to the top of a sandhill, and then other sandhills all round only were to be seen.  The position of this place I found to be in latitude 30 degrees 24’ 10” and approximate longitude 131 degrees 46’.  On the 23rd of March Mr. Murray, Jimmy, and I, went to the top of a sandhill overlooking the camp and had a long confabulation with Jimmy—­at least Mr. Murray had, and he interpreted the old fellow’s remarks to me.  It appeared that he knew the country, and some watering-places in it, for some distance to the eastward, and on making a kind of map on the sand, he put down several marks, which he called by the following names, namely, Chimpering, Pylebung, Mowling, Whitegin, and Wynbring; of these he said Pylebung and Wynbring were the best waters.  By his account they all lay due east from hence, and they appeared to be the most wonderful places in the world.  He said he had not visited any of these places since he was a little boy with his mother, and it appeared his mother was a widow and that these places belonged to her country, but that she had subsequently become the wife of a Fowler’s Bay native, who had taken her and her little Jimmy away out of that part of the country, therefore he had not been there since.  He said that Pylebung was a water that stood up high, and that Cockata black fellows had made it with wooden shovels.  This account certainly excited my curiosity, as I had never seen anything which could approximate to Jimmy’s description; he also said it was mucka pickaninny, only big one, which meant that it was by no means a small water.  Chimpering and Whitegin, he said, were rock-holes, but Wynbring, the farthest water he knew, according to his account was something astounding.  He said it was a mountain, a waterhole, a lake, a spring, and a well, all in one, and that it was distant about six sleeps from Youldeh; this, according to our rendering, as Jimmy declared also that it was mucka close up, only long way, we considered to be about 120 miles.  Beyond Wynbring Jimmy knew nothing whatever of the country, and I think he had a latent idea in his mind that there really was nothing beyond it.  The result of our interview was, that I determined to send all the party back to Fowler’s Bay, except one white man and old Jimmy, also all the horses except three, and to start with this small party and the camels to the eastward on the following day.  I selected Peter Nicholls to accompany me.  I found the boiling-point of water at the camp was 211 degrees making its altitude above the sea 509 feet.  The sandhills were about 100 feet high on the average.

The two camels and the calf, were sent to me by Sir Thomas Elder, from Adelaide, while I was at Fowler’s Bay, by an Afghan named Saleh Mahomet, who returned to, and met me at, Beltana, by the ordinary way of travellers.  There was only a riding-saddle for the cow, the bull having come bare-backed; I therefore had to invent a pack- or baggage-saddle for him, and I venture to assert that 999,999 people out of every