was, “What name?” They wanted to know the name of everything and everybody, and they were no wiser when they heard it.  Some of these girls and boys had faces, in olive hue, like the ideal representation of angels; how such beauty could exist amongst so poor a grade of the human race it is difficult to understand, but there it was.  Some of the men were good-looking, but although they had probably been beautiful as children, their beauty had mostly departed.  There were several old women at the camp.  They were not beautiful, but they were very quiet and retiring, and seemed to feel gratification at the pleasures the young ones enjoyed.  Sometimes they would point out some pretty girl or boy and say it was hers, or hers; they were really very like human beings, though of course no one can possibly be a real human being who does not speak English.  A custom among the natives here is to cicatrise in parallel horizontal lines the abdomens of the female portion of the community.  The scars of the old being long healed left only faint raised lines, intended to hide any natural corrugations; this in a great measure it did, but the younger, especially those lately operated on, had a very unsightly appearance.  Surely these people cannot deem these the lines of beauty.  These young ladies were much pleased at beholding their pretty faces in a looking-glass for the first time.  They made continual use of the word “Peterman.”  This was a word I had first heard from the natives of the Rawlinson Range, upon my last horse expedition of 1874.  It seems to signify, where are you going? or where have you come from? or something to that effect; and from the fact of their using it, it appears that they must speak the same language as the natives of the Rawlinson, which is over 600 miles away to the eastward, and is separated from their territory by a vast and dreary desert.  The day was again distressingly hot; the thermometer in the afternoon rising to 104 degrees in the shade, which so late in April is something extraordinary.  The girls seemed greatly to enjoy sitting in the fine shade made by our awnings.  The common house-fly swarmed about us in thousands of decillions, and though we were attended by houris, I at least did not consider myself in Paradise.  The latitude of this camp was 25 degrees 46’ 37”, and longitude 117 degrees 25’.  Next day Alec Ross and I climbed to the top of Mount Gould; this was rather rough work, the height being between 1100 and 1200 feet above the surrounding country, and 2600 feet above the sea level.  The country immediately to the eastward was flat and grassy, but with the exception of a few miles from the foot of the mount, which was open and clear, the whole region, though flat, is thickly covered with mulga or thickets; this, in Western Australian parlance, is called a plain.  Mount Hale appeared much higher than this hill.