(Illustration:  Zoe’s glen.)

We were steering for an enticing-looking glen between two high hills about south-south-west.  We passed over sandhills, through scrubs, and eventually on to open ground.  At two or three miles from the new range we crossed a kind of dry swamp or water flat, being the end of a gum creek.  A creek was seen to issue from the glen as we approached, and at twelve miles from our last camp we came upon running water in the three channels which existed.  The day was warm, 94 degrees.  The water was slightly brackish.  Heat and cold are evidently relative perceptions, for this morning, although the thermometer stood at 58 degrees, I felt the atmosphere exceedingly cold.  We took a walk up the glen whence the creek flows, and on to some hills which environ it.  The water was rushing rapidly down the glen; we found several fine rock-basins—­one in particular was nine or ten feet deep, the pellucid element descending into it from a small cascade of the rocks above; this was the largest sheet of water per se I had yet discovered upon this expedition.  It formed a most picturesque and delightful bath, and as we plunged into its transparent depths we revelled, as it were, in an almost newly discovered element.  I called this charming spot Zoe’s Glen.  In our wanderings up the glen we had found books in the running brooks, and sermons in stones.  The latitude of this pretty little retreat was 25 degrees 59’.  I rode a mile or two to the east to inspect another creek; its bed was larger than ours, and water was running down its channel.  I called it Christy Bagot’s Creek.  I flushed up a lot of ducks, but had no gun.  On my return Gibson and Jimmy took the guns, and walked over on a shooting excursion; only three ducks were shot; of these we made an excellent stew.  A strong gale of warm wind blew from the south all night.  Leaving Zoe’s Glen, we travelled along the foot of the range to the south of us; at six or seven miles I observed a kind of valley dividing this range running south, and turned down into it.  It was at first scrubby, then opened out.  At four miles Mr. Tietkens and I mounted a rocky rise, and he, being ahead, first saw and informed me that there was a lake below us, two or three miles away.  I was very much gratified to see it, and we immediately proceeded towards it.  The valley or pass had now become somewhat choked with low pine-clad stony hills, and we next came upon a running creek with some fine little sheets of water; it meandered round the piny hills and exhausted itself upon the bosom of the lake.  I called these the Hector Springs and Hector Pass after Hector Wilson*.  On arrival at the lake I found its waters were slightly brackish; there was no timber on its shores; it lay close under the foot of the mountains, having their rocky slopes for its northern bank.  The opposite shore was sandy; numerous ducks and other water-fowl were floating on its breast.  Several springs