Thursday, 2nd May, Large Scrubby and Grassy Plain. Started at 10 a.m. in consequence of some of the horses having strayed a long way to the east during the night; course, 143 degrees 30 minutes, back to Hunter Creek. I have taken a different course to see if there is any creek that supplies this plain with water. For about nine miles we passed over a splendidly grassed plain, with gum-trees, the new tree, and a number of all sorts of bushes. One part for about three miles is subject to inundation, and the Eucalyptus Dumosa grows thickly on it. We then passed over about two miles of spinifex and grass, and again entered the grassy plain, which continued to Hunter Creek. During the whole day we have not seen the shadow of a creek or watercourse. If there had been any sign of a watercourse, or if I could have seen any rising ground near our course, I would have gone on another day. I sent Wall to the top of the highest tree to see if there was anything within view; he could see nothing but the same description of plain. If my horses can travel to-morrow, I will try a course to the north, and run down the creek, to see if there is one that will lead me through this plain. If I could get to some rising ground, I think I should be all right; but there is none visible except the end of the range, which is lost sight of to the north-east. Wind again south-east, with a few clouds. Latitude, 18 degrees 13 minutes 40 seconds.

Friday, 3rd May, Hunter Creek. Started at 8.40 a.m.; course, north. At 11.15 (nine miles), came upon a creek; bed dry and sandy; searched for water, and, at three quarters of a mile to east, found a nice hole; watered the horses and proceeded on the same course—starting at 12. At 3.20 p.m. changed to 20 degrees north of east; the first ten miles were over a plain of gums covered with grass two feet long; we had then six miles of spinifex, and a thick scrub of dwarf lancewood, as tough as whalebone. After that we entered upon another gum plain, also splendidly grassed, which continued for four miles, when the gums suddenly ceased, and it became a large open plain to north, as far as I could see. Seeing no appearance of water, I changed my course to 30 degrees north of east, to some high gums; and, at one mile, not finding any, I camped without it. This seems now to be a change of country; there is no telling when or where I may get the next water on this course, so that I shall be compelled to go towards the range to-morrow to get some, and have a long day's journey to the new country. The wind has been from east all day. Latitude, 17 degrees 56 minutes 40 seconds.

Saturday, 4th May, Sturt Plains. Started at 7.15 a.m., course east, to find water. At 3.20 p.m. came upon a little creek and found a small quantity of water, which we gave to the horses. Started again at 9 p.m., course south-east, following the creek to find more; at a mile and a half found water which will do for us until Monday morning. I proceeded to the top of the range to obtain a view of the country round, but was disappointed in its height; from the plain it appeared higher than it really is. This range I have named Ashburton Range, after Lord Ashburton, President of the Royal Geographical Society. The point upon which I am at present is about three miles east of our camp; the view from south to north-west is over a wooded plain; from north-west to north is a large open plain with scarcely a tree upon it. On leaving our last night's camp, we passed over three miles of the plain, which is subject to inundation. There are numerous nasty holes in it, into which the horses were constantly stumbling. It is covered with splendid grass, and is as fine a country as I have ever crossed. These plains I have named Sturt Plains, after the venerable father of Australian exploration and my respected commander of the expedition in 1845. Ashburton range is composed of sandstone and ironstone, granite, and a little quartz; it is very rough and broken. Native tracks about here. Wind, south-east. This creek I have named Watson Creek, after Mr. Watson, formerly of Clare.

Sunday, 5th May, Watson Creek, Ashburton Range. Sent Thring to the north along the range to see if there is permanent water; at eight miles he returned, having found plenty. One large hole is about a mile from here; in another creek it is apparently permanent, having a rocky bed. A flight of pelicans over head to-day; they seem to have come from the north-west, which course I will try to-morrow. Wind, south-east. Latitude, 17 degrees 58 minutes 40 seconds.

Monday, 6th May, Watson Creek, Ashburton Range. Started at 8.20 a.m., course 300 degrees, to cross Sturt Plain. At eleven miles arrived at the hill which I saw from Ashburton range. It turned out to be the banks of what was once a fresh-water lake; the water-wash is quite distinct. It had small iron and limestone gravel, with sand and a great number of shells worn by the sun and atmosphere to the thinness of paper, plainly indicating that it is many years since the water had left them. Judging from the water-marks, the lake must have been about twelve feet deep in the plain. The eucalyptus is growing here. We then proceeded over another open part of it, for about two miles, when the dwarf eucalypti again commenced, and continued until we camped at twenty-one miles; the horses quite worn out. This has been the hardest and most fatiguing day's work we have had since starting from Chambers Creek; for, from the time we left in the morning until we camped, we have had nothing but a succession of rotten ground, with large deep holes and cracks in it, caused at a former period by water, into which the poor horses have been constantly falling the whole day, running the risk of breaking their legs and our necks, the grass being so long and thick that they could not possibly see them before they were into them. I had a very severe fall into one of these holes; my horse came right over and rolled nearly on top of me. I was fortunate enough to escape with little injury. Some of the shells resemble the cockle shell, but are much longer, many of them being three or four inches long; the others are of the shape of periwinkles, but six times as large. Both sorts are scattered over the plain, which is completely matted with grass. The soil is a dark rich alluvial, and judging from the cracks and holes, some of which are of considerable depth, they are splendid plains, but not a drop of surface water could we see upon them, nor a single bird to indicate that there is any. It was my intention at starting to have gone on thirty miles, but I find it quite impossible for the horses to do more; it would be madness to take them another day over such a country, when from the highest tree we can see no change. If I were to go another day and be without water, I should never be able to get one of the horses back, and in all probability should lose the lives of the whole party. If I could see the least chance of finding water, or a termination of the plain, I would proceed and risk everything. I see there is no hope of my reaching the river by this course. I believe this gum plain to be a continuation of the one I met with beyond the Centre, and that it may continue to the banks of the Victoria. The features of the country are nearly the same. The absence of all birds has a bad appearance. Day very hot. Wind, south-east. Latitude, 17 degrees 49 minutes.

Tuesday, 7th May, Sturt Plains. Before sunrise this morning I sent Wall up a tree to see if any hills or rising grounds would be visible by refraction. To the west, with a powerful telescope he can just see the top of rising ground. As the grass is now quite dry, the horses feel the want of water very much; many of them are looking wretched, and I hardly think will be able to reach it. However reluctant, I must go back for the safety of the party. At 3 p.m. arrived at the creek which Thring found about one mile to the north of my former camp, with the loss of only one horse; we had to leave him a short distance behind, he would not move a step further, although during a great part of the journey he had been carrying little or nothing. This water will last two months at least; feed good. It is inside the first ironstone rise in Ashburton range, in a gum creek which empties itself into the plains. This creek I have named Hawker Creek, after James Hawker, Esquire, of her Majesty's Customs at Port Adelaide. The day has been very hot. Wind, south-east. Latitude, 17 degrees 58 minutes.

Wednesday, 8th May, Hawker Creek, Ashburton Range. I have sent Masters back to bring up the horse we left behind. Sturt Plains have been at one time the bed of a large fresh-water lake; our journey of the 6th instant was over the middle of it, and we were not at the end of it when I was forced to return; the same rotten ground and shells continued, although we had got amongst the eucalypti. I shall give the horses a rest to-day, and to-morrow will take the best of them (those that I had out on my former journey), and endeavour to cross the plain to the rising ground seen yesterday morning; I shall take Thring and Woodforde, with seven horses and one week's provisions. I may be fortunate enough to find some water, but from the appearance of the country I have little hope. I shall, however, leave nothing untried to accomplish the object of the expedition. In the morning the horse we left behind could not be found; sent Masters and Sullivan in search of him; in the afternoon they returned with him looking miserable. He had wandered away beyond the other camp.

Thursday, 9th May, Hawker Creek, Ashburton Range. Started at 7 a.m., with Thring and Woodforde, and seven horses, following our tracks through the rotten ground to the first eucalypti, for about twelve miles, as it made it lighter for the horses, the tracks being beaten to that place. Changed our course to 282 degrees, still journeying over Sturt Plains; at twenty-seven miles arrived at the end of the portion of them that had been subject to inundation, but there are still too many holes to be pleasant. I certainly never did see a more splendid country for grass; in many places for miles it is above the horses' knees. We entered upon red sandy soil, with spinifex and grass, from which we changed our bearing. The country became thickly studded with eucalypti, in one or two places rather open, but generally thick. After the twenty-seven miles we again met with the new small-leafed tree, the broad-leafed mallee, the eucalypti, and many other scrubs. At sundown we camped; distance, thirty-three miles, but not a drop of water have we seen the whole day, or the least indication of its proximity. I hope to-morrow we may be more fortunate, and find some. Wind, south.

Friday, 10th May, Sturt Plains. This morning there are a few birds about. Started at 8.15 a.m., same course; at 10.30 arrived on first top of rising ground seen from the camp of 7th instant, which turns out to be red sand hills covered with thick scrub. Changed our course to north-west, and at 11.15 arrived at the highest point; the view is very discouraging—nothing to be seen all round but sand hills of the same description, their course north-north-east, and south to west. No high hills or range to be seen through the telescope. We can see a long distance, apparently all sand hills with scrub and stunted gums on them. The first ridge is about two hundred feet above Sturt Plains, but further to the west they are much lower, and become seemingly red sandy undulating table land; but further to the west they are much lower. There is no hope of reaching the Victoria on this course. I would have gone on further to-day had I seen the least chance of obtaining water to-night; but during the greater part of yesterday and to-day we have met with no birds that frequent country where water is. Both yesterday and to-day have been excessively hot, and the country very heavy. From this point I can see twenty-five miles without anything like a change. To go on now with such a prospect, and such heavy country before me, would only be sacrificing our horses and our own lives without a hope of success—the horses having already come forty-five miles without a drop of water, and over as heavy a country as was ever travelled on. I have therefore, with reluctance, made up my mind to return to the camp and try it again further north, where I may have a chance of rounding the sand hills; the dip of them from here seems to be south-south-west. Turned back, and at eighteen miles camped on Sturt Plains, where there is green grass for the horses. Wind, south.

Saturday, 11th May, Sturt Plains. At dawn of day started for the camp; arrived at 2 p.m. It was fortunate I did not go on further, for some of the horses were scarcely able to reach it; a few more hours and I should have lost half of them. The day has been so hot that it has nearly knocked them all up. Found the rest of the party all right at the camp. We had a job to keep the horses from injuring themselves by drinking too much water. I gave them a little three separate times, tied them up for twenty minutes, and then gave them a good drink, and drove them off to feed. They took a few mouthfuls of grass, and were back again almost immediately, and continued to do so nearly all the afternoon. They drank an immense quantity. Wind, south.

Sunday, 12th May, Hawker Creek, Ashburton Range. My old horses that were out with me before look very well this morning, but the others, whose first trip of privation this has been, are looking very bad indeed. They could not have gone another night without water; it has pulled them down terribly. Yesterday, while Masters was looking for the horses, he saw what appeared to him to be a piece of wood stuck upon a tree, about two feet and a half long, sharp at both ends, broad at the bottom, and shaped like a canoe. Having pulled it down, he found it to be hollow. On the top of it were placed a number of pieces of bark, and the whole bound firmly round with grass cord. He undid it, and found the skull and bones of a child within. Mr. Kekwick brought it to me this morning for my inspection. It certainly is the finest piece of workmanship I have ever seen executed by natives. It is about twelve inches deep and ten wide, tapering off at the ends. Small lines are cut along both sides of it. It has been cut out of a solid piece of wood, with some sharp instrument. It is exactly the model of a canoe. I told him to do it up again, and replace it as it was found. If it is here when I return, I will endeavour to take it to Adelaide with me. Wind, variable. A few clouds about.

Monday, 13th May, Hawker Creek, Ashburton Range. Started at 8 a.m., course 360 degrees. At five miles crossed the large gum-tree creek, with water, that Thring found; proceeded along the side of Sturt Plains. At ten miles ascended the north point of Ashburton range; descended, and the country became red sand with spinifex, gum-tree, the new tree, and other shrubs very thick; at fifteen miles, gained the top of another stony rise; followed three creeks down in search of water; found a little, but not sufficient for us; followed it still further down, leading us to the south for about six miles, but could find no more. I thought it best to return for water to the large creek, which I have named Ferguson Creek, after Peter Ferguson, Esquire, of Gawler Town. From the top of the range the view is limited. To the north and north-east are stony rises, at about nine miles distant; from north to west are Sturt Plains, in some places wooded; to the north they are open for a very long distance; the country in the hills is bad, but in the plains is beautiful. I am afraid, from the view I have of the country to the north, that I shall again meet with the same description of sand hills that I came upon on my last western course. Wind east-south-east, blowing strong. Latitude, 17 degrees 53 minutes 20 seconds.

Tuesday, 14th May, Ferguson Creek. Started at 8.30 a.m., on a north course, to the place I turned back from yesterday; arrived at noon; changed course to 345 degrees. Started again at 12.20. At 1 p.m. crossed a gum creek that has the appearance of water. At 1.40 changed course to 260 degrees, and came upon two large water holes, apparently very deep, situated in the rocks—they are seemingly permanent. Camped. I named this creek Lawson Creek, after Dr. Lawson, J.P., of Port Lincoln. A number of natives have been camped about them. We found another canoe, of the same description as the one in which the bones of the child were found—it is broken and burned, and seems to have been used as a vessel for holding water. Wind south-east, blowing strong. Mornings and evenings very cold. Latitude, 17 degrees 43 minutes 30 seconds.

Wednesday, 15th May, Lawson Creek. Started at 8.10 a.m.; went a mile west to clear the stones; changed course to 340 degrees. At 2.45 p.m. changed again to 45 degrees. Camped at 4.15. The first twelve miles is poor country, being on the top of stony rises, with eucalypti, grass, and scrubs. After descending from the rises, we crossed a wooded plain, subject to inundation; no water. The trees are very thick indeed—they are the eucalyptus, the Eucalyptus Dumosa, the small-leaved tree, another small-leaved tree much resembling the hawthorn, spreading out into many branches from the root; it rises to upwards of twenty feet in height. We have also seen three other new shrubs, but there were no seeds on them. After crossing the plain we got upon red sandy rises, very thick with scrub and trees of the same description. We continued on this course until 2.45 p.m.; then, as there is an open plain in sight, with rising ground upon it to north-east, and as this scrubby ridge seems to continue, without the least appearance of water, I have changed to north-east. Crossed the plain, which is alluvial soil, covered with grass, but very dry. At 4.15 camped on north-east side, without water. I would have gone on to the rise, but I feel so ill that I am unable to sit any longer in the saddle. I have been suffering for the last three days from a severe pain in the chest. Wind, east. Latitude, 17 degrees 16 minutes 20 seconds.

Thursday, 16th May, Sturt Plains. Sent Thring to see if there is a creek or a sign of water under the rise. At 8.20 a.m. he returned, having found no water. It is a low sandy rise, covered with a dense scrub. Started at 8.20 a.m.; course, east. At three miles I was forced to return; the scrub is so dense that it is impossible to get through. Came back two miles; changed to 20 degrees west of south to get out of it. At two miles gained the plain, then changed to the east of south at 10.45. At 2 p.m. there is no hope of a creek or water. Changed to south-west. At two miles and a half struck our tracks and proceeded to Lawson Creek. We found the open parts of the plain black alluvial soil so rotten and cracked, that the horses were sinking over their knees; this continued for six miles. It is covered with long grass and polygonum; also a few eucalypti scattered over it. The scrub we were compelled to return from was the thickest I have ever had to contend with. The horses would not face it. They turned about in every direction, and we were in danger of losing them. In two or three yards they were quite out of sight. In the short distance we penetrated it has torn our hands, faces, clothes, and, what is of more consequence, our saddle-bags, all to pieces. It consists of scrub of every kind, which is as thick as a hedge. Had we gone further into it we should have lost everything off the horses. No signs of water. From south to west, north and north-east nothing visible but Sturt Plains, with a few sand rises having scrub on them, which terminate the spurs of the stony rises. They are a complete barrier between me and the Victoria. I should think that water could be easily obtained at a moderate depth in many places on the plains. If I had plenty of provisions I would try to make it by that way. The only course that I can now try is to the north-east or east, to round the dense scrub and plains. At sundown arrived at Lawson Creek. The horses, owing to the dryness of the grass, drank a great quantity of water; they are falling off very much. Wind, south-east.

Friday, 17th May, Sturt Plains. I must remain here to-day to mend saddle-bags, etc. I have sent Thring to north-east to see if the stony rises continue in that direction. He has returned and gives a very poor account of the country. He crossed them in about six miles, and again came upon the plain that we were on yesterday, extending from north-east to south. Nothing but plains. To the north is the dense scrub, thus forming a complete stop to further progress. From here I fear it is a hopeless case either to reach Victoria or the Gulf. The plains and forest are as great a barrier as if there had been an inland sea or a wall built round. I shall rest the horses till Monday, and will then try a course to the north-west, and another to north-east. I have not the least hope of succeeding without wells, and I have not sufficient provisions to enable me to remain and dig them. It is a great disappointment to be so near, and yet through want of water to be unable to attain the desired end. Wind, south-east.

Saturday, 18th May, Lawson Creek. Resting horses, etc. Wind, south-east.

Sunday, 19th May, Lawson Creek. Wind, south-east.

Monday, 20th May, Lawson Creek. Started at 7.25 a.m., course 45 degrees, with Thring, Woodforde, and seven horses. The first four miles was over the stony rises; the next three, sandy table-land, with spinifex, eucalyptus, and scrub. Crossed part of Sturt Plains, open and covered with grass. Five miles of it were very heavy travelling-ground, very rotten, and full of holes and cracks. At about thirty miles camped on the plains. We have seen no birds, nor any living thing, except kites and numerous grasshoppers, which are in myriads on the plains. From this place to the east, and as far as south-south-west, there is no rising ground within range of vision—nothing but an immense open grassy plain. The absence of birds proclaims it to be destitute of water. We have not seen a drop, not a creek, nor a watercourse during the whole day's journey. To-morrow I shall again try to get through the scrub. On leaving the camp this morning, I instructed Kekwick to move the party about three miles down the creek to another water hole, the feed not being good. Wind, east.

Tuesday, 21st May, Sturt Plains, East. Started at 7.10 a.m. Passed through a very thick scrub seven miles in extent. We again entered on another portion of the open plains at ten miles from our last night's camp. Nothing to be seen on the horizon all round but plains. Changed to 300 degrees, to where I saw some pigeons fly. At two miles came across their feeding-ground; skirted the scrub until we cut our tracks. No appearance of water. This is again a continuation of the open portion of Sturt Plains; they appear to be of immense extent, with occasional strips of dense forest and scrub. We had seven miles of it this morning as thick as ever I went through; it has scratched and torn us all to pieces. At my furthest on the open plain. I saw that it was hopeless to proceed, for from the west to north, and round to south-south-west, there is nothing to be seen but immense open plains covered with grass, subject to inundation, having an occasional low bush upon them. I think with the aid of the telescope I must have seen at least sixty miles; there is not the least appearance of rising ground, watercourse, or smoke of natives in any direction. The sun is extremely hot on the plain. Having no hope of finding water this morning, I left Woodforde with the pack and spare horses where we camped last night, as the heat and rough journey of yesterday have tired them a great deal; so much so, that I fear some of them will not be able to get back to water. Returned to where I had left him, and followed our tracks back to the open plain. After sundown camped among some scrub. Wind, south-east.

Wednesday, 22nd May, Sturt Plains. After sunset we saw a number of turkeys flying towards the stony rises where our main camp is; they appear to come from the north-west. Upwards of fifty passed over in twos and threes; and this morning we observed them going back again. Two of the horses which had been short hobbled walked off during the night, following our tracks. Saddled and followed, overtaking them in three miles and a half, standing under the shade of a tree. Unhobbled and drove them on before us. At 12 o'clock arrived at Lawson Creek. Had great difficulty in preventing the horses from drinking too much, and, as there are other holes down the creek, I gave them a little at a time at each. Found that Kekwick had moved with the party. Followed them, and at three miles and a half west-south-west arrived at their camp, and allowed the horses to drink as much as they chose. Poor brutes! they have had very hard work, eighty miles over the heaviest country, under a burning sun, without a drop of water. Three of them were those I had on my former journeys; I could depend upon them; the rest were the best I could pick from the other lot. They have all stood the journey very well, but could not have done another day without water. Natives seem to have been about this water lately, but we have not seen one since leaving our spitting friend on the Hugh. Wind, east.

Thursday, 23rd May, Lawson Creek. Started 7.45 a.m., course 315 degrees, with Thring, Woodforde, and seven fresh horses. At fourteen miles came across a splendid reach of water, about one hundred and fifty yards wide, but how long I do not know, as we could not see the end of it. It is a splendid sheet of water, and is certainly the gem of Sturt Plains. I have decided at once on returning, and bringing the party up to it, as it must be carefully examined, for it may be the source of the Camfield, or some river that may lead me through. On approaching it I saw a large flock of pelicans, which leads me to think that there may be a lake in its vicinity. There are mussels and periwinkles in it, and, judging from the shells on the banks, the natives must consume a large quantity. The gum-trees round it are not very large. The first ten miles of that part of the plain travelled over to-day is full of large deep holes and cracks, black alluvial soil covered with grass, with young gum-trees thicker as we approached the water. This I have named Newcastle Water, after his Grace the Duke of Newcastle, Secretary for the Colonies. Duck, native companion, white crane, and sacred ibis abound here. Returned to bring the party up to-morrow. Wind, south-east.

Friday, 24th May, Lawson Creek. Started at 8 a.m. for Newcastle Water; arrived at noon. Camped. Sent Kekwick to north-east and Thring to west to see the length of it; I have had the depth tried. It is about six feet deep ten yards from the bank, and in the middle seventeen feet. I should say it was permanent. Thring found it still the same at three miles west. Kekwick returned after following it for four miles. At two miles there is a break in it. At four miles it is more of a creek coming from north-east. Gum-trees much larger. Woodforde succeeded in catching four fish about ten inches long, something resembling the whiting. I had one cooked for tea; the skin was as tough as a piece of leather, but the inside was really good, as fine a fish as I have ever eaten. To-morrow I shall follow the water to the west; its bed is limestone. Wind, south-east, with a few clouds. Latitude, 17 degrees 36 minutes 40 seconds.

Saturday, 25th May, Newcastle Water, Sturt Plains. Started at 7.50 a.m. and followed the water nine miles round. It still continued, but became a chain of ponds. As I could see some rising ground north-north-east about four miles distant, I camped the party and took Thring with me to see what the country was before us. At four miles we found that the first part of the rise was stony, but on the top it was sandy table-land, covered with thick scrub. The view is obstructed to the east-north-east to north by it; but to the north-west and west there is an appearance of rising ground, thickly wooded, about twenty miles off. Wind, west. Latitude, 17 degrees 30 minutes 30 seconds.

Sunday, 26th May, Newcastle Water, Sturt Plains. This morning we were visited by seven natives, tall, powerfully-made fellows. At first they seemed inclined for mischief, making all manner of gestures and shaking their boomerangs, waddies, etc. We made friendly signs to them, inviting them to come nearer; they gradually approached, and Kekwick and Lawrence got quite close to them; in a short time they appeared to be quite friendly. I felt alarmed for the safety of J. Woodforde (who had gone down the water in search of ducks, and in the direction from which they had come), and endeavoured to make them friends by giving them pieces of handkerchiefs, etc. During the time we were talking with them I heard the distant report of his gun; at the same time Thring and Masters returned from collecting the horses that were missing. I told them to remain until the natives were gone, as I wished to keep them as long as possible to give Woodforde a chance of coming up before they left us; shortly afterwards they went off apparently quite friendly. Sent Thring and Wall to round up the horses which were close at hand, and while they were doing so the natives again returned, running quite close up to the camp and setting fire to the grass. It was now evident they meant mischief. I think they must have seen or heard Woodforde, and have lit the grass in order to engage our attention from him. I felt very much inclined to fire upon them, but desisted, as I feared they would revenge themselves on him in their retreat. They did very little injury by their fire, which we succeeded in putting out. By signs I ordered them to be off, and after much bother they left us, setting fire to the grass as they went along. I now ordered Thring and Wall to go with all speed to protect Woodforde. In about twenty minutes he came into the camp. After leaving us they had attacked him, throwing several boomerangs and waddies at him; he had only one barrel of his gun loaded with shot; they all spread out and surrounded him, gradually approaching from all sides. One fellow got within five yards of him, and was in the act of aiming his boomerang at him. Seeing it was useless to withhold any longer, while the black was in the act of throwing he gave him the contents of his gun in his face, and made for the camp. In a short time Thring and Wall returned at full speed; they had passed where he was, and hearing the report of his gun, made for the place, overtook the blacks, gave chase and made them drop the powder-flask and ducks (which Woodforde had laid down before firing when they attacked him); knowing them to be his, they gave up the chase to look for him, but seeing nothing of him, and two of the natives supporting one apparently wounded, they returned to the camp, where they saw him all safe, relating his adventure, his shot-belt still missing. I sent Thring and him to look for it, and to bring up the missing horses which they had seen. Wind variable. Cloudy.

Monday, 27th May, Newcastle Water, Sturt Plains. Started at 8.10 a.m., course 335 degrees. At 10.20 changed to north; at 1.20 p.m. changed to 90 degrees; and at one mile found water; gave the horses some, and proceeded north-north-east; at 3.40 changed to 90 degrees to some gums: at one mile and a half camped. The gums turn out to be thick wood. I went north-north-west this morning, with the expectation of meeting with water, or rather a chain of ponds; at four miles, I could see nothing of them; and, as we were getting into a very thick scrub of lancewood, I changed to north; and at ten miles on that course, still seeing nothing of them, I changed to east; at one mile came upon them, found water, and followed them; their course now, 20 degrees; at one mile found another pond; in a short time, lost the bed of them in a thick wooded plain. Found a native path running nearly in my course; followed it, thinking it would lead me to some other water, but in a few miles it became invisible. I continued on the same course for nine miles, and found myself on Sturt Plains, with belts of thick wood and scrub; to the north, nothing visible but open plains; to north-east, apparently thick wood or scrub; to north-west and west, apparently scrubby sand hills. The ponds seem to drain this portion of the plains. Changed to east, to what seemed to be large gum-trees, thinking there might be a creek; arriving there, I found them to be stunted gums on the edge of the plain. There is no hope of succeeding in this quarter. Camped without water. Wind, east. Latitude, 17 degrees 12 minutes 30 seconds.

Tuesday, 28th May, Sturt Plains, North. Fourteen of the horses missing this morning before sunrise. From the highest tree nothing is to be seen from east to north and north-west but immense open grassy plains, without a tree on them; no hope of water. I must go back to the ponds and try again to the westward. Did not find the horses until 9.30 a.m., and started at 10. I observed very large flocks of pigeons coming in clouds from the plains in every direction towards the ponds. Some time afterwards we saw them coming back and flying away into the plains as far as the eye can reach, apparently to feed. Arrived at the water at 1.30 p.m. Wind, east-north-east.

Wednesday, 29th May, Chain of Ponds. Started at 7.20 a.m. with Thring, Woodforde, and Wall, and nine horses, to follow a native track, which is leading to the westward. At 9.20 made the track; its course, west-north-west. At twenty-eight miles camped without water. The track led us into very thick wood and scrub, and at five miles became invisible. I still continued on the same bearing through the scrub. We have again met with the mulga—a little different from what we have seen before, growing very straight, from thirty to forty feet high, the bark stringy, the leaf much larger and thicker. Amongst it is the hedge-tree. We had seven miles of it very dense, when we again met with an open plain. At three miles entered another dense wood and scrub, like that passed through in the morning. To-day's journey has been over plains of grass, through forest and scrub, without water. In the last five miles we passed through a little spinifex, and the soil is becoming sandy. Wind, south.

Thursday, 30th May, Sturt Plains. As I can see no hope of water, I will leave Woodforde and Wall with the horses, take Thring with me, and proceed ten miles, to see if there will be a change in that distance. Went into a terrible thick wood and scrub for eleven miles and a half, without the least sign of a change—the scrub, in fact, becoming more dense; it is scarcely penetrable. I sent Thring up one of the tallest trees. Nothing to be seen but a fearfully dense wood and scrub all round. Again I am forced to retreat through want of water. The last five miles of the eleven the soil is becoming very sandy, with spinifex and a little grass. It is impossible to say in which way the country dips, for, in forty-five miles travelled over, we have not seen the least sign of a watershed, it is so level. Returned to where I left the others, followed our tracks back, and at eleven miles camped. Horses nearly done up with heavy travelling and the heat of the sun, which is excessive. It is very vexing and dispiriting to be forced back with only a little more than one hundred miles between Mr. Gregory's last camp on the Camfield and me. If I could have found water near the end of this journey, I think I could have forced the rest. It is very galling to be turned back after trying so many times. Wind, east.

Friday, 31st May, Sturt Plains. Not having sufficient tethers for all the horses, we had to short hobble two, and tie their heads to their hobbles; and, in the morning, they were gone. I suppose they must have broken their hobbles or fastenings; they will most likely make on to our outward tracks. I have sent Thring and Woodforde to follow them up, while Wall and I, with the other horses, proceed on our way to the camp. In two hours they made the tracks before us, and I then pushed on as hard as I could get the horses to go; being very anxious about the safety of the party—for, on the first day that I left them, at about seven miles, we passed fourteen or fifteen natives going in the direction of their camp; I also observed, this morning, that they had been running our tracks both backwards and forwards. At three o'clock we arrived, and found all safe; they have not been visited by them, although I observed the prints of their feet in our tracks, a short distance from the camp. It was as much as some of our horses could do to reach the camp. The day has been excessively hot; wind from north-north-east, with clouds. Latitude, 17 degrees 7 minutes.

Saturday, 1st June, Chain of Ponds. I must rest the horses to-day and to-morrow, for they look very miserable; our longitude is 133 degrees 40 minutes 45 seconds. Before leaving the Ponds I shall try once more to the westward—starting from a point three miles west of my first camp on them. To try from this, for the Gulf of Carpentaria, I believe to be hopeless, for the plain seems to be without end and without water. If I could see the least sign of a hill, or hope of finding water, I would try it; but there is none—if there is a passage it must be to the south of this. Wind variable, with clouds.

Sunday, 2nd June, Chain of Ponds. The day has again been very hot. Wind variable.

Monday, 3rd June, Chain of Ponds. Started back to the commencement of the Chain of Ponds, and camped. During the day the sky has been overcast with heavy clouds. Wind, south-east.

Tuesday, 4th June, Chain of Ponds. Last night one of the horses was drowned in going down to drink at the water hole. He went into a boggy place, got his hind foot fastened in his hobbles, from which he could not extricate himself, and was drowned before we could save him. This is another great loss, for he was a good pack-horse, and was one that I intended taking on my next trip to the westward. At about 8 p.m. it began to rain, and continued the whole night, coming from the east and east-south-east. It still continues without any sign of a break. The ground has become so soft that when walking we sink up to the ankle, and the horses can scarcely move in it. At sundown there is no appearance of a change. It has rained without intermission the whole of last night and to-day. I do not know what effect this will have on my further progress, for now it is impossible to travel. The horses in feeding are already sinking above their knees. Wind and rain from east and east-south-east.

Wednesday, 5th June, Chain of Ponds. There is a little sign of a break in the clouds this morning. The rain has continued the whole night. Ground very soft; it has become about the thickness of cream. The horses can scarcely get about to feed. Sundown: It has been showery all day; sky overcast; clouds and rain from same direction, south-east. In the afternoon some natives made their appearance at about six hundred yards' distance. As the rain had damped the cartridges I caused the rifles to be fired off in that direction; and, as the bullets struck the trees close to them they thought it best to retreat as fast as possible, yelling as they went.

Thursday, 6th June, Chain of Ponds. During the night it has been stormy, with showers of rain, and is still the same this morning. Sundown: Still stormy, with a few drops of rain. Wind, east.

Friday, 7th June, Chain of Ponds. During the night the rain ceased, and this morning is quite bright. Ground so soft that it is impossible to travel. Latitude, 17 degrees 35 minutes 25 seconds. Sent Thring some miles to the west, to see in what state the country is, if fit for us to proceed, and if he can see any water that I could move the party to, for I do not like this place. If more rain falls it will lock us in all together—neither do I like leaving the party with so many natives about. At one o'clock he returned. The ground was so heavy that he had to turn at five miles. He could see no water, but a number of native tracks going to and coming from the west. I shall be obliged to leave the party here, and on Monday try another trip to the west. If I find water I shall return and take them to it. The day has been clear, but at sundown it is again cloudy. Clouds from north-west. Wind from east.

Saturday, 8th June, Chain of Ponds. This morning it has again cleared off, and there is every appearance of fine weather. If it hold this way I shall be able to travel on Monday. Sundown: A few clouds. Wind, south-east.

Sunday, 9th June, Chain of Ponds. The day has again been fine. Wind, still south-east.

Monday, 10th June, Chain of Ponds. Started at 7.55 a.m., course 275 degrees, with Thring, Woodforde, and Wall, nine horses, and fourteen days' provisions. The first five miles were over a grassy plain, with stunted gum and other trees. It was very soft, the horses sinking up to their knees. We met with a little rain water at three miles, where the soil became sandy; continued to be more so as we advanced, with lancewood and other scrubs growing upon it. At fourteen miles gained the top of a sand rise, which seems to be the termination of the sand hills that I turned back from on my west course south of this. From here the country seems to be a dense forest and scrub; no rising ground visible. Camped at 5 p.m., distance thirty-two miles. The whole journey from the sand hills has been through a dense forest of scrubs of all kinds—hedge-tree, gum, mulga, lancewood, etc. We have had great difficulty in forcing the horses through it so far; they are very tired. It is the thickest scrub I have yet been in. Ground very soft; heavy travelling, with the exception of the last five miles, where little rain seems to have fallen. I am afraid this will be another hopeless journey. I fully expected to have got water to-night from the recent rains, but there is not a drop. The country is such that the surface cannot retain it, were it to fall in much larger quantities. I shall try a little further on to-morrow. I had a hole dug, to see if any rain had fallen, and found that it had penetrated two feet below the surface, below which it is quite dry. Wind, east.

Tuesday, 11th June, Dense Forest and Scrub. Leaving Woodforde, Wall, and the pack-horses, I took Thring with me, and proceeded on the same course to see if I could get through the horrid forest and scrub, or meet with a change of country, or find some water. At two miles we came upon some grass again, which continued, and at another mile the forest became much more open and splendidly grassed, which again revived my sinking hopes; but alas, it only lasted about two miles, when we again entered the forest thicker than ever. At eleven miles it became so dense that it was nearly impenetrable. The horses would not face it; when forced, they made a rush through, tearing everything we had on, and wounding us severely by running against the dead timber (which was as sharp as a lancet) and through the branches. I saw that it was hopeless to force through any further. Not a drop of water have we seen, although the ground is quite moist—the horses sinking above the fetlock. The soil is red and sandy; the mulga from thirty to forty feet high and very straight; the bark has a stringy appearance. There is a great quantity of it lying dead on the ground, which causes travelling to become very difficult. I therefore returned to where I left Woodforde and Wall, and came back ten miles on yesterday's journey, and camped. This morning, about 5.30, we observed a comet bearing 110 degrees; length of tail, 10 degrees, and 10 degrees above the horizon. Wind, south-east.

Wednesday, 12th June, Western Dense Forest and Scrub. Proceeded to camp and found all well. This is the third long journey by which I have tried to make the Victoria in this latitude, but have been driven back every time by the same description of country and the want of water. There is not the least appearance of rising ground, or a change in the country—nothing but the same dismal, dreary forest throughout; it may in all probability continue to Mr. Gregory's last camp on the Camfield. My farthest point has been within a hundred miles of it. I would have proceeded further, but my horses are unable to do it; they look as if they had done a month's excessive work, from their feet being so dry, the forest so thick, and the want of water. Thus end my hopes of reaching the Victoria in this latitude, which is a very great disappointment. I should have dug wells if my party had been larger, and I had had the means of conveying water to those engaged in sinking the wells. I think I could accomplish it in that way; but by doing so, I should have to divide the party into three, (one sinking, one carrying water, and one at the camp), which would be too small a number where the natives appear to be so hostile. I have not the least doubt that water could be obtained at a moderate depth, near the end of my journeys, amongst the long thick timber, which seems to be the lowest part of the country. I had no idea of meeting with such an impediment as the plains and heavy scrub have proved to be. For a telegraphic communication I should think that three or four wells would overcome this difficulty and the want of water, and the forest could be penetrated by cutting a line through and burning it. In all probability there is water to be found nearer than this in the Camfield, Mr. Gregory's last camp, somewhere about its sources, which might be thirty miles nearer. Wind, south-east. Country drying up very fast.

Thursday, 13th June, Chain of Ponds. To-day I shall move the camp to the easternmost part of Newcastle Water, and now that rain has come from the east, I shall try if I can cross Sturt Plains, and endeavour to reach the Gulf of Carpentaria. My provisions are now getting very short. We are reduced to four pounds of flour and one pound of dried meat per man per week, which is beginning to show the effects of starvation upon some of them; but I can leave nothing untried where there is the least shadow of a chance of gaining the desired object. Started at 9.40 a.m. At three miles and a half passed our first camp of Newcastle Water. At eight miles and a half camped at the last water to the eastward. The ground is firmer than I expected, travelling good. The large part of the water is reduced two inches since 24th ultimo. The late rains seem to have no effect on it. Wind, south-east.

Friday, 14th June, East End of Newcastle Water. Started with Thring, Woodforde, and Wall, with one month's provisions and ten horses, at 7.45 a.m.; course, 60 degrees. At two miles crossed our former tracks, on the top of the sandy table land, and after leaving it we again got on the open plains, black alluvial soil, covered with grass, with deep holes and cracks into which the horses were continually falling on their noses, and running the risk of breaking our necks. These plains have swallowed up every drop of rain that has fallen. The extent of the plain is seven miles. We then entered a thick wooded country, of the same description as the western forest, being equally thick, if not thicker, and as difficult to penetrate. This continued for thirteen miles, when we met with another small plain about half a mile wide, but opening out wider to north-west and south. Not a drop of water have we seen since leaving Newcastle Water, a distance of about thirty miles, except a little rain water about three miles east of it. The plains are quite dry, scarcely showing that rain has fallen. Camped. The horses have had a hard day's work and are very tired. I wish I could have found water for them to-night. Latitude, 17 degrees 26 minutes 20 seconds. Wind, south-east.

Saturday 15th June, North-east Small Plains, Sturt Plains. Started at 7.30 a.m.; course, 60 degrees, through another ten miles of very thick forest, the thickest we have yet seen. At eleven miles came again upon the large open grassy plain, at the point where I turned on the 21st ultimo. I expected to have found some rain water here, this being the only place in all the plain I have seen that is likely to retain it. Sent Thring and Woodforde in different directions, while I proceeded in another, to see if we could find any, but not a drop could we see. It has been all swallowed up by the ground, which is again dry and dusty. It must take an immense quantity to saturate it, and leave any on the surface; and if that were to be the case, the country would become so soft it would be quite impassable. I am again forced to turn; it is quite hopeless to attempt it any farther. It would be sacrificing our horses, and, perhaps, our own lives, without the least prospect of attaining our end. If I could see rising ground, however small, or a change in the country to justify my risking everything, I would do so in a moment. I only wish there was. I have tried my horses to their utmost. Even my old horses that are inured to hardship are unable to be longer than three days without water, owing to the heat of the sun, the dryness of the feed, and the softness of the country. We saw a few cockatoos and pigeons. There might be water within a short distance, but none can we see or find; for on my course 20 degrees west of north I passed within two miles of Newcastle Water, where the main camp is now, but could not see it. It would require a long time to examine this country for water. There are so many clumps of trees, and strips of scrub on the plain, where water might be, that it would take upwards of twelve months to examine them all. At sundown camped fifteen miles from the main camp. Horses look very bad. It has been very heavy travelling, over rotten ground, and tearing through thick wood and scrub, which has skinned our legs from the knees to the ankles and caused no little pain. Wind, variable.

Sunday, 16th June, Sturt Plains East. Proceeded to the camp, where I found all well. No natives had been near them. This is very disheartening work. I shall proceed to the south, and try once more to round that horrid thick western forest; it is now my only hope; if that fail I shall have to return. I am doubtful of the water in Ashburton range, if no rain has fallen there; those hills are the last of the rising ground within range of vision, which ends in about latitude 17 degrees 14 minutes. From south-south-east round the compass to south-south-west nothing but dense forest and Sturt Plains. Wind, south-east.

Monday, 17th June, Newcastle Water East. Returned to the Lawson and camped. Little rain seemed to have fallen there. I kept a little to west of my former tracks to see the nature of the large open plain. It is completely matted with grass, having large deep holes and cracks, and is as dry as if no rain had fallen for months. Wind, south-east.

Tuesday, 18th June, Lawson Creek. Proceeded to Hunter Creek. Tracks of natives upon ours to Hawker Creek. Light winds, variable.

Wednesday, 19th June, Hawker Creek. Although the water holes in this creek are full from recent rains, the water is very hard, evidently showing it must come from a spring in the hills. Proceeded to the Hunter along the foot of the hills, and at nine miles crossed the large gum creek, where I watered the horses on my north course; this I have named Powell Creek, after J.W. Powell, Esquire, of Clare. At twenty miles crossed another gum creek, which I have named Gleeson Creek, after E.B. Gleeson, Esquire, J.P., of Clare. Camped on the Hunter. Between this and Hawker Creek we crossed eleven gum creeks with water in them. The country passed over is not so good, being close to the hills: it is scrubby, and generally covered with spinifex. Wind, south-east.

Thursday, 20th June, Hunter Creek. Three horses missing; could not be found until too late to reach the other water to-night. Wind, calm.

Friday, 21st June, Hunter Creek. Proceeded to the water under Mount Primrose, over stony hills, the highest of which I have named Mount Shillinglaw, after —— Shillinglaw, Esquire, F.R.C.S., of Melbourne, who kindly presented me with Flinders' Charts of North Australia. The gum creek on which we are now camped I have named Carruthers Creek, after John Carruthers, Esquire, of Adelaide. Calm.

Saturday, 22nd June, Carruthers Creek. Proceeded to Tomkinson Creek, where I left the two horses; I will there rest the horses a day, and have those shod which I intend to take with me. The last two days have been over very stony country, which has made some of the horses quite lame. I am now running short of shoes. We can see nothing of the two horses about our old camp. Light wind from north-east, with a few clouds. Very hot in the middle of the day; evenings and mornings cold.

Sunday, 23rd June, Tomkinson Creek. Sent Thring and Woodforde down the creek, and Masters up into the open plain, to see if they could find the horses on their tracks. In the afternoon they returned unsuccessful, except Masters, who had seen their tracks when the ground was boggy. Recent tracks of natives were also seen. If they have not been frightened away, they will not be far off. I have instructed Sullivan to follow their tracks, and try to find them during my absence. Wind, north-east, with a few clouds. The sun is very hot in the middle of the day.

Monday, 24th June, Tomkinson Creek. Started with Thring, Masters, and Lawrence, and ten horses, with fourteen days' provisions, at 7.40 a.m.; course, 270 degrees east. We crossed the plain and the creek several times. At 12.20, fifteen miles, ascended a stony rise, and saw that the creek emptied itself into an open grassy plain, about two miles north of us. Proceeded on the same course over a gum plain covered with grass for five miles. The country then became sandy soil, slightly undulating, with ironstone, gravel, spinifex, gums, and occasionally a little scrub, which continued throughout the day. Camped without water. Very little feed for the horses, it being nearly all spinifex. Distance, twenty-eight miles. Wind, west; a few clouds.

Tuesday, 25th June, Spinifex and Gum Plain West. Started at 7.40 a.m. on the same course, 270 degrees. Camped at twenty-seven miles. The country travelled through to-day is bad—red sandy light soil, covered with spinifex, slightly undulating, and having iron gravel upon it. Scarcely a blade of grass to be seen. Some gum-trees, and a low scrub of different sorts. I seem to have got to the south of the dense forest, but into a poorer country. Not a drop of water or a watercourse have we seen since we left Tomkinson Creek. We have crossed two or three low rises of ironstone gravel. Not having the dense forest to tear through has induced me to go on all day in the hope of meeting with a change, but at the end of the day there seems as little likelihood as when we first came upon it, and it may continue to the river. I am again forced to return disappointed. There is no hope of making the river now; it must be done from Newcastle Water with wells. I wish that I had twelve months' provisions and convenience for carrying water, I should then be enabled to do it. Wind, east.

Wednesday, 26th June, Spinifex and Gum Plain. Started at 7 a.m. back towards Tomkinson Creek. At dusk found some water on the small plain into which the creek empties itself. Camped. Distance travelled to-day, forty miles. One of the horses completely done up. I am fortunate in finding this water, for another night without it and I should have lost some of them. I am also glad we had a cool day—only two hours' heat. The horses have travelled one hundred miles without water, and the country being sandy, made it very heavy walking for them. Wind, east.

Thursday, 27th June, Tomkinson Creek. Started for the camp, and arrived at noon. Sullivan had gone after the horses, and lost himself for three days and two nights. Not making his appearance the first night, Kekwick sent Woodforde in search of him from south-east to north. Not returning the second night, Kekwick and Woodforde went out in another direction to try if they could cut his tracks, but were again unsuccessful. At about 3 a.m. he came into the camp perfectly bewildered, and did not seem to recognise anyone. From what we can learn from him he must have gone to the south instead of the east, where the tracks of the two horses were seen. On the first night he came close to the camp—saw the other horses feeding, but could not find them. He can give no account of where he went the next day and night; on the third day he cut my outward tracks to the west, and the horse brought him to the camp. I observed his horse's tracks upon ours this morning, about ten miles down the creek, and could not imagine how they came there. Woodforde found the two horses he went in search of within three miles of the camp—they had not left the creek. The cream-coloured one had improved very much; but Reformer still looks miserable—I think he must be ill. Wind, north, with a few clouds coming from the same direction.

Friday, 28th June, Tomkinson Creek. Shoeing horses and preparing for another start. I shall try once more to make the Gulf of Carpentaria from this. There may be a chance of my being able to round Sturt Plains to the east or north-east. Wind, varying from south-east to north.

Saturday, 29th June, Tomkinson Creek. Shoeing horses, etc. Wind, south-east. Clouds all gone.

Sunday, 30th June, Tomkinson Creek. Wind, north-east.

Monday, 1st July, Tomkinson Creek. Started at 8.10 a.m., course 54 degrees, with Thring, Woodforde, and Masters. At 11.20 (eleven miles), top of a high hill, which I named Mount Hawker, after the Honourable George C. Hawker, Speaker of the House of Assembly, S.A. At 12.45, four miles, struck a large creek; its course a little east of north, which I have named McKinlay Creek, after John McKinlay, Esquire. The first part of the journey was over stony undulations, gradually rising until we reached the top of Mount Hawker, the view from which was not very extensive on our course, being intercepted by stony spurs of the range nearly the same height, about eight hundred feet, and very rocky and precipitous. They are composed of sandstone, quartz, iron, limestone, and hard white flinty rocks. The sandstone predominates. We descended with great difficulty, crossed McKinlay Creek, and at five miles ascended another high hill, which I have named Mount Hall, after the Honourable George Hall, M.L.C. From this our view is most extensive, over a complete sea of white grassy plains. At about fifteen or twenty miles south-east are the terminations of other spurs of this range; beyond them nothing is visible on the horizon but white grassy plains. To the east and north-east the same. To the north apparently a strip of dense scrub and forest, which seems to end about north-east, beyond which, in the far distance, we can see the large grassy plain I turned back from on the 21st of May and 15th of June. No rising ground visible except the hills of Ashburton range to north-west and south-east. Descended towards the plains over stony rises, with gum-tree, lancewood, and other scrub and spinifex. At five miles reached the plain. It is of the same description as the other parts I have been over. No appearance of water. It is hopeless to proceed further; it will only be rendering my return more difficult, by reducing the strength of my horses, without the slightest hope of success. All hope of gaining the Gulf without wells is now gone. I have therefore turned back to a small plain (four miles), searched round it, and in one of the small creeks found a little rain water, at which I have camped. Wind, south.

Tuesday, 2nd July, Loveday Creek. This creek I have named Loveday Creek, after R.J. Loveday, Esquire, Lithographer to the South Australian Government. Returned towards the camp. On reaching McKinlay Creek I was informed by Woodforde that Masters had remained behind, about six miles back, and had not yet come up. This is against my strict orders which are that no one shall leave the party without informing me, that I may halt and wait for them. I have sent Thring back to one of the hills to fire off a gun, and see if he is to be seen, as I have left my outward tracks to avoid crossing Mount Hall—and the tracks are very difficult to be seen over such stony country. I am afraid that he is lost. In an hour and a half, Thring returned; he can see nothing of him. He cut our former tracks, but can see nothing of his on them. My conjectures, I fear, are too true. If he has missed the tracks, it is a thousand chances to one if he is ever found again. To track a single horse is impossible. I proceeded towards Mount Hawker, and camped on my outward tracks, at a remarkable gorge that we had come through. Sent Thring back to the top of Mount Hall to raise a smoke, to remain there some time, and see if he comes up; if not, he is to proceed to our last night's camp, there to remain all night, in case he should go there—while I and Woodforde raised another smoke on top of Mount Hawker. A little after 2 p.m. Thring returned with him. He found him on a hill near Mount Hall, looking for the tracks. He was quite bewildered, and in a great state of excitement. I am most thankful that he is found. The account that he gives is, that his horse slipped the reins out of his hand, and that he was unable to catch him for some time, and when he did so, he was unable to find our tracks, or to track his own horse back, and he became quite confused. He seems to be most thankful for his narrow escape. As it is too late to reach the camp, I shall remain here to-night. Wind, west.

Wednesday, 3rd July, Under Mount Hawker. Proceeded to the camp on the Tomkinson. Found all right, with the exception of one of the horses (Reformer), which cannot be found. He is one of the two that I left here formerly, and was looking so ill when I found him. He was last seen on Monday night, when he looked miserable. I have sent three men in search of him. Wind, variable.

Thursday, 4th July, The Tomkinson. Started at 8.20 a.m., course 300 degrees, with Woodforde, Thring, and Masters, ten horses, and a month's provisions, to try once more to make the Victoria. Between my first and last attempts, I may succeed. I am very unwilling to return without trying all that is in my power. At three miles we left the plains, and proceeded over stony rises for two miles. The country then became sandy, with gum, spinifex, and lancewood scrub, not difficult to get through. There is no grass. At twenty-five miles came to a little, and, as I am not sure of coming upon any more soon, I camped. We have seen no water since leaving the creek. Latitude, 18 degrees 25 minutes 40 seconds. Wind, south-east.

Friday, 5th July, Spinifex and Gum Plains. Started at 7.50 a.m., course 360 degrees, to find water. At 9.10 (five miles), struck a creek with water; followed it down, course 285 degrees, and at eight miles camped on the last water. The banks in places have good feed upon them, but there is a great deal of spinifex and scrub. The creek is getting narrower, and, as the horses had but little to eat last night, I shall give them the remainder of the day here, for there is no telling when they will get another good feed. Day exceedingly hot, horses covered with sweat. This I have named Burke Creek, after my brother explorer, Richard O'Hara Burke, Esquire, of Melbourne. On camping I saw a remarkable bird fly up; I sent Woodforde to try and shoot him, which he did. It was of a dark-brown colour, and spotted like the landrail; the tail feathers were nine in number, and twelve inches long. I have had it skinned, and will endeavour to take it to Adelaide. Thring, Woodforde, and Masters cooked the body, and ate it. They had scarcely finished, when, in a moment, they were seized with violent vomiting, but in a few minutes they were all right again. Wind, calm. Latitude, 18 degrees 19 minutes 30 seconds.

Saturday, 6th July, Burke Creek. Started at 7.45 a.m., same course, to follow the creek (285 degrees). At three miles it was lost in a grassy gum plain; changed to 300 degrees. On this course the plain continued for three miles; it then became sandy soil, with spinifex, gums, and scrub. Crossed a low sand hill at fourteen miles; descended into another low grassy plain subject to inundation, which, I suppose, receives Hunter Creek. It continued for two miles, at the end of which we again ascended a sandy rise, on the top of which the country became a sandy table land, and continued so the rest of the day's journey. Camped without water, and with very little grass. The table land was spinifex, gums, and scrub, in some places very difficult to get through. Distance, thirty miles. Wind, south-east. Latitude, 18 degrees 7 minutes 5 seconds. At 7 p.m. I observed the comet, 5 degrees above the horizon, bearing 15 degrees west of north, the nucleus more hazy, and the tail much longer. Calm.

Sunday, 7th July, West Sandy Table Land. Started at 8 a.m. on the same course. At 3 p.m. we got into dense scrub, and, as I could see some distance on before, being on one of the slight undulations, I felt there was not the slightest hope of obtaining water; there was no change, no rising ground visible. It would be hopeless to continue such sandy country, as it can never hold water on the surface. We dug five feet, in one of the small plains, but came to the clay without finding water, or even moisture. There is not a mouthful of grass for the horses to eat; the whole of the journey, with the exception of the small grassy plains, is spinifex, gums, and scrub. I shall have to retreat to the last plain we passed through to get feed for the horses, which are looking very bad. The travelling has been heavy tearing through thick scrub, which in some places has been burned: this makes it very rough for them. I must now give up all hope of reaching the Victoria, and am unwillingly forced to return, my horses being nearly worn out. Wind, variable. Distance, twenty-five miles.

Monday, 8th July, Small Grass Plain in Scrub. Started at break of day and continued until 4.30 p.m. Meeting with a little grass, camped; some of the horses unable to go further. Wind, south.

Tuesday, 9th July, Sandy Table Land. Started at sunrise and arrived at Burke Creek. At 11 a.m. turned the horses out to feed for two hours, and proceeded up the creek to where I first struck it. Camped. At a little more than a mile down the creek from here, there is a course of concrete ironstone running across it, which forms a large pond of water nearly a mile in length, apparently deep and permanent. Wind, west.

Wednesday, 10th July, Burke Creek. Shortly after sunrise proceeded toward the main camp, and arrived there at 3 p.m. Found all well. The natives have been about. They attacked Wall while in search of the missing horse; he and his horse narrowly escaped being hit by their boomerangs. The missing horse cannot be found. I suppose that he has crept into some bushes and died; for, the night before he was missed, he left the other horses and came to the camp fire; he appeared to be very stupid, and for some time they could not get him away; when they did so, he went off reeling. Wind, south-west.

Thursday, 11th July, Tomkinson Creek. Shoeing horses, and repairing saddles and bags to carry our provisions back. We have now run out of everything for that purpose, and are obliged to make all sorts of shifts. The two tarpaulins that I brought from Mr. Chambers's station for mending the bags, are all used up some time ago, and nearly all the spare bags; the sewing-twine has been used long since, and we are obliged to make some from old bags. We are all nearly naked, the scrub has been so severe on our clothes; one can scarcely tell the original colour of a single garment, everything is so patched. Our boots are also gone. It is with great reluctance that I am forced to return without a further trial. I should like to go back, and try from Newcastle Water, but my provisions will not allow me. I started with thirty weeks' supply at seven pounds of flour per week, and have now been out twenty-six, and it will take me ten weeks before I can reach the first station. The men are also failing, and showing the effects of short rations. I only wish I had sufficient to carry me over until the rain will fall in next March. I think I should be able to make both the Victoria and the Gulf. I had no idea when starting that the hills would terminate so soon in such extensive level country, without water, or I should have tried to make the river, and see what the country was, when I first saw the rising grounds from Mount Primrose, which are the sand and iron undulations passed over on my southernmost western journey. Before I went to Newcastle Water they completely deceived me; for from the top of the mount they had the appearance of a high range, which I was glad to see, thinking that if the range I was then following up should cease, or if I could not find a way into the river further north, I would be sure to get in by that distant range, which caused me to leave the Newcastle Water country sooner than I should otherwise have done; and now I have not provisions to take me back again. From what I have seen of the country to the west and south of Newcastle Water, I am of opinion that it would be no use trying again to make the river, for I believe no water can be obtained by sinking. To the west and north-west of Newcastle Water the country is apparently lower, and I think that water could be obtained at a moderate depth. It is the shortest distance between the waters; but the greatest difficulty would be in getting through the dense forest and scrub, but that, I should think, could be overcome. It certainly is a great disappointment to me not to be able to get through, but I believe I have left nothing untried that has been in my power. I have tried to make the Gulf and river, both before rain fell, and immediately after it had fallen; but the results were the same, UNSUCCESSFUL. Even after the rain I could not get a step further than before it. I shall commence my homeward journey to-morrow morning. Wind, south. The horses have had a severe trial from the long journeys they have made, and the great hardships and privations they have undergone. On my last journey they were one hundred and six hours without water.

On Friday, July 12th, Mr. Stuart quitted Tomkinson Creek to return to Adelaide, and on the following Friday reached Ann Creek on the north side of the Murchison range. On the 30th, the party proceeded across the Centre, and camped south-west of it, on the Hanson. The nights now became very cold, and there was usually white frost on the grass, and ice in the buckets every morning. On August 6th they camped under Brinkley Bluff, and remained there until the 8th. The Hamilton was reached on the 23rd, and here the natives again showed some hostility, contenting themselves, however, with yelling and howling, and endeavouring to set fire to the grass, in which they were happily unsuccessful. On Saturday, August 31st, they arrived at Mr. Levi's station, where all of them "were overjoyed at once more seeing the face of a white man." They were received with great kindness and attention. After remaining there three days they proceeded by way of Louden Spa, William Springs, Paisley Ponds, and Hamilton Springs to Chambers Creek, where they arrived on September 7th and remained until the 10th.

The last entry in Mr. Stuart's journal is as follows:

Sunday, 15th September, Moolooloo. I shall leave to-morrow for Port Augusta, and proceed by steamer for Adelaide, leaving the party to be brought into town by Mr. Kekwick.

I cannot close my Journal without expressing my warmest thanks to my second in command, and my other companions; they have been brave, and have vied with each other in performing their duties in such a manner as to make me at all times feel confident that my orders were carried out to the best of their ability, and to my entire satisfaction; and I also beg to tender my best thanks to the promoters (Messrs. Chambers and Finke) and the Government, for the handsome manner I was fitted out.

JOHN McDOUALL STUART,

Leader of the Expedition.

JOURNAL OF MR. STUART'S SUCCESSFUL EXPEDITION ACROSS THE CONTINENT OF AUSTRALIA. FROM DECEMBER, 1861, TO DECEMBER, 1862.

Mr. Stuart made his public entry into Adelaide on Monday, 23rd September, and reported himself to the authorities. Almost at the same time the Victorian Government obtained their first traces of the survivors of the ill-fated expedition under Burke and Wills.* (* The news of their death reached Melbourne on November 2nd.) The South Australian Government had such confidence in Mr. Stuart that, on his expressing his readiness to make another attempt to cross the continent, they at once closed with his offer, and in less than a month (on October 21st) the new expedition started from Adelaide to proceed to Chambers Creek, and get everything in order there for a final start. Mr. Stuart accompanied them for a few miles to see that everything went on well, when, one of the horses becoming restive, he advanced with the intention of cutting the rope which was choking the animal; the horse reared and struck him on the temple with its fore foot, knocking him down and rendering him insensible. The brute then sprang forward and placed one of his hind feet on Mr. Stuart's right hand, and, rearing again, dislocated two joints of his first finger, tearing the flesh and nail from it, and injuring the bone to such an extent that amputation of the finger was at first thought unavoidable. By careful treatment, however, it was unnecessary to resort to such a course, and in five weeks the leader was able to start to overtake his party, some of whom were to remain at Moolooloo until he joined them.

In no way discouraged either by his own unlucky accident and previous want of success, or by the melancholy end of his brother explorers, Burke and Wills, Mr. Stuart arrived at Moolooloo on Friday, December 20th, and at Finniss Springs on the 29th. The names of the party were as follows:

John McDouall Stuart, Leader of the Expedition. William Kekwick, Second Officer. F.W. Thring, Third Officer. W.P. Auld, Assistant. Stephen King. John Billiatt. James Frew. Heath Nash. John McGorrerey, Shoeing Smith. J.W. Waterhouse, Naturalist to the Expedition.

Besides these, there were at starting, Woodforde and Jeffries; but at Finniss Springs, the latter struck one of his companions, and, on being called to account by his leader, refused to go any further. As to the former, when quitting Mr. Levi's station on January 21st, it was arranged, in order to lighten the weak horses, that the great-coats of the party should be left, but Woodforde objected to this, and said he would not go unless he had his great-coat with him. Mr. Stuart had very properly decided not to take any man who refused to obey orders, and he therefore started without him. The next day Woodforde rejoined the party near Milne Springs, but did not accompany them many days longer; for on February 3rd, shortly after starting, he asked McGorrerey to hold his gun while he returned to get something he had left behind at the previous night's camp. About an hour afterwards, McGorrerey discovered a piece of folded-up paper on the nipple of the gun, and on examination this proved to be an insolent note, addressed to his leader, stating that he had gone back, taking with him a horse, saddle, bridle, tether-rope, and sundry other things not belonging to him. Mr. Stuart had been much dissatisfied with his conduct for some days, and had made up his mind to send him back, believing that he was doing everything in his power to discourage the party, and bring his leader's authority into contempt.

At Marchant Springs, where they arrived on February 15th, they began to experience annoyance from the natives. On the 17th, as Auld was approaching the water-hole, a native who was there called to some others who were posted in trees, and shortly afterwards a great cloud of smoke was seen to windward, coming towards the camp. It was evidently their intention to attack the exploring party under cover of the smoke, "but Thring, while looking for the horses, came suddenly on three of them concealed behind a bush, armed with spears and boomerangs; he did not perceive them until within twelve yards of them. They immediately jumped up, and one of them threw a boomerang at him, which fortunately missed both him and his horse. He was obliged to use his revolver in self defence," but with what result Mr. Stuart does not state.

The excessive heat of the weather now proved a great hindrance to the expedition. They had already lost so many horses that a large part of their provisions, etc. had to be abandoned on various occasions. On February 23rd, Mr. Stuart writes:

"Before reaching this place (the Hugh) five other horses gave in, and were unable to proceed further. I cannot understand the cause of the horses knocking up so much; every one of them has fallen off the last week. Whether it is the excessive heat or the brackish water of the Finke, I am unable to say. Last night I tried some citric acid in the water of the Finke, and it caused it to effervesce, showing that the water contained soda." It was afterwards ascertained that the horses were suffering from worms, which may partially account for their failing strength.

After leaving the Hugh, on February 25th, they were again annoyed by the natives. When about half-way through the gorge, they "set fire to the grass and dry wood across the creek, which caused a dense smoke to blow in our faces. I had the party prepared for an attack. After passing through the smoke and fire, three natives made their appearance about twenty-five yards off, on the hill side, armed with spears and shields, and bidding us defiance by placing the spears in the womeras, and yelling out at the highest pitch of their voices. I ordered Auld to dismount and fire a shot a little distance on one side of them, to let them know what distance our weapons carried. The ball struck the rock pointed out to him to aim at, and stopped their yelling, but seemed to have no other effect. I again ordered him to fire at the rock on which the middle one of the three was standing; the shot was a good one, for the ball struck the desired spot, and immediately had the effect of sending them all off at full speed."

Again, on March 5th, while crossing the plains under Mount Hay, they came suddenly on three natives armed with long spears and shields, who ran off into the scrub. A short distance further, while watering the horses at some rain water, these three natives returned, accompanied by four others, and made signs of hostility, by yelling and shaking their spears, and performing other threatening antics while widely separating themselves in a half-circle. Mr. Stuart says: "I had the party prepared to receive an attack; but when they saw us stationary they approached no nearer. I ordered some of the party to fire close to them, to show them we could injure them at a long distance, if they continued to annoy us, but they did not seem at all frightened at the report of the rifles nor the whizzing of the balls near to them, since they still remained in a threatening attitude. With the aid of a telescope we could perceive a number of others concealed in the belt of scrub. They all seemed fine muscular men. There was one tall fellow in particular with a large shield and a very long spear (upwards of twelve feet), which he seemed very anxious to use if he could have got within distance. We crossed the creek, and had proceeded a short distance across the plain, when they again came running towards us, apparently determined to attack; they were received with a discharge of rifles, which caused them to retire and keep at a respectful distance. Having already wasted too much time with them, I proceeded over the plain, keeping a sharp look-out; should they threaten us again, I shall allow them to come close, and make an example of them. It is evident their designs are hostile. Before entering the scrub we could see no signs of them following. About sundown, arrived at Mount Harris without further annoyance."

A week later (on March 12th) the Centre was passed; and on the 17th, while going from Woodforde Creek through the bad country towards the Bonney, Thring met with an awkward accident, which his leader thus describes: "Being anxious to keep my old tracks through the scrub, as it does not wear the saddle-bags so much as breaking through a new line, I missed them about two miles after starting, in consequence of the earliness and cloudiness of the morning. I sent Thring in search of them, and he, on finding them a short distance off, fired his revolver to let us know that the tracks were found. The young horse he was riding stood the first report very well. I, not hearing the report, was moving on, which caused him to fire again, whereupon his horse backed and threw him with violence to the ground on his chest. He feels his chest is much hurt by the fall. The horse then returned on the tracks at full gallop," and was not recovered until shortly before sundown.

The party camped at Attack Creek on Friday, March 28th, and at Tomkinson Creek on the 31st. On April 3rd, while crossing the Gleeson, Kekwick's horse fell back with him in ascending the bank, and broke the stock of his gun, but he himself escaped unhurt. On Saturday, April 5th, they camped at the east end of Newcastle Water, and the following day, "at about 9 o'clock a.m. Kekwick, in endeavouring to shoot some ducks, went towards some native smoke, and was met by two natives, who ran away. In an hour afterwards, five natives came within a hundred yards of the camp, and seemed anxious to come up to it, but were not permitted. Two hours afterwards we were again visited by fifteen more, to some of whom a present was made of some looking-glasses and handkerchiefs; at the same time they were given to understand that they must not approach nearer to the camp, and signs were made to them to return to their own camp, which they shortly did. In the afternoon we were again visited by nineteen of them, who approached within a hundred yards of the camp, when they all sat down and had a good stare at us, remaining a long time without showing any inclination to go. At length some of them started the horses which were feeding near the water, and made them gallop towards the camp. This so frightened the natives that they all ran away, and we were not troubled with them for the rest of the evening."

The next day the camp was moved to the north end of Newcastle Water, where they remained for a week resting horses and repairing bags, saddles, etc. The Journal then continues as follows:

Monday, 14th April, North End of Newcastle Water. Leaving Mr. Kekwick in charge of the party, started with Thring and Frew at 7.15 a.m., on a northerly course, in search of water; and at six miles, on the edge of the open plains, found some rainwater, sufficient for a few days. Proceeded across the plain on the same course; but at three miles saw something like a watercourse, and changed my course to 20 degrees, to see what it was. At two miles I struck a dry course running south-west. Followed it up towards the small rise without finding any water. Three miles further on the same course I ascended a low stony rise, from which I could see nothing but a thick forest of tall mulga and gums. I changed to a northerly course, and, at 4.20 p.m., camped in a forest without water. Wind, south-east.

Tuesday, 15th April, Sturt Plains, Forest. Proceeded on a course of 250 degrees, and at five miles again struck the open plains, and changed to 180 degrees. At one mile I found a fine water hole three feet deep and about forty feet in diameter, the edge of which was surrounded with conglomerate ironstone rock; watered the horses, and proceeded on a southerly course, through grassy plains with stunted gum-trees, to the first water I found yesterday, and camped. The plains and forest are of the same description as I have already given, only that the plains have not quite so many holes in them, and the forest in many places is covered with ironstone gravel. I shall try a course to the north of west to-morrow, to see if I can find water. Wind variable.

Wednesday, 16th April, Frew's Water Hole, Sturt Plains. Started at 7.45 a.m., on a course of 302 degrees, keeping along the edge of the open plain. I have made many twistings and turnings, but my general course is north-west for ten miles. Seeing a small rise on the open plain, a little to the north of west, I changed to 275 degrees; and at two miles came on some fine ponds of water about one mile and a half long, twenty feet broad, and three feet and a half deep. I examined them on both sides, to see if they would do for a permanent camp for the party as it is a point nearer; and I think I may depend on the water lasting two months without any more rain. I shall camp here to-night, and try another day to-morrow to the westward, and endeavour to make the Victoria, for I can see but little chance of making the Adelaide. By my journal of the 14th, everything is quite dry and parched up; no rain seems to have fallen there for a long time. The last two days have been excessively hot. The further to the west the hotter I find it. The natives seem to be numerous, for their smoke in the scrub is to be seen in every direction. I name these ponds after John Howell, Esquire, of Adelaide.