thus occupied is in a continued state of excitement, now buoyant with hope, as he urges on his horse towards some distant range or blue mountain, or as he follows the favourable bend of a river; now all despairing and miserable, as he approaches the foot of the range without finding water from which he could start again with renewed strength, or as the river turns in an unfavourable direction, and slips out of his course.  Evening approaches; the sun has sunk below the horizon for some time, but still he strains his eye through the gloom for the dark verdure of a creek, or strives to follow the arrow-like flight of a pigeon, the flapping of whose wings has filled him with a sudden hope, from which he relapses again into a still greater sadness; with a sickened heart he drops his head to a broken and interrupted rest, whilst his horse is standing hobbled at his side, unwilling from excessive thirst to feed on the dry grass.  How often have I found myself in these different states of the brightest hope and the deepest misery, riding along, thirsty, almost lifeless and ready to drop from my saddle with fatigue; the poor horse tired like his rider, footsore, stumbling over every stone, running heedlessly against the trees, and wounding my knees!  But suddenly, the note of Grallina Australis, the call of cockatoos, or the croaking of frogs, is heard, and hopes are bright again; water is certainly at hand; the spur is applied to the flank of the tired beast, which already partakes in his rider’s anticipations, and quickens his pace—­and a lagoon, a creek, or a river, is before him.  The horse is soon unsaddled, hobbled, and well washed; a fire is made, the teapot is put to the fire, the meat is dressed, the enjoyment of the poor reconnoiterer is perfect, and a prayer of thankfulness to the Almighty God who protects the wanderer on his journey, bursts from his grateful lips.

May 25.—­We travelled about eight miles down the Lynd.  The country was very mountainous; granitic and pegmatite ranges bounded the valley on both sides.

May 26.—­We continued our journey over the most mountainous and rocky country we had ever passed.  The ranges formed the banks of the river itself, and even entered its bed, which gradually enlarged and was frequently formed by several channels fringed with large drooping tea trees.  At the end of the stage, basalt was found to have broken through the granite.

May 27.—­The river turned more to the northward, and, joined by many gullies, wound its way between wild and rocky, though low ranges.  At a place where it left a range of rugged little peaks, basalt re-appeared at its banks, and extended for some distance, now filling flats with its rough and cellular blocks and pebbles, and again forming small hillocks of black bare rock.  As soon, however, as the river had fairly left the basaltic formation, fine large flats of a light sandy soil succeeded on both sides; on which Pandanus spiralis grew in great abundance, and to a larger size than we had seen before.  The bed of the river became very broad, and was covered with sands, shingle, and pebbles of the rocks of its upper course.  I passed through a broad rocky gap of a range tending from east to west, and, at about two miles beyond and to the north-west of it, we encamped, in lat. 17 degrees 54 minutes 40 seconds.