The whole bed of the creek was of a vivid green, excepting where gravel had been deposited in it, but the animals kept on the grass, close to the water’s edge.  As we had approached the creek through a belt of wood, so it extended on the other side for a considerable distance into the plains, but the soil was not so good as in the neighbourhood of the first channel we had crossed, since bushes of rhagodia were growing underneath the trees, as indicative of a slight mixture of salt in the earth.  The appearance of the creek, however, embosomed as it was in wood, was very fine, more especially the upward view of it, where there was a splendid sheet of water, in the centre of which the branches of a huge tree appeared reflected, the trunk being completely hid.  About a quarter of a mile above us a tributary joins the main branch from the eastward, that when flooded must have a fall of three or four feet, and something of the character of a Canadian rapid.

When I sat down beside the waters of the beautiful channel to which Providence in its goodness had been pleased to direct my steps, I felt more than I had ever done in my life, the responsibility of the task I had undertaken.  When I left the Depot I had determined on keeping a northerly course into the interior, for the reasons I have already assigned; but knowing the state of the country as I did, and the little chance there was of finding water on its parched and yawning surface, I now hesitated whether I should persevere in my first determination, or proceed in the examination of this new feature, and of the mountain ranges to the N.E. both of which I had every reason to hope would lead me out of the present fearful desert into a better country.  Any one perhaps less experienced than myself in the treacherous character of the most promising river of the Australian Continent, would have acted differently.  It would in all probability have occurred to them to trace the creek, either upwards or downwards, in the hope of its leading to something better.  It was clear, however, that the first channel I had crossed, was a branch only of that upon which I was resting, and by which the plains I had traversed on approaching it were laid under water, and I felt assured that if my conclusion as to the Stony Desert was correct, I should derive no advantage in tracing the creek downwards, since I knew it would either terminate in extensive grassy plains as I had found other creeks to do, or be lost on the broad surface of the Stony Desert.  Taking every thing into consideration, I had resolved on turning to the eastward, to examine the upward course of the creek, believing it more than probable that it would lead me into the hills, but, as I was weighing these things in my mind, the sky became suddenly overcast and a thunder-storm passed over us, which for the short half hour it continued was of unusual violence, filling all the little hollows on the plains, and chequering them over with sheets of water.  The