grass, springing up from rich alluvial soil.  At two miles and a quarter from the swamp, striking a native path we followed it up to the S.W., and, at three-quarters of a mile, we reached two huts that had been built on a small rise of ground, with a few low trees near them.  Our situation was too precarious to allow of my passing these huts without a strict search round about, for I was sure that water was not far off; and at length we found a small, narrow, and deep channel of but a few yards in length, hid in long grass, at a short distance from them.  The water was about three feet deep, and was so sheltered that I made no doubt it would last for ten days or a fortnight.  Grateful for the success that had attended our search, I allowed the horses to rest and feed on the grass for a time; but it was of the kind from which the natives collect so much seed, and though beautiful to the eye, was not relished by our animals.  The plains extended for miles to the south and south-east, with an aspect of great luxuriance and beauty; nor could I doubt they owed their existence to the final overflow of the large creek we had all along marked trending down to this point.  Such, indeed, I felt from the first, even when I looked on its broad and glittering waters, would sooner or later be its termination, or that it would expend itself, less usefully, on the Stony Desert.  As yet, however, there was no indication of our approach to that iron region.  The plains were surrounded on all sides by lofty ridges of sand, and the whole scene bore ample testimony to the comparative infancy, if I may so express myself, of the interior.  We next pursued a N.N.W. course into the interior, and soon left the grassy plains, crossing alternate sand ridges and flats on a bearing of 346 degrees, the whole country having a strong resemblance to that between Sydney and Botany Bay in New South Wales.  On one of the ridges we surprised a native, who ran from us in great terror, and with incredible speed.  About noon we crossed a plain, partly covered with stones and partly bare, and at the further extremity of it passed through a gorge between two sand hills into another plain that was barren beyond description, with only salsolaceous herbs.  It had large white patches of clay on it, the shallow receptacles of rain water, but they were all dry.  The plain was otherwise covered with low salsolae, excepting on the higher ground, on which samphire alone was growing.  It was surrounded on all sides by sand hills of a fiery red, and not even a stunted hakea was to be seen.  From this plain we again crossed alternate sand hills and flats, the former covered with spinifex, the latter being quite denuded of all vegetation; but one of the horses at last knocking up, I was obliged to halt in this gloomy region, at the only puddle of rain water we had seen since leaving the grassy plain.  I was sure, however, from the change that had taken place, and the character of the country around us, that we