a line of hollows parallel to the river, and thickly covered with a high stiff grass; and then another steep bank covered with a thicket of drooping tea-trees, rose at the water’s edge; and, if the descent into the bed of the river was more easy, the stream frequently was at the opposite side, and we had to walk several hundred yards over a broad sheet of loose sand, which filled our mocassins, when going to wash.  At present, the river is narrower, and I have chosen my camp twice on its dry sandy bed, under the shade of Casuarinas and Melaleucas, the stream being there comparatively easy of access, and not ten yards off.  Many unpleasant remarks had been made by my companions at my choice of camping places; but, although I suffered as much inconvenience as they did, I bore it cheerfully, feeling thankful to Providence for the pure stream of water with which we were supplied every night.  I had naturally a great antipathy against comfort-hunting and gourmandizing, particularly on an expedition like ours; on which we started with the full expectation of suffering much privation, but which an Almighty Protector had not only allowed us to escape hitherto, but had even supplied us frequently with an abundance—­in proof of which we all got stronger and improved in health, although the continued riding had rather weakened our legs.  This antipathy I expressed, often perhaps too harshly, which caused discontent; but, on these occasions, my patience was sorely tried.  I may, however, complete the picture of the day:  as soon as the camp is pitched, and the horses and bullocks unloaded, we have all our alloted duties; to make the fire falls to my share; Brown’s duty is to fetch water for tea; and Mr. Calvert weighs out a pound and a-half of flour for a fat cake, which is enjoyed more than any other meal; the large teapot being empty, Mr. Calvert weighs out two and a-half pounds of dry meat to be stewed for our late dinner; and, during the afternoon, every one follows his own pursuits, such as washing and mending clothes, repairing saddles, pack-saddles, and packs; my occupation is to write my log, and lay down my route, or make an excursion in the vicinity of the camp to botanize, etc. or ride out reconnoitring.  My companions also write down their remarks, and wander about gathering seeds, or looking for curious pebbles.  Mr. Gilbert takes his gun to shoot birds.  A loud cooee again unites us towards sunset round our table cloth; and, whilst enjoying our meals, the subject of the day’s journey, the past, the present, and the future, by turns engage our attention, or furnish matter for conversation and remark, according to the respective humour of the parties.  Many circumstances have conspired to make me strangely taciturn, and I am now scarcely pleased even with the chatting humour of my youngest companion, whose spirits, instead of flagging, have become more buoyant and lively than ever.  I consider it, however, my invariable duty to give every information