburton’s party suffered severely from this deficiency. They met with much trouble, moreover, through the straying of their camels. Thus, one evening, “Charley,” who acted as camel-herd, reported that they had run away southward. He traced their tracks for several miles, and observed that one camel had broken its hobbles. { 302} Halleem, the Afghan camel-driver, then mounted the Colonel’s riding camel, “Hosee,” and started in search of them at five o’clock on a Sunday evening. He was to push on for five or six miles, then camp for the night, and at dawn follow up the tracks vigorously, so as to overtake the truants, and return by mid-day.