from the ranges ran into its northern shore, and on its eastern side a large creek ran in, though its timber did not grow all the way.  The water was now eight or nine miles round; it was of an oblong form, whose greatest length is east and west.  When quite full this basin must be at least twenty miles in circumference; I named this fine sheet of water Lake Wilson*.  The position of this lake I made out to be in longitude 129 degrees 52’.  A disagreeable warm wind blew all day.

The morning was oppressive, the warm south wind still blowing.  We left Lake Wilson, named after Sir Samuel, who was the largest contributor to this expedition fund, in its wildness, its loneliness, and its beauty, at the foot of its native mountains, and went away to some low hills south-south-west, where in nine miles we got some water in a channel I called Stevenson’s* Creek.  In a few miles further we found ourselves in a kind of glen where water bubbled up from the ground below.  The channel had become filled with reeds, and great quantities of enormous milk or sow thistle (Sonchus oleraceous).  Some of the horses got bogged in this ravine, which caused considerable delay.  Eventually it brought us out into a most beautiful amphitheatre, into which several creeks descended.  This open space was covered with the richest carpet of verdure, and was a most enchanting spot.  It was nearly three miles across; we went over to its southern side, and camped under the hills which fenced it there, and among them we obtained a supply of water.  The grass and herbage here were magnificent.  The only opening to this beautiful oval was some distance to the east; we therefore climbed over the hills to the south to get away, and came upon another fine valley running westward, with a continuous line of hills running parallel to it on the north.  We made a meandering course, in a south-westerly direction, for about fifteen miles, when the hills became low and isolated, and gave but a poor look out for water.  Other hills in a more continuous line bore to the north of west, to which we went.  In three miles after this we came to a valley with a green swamp in the middle; it was too boggy to allow horses to approach.  A round hill in another valley was reached late, and here our pack-horses, being driven in a mob in front of us, put their noses to the ground and seemed to have smelt something unusual, which proved to be Mr. Gosse’s dray track.  Our horses were smelling the scent of his camels from afar.  The dray track was now comparatively fresh, and I had motives for following it.  It was so late we had to encamp without finding the water, which I was quite sure was not far from us, and we turned out our horses hoping they might discover it in the night.