of the creek; Grewia, a prostrate Myoporum, and a bean with yellow blossoms, were frequent all over the valley.  Atriplex forms, when young, as we gratefully experienced, an excellent vegetable, as do also the young shoots of Sonchus.  The tops of the Corypha palm eat well, either baked in hot ashes or raw, and, although very indigestible, did not prove injurious to health when eaten in small quantities.  In the vicinity of the swamps of Palm-tree Creek, I noticed a grass with an ear much resembling the bearded wheat:  with the exception of the cultivated Cerealia, it had the largest seed I ever met with in grasses; even my Blackfellow was astonished at its remarkable size.

During the night we experienced a strong wind from the northward, and, during the afternoon, a gust of wind and rain from west and north-west; but no thunder.

Nov. 18.—­Clouds gathered from the west and north-west, a few drops of rain fell, and a few low peals of thunder were heard; but, although charged with electric fluid, and, in appearance, threatening an approaching thunder-storm, no discharge of lightning took place.  We were very much annoyed and harassed, during the evening and the early part of the night, by sand-flies and mosquitoes; but the clear night grew so cold, that these great enemies of bush comforts were soon benumbed.  The latitude of the camp of the 18th November was 25 degrees 30 minutes 11 seconds.

Nov. 19.—­No air stirring, night very cold and bright; dew heavy; the surface of the creek covered with vapour; the water very warm.

Having no apparatus for ascertaining the height of our position above the level of the sea, this very interesting fact could not be determined; but, from the cold experienced, at a period so near the summer solstice, the elevation must have been very considerable.

We travelled during the day in a westerly direction over a level country, partly covered with reeds and fat-hen, and came to a broad sandy creek, which turned to the south-east and south.  Having crossed it, we passed several large lagoons and swamps covered with plovers and ducks; and, at a short mile farther, came again on the creek, which now had a deep channel and a broad sandy bed lined with casuarinas and flooded-gum trees.  I called this “Robinson’s Creek.”  At its left bank, we saw a wide sheet of water, beyond which rose a range densely covered with scrub:  I called them “Murphy’s Lake and Range,” after John Murphy, one of my companions.

I believe that Robinson’s Creek is a westerly water; and, if so, it is very remarkable that the heads of Palm-tree Creek, which flows to the eastward, should be scarcely a mile distant; and that the interesting space, separating the two systems of waters, should be, to all appearance, a dead level.