Country North of Naudtherungee Creek.—­For a few miles to the north of this creek the ground is very sandy, and timbered with pines, acacias, and several descriptions of trees with which I am unacquainted.  There are two very handsome trees that I have never seen in any other part of the country—­the leopard tree (called so from its spotted bark), and a tree which in general appearance much resembles the poplar.  On these sandhills the grass is very coarse, but in the flats there is good feed.  Beyond the sand rises the country becomes more open again; and at about twelve or thirteen miles one comes to quartz rises, from which there is a fine view to the east, north, and west.  Two creeks are distinctly visible by the lines of gum timber; they take their rise near some hills to the eastward, and passing around towards the north, join at a point about three miles north-west, from whence the resulting creek continues in a west-north-westerly direction, as far as the eye can reach.  The hills are composed of an argillaceous schist.  On several of the lower rises, quartz reefs crop out, and some of the quartz which I examined had every appearance of being auriferous, except the main one—­the colour of the gold.  There are some fine waterholes in the first creek (Teltawongee), but I cannot say for certain that the water is permanent.  The whole of the country from here to our next camp, a distance of twenty six miles, is the finest I have seen for collecting and retaining water; and the only question as to a permanent supply of that essential liquid is, whether this part of the country is subject to long-continued droughts; for the waterholes that we have met with are not large enough to last for any great length of time, in the event of the country being stocked.  At ten miles from Teltawongee, we came to the Wonominta—­a creek having all the characteristics of water-courses that take their rise in hills of schistoze formation.  At first, the numberless small waterholes, without the trace of a creek connecting them, then the deep-cut narrow channel, with every here and there a fine waterhole.  The banks of the creek are clothed with high grass and marshmallows.  The latter grow to an immense size on nearly all the creeks out here.

The Wonominta Ranges are high, bare-looking hills, lying to the eastward of the creek; the highest peaks must be between two and three thousand feet above the sea.  The blacks say that there is no water in them—­an assertion that I can scarcely credit.  They say, however, that there is a fine creek, with permanent water, to the east of the ranges, flowing northwards.  At the point of the Wonominta Creek where we camped there is a continuous waterhole of more than a mile long, which, they say, is never dry.  It is from fifteen to twenty feet broad, and averages about five feet in depth, as near as I could ascertain.  From this point, Camp 43, the creek turns to the north-west and around to north, where it enters a swamp, named Wannoggin; it must