June 16.—Our day's route was as usual over a very flat though rich country, thickly wooded with good timber of the eucalyptus and angophora species, with some fine cypresses in the looser soils, and back from the river. The country, although flat, appears considerably elevated, and is neither flooded nor swampy; the opposite side apparently of the same kind. We fell in with another small camp of natives; the women and children withdrew before we came up with them: among the men (seven in number) we recognised four whom we had seen on the last expedition at Mary's Rivulet; the recognition was mutual, and they seemed highly pleased with it: they accompanied us about eight miles farther to our evening's encampment, where being gratified with some kangaroo, and undergoing the operation of shaving, (at their earnest request, after seeing one of their number disencumbered of an immense beard) they left us at sunset to join their families, which were probably at no great distance. About four miles above our encampment, on the immediate banks of the river, we discovered a large mass of saponaceous earth; I at first took it to be a fine pipeclay, but on examination, it appears to possess all the valuable qualities of fuller's earth; and a piece of woollen cloth being partially greased, and then rubbed over with the earth, the grease was perfectly extracted and the cloth left entirely clean. Among this earth, small white pieces of a hard marly substance were found, and appeared either to be pure lime, or to contain a very considerable portion of it. On one of the beaches a small shell was found, which was unanimously adjudged to be a marine production; at least, we had never before seen any fresh-water shell resembling it. The river fell during the last night and the course of this day very considerably, and is, I think, below its proper level; there is however an ample sufficiency of water for our boats: the chief dangers are from stumps and branches of trees in the narrows; and what previously to the great fall in the water we could have passed over without difficulty, now occasions us some anxiety and trouble. The course the river took to-day was considerably to the north.

June 17.—A very severe frost, the ice a quarter of an inch thick. About a mile down the river, we saw a native burial-place or tomb, not more than a month old; the characters carved on the trees were quite fresh: the tomb had no semicircular seats, but in other respects was similar to those seen on our last journey. The country still continued perfectly level, the greater part extremely good and rich; back from the river it was occasionally marshy, with barren rocky scrubs; the timber large, and generally good: we could not see beyond a mile on the opposite side, but the country there appeared much the same. One of the men, who was some distance ahead of the horses, saw a large party of the natives, who fled at his approach, and swam the river; there were upwards of twenty men, besides women and children: the moment they were safely across, they brandished their waddies and spears in token of defiance: this was the first time any of the natives were seen armed, or in any way hostilely inclined. The river ran to the north-west by north over a bottom of rock and sand: in point of depth, it was amply sufficient for much larger boats than ours; but it was impossible always to avoid concealed dangers, over which the waters did not cause the slightest ripple. The large boat struck on a sharp rock, and with such violence as to stave her bottom; she was immediately unladen, and temporarily repaired without injury to the cargo. Although the river is extremely low, there is a very large body of water in it; the outer banks are nearly a quarter of a mile wide, and far out of the reach of flood, the marks of which were, to our extreme astonishment, observed nearly fifty feet high. We have not seen during these last two days any hill or other eminence; the country within our sight and observation being perfectly level.

June. 18.—As we were on the point of setting forward, a large party of natives made their appearance on the opposite side of the river: they set up a most hideous and discordant noise, making signs, as well as we could understand them, for us to depart and go down the river. After beating their spears and waddies together for about a quarter of an hour, accompanied by no friendly gestures, they went away up the river, while we pursued our course in an opposite direction. We had hitherto met with no obstructions in the navigation, except such as arose from the wrecks of successive floods lodging in the narrows; these were easily overcome: the course of the river to-day for nearly six miles was a fine and even stream, from forty to fifty yards wide, and from eight to sixteen feet deep, over a bottom of rock and sandy gravel; when a reef of rocks at once interrupted our progress in the laden boats, the water breaking with such violence over them, that I was afraid they would be greatly endangered even when light. The horses had stopped at a cataract about three quarters of a mile lower down, and it appeared that the rocky shoal extended to that distance, when a fall of five feet over a bed of rocks would have stopped the boats altogether. The horses were immediately unladen and sent to bring the cargos of the two boats, which being accomplished, we got them safely over the shoals by the cataracts; when hauling them over land about two hundred yards, they were again launched into deep water. The country on either side during this days journey was by no means so good as it had hitherto generally been, being very brushy, and thickly timbered, chiefly with the species of eucalyptus called box, and another kind appearing to be different from those frequently observed. The banks of the river were very high; and, notwithstanding the country was perfectly level, it was far above the reach of any flood. The body of water falling over the cataract was surprising, the low state of the river being considered, and this incident instead of discouraging us increased our already sanguine hopes, that its termination would not deceive the expectations we could not avoid indulging.

June 19.—The boats during their progress this day did not experience any obstruction, the river winding in fine though narrow reaches, over a bottom of sand and occasionally rock; the depth from eight to sixteen feet. The country still continued perfectly level, but generally of excellent soil: two or three miles back from the river north-east, there were several extensive plains, without any timber on them, and in many places water was on the surface, probably occasioned by the heavy rain on the 14th instant; since these flats, and indeed all the country we had hitherto travelled over, were quite clear of any floods from the river. The banks of the river are, I think, ten or twelve feet lower than they are fifteen or twenty miles higher up; the floods evidently do not rise to so great a height, not exceeding, as far as we can judge, sixteen feet. I do not think the timber is either so large or so good as we had hitherto found it; but there is a great quantity of it, chiefly box, and a species of blue gum. Although at such a distance from the Lachlan, we have recognised most of the plants found in its vicinity: in all other respects the neighbourhood of the two rivers is totally dissimilar; and in nothing more observable than in the rivers themselves. The water in the river continues so extremely hard as to render it difficult to raise a lather from soap; it is also very pure and transparent.

June 20.—The night cold, a sharp frost congealing some standing water by the river's side. The river rose upwards of a foot during the night, and still continues gradually to rise. Having gone upwards of one hundred and twenty-five miles from Wellington Valley, I thought it advisable that the two men who accompanied us for that purpose should return to Sydney with an account of our proceedings, agreeably to the governor's instructions. Despatched two other men on horseback to the north-east, with directions to go as far as possible in that direction, and to return by sunset; which they did, and reported that they had been from fourteen to sixteen miles, through a very fine though level country: the brushes were of small extent, and communicated with the finest tracts, chiefly of forest land thinly wooded: no marks were seen of any floods either from the river or land side, and these flats were watered by chains of ponds or watercourses, which doubtless when overflowed communicate with the river. Abundance of kangaroos and emus.

June 21.—The result of the observation this day gave for our situation lat. 31. 49. 60. S., long. 147. 52. 15. E., and the variation 8. 22. E.

June 22.—Completed the necessary papers for the governor's information, and made all ready to proceed on our journey tomorrow. The river in these last two days has risen between two and three feet.

June 23.—Having despatched Thomas Thatcher and John Hall to Bathurst, with an account of our progress, the expedition set forward down the river. For four or five miles there was no material change in the general appearance of the country from what it had been on the preceding days, but for the last six miles the land was very considerably lower, interspersed with plains clear of timber, and dry. On the banks it was still lower, and in many parts it was evident that the river floods swept over them, though this did not appear to be universally the case. The far greater part of the last six miles was covered with shrubs, and the acacia pendula. These unfavourable appearances threw a damp upon our hopes, and we feared that our anticipations had been too sanguine. The river continued nearly as before, but much narrower, and more winding, in some measure accounting for the great height of the floods which we observed fifty or sixty miles back, where the river was probably four times as wide: we missed with regret the striking characteristics which had hitherto distinguished it, the sandy and gravelly beaches, and rocky points; though there was certainly the same volume of water which had originally given me such strong hopes that it could never be dissipated over marshes. The banks are no more than twenty feet high in their most elevated places, and the probability is, that all our doubts, speculations, and hopes, will be clearly decided within the week; the soil is of the richest quality, but the flatness of the land, and want of any eminence, are great drawbacks upon the bounties of nature: not but there are numerous spaces above the reach of either land or river flood, which would offer secure retreats to the inhabitants of these singular regions. Several new birds were seen to-day of very beautiful plumage; none however were procured, so as to enable me to describe them. We also saw the crested pigeon, and grey and red parrot of the Lachlan; some fine and singular plants also enriched our collection: it would seem as if nature here delighted in wasting her most beautiful productions upon the "desert air," rather than placing them in situations where they would become more easily accessible to the researches of science and taste.

June 24.—The country was still extremely flat, and perfectly overrun with acacias, dwarf box (eucalyptus), some species of suffruticore atriplex [See Note at end of this paragraph.], and other shrubs; and intersected by nunumerous extensive lagoons now quite dry, but which when the river is about one-third full, convey the water back over vast plains and levels for the most part clear of every kind of brush, and on the fall of the waters these lagoons act as drains to the lands. The brushes were most numerous and perplexing in the neighbourhood of the river, a course we were obliged to keep, in order not to part company with the boats. The country two or three miles along the banks of the river was only partially flooded, the land being much lower at a greater distance from it; the most part of the soil was a rich, alluvial deposition from floods. Except on those clear plains which occasionally occurred on the sides of the river, we could seldom see beyond a quarter of a mile. Byrne, who was at the head of the hunting party, surprised an old native man and woman, the former digging for rats, or roots, the other lighting a fire: they did not perceive him till he was within a few yards of them, when the man threw his wooden spade at Byrne, which struck his horse; then taking his old woman by the hand, they set off with the utmost celerity, particularly when they saw the dogs, of which they seem to entertain great fears. In the evening, natives were heard on the opposite side of the river, but none came within view. There was no alteration in the appearance or size of the river during this day's course; the banks were in no respect lower: it ran with great rapidity over a sandy bottom, and was from six to thirty feet deep; the water still clear, and remarkably hard.

[Note: Other genera of chenopodeae likewise exist on these plains, of which some salsolae, and that curious lanigerous shrub sclerolaena paradoxa of Mr. Brown, with spinous fruit, are most remarkable.]

June 25.—The weather cold, but fine: the thermometer is about 28 degrees, and I think from this extraordinary degree of cold so far to the north, that notwithstanding the lowness of the surrounding country (as compared to its relative situation with the river), that we are still at a considerable elevation above the sea. In our last journey, three degrees farther south, we experienced at the same season no such cold, the weather being equally fine and clear as at present. The appearance of the country was much the same as yesterday; the whole ground we passed over being liable to flood, and covered with eucalyptus or gum tree, acacia pendula, and various other species of that extensive genus, one of which appeared quite new but not in flower. Four or five miles back from the river (east), the country rises and is not flooded, the soil being there much inferior, but covered with fine cypresses: notwithstanding this tract was much higher than that more immediately on the river, there was no eminence from which we could look around. The banks of the river are much lower than yesterday, scarcely exceeding twelve feet high; the floods are low in proportion, and I did not see any mark showing that the rise of water ever exceeded a foot above the banks. The river did not offer the slightest obstruction, and was from twenty to twenty-four feet deep. There is probably from two to three feet more in it than usual; the breadth varies considerably, in some places not more than sixty feet, in others two hundred. All the lagoons (though very deep), in the neighbourhood of the river are quite dry, and appearances indicate that the country has not been flooded for years. Emus and kangaroos are in abundance; but we have lately caught no fish, owing most likely to the coldness of the weather: various birds altogether unknown to us were seen; and although the leading plants were the same as those found through nearly the whole of Australia, new ones were daily met with. The river has continued inclining to the northward: its course to-day was north-north-west.

June 26.—The country this day was as various as can be imagined; low but not level; in some places covered with the acacia pendula, chenopodeae, and polygonum juncium; in others, with good gum and box trees. The whole, with few exceptions, appeared liable to flood. Four or five miles back the country imperceptibly rises, and is free from river floods; but the hollows, proceeding from the inequalities of its surface, are in rainy seasons the reservoirs of the land floods. The whole country was now perfectly dry, and must have been so for a long period: it would indeed have been impossible, had the season been wet, to have kept company with the boats. The river itself continues undiminished, and is a fine stream, with nothing to impede the navigation; its windings, however, are very considerable. The banks appear lower by nearly three feet than yesterday: there are still no marks of flood rising upon the land above a foot on either side: the depth of the stream is from twenty to twenty-four feet, breadth from sixty to one hundred and sixty, and its current is about a mile and a half per hour. The river has fallen yesterday and to-day nearly eighteen inches.

June 27.—The river continues to fall. We had gone about five miles through a country as low and brushy as usual, when we were agreeably surprised with the view of a small hill about a mile to the eastward: we hastened to it, in hopes that we should find that the country rose to the north-east; we however saw nothing but another hill still higher, about three miles to the north-north-west, in the direction of the river. The hill, or rather rock, we had just quitted, was about a quarter of a mile long by half a quarter broad, and about seventy feet high; it was nothing but granite, having the sides and summit covered with broken pieces of a fine and very compact species of the same mineral. We named it Welcome Rock; for any thing like an eminence was grateful to our sight. From the summit of the hill seen to the north-north-west our view was very extensive; but nothing indicated either a speedy change of country or a termination of the river. To the westward, the land was a perfect level, with clear spaces or marshes interspersed amidst the boundless desert of wood. To the east, a most stupendous range of mountains, lifting their blue heads above the horizon, bounded the view in that direction, and were distant at least seventy miles, the country appearing a perfect plain between us and them. From north-west to north-east nothing interrupted the horizontal view, except a hill similar to the one we were on, about five miles distant to the north-north-west. Extended as was our prospect, it did not afford much room for satisfactory anticipation; and there was nothing that gave us reason to believe that any stream, either from the east or west, joined the river for the next forty miles at least. The hill from which this view was taken was named Mount Harris, after my friend, who accompanied the expedition as a volunteer; that to the north-north-west, Mount Forster, after Lieutenant Forster, of the Navy; and the lofty range before mentioned to the eastward was distinguished by the name of Arbuthnot's Range, after the Right Hon. C. Arbuthnot, of His Majesty's Treasury. The two first mentioned hills are entirely of granite, from one and a half to two miles long, by half a mile to one mile wide: their formation must be considered a most singular geological phenomenon, detached as they are by an immense space from all mountainous ranges, and rising from the midst of a soft alluvial soil. Small pieces of granite were in several places thrown into heaps, as if by human means; and their whole surfaces were covered with similar pieces, detached from the solid mass to which they had once belonged. If I might hazard a conjecture, I should attribute to them a volcanic origin: I think, on examination, their constituent parts will be found to have undergone the action of fire, by which they have been fused together. To those conversant in the structure of the earth, and with the means used by nature to accomplish her purposes, these singular hills may offer a subject for curious inquiry. The natives appear numerous in these regions of apparent desolation: we fell in with several parties in the course of the day, in the whole probably not less than forty, and many fires were seen to the north. Being a mile or two ahead of our party in a thick brush, I came suddenly upon three men; two ran off with the greatest speed; the third, who was older and a little lame, first threw his firestick at me, and next (seeing me still advance) a waddie, but with such agitation, that though not more than a dozen paces distant, he missed both me and my horse. I returned to my party, and in company with them surprised the native camp; we found there eight women and twelve children, just on the point of departing with their infants in their cloaks on their backs: on seeing us, they seized each other by the hand, formed a circle, and threw themselves on the ground, with their heads and faces covered. Unwilling to add to their evident terror, we only remained a few minutes, during which time the children frequently peeped at us from beneath their clothes; indeed, they seemed more surprised than alarmed: the mothers kept uttering a low and mournful cry, as if entreating mercy. In the camp were several spears, or rather lances, as they were much too ponderous to be thrown by the arm; these were jagged: there were also some elamongs (shields), clubs, chisels, and several workbags filled with every thing necessary for the toilet of a native belle; namely, paint and feathers, necklaces of teeth, and nets for the head, with thread formed of the sinews of the opossum's tail for making their cloaks. The men belonging to the camp were heard shouting at no great distance: their affection for their families was not, however, sufficiently powerful to induce them to attempt their rescue from the hands of such unfabulous centaurs, as we doubtless appeared to them. The boats met with no interruption, the river continuing a fine and even stream, running at the rate of a mile and a half per hour: it was in places very narrow, and our astonishment would have been excited that such a channel should contain the powerful body of water falling into it, if we had not found its medium depth to be from twenty to thirty feet. The height of the banks is not more than seven feet above the water, and they appeared to have been flooded to that height. It did not seem that back from the river, beyond three or four miles, the country was ever flooded, except by the waters which would fall on its surface in rainy seasons; it was, however, now quite dry, and the hollows of the surface bore evidence of a long continued drought. The course of the river still continued to the north-north-west. The rocks composing Mount Harris are apparently basaltic, the whole seeming to have been shot up in points. the angles of which are complete. The stones are very heavy and compact, and when dashed against each other were extremely sonorous.

June 28.—Remained here this day for the purpose of rest and refreshment: the grass and country poor, and covered with acacia trees and small eucalypti in our immediate vicinity. Despatched two men to view the country to the north-east. The botanical collector crossed the river and ascended Mount Forster, on which he was fortunate enough to procure many plants seemingly new: he thought he saw a branch of the river separating from it and running to the north-west, whilst the river itself continued to go northerly. The account brought by the men in the evening was far from flattering; they had been out ten or twelve miles to the north and east, and found the country as bad as can be imagined; in fact, a dry morass, with higher land, free from floods, but overrun with brushes, among which a few pines were scattered: they saw no water, and but little game of any kind.

June 29.—As we proceeded down the river, the country gradually became much lower in its immediate vicinity; and between four and five miles from our resting-place it was even with the banks, and in some places overflowed them. All travelling near the river with horses was at once interrupted, and this was the more perplexing as it rendered the communication with the boats uncertain, and liable to be cut off altogether. Finding that those marshes were only impassable for a mile or little more from the river, and that occasionally we could approach within one hundred yards of it, the horses were directed to keep round the edge of them, making for the river whenever practicable, and firing guns to let the boats know our situation. At two o'clock in the after. noon we stopped, after going about ten miles and a half, about one hundred and fifty yards from the river. which we could not approach nearer by reason of wet and boggy marshes; in fact, the place where we stopped is of the same description, but now (fortunately for us) dry. The country north-east of us, along the dry edge of which we were obliged to keep, is as bad as possible, being in wet seasons full of water-holes, and consequently impassable. The river still continues undiminished, as we find that the branches and small streams that frequently run from it join it again at short distances, and that they owe their existence at this time to the full state of the river, which is certainly some feet above its usual level. The breadth and depth of the river were various throughout the day: in the places where it overflowed its banks, there was not more than from ten to twelve feet; in others, where it ran very broad, but was confined within them, fifteen feet; and in narrower places, under the same circumstances, upwards of twenty feet. Thus it seemed to vary with the capacity of the channel to contain its waters, which were very muddy, the current running at a medium rate of a mile per hour. The boats arrived at about half past four o'clock, meeting nothing to interrupt them.

June 30.—After making every arrangement that we could devise to ensure our keeping company with the boats, we proceeded down the river. Our progress was, however, interrupted much sooner than I anticipated; for we had scarcely gone six miles, and never nearer to the river than from one to two miles, when we perceived that the waters which had overflowed the banks were spreading over the plains on which we were travelling, and that with a rapidity which precluded any hope of making the river again to the north-west by north, in which direction we imagined it to run for some distance, when its course appeared to take a more northerly direction. Our situation did not admit of hesitation as to the steps we were to pursue. Our journey had, in fact, been continued longer than strict prudence would have warranted, and the safety of the whole party was now at stake: no retreat presented itself except the station we left in the morning, and even there it was impossible that we could, with any regard to prudence, remain longer than to carry the arrangements which I had in contemplation into effect. The horses were therefore ordered back, and two men succeeded, after wading through the water to the middle, in making the river about three miles below the place they set out from. Fortunately the boats had not proceeded so far, and on their coming up were directed to return. The boats arrived at sunset, having had to pull against a strong current. The river itself continued, as usual, from fifteen to twenty-five feet deep, the waters which were overflowing the plains being carried thither by a multitude of little streams, which had their origin in the present increased height of the waters above their usual level. The river continued undiminished, and presented too important a body of water to allow me to believe that those marshes and low grounds had any material effect in diffusing and absorbing it: its ultimate termination, therefore, must be more consonant to its magnitude. These reflections on the present undiminished state of the river would of themselves have caused me to pause before I hastily quitted a pursuit from the issue of which so much had naturally been expected. For all practical purposes, the nature of the country precluded me from indulging the hope, that even if the river should terminate in an inland sea, it could be of the smallest use to the colony. The knowledge of its actual termination, if at all attainable, was, however, a matter of deep importance, and would tend to throw some light on the obscurity in which the interior of this vast country is still involved. My ardent desire to investigate as far as possible this interesting question, determined me to take the large boat, and with four volunteers to proceed down the river as long as it continued navigable; a due regard being had to the difficulties we should have to contend with in returning against the stream. I calculated that this would take me a month; at all events, I determined to be provided for that period, which indeed was the very utmost that could be spared from the ulterior object of the expedition.

July 1.—The water not rising. Employed in making every preparation to proceed on the voyage down the river to-morrow morning. On mature deliberation, it was resolved that on my departure, the horses with the provisions should return back to Mount Harris, a distance of about fifteen miles, as the safety of the whole would be endangered by a longer stay at this station, and to that point I fixed to return with the large boat. It was determined, that during my absence Mr. Evans should proceed to the north-east from fifty to sixty miles, and return upon a more northerly course, in order that we might be prepared against any difficulties that might occur in the first stages of a journey to the north-east coast. The only one which I contemplated in a serious point of view, was the probable want of water until we came in contact with high land, and I hoped this might be partially provided against by Mr. Evans's expedition. The horses were all in good condition, and, from the length of time I expected to be absent, the baggage would be reduced to the smallest possible compass, and the cooper would have time to diminish the pork casks, which were far too heavy for the horses, being intended for boats only; for it had not been contemplated that the nature of the country would so soon deprive us of water carriage.

July 2.—I proceeded down the river, during one of the wettest and most stormy days we had yet experienced. About twenty miles from where I set out, there was, properly speaking, no country; the river overflowing its banks, and dividing into streams which I found had no permanent separation from the main branch, but united themselves to it on a multitude of points. We went seven or eight miles farther, when we stopped for the night upon a space of ground scarcely large enough to enable us to kindle a fire. The principal stream ran with great rapidity, and its banks and neighbourhood, as far as we could see, were covered with wood, encreasing us within a margin or bank. Vast spaces of country clear of timber were under water, and covered with the common reed [Note: Arundo phragmites. Linn.], which grew to the height of six or seven feet above the surface. The course and distance by the river was estimated to be from twenty-seven to thirty miles, on a north-north-west line.

July 3.—Towards the morning the storm abated, and at daylight we proceeded on our voyage. The main bed of the river was much contracted, but very deep, the waters spreading to the depth of a foot or eighteen inches over the banks, but all running on the same point of bearing. We met with considerable interruption from fallen timber, which in places nearly choked up the channel. After going about twenty miles, we lost the land and trees: the channel of the river, which lay through reeds, and was from one to three feet deep, ran northerly. This continued for three or four miles farther, when although there had been no previous change in the breadth, depth, and rapidity of the stream for several miles, and I was sanguine in my expectations of soon entering the long sought for Australian sea, it all at once eluded our farther pursuit by spreading on every point from north-west to north-east, among the ocean of reeds which surrounded us, still running with the same rapidity as before. There, was no channel whatever among those reeds, and the depth varied from three to five feet. This astonishing change (for I cannot call it a termination of the river), of course left me no alternative but to endeavour to return to some spot, on which we could effect a landing before dark. I estimated that during this day we had gone about twenty-four miles, on nearly the same point of bearing as yesterday. To assert positively that we were on the margin of the lake or sea into which this great body of water is discharged, might reasonably be deemed a conclusion which has nothing but conjecture for its basis; but if an opinion may be permitted to be hazarded from actual appearances, mine is decidedly in favour of our being in the immediate vicinity of an inland sea, or lake, most probably a shoal one, and gradually filling up by immense depositions from the higher lands, left by the waters which flow into it. It is most singular, that the high-lands on this continent seem to be confined to the sea-coast, or not to extend to any great distance from it.

July 7.—I returned with the boat late last night, and was glad to find that every thing had been removed to Mount Harris. Mr. Evans had not yet set out on his journey, but intends to do so to-morrow.

July 8.—Mr. Evans set forward to the north-east, taking with him eight or ten days' provisions, which I hoped would be sufficient to enable him to form a competent idea of the country we should now have to travel over. In the mean time we employed ourselves in diminishing our baggage, and setting aside eighteen weeks' provisions on a reduced ration, which was the utmost the horses could take; the remainder serving us for consumption during our stay here.

July 18.—During the last week the weather was very variable and unsettled, with constant gales from the north-west round to the south-west, and occasional heavy rain. We had reason to congratulate ourselves on the change of our situation: a delay of a few days would have swept us from the face of the earth. On the 10th, the river began to rise rapidly, and on the 15th, in the evening it was at its height, laying the whole of the low country under water, and insulating us on the spot on which we were; the water approaching within a few yards of the tent. Nothing could be more melancholy and dreary than the scene around us; and although personally safe, we could not contemplate without anxiety the difficulties we might expect to meet with, in passing over a country which the waters would leave wet and marshy, if not impracticable. By this morning the waters had retired as rapidly as they had risen, leaving us an outlet to the eastward, though I feared that to the north-east the waters would still remain. In the evening Mr. Evans returned, after an interesting though disagreeable journey. His horses were completely worn out by the difficulties of the country they had travelled over. His report, which I shall give at length, decided me as to the steps that were now to be pursued; and I determined on making nearly an easterly course to the river which he had discovered, and which was now honoured with the name of Lord Castlereagh. This route would take us over a drier country, and the river being within a short distance of Arbuthnot's range, would enable me to examine from those elevated points the country to the north-east and east; and to decide how far it might be advisable to trace the river, which it is my present inclination to do as long as its course continues to the eastward of north. From Mr. Evans's Journal, it will be perceived that the waters of the Macquarie have flowed to the north-east, and still continued flowing among the reeds, which forced him to alter his course. The circumstance of the river and other large bodies of water crossed by Mr. Evans all flowing to the north, seems to bear out the conclusion that these waters have but one common reservoir.

July 19.—A tempestuous night, with thunder, lightning, and rain. Impressed with the important use we should be able to make of our boats, it was determined to construct a carriage for the small one, which we did by the afternoon. Our labour was wasted; for we were altogether unable to contrive any harness by which the horses could draw it: we were therefore reluctantly obliged to relinquish our intention.

July 20.—The morning was fine; and after much contrivance, we succeeded in taking with us whatever was essential to our future security, and the whole of the provisions except two casks or flour. The horses were, however, very heavily laden, carrying at least three hundred and fifty pounds each; a weight which I was fearful the description of country we had to pass over would render still more burthensome. We had, however, relinquished every thing that was not indispensable, and the saddle horses were equally laden with the others. Mount Harris, under which we had remained for the last fortnight, is in lat. 31. 18. S., long. 147. 31. E. and variation 7. 48. On the summit of the hill we buried a bottle, containing a written scheme of our purposed route and intentions, with some silver coin. Our course during the day was east by north, by compass, over a level country intersected with marshes, over which the horses travelled with the utmost difficulty, and not without repeated falls. Considering how heavily they were laden, I was unwilling to press them at this early period of our journey, and halted after going seven miles on the above course. From Mount Harris, bearings were taken to the most remarkable elevations in Arbuthnot's Range, as follows:

Mount Exmouth, (northern extreme of the range) N. 79. E. Mount Harrison, (centre) N. 85. E. Vernon's Peake N. 88. E.

July 21—Proceeded on the same course, through a country of alternate brush and marsh: whatever obstacles the former opposed to the progress of the horses, were nothing to the distress occasioned by the latter, in which they sank up to their knees at every step; I could not suffer them to proceed farther than seven miles, which, indeed, was not accomplished without severe labour. It is a singular feature in this remarkable country, that the botany and soil are in all respects the same as two hundred and fifty miles farther to the south-west, presenting nothing new to our researches. Passed a very large chain of ponds now running to the north-east, and named them Wallis's Ponds, after my friend, Captain Wallis, of the 46th regiment.

July 22.—We passed over much the same country as yesterday, but having a large proportion of cypress forest. After travelling nearly ten miles, we halted on the edge of a very extensive flat, from three to four miles in diameter, covered with water. From this plain we had an excellent view of Arbuthnot's Range, which, from so low and level a country, appears of vast height. The horses failed much during the day, and several of them were severely wrung with their burthens.

July 23.—The weather continues remarkably fine and favourable to our progress over these plains. Our course to-day was chiefly through a thick brush of acacia and cypresses; a few trees of the eucalyptus and casuarina were intermixed. The marshy ground was not so frequent, and we effected between eight and nine miles, when we stopped on a small chain of ponds but now a running strean, doubtless having its rise in the marshy grounds a few miles south of us: its course was to the north. We saw and shot several unknown birds within these few days, but the botanical sameness continues. These ponds were named Morrissett's Ponds, after Capt. Morrissett, of the 48th regiment.

July 24.—About a mile and a half from last night's station, we crossed another small stream similar in all respects to Morrissett's Ponds. Our course was alternately over wet flats and dry brushes; but in the latter we met with difficulties which we did not anticipate, namely, dry bogs of a most dangerous description; they are from thirty to forty yards broad, and the apparent firmness of their surface treacherously conceals the danger beneath. One was discovered before the horses were too far advanced to retreat, and by unlading them, we passed safely over.

The horses were upon the other before we discovered the extent of our danger, and it was only by instantly cutting away their loads and harness, and by the exertion of all hands, that they were dragged out; but they were so exhausted by the struggles they had themselves made, that I found it would be highly imprudent to proceed farther, though we had only gone five miles and a half. Such of the horses as had not come up, their loads being carried over, crossed the bog half a mile higher, where the ground was somewhat firmer. We had this day the misfortune to find two of our horses much strained in their hind quarters. The soil of the brushes is in general a light, sandy loam; on the plains it is an alluvial mould, on a substratum of clay: the water on these plains is seldom deeper than the ankles, but travelling over them is very wearisome. Arbuthnot's Range was in sight during the whole day. The country was so generally level, that it was impossible to discern any inequality in it. The waters however, ran with a pretty brisk stream northerly.

July 25.—At nine o'clock we set forward with anxious hopes of reaching Castlereagh River in the course of the day; we struggled for nine miles through a line of country that baffles all description: we were literally up to the middle in water the whole way, and two of the horses were obliged to be unladen to get them over quicksand bogs. Finding a place sufficiently dry to pitch our tent on, though surrounded by water, we halted, both men and horses being too much exhausted to proceed farther. Mr. Evans thinking we could not be very far from the river, went forwards a couple of miles, when he came upon its banks. This same river, which last Wednesday week had been crossed without any difficulty, was now nearly on a level with its first or inner bank: and its width and rapidity precluded all hope of our being able to cross it until its subsidence. This was most perplexing intelligence, our situation being such that we could neither retreat nor advance beyond the bank of the river, which Mr. Evans represented as being both higher and drier ground, and to all appearance sufficiently elevated to protect us from the flood should it increase: thither I determined to remove in the morning, and to take such further measures as might be deemed advisable in our present hazardous situation. Since Mr. Evans re-crossed the river, we have had no rain in our immediate neighbourhood sufficient to cause the sudden rise, which therefore must be attributed to heavy falls among the mountains to the east-south-east, from whence I have no doubt it derives its source. It was most providential that Mr. Evans and his companions crossed the river when they did; a single day might have proved fatal to them. We would fain lessen to our own imagination the dangers which surround us, and eagerly grasp at every circumstance that tends in any way to enliven our future prospects. That Providence, whose protection has hitherto been so beneficently extended to us, will, we confidently hope, continue that protection, and lead us in safety to our journey's end.

Owing most probably to the violent motion it experienced, my chronometer stopped: this accident was the more to be lamented, as the watch with which I was furnished by the crown had also stopped, and we had now nothing to regulate our time by.

July 26.—We passed a dreadful night; the elements seemed to be bursting asunder, and we were almost deluged with rain. Towards noon the weather partially cleared tip. Our design of moving was however rendered abortive: we found it impossible to bring the horses near the tents to lade them, and the rain recommencing with great violence, continued throughout the day. An inmate of an alarming description took up its lodging in our tent during the last night, probably washed out of its hole by the rain: a large diamond snake was discovered coiled up among the flour bags, four or five feet from the doctor's bed.

July 27.—This morning the weather cleared up just in time to enable us to retreat to the river banks in safety, for we were washed out of the tent. The provisions and heavy baggage were carried by the people to a firmer spot of ground, at which place the horses being lightly laden, we got every thing transported to the river by one o'clock. Castlereagh River is certainly a stream of great magnitude; its channel is divided by numerous islands covered with trees: it measured in its narrowest part one hundred and eighty yards, and the flood that had now risen in it was such as to preclude any attempt to cross it. The outer banks were good firm land, apparently free from floods, and extending not more on this side than a quarter of a mile, when it became wet and marshy: the banks were from twelve to seventeen feet high, and gradually sloped to the water. The trees on this firm margin of land were a species of eucalyptus, cypresses, and the sterculia heterophylla, with a few casuarinae. This river doubtless discharges itself into that interior gulf, in which the waters of the Macquarie are merged: to that river it is in no respect inferior, and when the banks are full, the body of water in it must be even still more considerable. Towards evening I thought the waters were falling, which was an event we anxiously looked for, to enable us to proceed to Arbuthnot's Range, from the heights of which we hoped for an interesting view. Natives appear to be numerous; their guniahs (or bark-huts) are in every direction, and by their fire-places several muscle-shells of the same kind as those found on the Lachlan and Macquarie Rivers were seen. Game (kangaroos and emus), frequenting the dry banks of the river, were procured in abundance.

July 28.—The river during the night had risen upwards of eight feet; and still continued rising with surprising rapidity, running at the rate of from five to six miles per hour, bringing down with it great quantities of driftwood and other wreck. The islands were all deeply covered, and the whole scene was peculiarly grand and interesting. The sudden rise probably was caused by the heavy rains of the preceding days; but great must be the sources from whence so stupendous a body of water is supplied, and equally grand must be that reservoir, which is capable of containing such an accumulation of water as is derived from this and the Macquarie Rivers; not to mention the supplies from the occasional streams which had their sources in the marshes which we have crossed. The water was so extremely thick and turbid, that we could not use it; but were forced to send back to the marshes for what we wanted. At night, the river seemed at its greatest height.

July 29.—The waters this day subsided rapidly. It is evident that there has been no flood in the river for a very considerable period prior to the present one, there being no marks of wreck or rubbish on the trees or banks. Now the quantity of matter is astonishing, and, such as must take some years to remove. The rapid rise and fall in the water would seem to indicate that neither its source nor its embouchure can be at any great distance. The former is probably not far east of Arbuthnot's Range.

August 2.—It was not until this morning that the river had fallen sufficiently to allow us to ford it. Though the morning was unpromising with slight rain, it was not deemed prudent to lose a moment in passing it, while in our power; and by one o'clock every thing was safely over, to our great satisfaction. Before this, it had begun to rain hard, and it continued to do so throughout the day, and great part of the night. Our observations place this part of Castlereagh River in lat. 31. 14. 14. S., long. 148. 18. E., variation 8. 14. E.

August 3.—A dark cloudy morning. At nine o'clock proceeded on our eastern course towards Arbuthnot's Range. The river had risen in the night so considerably, that had we delayed until this morning, we should have been unable to pass it. The rain had rendered the ground so extremely soft and boggy, that we found it impossible to proceed above three-quarters of a mile on our eastern course. We therefore returned, resolving to keep close to the river's edge, until we should be enabled to sound the vein of quagmire, with which we appeared to be hemmed in. In this attempt we were equally unfortunate, the horses falling repeatedly: one rolled into the river, and it was with difficulty we saved him: my baggage was on him, and was entirely spoiled; the chart case and charts were materially damaged, and our spare thermometer broken: we therefore unladed the horses where they stood, and the men carried the provisions to a firmer spot, where they were reladen. We again proceeded easterly, and for upwards of a mile we travelled up to our knees in water and mud: the horses were here stopped by running waters from the marshes, encircling a spot of comparatively dry ground; they were again unladen, and with the utmost difficulty we got every thing safe over. Both men and horses were so much exhausted by the constant labour they had undergone, that I determined to halt, in order to restore our baggage to some order. Our ardent hopes are fixed upon the high lands of Arbuthnot's Range, which I estimate to be about twenty miles off. The intermediate country, we fear, will be one continued morass.

August 4.—Proceeded on our journey. In the seven miles and a half which we accomplished to-day, the water and bog were pretty equally divided; and a plain covered with the former was a great relief both to men and horses, since an apparently dry brush, or forest, was found a certain forerunner of quicksands and bogs. The natives appear pretty numerous: one was very daring, maintaining his ground at a distance armed with a formidable jagged spear and club, which he kept beating against each other, making the most singular gestures and noises that can be imagined: he followed us upwards of a mile, when he left us, joining several companions to the right of us. Emus and kangaroos abound, and there is a great diversity of birds, some of which have the most delightful notes, particularly the thrush.

August 5.—At three o'clock we were obliged to give up all attempts to proceed farther this day; it was with the utmost difficulty we accomplished six miles: for the last half mile, the horses were not on their legs for twenty yards together. This, too, was in the middle of an apparently dry forest of iron bark and cypress trees: the surface gave way but little to the human tread, but the horses were scarcely on it before the water sprang at every step, and the ground sank with them to their girths. In this dilemma, it was agreed to rest for the night, and in the morning endeavour to proceed to the nearest hill, which appeared to be distant about two miles and a half, with very light loads upon the best track we could find, and then return for the remainder of the baggage and stores. A foreknowledge of the difficulties we should have to encounter would certainly have prevented me from attempting to reach these mountains; the nature of this country baffles all reasonable expectation and conjecture, and that which appears one thing at a distance, has a quite different form and aspect when more nearly approached. Neither rivers, brushes, nor marshes, seem to make the least difference in the vegetation of this singular tract: a dreary uniformity pervades alike its geology and its botany.

August 6.—At eight o'clock the horses set forward with half the baggage; with considerable difficulty they at length reached the hill, and were immediately sent back for the remainder of the stores. The hill was about three miles from our camp, and from it a view of Arbuthnot's Range was obtained, distant nine or ten miles: its elevated points were extremely lofty, and of a dark, barren, and gloomy appearance; the rocks were of a dark grey, approaching to black, and from their crevices, a few stunted trees protruded themselves. It was half past three o'clock before every thing was removed to the foot of the hill, when it was much too late to think of proceeding, anxious as we were to arrive at the main range itself. We killed this day one of the largest kangaroos we had seen in any part of New South Wales, being from one hundred and fifty to one hundred and eighty pounds weight. These animals live in flocks like sheep; and I do not exaggerate, when I say that some hundreds were seen in the vicinity of this hill; it was consequently named Kangaroo Hill: several beautiful little rills of water have their source in it, but are soon lost in the immeasurable morass at its base.

August 7.—About a mile from Kangaroo Hill, after crossing a marshy plain, we came to a limestone rock, spreading in smaller pieces over a low hill. It is somewhat remarkable, that this stone should again be found precisely under the same meridian as seen on the Lachlan and Macquarie Rivers: the same stratum appears to have run from south to north, upwards of two hundred miles. This hill is certainly its northern termination, since beyond it the low and marshy plains of the interior commence. At one o'clock we arrived under the hill which Mr. Evans had previously ascended: at this spot I intended to remain a couple of days, as well to refresh the horses, as for the purpose of ascending Mount Exmouth, from whence I promised myself an extensive view of the country over which our intended route lay. On ascending the hill before mentioned, I was surprised with the remarkable effect which the situation appeared to have on the compass. The station I had chosen was the highest part, and nearly the centre of the hill; placing the compass on the rock before me, the card flew round with extreme velocity, and then suddenly settled at opposite points, the north point becoming the south. Astonished at such a phenomenon, I made the following observations. The compass on the rock, Mount Exmouth, bore S. 60. W. (its true bearing being N. 75. E.), and on raising it gradually to the eye, the card was violently agitated, and the same point now bore N. 67. E. About one hundred yards farther south, the compass was again placed on the rock; the effect on the compass was very different, Mount Exmouth bore E. 48. S., and the tent in the valley beneath S. 74. W. The card on raising the compass was rather less agitated than before, and from the eye, Mount Exmouth bore N. 77. E., and the tent S. 15. W., the true bearing of the latter being S. 13 1/2. W. Thus the magnetic fluid seemed on this spot to have less influence on the needle, than on the spot where its power was first observed; and at a short distance from the base of the hill the needle regained its natural position. The rocks, when broken, were of a dark iron grey: they did not appear to contain any iron, for when tried at the tent, the magnet had no power over them. I could not discern any regular stratum of rock, the hill being covered with large detached stones, many of which formed figures of five and six sides: the evening was too far advanced to permit any farther observations to be made. [Note: The island of Cannay, one of the Hebrides, affects the needle in a nearly similar manner. A rock in it is named The Loadstone Rock.] Observed the variation of the needle by azimuth, to be 6. 22. E.

August 8.—We set off early this morning to ascend Mount Exmouth, distant four or five miles: at its base we crossed a pretty stream of water, having its source in the Mount; it took us nearly two hours of hard labour to ascend its rugged summits: we were however amply gratified for our trouble by the extensive prospect we had of the surrounding country. Directing our view to the west, Mount Harris and Mount Forster, whose elevations do not exceed from two to three hundred feet, were distinctly seen at a distance of eighty-nine miles. These two spots excepted, from the south to the north it was a vast level, resembling the ocean in extent and appearance. From east-north-east to south, the country was broken and irregular; lofty hills arising from the midst of lesser elevations, their summits crowned with perpendicular rocks, in every variety of shape and form that the wildest imagination could paint. To this grand and picturesque scenery, Mount Exmouth presented a perpendicular front of at least one thousand feet high, when its descent became more gradual to its base in the valley beneath, its total elevation being little less than three thousand feet. To the north-east commencing at N. 33. E., and extending to N. 51. E., a lofty and magnificent range of hills was seen lifting their blue heads above the horizon. This range was honoured with the name of the Earl of Hardwicke, and was distant on a medium from one hundred to one hundred and twenty miles: its highest elevations were named respectively Mount Apsley, and Mount Shirley. The country between Mount Exmouth and this bounding range was broken into rugged hills, and apparently deep valleys, and several minor ranges of hills also appeared. The high lands from the east and south-east gradually lessened to the north-west, when they were lost in the immense levels, which bound the interior abyss of this singular country; the gulf in which both water and mountain seem to be as nothing. Mount Exmouth seems principally composed of iron-stone; and some of the richest ore I had yet seen was found upon it. On its sides were many different stones; but its perpendicular cliffs were of a dark bluish grey colour, shining when broken, very heavy, and close grained. Mount Harris, and Mount Exmouth, are composed of distinct materials, and in their formation bear not the slightest resemblance to each other; the granite of the former being more allied to the hills to the south-south-east of it, from which however it is distant at least one hundred miles, a perfect level filling up the intermediate space. Many new, and otherwise interesting subjects of the indigenous botany were discovered on the hills: among which were a species of persoonia, not previously observed, some xanthorrhaeae or grass trees, and two or three coast plants. The heteromorphous sterculia of the interior, and some species of eucalyptus of very stunted growth covered its sides, which however for a considerable distance were not deficient in grass. Sandstone was found in large masses in the rivulet at its base, with pebbles of various colours, and of species none of which was found on the mount itself. It was near four o'clock before we returned to the tent, highly gratified with our excursion.

August 9.—In the course of the day, I again ascended Loadstone Hill, and repeated the experiments made on Friday, with the same results. Several different stations on the summit were tried, and the needle was variously affected; the spot where the phenomenon was first observed seemed to have the greatest effect on the needle. A common sewing needle was strongly rubbed with a magnet, and balanced on the point of the rock, when it was much agitated, and the point flew round from the north to the south. The needle of the circumferenter, taken out of the box, was affected in a similar manner, only that when balanced on the rock, the fluid did not possess sufficient power to turn the point more than one point of the circle instead of quite round, as when balanced in the compass box. A compound magnet was laid on the rock, and applied to it in different ways, but it did not seem in any manner affected by the power which had so surprised us with its effect on the compass. The weather within the last week has become perceptibly warmer: the thermometer being seldom under 70 degrees at noon. The fires of the natives were seen at no great distance from us; and they seem to attend upon our motions pretty closely. The observations made here placed us in lat. 31. 13. S., long. 148. 41. 30. E., and I estimate the mean variation to be about 7 1/2 easterly. We found that no reliance could be placed on bearings taken with the compass on heights in this vicinity, and I am fearful that the bearings taken from Mount Exmouth will require verification, a difference of 4 degrees being observed in some, when compared with other bearings, which could not be supposed to be affected by the magnetic fluid.

August 10.—Proceeded on our journey: our course for the first six or seven miles being to the north-north-east, and afterwards north-east half east, which latter course I intended to steer for some time. It was the best day's travelling we had experienced since quitting the Macquarie River, being generally over low strong ridges, the sides and summits of some of which were very thick brush of cypress trees, and small shrubs, particularly the last two miles. We stopped for the evening in an extensive low valley north of Mount Exmouth, and running under its base, bounded on the north-east by low forest hills. To the south the hills were rocky, abrupt, and precipitous. On the whole we accomplished eleven miles.

August 11.—Our route lay over low valleys of considerable extent of open forest ground, but so soft and boggy, that it was with difficulty we made any progress: it would seem that much rain had fallen here lately, and completely saturated the soil, which is a light, sandy mould. In these valleys there are small streams of water, having their origin in the surrounding hills; they all terminate northerly. We could accomplish but seven miles on a north-east by east course. In the evening we had an awful storm of thunder and lightning, accompanied with torrents of rain. The reverberation of sound among the hills was astonishing. The natives continue in our vicinity unheeded, and unheeding: even the noise of their mogo upon the trees is a relief from the otherwise utter loneliness of feeling we cannot help experiencing in these desolate wilds.

August 12.—We found that we could not maintain our direct course, as the low ground was so boggy, that the horses were altogether unable to move on it. Keeping therefore the banks of the little stream where the ground was firmer, we reached the chain of hills bounding the valley to the southward: we wound along the base of the hills on a variety of courses, not being able to quit them twenty yards without being bogged. Finding that the hills trended too much to the south-west, we kept down the bed of a small stream for two or three miles, and halted on a fine apple tree flat of rich land, watered by a very fine small stream, which was joined by the one we came down. The main strewn ran to the northward. The apple tree flats are uniformly of firm hard ground, while the soil on which grow the iron-bark, pine, and box, is as invariably a loose sand, rendered by the rain a perfect quicksand. These bogs are the more provoking, as without such impediments the country is clear and open, and as favourable for travelling over as could be wished: we have had any thing but a dry season, and it is to the heavy rain which might naturally be expected to fall near high mountains, that our present difficulties must be ascribed. We travelled between nine and ten miles, but our course made good was nearly south-east only five miles. A few new plants were found: the hills were a mere bed of iron ore.

August 13.—We proceeded at our usual hour; and did not halt till near sunset, but accomplished no more than six miles, in the course of which the horses were obliged to be unladen, and the men carried the loads upwards of half a mile before the horses could be got across the quicksands. They are indeed properly so termed, consisting of two or three inches of light mould, on about eighteen inches of loose sand, the whole covering a rocky or stony bottom. On treading on them, water would fly up several inches; and it was with difficulty men could pass over them, much less horses. Quicksands of a similar nature prevented our reaching a small creek running under a high craggy ridge of hills; we therefore stopped at the edges of them, every body completely worn out. The appearance of the country passed over was most desolate and forbidding, but quite open, interspersed with miserable rocky crags, on which grew the cypress and eucalyptus. On the more level portions of the country, a new and large species of eucalyptus, and another of its genus (the iron bark), were the principal if not the only trees. Many of the rocks were pointed and basaltic, but the general species was a coarse sandstone. Miserable as the country was in other respects, it was fruitful in new plants.

August 14.—As it rained hard during the night, and the rain still continued to fall in thick showers, I thought it advisable to rest.

August 15.—Cloudy, with strong winds from the south-east. We crossed the creek about two miles from our resting-place, but soon found that any attempt to advance in that quarter would be abortive, the morass and quicksands extending into the very water, and denying all egress. We therefore recrossed the rivulet about a mile more northerly with better success, and succeeded in gaining some stony hills, which, with two or three intervening marshy valleys, continued for the rest of the day's route; the latter part being up very high, rocky, barren hills, with narrow defiles. From these heights we descended into a pretty valley of considerable extent, and, to our great joy, of sound, firm soil, with plenty of good grass: the water however was strongly impregnated with iron, so that we could hardly drink it. This valley, which we named Wiltden Valley, was enclosed on all sides except the north, by lofty, rocky hills of coarse sandstone, adorned with various species of acacia in full bloom, with a vast variety of other flowering shrubs of the most beautiful and delicate description, adding greatly to our botanical collection. We accomplished in the whole twelve or thirteen miles, about six of which were in the direction of our proper course.

August 16.—We had hardly begun to lade the horses, when the rain recommenced with greater violence than in the night, and effectually prevented us from proceeding. The country presents sufficient obstructions to our progress, not to render the delay caused by a day's rain a matter of much inquietude. The loss of time is of little consideration, when compared with the soft and boggy ground which such heavy falls leave. A species of banksia was seen to-day under the same meridian as on the Macquarie. It would seem that particular productions of the vegetable as well as of the mineral kingdom run in veins nearly north and south through the country. This peculiarity has been remarked of other plants, besides the species of banksia.

August 17.—Our course this day led us over a barren, rocky country, consisting of low stony ranges, divided by valleys of pure sand, and usually wet and marshy: latterly we appear to be descending from a considerable height, to a lower country to the north-east. The whole was a mere scrub covered with dwarf iron barks, apple trees, and small gums; the soil scarcely any thing but sand, on which grass grew in single detached roots. The horses fell repeatedly in the course of the day, and they were now so weak that they sank at every soft place. Between four and five o'clock, after travelling about ten hours, we stopped at a small drain of water for the night, having accomplished nearly eleven miles. In our track we saw no signs of natives, and the country seemed abandoned of every living thing. Silence and desolation reigned around.

August 18.—It is impossible to describe in adequate language the different trying obstructions we encountered during this day's journey: after meeting and overcoming many minor difficulties of bog and quicksand, we had accomplished nearly eleven miles, and were looking out for a place to rest, when we entered a very thick forest of small iron barks which had been lately burnt; and their black stems and branches, with the dull bluish colour of their foliage, gave the whole a singularly dismal and gloomy appearance. So thick was the forest that we could hardly turn our horses, nor could the sun's rays penetrate to the sandy desert on which these trees grew. Without the usual appearances of a bog, our horses were in an instant up to their bellies, and the difficulties we had in extricating them would hardly obtain belief. In this dilemma, scarcely able to see which way to turn, we traversed the margin of this extensive quicksand for nearly three miles in a direction contrary to our course, before we could find firm ground or water for the horses, which we did not effect till sunset; and then (as for the last three days) there was nothing for them to eat but prickly grass, which possesses no nourishing qualities. This fare, after their hard labour, reduces them daily.

August 19.—After wandering about the whole day without gaining any thing on our course, for the quicksands kept us revolving as it were in a circle, the exhaustion of the horses obliged us to stop. It was painful to behold them, after being disencumbered of their loads, lay themselves down like dogs about us: it was the fourth day that they had been without grass, and they preferred the tender branches of shrubs, etc., to the prickly grass. The backs of the greater part of them were, notwithstanding every care, dreadfully galled, so that they could, when first saddled, scarcely stand under their burdens. These quicksands lie in the hollows between the low irregular hills, which rise on this otherwise level country: their point of discharge is uniformly north-westerly. The union of many of these minor drains forms occasionally a large one, and the points of the hills which meet upon them afford the only means of crossing them. It was evident that the early part of the winter had been very wet., and the late rains had probably been the cause of these morasses, which still continued to drain themselves off in running water. This region must at all times be impassable from opposite causes: in wet seasons it is a bog; in dry ones, there is no water. Finding, as above remarked, that northerly and north-east the country declined as it were to nothing, it was resolved to pursue a more easterly course than that hitherto followed; and instead of attempting to go round the morasses which we might meet with to the north, to follow them southerly, a course which in time must certainly take us to a more elevated country. Such a road is rendered now absolutely necessary by the condition of the horses. Our dogs, which had so long contributed to our support, had been for the last four days dependant upon us for theirs, and we were too much indebted to their exertions not to share our meals with them with cheerfulness. These woods abound with kangaroo rats, and it is singular that, pinched as the dogs were, they would not touch them even when cooked.

August 20.—This day after travelling upwards of nine miles, and having pushed the horses at the risk of their lives through two minor branches of the bog, what was our mortification to find, that we were within a few hundred yards of the spot we set out from! We had first attempted to cross the main bog northerly, and afterwards kept along its edge southerly; and the result was, that we found it to extend in a complete circle around us. From a slight rise in the centre of it, we could see the country to the north-east, north, and north-west, low and uneven; Hardwicke's Range distant about forty miles, bounding it between the north and east. The result of this day's exertion quite subdued our fortitude, and for a moment a feeling nearly allied to despair had possession of our minds. We knew not which way to turn ourselves. To return to Arbuthnot's Range, and again undergo what it had cost us so much to overcome, could not be thought of for a moment; but upon that mature reflection which our serious situation demanded, it was deemed the most prudent plan to return so far back as would enable us to reach the higher lands to the south-east. This we expected to do by Saturday evening: twenty miles back we had left land of considerable elevation; and we could only hope that in its vicinity we should find a dry ridge on which to accomplish our purpose, and occasionally a patch of country in which the horses might find subsistence; for they were at present very much reduced.

August 23.—We returned yesterday to Parry's Rivulet, within twelve miles of Weltden Valley, which was the whole distance we had gone in the direction of our course towards the coast, although we had travelled during the week upwards of seventy miles. The weather for the last four days has been extremely tempestuous, with slight showers of hail and rain: the winds were chiefly from the west and north-west, the temperature being extremely cold for the latitude and season. The observations of to-day place this station in lat. 30. 57. 20., long. 149. 20. E. Variation 8. 42. E.

August 24.—We were a little surprised at finding that a severe frost had taken place during the night, and that the thermometer was now as low as 28 degrees. Ice lay within a few yards of our fire, of the thickness of a dollar. Our course throughout the day was southerly, and led us up the banks of Parry's Rivulet. We experienced fewer difficulties than on any day since we had entered this desert, and accomplished between nine and ten miles, at the end of which we entered a small valley of good forest ground with tolerable grass; though early in the day, the horses needed refreshment too much, not to induce me to stop here for the remainder of it: as we could not at the utmost have gone above two miles farther. This valley, and the appearance of forest hills to the southward, gave us strong hopes that by continuing our present course for a day or two longer we should get into a better line of country, and be enabled to resume our easterly course. Parry's Rivulet was here a series of large ponds, near which were traces of natives, but of old date. In this desert, we have never met with any signs that can lead us to believe it has ever been before crossed by any human being.

August 25.—A smart frost during the night: the morning fine and clear. At eight o'clock we proceeded on our route, taking a more easterly direction according to circumstances. Between three and four miles from our camp, we had an extensive view to the east and south-east, and saw with extreme satisfaction a lofty chain of fine forest hills thinly timbered, bearing east-south-east of us; and distant fourteen or fifteen miles. To the east were extensive flats, bare of timber, and apparently either composed of white sand, or covered with dead grass; our distance would not enable us to distinguish which: these flats were bounded by remote rising hills seemingly clear and open. A high peak, bearing north, was named Kerr's Peak; and a very lofty mount, under which the west extremity of the plains lay, was named Mount Tetley: and the westernmost remarkable hill in the chain first mentioned, Whitwell Hill. The bogginess and ruggedness of our route, for the remainder of the day, sufficiently tried our strength: we accomplished however thirteen miles, and halted in a small valley about four miles south of Whitwell Hill. This valley was bounded east and west by rocky hills, but the soil was better, and the grass of good quality. The base of these hills was of close-grained white-coloured granite, or whinstone: the summits of good freestone: on the sides several good pieces of iron ore were picked up.

August 26.—While Mr. Evans proceeded with the horses on an eastern course for Mount Tetley, Dr. Harris and myself went towards the spacious valley at the foot of Whitwell Hill. This we soon reached, and travelled down its centre, along the banks of a beautiful stream of water which fertilized and drained it. The extent of this valley towards the south-west, we could not discover, as its windings were lost among the forest hills in that direction. We went down to the east between seven and eight miles, when we rejoined the horses at the base of an elevated conical hill, standing detached at its east entrance, which was here four or five miles wide. On ascending this hill, the view which was on all sides presented to our delighted eyes was of the most varied and exhilarating kind. Hills, dales, and plains of the richest description lay before us, bounded to the east by fine hills, beyond which were seen elevated mountains. To the north-east an extensive valley, from eight to ten miles wide, led to Hardwicke's Range, being a distance of about thirty-five miles. In this great valley were numerous low hills and plains, thinly studded with timber, and watered by the stream, down the banks of which we had travelled. From its eastern side, these low hills gradually rose to a loftier elevation: but were still thinly timbered, and covered with grass. To the east-south-east, and south-east, clear plains extended to the foot of very lofty forest hills, at a medium distance of from twenty-five to forty miles. These were the plains seen on our yesterday's route, and which we feared were sand. We found them to consist of a rich dry vegetable soil; and although, from their vast extent, they may, as a whole, be properly denominated plains, yet their surfaces were slightly broken into gentle eminences with occasional clumps, and lines of timber. Their white appearance was occasioned by the grass having been burnt early in the year, and the young growth killed by the frosts. The little rivulet, that watered the north-west side of this track of country, had overflowed within these few days; but the ground left by the retreating waters was as firm and solid, as those parts which had not been touched. The sides of the hills were of the same black mould, stony towards their summits, and the higher eminences rocky. The rocks were of a very hard whinstone, the stratum nearly perpendicular, or rather standing up in regular basaltic figures, similar to those on Loadstone Hill. These valleys and hills abound with kangaroos, and on the plains numbers of emus were seen. We seemed to be once more in the land of plenty, and the horses as well as men had cause to rejoice at the change, from the miserable harassing deserts through which we had been struggling for the last six weeks, to this beautiful and fertile country. From the hill on which we stood, bearings were taken to the most remarkable points and objects connected with the survey; and the most distinguished, in point of beauty or singularity of appearance, were honoured with distinctive appellations. The valley down which we had travelled was called Lushington's Valley (after the Secretary to His Majesty's Treasury); the extensive one to the north-east, leading to Hardwicke's Range, Camden Valley (after the noble Marquis); the plains to the east and south-east were honoured with the name of Lord Liverpool; the hills bounding Lushington's Valley, on the south side, Vansittart's Hills, after the Chancellor of the Exchequer; while several less remarkable hills were designated after persons endeared to our recollections by early friendship. A great variety of new plants rewarded the exertions of our botanist, in ascending Mount Tetley; and many, hitherto only known on the coast, were discovered on the hills and in the valleys: the acacia pendula was also seen; it had hitherto been the usual characteristic of wet lands, but it was here growing on the most dry and elevated situations. The timber on the plains and hills was chiefly those species of eucalyptus called apple tree, box, and gum trees; and on the banks of the rivulet were a few large casuarina. So much time was consumed in ascending hills and examining the country, that we did not go more than ten miles on a direct course: it was however time well bestowed. Three native fires were seen in Lushington's Valley, but the whole of this part of the country appears to be very thinly inhabited; a few wandering families making up the total of its population. The small rivulet in Lushington's Valley was named Yorke's Rivulet, in honour of Sir J. S. Yorke.

August 27.—Pursuing our course to the eastward, towards the range of low hills bordering the plains in that quarter, between five and six miles, we came to a fine stream of water, crossing the plains from the south to the north. There had been a flood in this rivulet within these few days, marks of which were observed about fifteen feet high; but still within the banks. It appears that the plains are chiefly flooded from Yorke's Rivulet, the remaining waters of which, together with rain-water, were in several places still standing on the surface; but not to the extent that the horizontal level of these plains would have led me to suppose would probably be the case. The far greater portion was a rich dry soil, and that the water is never permanent on any part of them is clearly demonstrated by the total absence of any aquatic or bog plants. From this rivulet, the three main branches of these immense plains were clearly visible to the east by south-south-east, and north-east. Of the extent of the two former, we could only judge from the lofty bounding chains of hills in those quarters; and which we could not estimate to be nearer than from forty-five to fifty miles. Hardwicke's Range bounded these to the north-east, with many intervening beautiful hills and valleys. We found the distance across the plains to the hill where we stopped, to be upwards of fourteen miles on an east line. Chains and ridges of low forest hills, which gradually rise from the horizontal level, are scattered over these plains, and stand for the most part detached like islands; varying the scenery in a most picturesque manner, as they are generally clothed with wood of apple tree, cypress, and other species of eucalyptus, intermingled with various acacias in full flower. Mr. Evans ascended Mount Tetley to take bearings from it. He found the compass to be affected in a similar manner to that remarked on Loadstone Hill; the north point of it when placed on the rock, becoming the south. This remarkable alteration of the needle was also observed on several other hills in this vicinity, but in a less degree; the bearings generally varying from two to three points from the truth. On the hill under which we stopped this evening, named View Hill, the needle varied three points. In consequence of the heavy rains and recent floods, travelling on many parts of these plains was very heavy; the soil being a rick loose loam, of a dark red approaching to a black colour, but of great apparent fertility and strength: some hundreds of kangaroos and emus were seen in the course of the day. We killed several, the dogs being absolutely fatigued with slaughter: the game was by no means shy, but came close up to us, as if to examine us. Indeed I do not think they are much disturbed by natives, of whom we have seen few signs in this neighbourhood. The stream crossing the plains was named Bowen's Rivulet, in honour of Commissioner Bowen, of the Navy Board.

August 28.—The season continues to get warm and sultry. We pursued an east-north-east course during our day's journey, leading us through a fine open forest country generally level in the direction of our course, but rising into forest hills to the north and south of us. At eight miles, ascending from this level, we saw the great plains which extend along the line of our course, and are separated from us by a rich open country of hill and vale, distant four or five miles. A branch from these plains led to the north-east across our course, and was distant five or six miles. We proceeded in the whole ten miles, and stopped in a pretty forest valley, with plenty of water and good grass. The stones composing the hills were very various, sometimes different species of granite, then sandstone, and on others loose slate. On View Hill we found particularly rich iron stone. The soil was uniformly good, and covered with grass; the country by no means thickly timbered, chiefly with box, and a few cypresses.

August 29.—On our departure we almost immediately descended a rocky and steep hill, covered with cypress and small brush; from thence we descended upon a level forest country, which continued for the remainder of our journey (seven and a half miles), to the edge of the extensive flat which we had seen yesterday. As we should not have been able to cross it before nightfall, I thought it better to remain where there was plenty of grass and water. From our tent we had a singularly picturesque and pleasing prospect. To the north, Hardwicke's Range, distant between forty and fifty miles: the country broken into low forest hills and plains to its base. To the north-east, east, and south-east, our view was bounded by beautiful forest hills seldom rising to any great elevation, thinly wooded, and covered with grass. These hills bounded the plains, and varied in distance from ten to thirty miles. To the north-east the country was lowest, but appeared good and open: that part of the plain near which we encamped was wet and marshy; and the horizontal level of the whole appeared to warrant the supposition that at some (perhaps not distant) period, these vast plains formed chains of inland lakes, which the washings from the hills have now nearly filled up; as the water at present does not exceed a few inches in depth, and is only partially spread on the surface, forming but a moderate proportion of the whole. In dry seasons there is evidently none: the hills passed over this day were of a curious species of pudding-stone and freestone. The hills on the opposite side of the plains were named Melville Hills, in honour of the first Lord of the Admiralty; and the valley at the extremity of it leading to Hardwicke's Range, Barrow's Valley, after one of the secretaries of that board.

August 30.—A day of rest and refreshment to ourselves and horses. Game abounds, and our dogs abundantly supply us. The observations made here, place our situation in lat. 31. 7., long. 150. 10. E.

August 31.—We were agreeably disappointed, in finding that the wet marshy ground did not extend above three quarters of a mile, the remainder being dry firm land of the richest description: at six miles we crossed a considerable stream, running to the north through Barrow's Valley: this stream, divided the plain into nearly two equal parts, it being ten miles and a half across. This stream had been very recently flooded, and the water, yet muddy, had not subsided within its proper level; the height of the banks from fifteen to twenty feet. On the east side of the plain, we found the marsh extend about one mile and a quarter from the forest ground which borders it; though wet, it was now strong ground, and might easily be laid dry. On quitting the plains we entered a very fine open forest flat, through which we proceeded a mile and a half, and encamped for the evening under a lofty hill named Mount Dundas, by a small spring of excellent water. Ascending this mountain, we found that the country in the line of our course was high, broken forest land, the easternmost ranges of which (distant from thirty-five to forty miles) appeared to have a stream running under them, by reason of the thick haze which rose from the valley beneath. To the north bending round to the north-east, the country was beautifully picturesque, consisting of low, open forest hills, bounded by higher chains of hills that formed the southern side of the spacious valley under Hardwicke's Range; through which I no longer doubted that a considerable stream had its course, since all the waters we had hitherto crossed ran in that direction. A great many smokes, arising from the fires of the natives, were seen to the north-east and north. To the south-east, south, and south-west, our view extended over that vast tract of level champaign country intermingled with hills, sometimes rising into lofty peaks, as has already been described. The abundance of game, such as emus, and kangaroos, and of wild ducks on the stream, was wonderful: our dogs after severe battles killed two emus, who however tore one of them very dangerously. We called the river which divided and watered the plain Field's River, in honour of the Judge of the Supreme Court.

September 1.—We pursued our course to the east-north-east, winding through rich valleys bounded by lofty forest hills for seven miles; when by a gentle descent we entered a rich and spacious vale, bounded on the east by very high hills, and on the west by others less elevated. At twelve miles we stopped at some ponds near the centre of the vale. The hills were very stony, of various species—granite, freestone, and pudding-stone; they were however well covered with grass, and quite clear and open; the valleys and levels excellent, with good timber, chiefly apple tree, box, and gum. On the higher ridges of the hills, and occasionally on their sides, were many fine cypresses: there was nothing grand or imposing in the scenery; but it was simple and attractive from its richness and extent: the hills sometimes rose into singular forms which were continually changing in our progress, and appeared well calculated to afford an ample range of sheep pasture. The extensive vale in which we stopped was named Goulburn Vale, in honour of the under Secretary of State for the colonies.