and breadth.  To the eastwards it may stretch to the telegraph line, and to the west as far as the eye could see.  The sun had gone down before I had finished taking bearings.  Our road to-morrow will be up through the glen from which the river issues.  All day a most objectionable hot wind has been blowing, and clouds of smoke and ashes from the fires, and masses of dust from the loose soil ploughed up by the horses in front of us, and blowing in our faces, made it one of the most disagreeable days I ever passed.  At night, however, a contrast obtained—­the wind dropped, and a calm, clear, and beautiful night succeeded to the hot, smoky, and dusty day.  Vega alone gave me my latitude here, close to the mouth of the glen, as 24 degrees 25’ 12”; and, though the day had been so hot and disagreeable, the night proved cold and chilly, the thermometer falling to 24 degrees by daylight, but there was no frost, or even any dew to freeze.

CHAPTER 1.2.  FROM 30TH AUGUST TO 6TH SEPTEMBER, 1872.

(Illustration:  View in the glen of palms.)

Milk thistle. 
In the glen. 
A serpentine and rocky road. 
Name a new creek. 
Grotesque hills. 
Caves and caverns. 
Cypress pines. 
More natives. 
Astonish them. 
Agreeable scenery. 
Sentinel stars. 
Pelicans. 
Wild and picturesque scenery. 
More natives. 
Palm-trees. 
A junction in the glen. 
High ranges to the north. 
Palms and flowers. 
The Glen of Palms. 
Slight rain. 
Rain at night. 
Plant various seeds. 
End of the glen. 
Its length. 
Krichauff Range. 
The northern range. 
Level country between. 
A gorge. 
A flooded channel. 
Cross a western tributary. 
Wild ducks. 
Ramble among the mountains. 
Their altitude. 
A splendid panorama. 
Progress stopped by a torrent and impassable gorge.

Our start this morning was late, some of our horses having wandered in the night, the feed at the camp not being very good; indeed the only green herb met by us, for some considerable distance, has been the sow or milk thistle (Sonchus oleraceus), which grows to a considerable height.  Of this the horses are extremely fond:  it is also very fattening.  Entering the mouth of the glen, in two miles we found ourselves fairly enclosed by the hills, which shut in the river on both sides.  We had to follow the windings of the serpentine channel; the mountains occasionally forming steep precipices overhanging the stream, first upon one side, then upon the other.  We often had to lead the horses separately over huge ledges of rock, and frequently had to cut saplings and lever them out of the way, continually crossing and recrossing the river.  On camping in the glen we had only made good eleven miles, though to accomplish this we had travelled more than double the distance.  At the camp a branch creek came out of the mountains to the westwards, which I named Phillip’s Creek.  The whole of this line of ranges is composed of red sandstone in large or small fragments, piled up into the most grotesque shapes.  Here and there caves and caverns exist in the sides of the hills.