lofty hills, surely would not go into deserts and into a flat country; and therefore it was that I was led to hope, that as the fact of large migrations from various parts of the continent to one particular part, seemed to indicate the existence either of deserts or of water to a certain distance, so the point at which migration might be presumed to terminate would be found a richer country than any which intervened.  On the late expedition, I accidentally fell into the line of migration to the north-west, and birds that I was aware visited Van Diemen’s Land passed us, after watering, to that point of the compass.  Cockatoos would frequently perch in our trees at night, and wing their way to the north-west after a few hours of rest; and to the same point wild fowl, bitterns, pigeons, parrots, and parroquets winged their way, pursued by numerous birds of the Accipitrine class.  From these indications I was led still more to conclude that I might hope for the realization of my anticipations if I could force my own way to the necessary distance.

During our stay at Moorundi, the weather had been beautifully fine, although it rained so much in the hills.  A light frost generally covered the ground, and a mist rose from the valley of the Murray at early dawn; but both soon disappeared before the sun, and the noon-day temperature was delicious—­nothing indeed could exceed the luxury of the climate of that low region at that season of the year, August.

We had directed Kenny, the policeman, and Tampawang, to bivouac in the valley in which we ourselves intended to sleep, but we saw nothing of them on our arrival there.  The night was bitter cold, insomuch that we could hardly keep ourselves warm, notwithstanding that we laid under shelter of a blazing log.  As dawn broke upon us, we prepared for our departure, being anxious to escape from the misty valley to the clearer atmosphere on the higher ground.  At eight a.m. we passed the Great Bend of the Murray, and I once more found myself riding over ground every inch of which was familiar to me, since not only on my several journeys down and up the river had I particularly noticed this spot, but I had visited it in 1840 with Colonel Gawler, the then Governor of South Australia; who, finding that he required relaxation from his duties, invited me to accompany him on an excursion he proposed taking to the eastward of the Mount Lofty Range, for the purpose of examining the country along the shores of Lake Victoria and the River Murray, as far as the Great Bend.  It was a part of the province at that time but little known save by the overlanders, and the Governor thought that by personally ascertaining the capabilities of the country contiguous to the Murray, he might throw open certain parts of it for location.  Being at that time Surveyor-General of the Province, I was glad of such an opportunity to extend my own knowledge of the province to the north and northeast of Adelaide, more especially as