Wednesday, July 23.

Camp 41. Wind cold from north by west; neither dew nor frost.

Thursday, July 24.

Camp 41. Wind from same quarter or a little more west; neither dew or frost but very cold during the night. Crossed the river here to save a considerable sweep first to south between one and a half to two miles, then to north of east. Started at 8.20 a.m. This is now the sixth horse we have been compelled to kill for food, I trust it may be the last; went across the river yesterday and saw the tracks of a few head of cattle and from what I could judge not very old; hope to get to a station during the day. From our camp here a fine peak on left side of river, between main range and river, bears 48 degrees east of north. At the bend on right bank of river, below our camp quite two miles distant, the end of a large hill comes on to the river bearing 195 degrees; a very rugged peak east of it on same side bears 183 1/2 degrees. Only two packhorses and one camel now. Bearing east 33 1/2 degrees south over stony granite ridges; made the river at a southerly bend at eight miles. A deep creek joins at this bend. Then bearing south-east by south for a peak ahead, at two and a half miles crossed large oak creek and several smaller ones before that; at four and a quarter miles at peak changed course to south 2 degrees west; at five miles made river, crossing in our course several creeks from eastward. Mount McConnell from this bears a little east of south-south-east; instead of altering our course to south 2 degrees west from the peak, a good road avoiding some rugged ranges could be had by keeping right on course of south 23 1/2 degrees east. The river immediately below this passes in an easterly direction between two ranges that come right on to it. The peak on the left bank I have called Foster's Peak after A.W. Foster, Esquire, of the Murray River, New South Wales. The bluff on the right bank and a little nearer than the peak I have called the McLeod after James McLeod, Esquire, of the Darling River, New South Wales. A fine long leading range some distance from right bank of river, running north and south, and apparently table-topped, I have called the Fletcher after G.B. Fletcher, Esquire, Tapio, Darling River, New South Wales.

Friday, July 25.

Camp 42. Started at 8.35 a.m.; first over stony ridge, then good open forest on a bearing of east by south; at five miles struck a river from north-north-west which, immediately after crossing, went about east half north. This river I have called the Foster after A.W. Foster, Esquire, of the Murray, New South Wales; followed it in its course for two and three-quarter miles, it then suddenly turns south-east; had to follow it a quarter of a mile. Large mountain lying right across my course and running about north by west and south by east; which I have called Mount Buchanan after Alexander Buchanan, Esquire, of Anlaby, South Australia, from whom the whole of this party met with the utmost kindness and consideration. I then crossed over and went on a bearing of east by north through open country, till at one and three-quarter miles crossed a fine river from north by west which I have called the Scott after E.B. Scott, Esquire, of Moorno on the Murray River, New South Wales. Went on this course about two and a half miles; ascended a peak here and found Mount McConnell to bear 225 degrees. Another large conspicuous mount from seven to eight miles off bears 340 degrees; west and south of Mount Buchanan bears 261 degrees. Changed course here to south one-quarter west, an immense mountain being ahead in the easterly course, I should like to be able to go, which I have called Mount Middleton after our right hand man, one of the party, whose attention to his difficult duties and the good example he showed to the rest of the party would entitle him to the esteem of anyone in my situation. One and a quarter miles south one-quarter west, then east half-south; immediately after the river changing eastwardly the Foster River joins it; about two and a quarter miles on last course and camped; the camel about done up and the country next to impassable; before getting to camp had to ascend a long stony and steep range, and no sooner up than down again in another place, and which did not advance us half a mile on our course. We had a hard frost last night; very difficult country. Mount McConnell bears 238 1/2 degrees.

Saturday, July 26.

Camp 43. A dewless and frostless night. Camel very much done up. Started at 7.53, followed the River Scott. On the left bank is a high precipitous mountain which I have called the Frederick, and on the right hand another high mount which I have called the Phillip, after the two brothers Fletcher of Melbourne. Just as the river takes a south-east course the Scott joins the Burdekin as it comes from south-south-west, flowing to north-north-east. In its whole width a perfect mass of slippery rocks and deep water, and where we struck it no apparent current; although when it contracts more and runs through more narrow rocks there is a strong and rapid stream. After getting about one and a quarter miles along its bank in a north-north-west direction was compelled to halt; perfectly impracticable and will be a most intricate crossing. Mount McConnell bears from this crossing-place about 241 1/2 degrees. This is a fearful country and now that I see it I am not the least surprised at not finding the Upper Burdekin peopled and stocked. A man has difficulty in getting along on foot, much more so with quadrupeds; as for vehicles of any kind quite out of the question anywhere in this quarter. I am at present at a loss to conjecture how the dray, or drays and stock, found their way up the river so far, unless they went up west of Mount McConnell or found some more practicable route lower down the Burdekin, which latter I very much doubt. The hill just opposite our encampment I have called the Poole after R.T. Poole, Esquire, of South Australia. We are encamped by a large gum tree, as the river takes an east by south course for some distance. The most rugged country a man would ever wish to behold; and to add to our difficulties in swimming across numbers of huge alligators are here close to the camp. I ascended the hill just behind our camp with much difficulty to view the country ahead and about me. It was exceedingly stony and rocky. From it an extensive view, but much higher hills were in the distance in various directions. It is about three-quarters of a mile distant from our camp and bears from it 240 degrees; Mount McConnell bears 242 1/2 degrees. A conspicuous dark mount, from eight to ten miles off, bears 34 1/2, round the north end of which the Burdekin passes. The furthest point of the Burdekin seen along its course, about four miles off, at which place it suddenly runs to the northward 63 1/2 degrees. A considerable sweep of the river between this and Mount McConnell bears 216 1/2 degrees from five to six miles distant. A high peak, and close by it a high mountain in the same line of ranges about seven to eight miles off across the river, bear respectively 93 1/2 and 104 1/2 degrees. Beyond the north end (distant) of the above range is to be seen another dark mountain bearing 76 1/2 degrees. Killed another unfortunate horse (poor old Joseph Buggins). The hill on which I now stand I have called Mount Bertram after Alexander Bertram, Esquire, of Sandhurst, Victoria. The mount that bears 104 1/2 degrees from this, beyond the river, I have called Mount Haverfield after —— Haverfield, Esquire, of Melbourne. The peak that bears 93 1/2 degrees I have called the Grierson after R. Grierson, Esquire, of Great Bourke Street West, Melbourne. The conspicuous mountain that bears 34 1/2 degrees I have called Mount Roberts after G. Roberts, Esquire, of the Murray, New South Wales.

Sunday, July 27.

No passage over the ridge or mountains practicable. A raft constructed of such materials as we can get here floated but indifferently with our canteens, one leaky air pillow, and our boiling vessels inverted, some of which were not air-tight, is ready for crossing tomorrow, the things and the men that swim but indifferently; many of the alligators close by in the same reach.

Monday, July 28.

After much swimming by Middleton and Hodgkinson we managed to cross all the things and the camel. The horses we could not get to cross so left them with the men to look after them till tomorrow when we shall try them again and hope for better success; it is a most difficult, intricate, and dangerous place; if they all cross in safety it is more than I expect.

Tuesday, July 29.

Camp 45. By much perseverance and difficulty got the horses and remainder of the men safe across; by 4 p.m. packed up and started down the river east by south, very rough, walking nearly all the way for about one mile, at which place we take to the ranges; in the morning, on our way at about three-quarters of a mile, two considerable running creeks join the river; another running creek joins the river at camp. I shall take the camel on and our only packhorse-load of stuff shall leave behind here till it can be sent for; it consists chiefly of seeds which I should be sorry to lose. I had intended to leave the camel here also, but after thought it best to try and take him on over the ranges one stage and kill him, and by doing so save a horse.

Wednesday, July 30.

Camp 46. Buried the things safely and securely from wet, and should not the natives find them and dig them up they will be perfectly secure till we can send back for them. Obliged to shoe one of the horses which lost his shoe in crossing yesterday on the rocks. Started at 10.15 and at once tackled the range, up a steep hill, down again in a north-east by north direction, crossed a deep ravine, and ascended the first of a series of steep stony hills in a north-east by east course; from the summit Mount McConnell bears 246 degrees. The conspicuous mount round the north side of which the Burdekin passes bears 23 degrees; followed the river in that direction for about five and a half miles to a creek, the north and east drainage of the large range under the western side of which we were latterly travelling, and round the termination of them we camped at a running creek of excellent water coming from east of south-east. We are here very reluctantly obliged to kill our good and faithful companion the last remaining camel (Siva) that was with us in all our reconnoiterings and other journeys; he was indeed a splendid animal but now quite unfit to travel beyond this. I hope to get sufficient of his flesh to carry us into a station, or if the country is at all passable to Port Denison. We are encamped under some splendid shady large-leafed tree in the bed of the creek, leaves about ten inches broad and twelve to fifteen inches long; some of the men found that the leaves dry were a good substitute for tobacco and were soon puffing a cloud.

Thursday, July 31.

Spelled here today to boil down camel. Mild night, day warm, many recent traces of natives here under the shade of these trees, they are firing the grass in various directions around us but we never see anything of them. The remnants of a broken gourd we found here, it has been used as a vessel for carrying water; it was the size of a large coconut with a neck about six inches long, through one side of which they had drilled a hole for a cord for slinging on their arms.

Friday, August 1.

In Camp. Boiling down the camel's meat. Poole unwell with a slight attack of fever and ague. We made a fine breakfast this morning off the camel tripe and feet. I went out onto the top of a very high hill to have a look at the country in front of us. We shall start tomorrow; I hope shortly to find a station, if not we shall have to kill another horse, and shall have to walk and ride alternately; I hope we shall not come to that as the whole party will be obliged to be kept back on account of having to keep pace with the pedestrian.

Saturday, August 2.

Started at 8.53 a.m., course east by north, each man taking with him a certain weight of the boiled camel before him, as we are now reduced to eleven horses, one alone with pack-bags. After travelling for some nine or ten miles we came upon the tracks of bullocks, quite fresh, and shortly after were gratified by the sight of the bullocks themselves with two white men tailing them. We soon now were pitching into roast beef and damper and, don't let me forget, potatoes and mustard. The station belongs to Messrs. Harvey and Somers and is situated on the River Bowen, a stream that flows northward into the Burdekin. Mr. Somers was not in on our arrival; he soon however came in, and we were most hospitably received by him. The flour during the night and for some few days after had the most astonishing effect on all of us from the fact that our digestive organs could not digest the bread, being so accustomed to the easily digested meat; we were most of us in great pain and our legs and feet swelled very much.

THE END