es from the cliffs, is the small pool found by
Breaden. Several kinds of trees new to me were growing in the valleys,
one, a very pretty crimson-blossomed tree, not unlike a kurrajong in size,
shape, and character of the wood, but with this difference, in leaf, that
its leaves were divided into two points, whilst the kurrajong has three.
One of these trees had been recently chopped down with a blunt implement,
probably a stone tomahawk, and a half-finished piece of work--I think a
shield--was lying close by. The wood is soft, and must be easily shaped.
It is rather curious that the natives, of whom, judging from the smoke
seen in all directions, there must be a fair number, should not have been
camped at such a splendid water as Godfrey's Tank, the reason of their
absence being, I suppose, that camping in the barren hills would entail
a longish walk every day to any hunting grounds. To the native "enough
is as good as a feast," and a wretched little well as serviceable as a
large pool. The nights were so cloudy that I was unable to see any stars,
but by dead reckoning only the position of the pool is lat. 20 degrees 15
minutes long. 126 degrees 25 minutes.

From the top of the highest headland, which is divided into two
nipple-like peaks, an extensive view can be obtained. To the South and the
South-East, the Southesk Tablelands; to the East, broken tablelands and
sandhills; to the North, the same; to the North-West, nothing but
hopeless ridge upon ridge of sand as far as the horizon. To the West,
some ten miles distant, a line of cliffs running North and South, with
sand-ridges beyond, and a plain of spinifex between; to the North of the
cliffs an isolated table-top hill, showing out prominently--this I named
Mount Cornish, after my old friend and tutor in days gone by.

Leaving the hills on the 21st, we soon reached a little colony of
detached hills of queer shapes, one, as Breaden said, looking "like a
clown's cap." From the top of the highest, which I named Mount Ernest,
after my brother-in-law, a dismal scene stretched before us, nothing but
the interminable sand-ridges, the horizon as level as that of the ocean.
What heartbreaking country, monotonous, lifeless, without interest,
without excitement save when the stern necessity of finding water forced
us to seek out the natives in their primitive camps! Every day, however,
might bring forth some change, and, dismal as the country is, one was
buoyed up by the though