I can, whenever my companions inquire or show a desire to learn, and I am happy to find that they are desirous of making themselves familiar with the objects of nature by which they are surrounded, and of understanding their mutual relations.  Mr. Roper is of a more silent disposition; Mr. Calvert likes to speak, and has a good stock of “small talk,” with which he often enlivens our dinners; he is in that respect an excellent companion, being full of jokes and stories, which, though old and sometimes quaint, are always pure, and serve the more to exhilarate the party.  Mr. Gilbert has travelled much, and consequently has a rich store of impressions de voyage:  his conversation is generally very pleasing and instructive, in describing the character of countries he has seen, and the manners and customs of the people he has known.  He is well informed in Australian Ornithology.  As night approaches, we retire to our beds.  The two Blackfellows and myself spread out each our own under the canopy of heaven, whilst Messrs. Roper, Calvert, Gilbert, Murphy, and Phillips, have their tents.  Mr. Calvert entertains Roper with his conversation; John amuses Gilbert; Brown tunes up his corroborri songs, in which Charley, until their late quarrel, generally joined.  Brown sings well, and his melodious plaintive voice lulls me to sleep, when otherwise I am not disposed.  Mr. Phillips is rather singular in his habits; he erects his tent generally at a distance from the rest, under a shady tree, or in a green bower of shrubs, where he makes himself as comfortable as the place will allow, by spreading branches and grass under his couch, and covering his tent with them, to keep it shady and cool, and even planting lilies in blossom (Crinum) before his tent, to enjoy their sight during the short time of our stay.  As the night advances, the Blackfellows’ songs die away; the chatting tongue of Murphy ceases, after having lulled Mr. Gilbert to sleep; and at last even Mr. Calvert is silent, as Roper’s short answers became few and far between.  The neighing of the tethered horse, the distant tinkling of the bell, or the occasional cry of night birds, alone interrupt the silence of our camp.  The fire, which was bright as long as the corroborri songster kept it stirred, gradually gets dull, and smoulders slowly under the large pot in which our meat is simmering; and the bright constellations of heaven pass unheeded over the heads of the dreaming wanderers of the wilderness, until the summons of the laughing jackass recalls them to the business of the coming day.

May 2.—­We travelled in a N.W. direction to lat. 18 degrees 50 minutes 11 seconds; at first over the box flats, alternating with an undulating open country.  About three miles before making our camp, we passed several small plains at the foot of what appeared to be basaltic ridges, and came to the dry channel of a river, with reeds and occasional water-holes, and lined with fine flooded-gum trees and Casuarinas, but without the dropping tea trees