Narrative of an Expedition into

ITY O

L LIM

T THE FI

SIVE

SION O

ARACTER OF

WIT

LE CO

SY P

PID N

PPARENTLY

POINT

ER

OF THE ST

T TH

ARTHY

ISED BY

ENT OF THE

EVIATING

ES AS TO

SITION OF L

DING R

camp at 9 a.m., followed by the men I had selected, and crossing the grassy

n such a country I had no distant object on which to rely. We were therefore obliged to take fresh bearings with great precision from almost every sand-hill, for on the cor

as on our line to the westward, and about four miles from the camp we passed a pool of water to our right. At five miles we observed a new melaleuca, similar to the one I had remarked when to the north with Joseph, growing on the skirts of the flats, but the shrubs for the most p

acter of the country generally as we rode through it, but observed that it was more open to the right, in which direction we passed several extensive plains. There were heaps of small pebbles also of ironstone and quartz on some of the flats we crossed. We halted at the foot of a sand hill, where there was a good deal of grass, after a vain search for water, of which we did not see a drop during the day. The night of the 17th, like the preceding one, was bitterly cold, with the wind at S.W. During the early part of this day we passed over high ridges of sand, thickly covered with spinifex, and a new polygonum, but subsequently crossed some flats of much greater extent than usual, and of much better soil, but the country again fell off in quality and appearance, although on the whole the tract we had crossed on our present journey was certainly better than that we traversed in going to Lake Torrens. We halted rather earlier than usual, at a creek containing a lon

n time Mr. Browne and I rode quietly on; and on arriving at the trees, found that they were growing in the broad bed of a creek, and were overhanging a beautiful sheet of water, such as we had not seen for many a day. It was altogether too important a feature to pass without further examination; I therefore crossed, and halted on its west bank, and as soon as Flood returned, (who had not seen any water,) but had ascertained that just below the trees, the creek spreads over the plain, I sent him with Mr. Browne to trace it up northward, t

d northwards to the horizon. He observed the country was very open in that direction, and had passed another pond of water, deeper but not so large as that

oubted the possibility of our getting on; but was reluctant to deviate from the line on which I had determined to penetrate, and I think that, generally, one seldom gains anything in so doi

creek a long grassy flat, with box-trees growing on it, together with a new Bauhinia, which we saw here for the first time. On this grassy flat there were a number of the water-hens we had noticed on the little fresh-w

and that he was not otherwise disfigured. I was anxious to have seen these natives, and, as their hut was not very far from us, we walked to it in the cool of the afternoon, but they had left, and

d northwest. The plains had almost the character of lagoons, since it was evident they were sometimes inundated, from the water mark on the sand hills, by which they were partly separated from one another. Below us, on our course, there was a large plain of about eight miles in breadth; but immediately at the foot of the hill, which was very abrupt (being the terminating point of a sandy ridge of which it was the northern extremity), there was a polygonum flat. We there saw a beautiful parrot, but could not procure it. The plain we ne

e creek was broad, and we traced it to some distance on either hand, but it contained no water, excepting that at which we stopped; but at about

ate with them, but the truth is, that they had for about two or three months before leaving the Depot, been living on pulpy vegetables, in which there was no strength, they nevertheless looked in good condition. They had become exceedingly tractable, and never wandered far from our fires; Flood, however, watched them so narrowly that they could not hav

nded a line of sand hills, and from them descended to firmer ground than that on which we had previously travelled. At six miles we struck another creek with a broad and grassy bed, on the banks of which we halted, at a small and muddy pool of water. The trees on this creek were larger than usual and beautifully umbrageous. It appeared as if coming from the N.E., and falling to the N.W. There were many huts both above and below our bivouac, and well-trodden paths from one angle of the creek to the other. All around us, indeed, there were traces of natives, nor can there be any doubt, but that at one season of the year or other, it is frequented by them in great numbers. From a small contiguous elevation our view extended over an apparently interminable plain in the line of our course. That of the creek was marked by gum-trees, and I was not without hopes that we should again have halted on it on the 21st, but we did not, for shortl

up the old Depot and resume our operations, had extended thus far, but all the surface water had dried up, and if we had not found these creeks our progress into the interior would have been checked. In considering their probable origin, it struck me that they might have been formed by the rush of floods from the extensive plains

one plain, to spread over and terminate in another, for had we gone more to the westward in our course than we did, it is probable we should never have known of the existence of any of them. I was tr

n horizon, and extending from N.E. to N.W. No wind affected it, but without in the least altering its shape, wh

the higher portions of the plain, a line of sticks and rubbish had been lodged, such as is left by a retiring tide, and from this it seemed that the floods must have been about a foot deep on the plain when it was last inundated. At 4 1/2 miles we reached its western extremity, and ascending the line of sand hills by which it is bounded on that side, dropped down to another plain, and at six miles intersected a creek with a deep broad and grassy bed, but no water. A high row of gum trees marked its course from a point rather from the southward of east to the north-north-west. Crossing to the opposite side we ascended another sand hill by a gradual rise, and again descended to another plain, at the farther extremity of which we could indistinctly see a dark line of trees. Arriving at these after a ride of six miles, we were stopped by another creek.

the water; and, having cast in his bait, almost immediately pulled out a white and glittering fish, and held it up to me in triumph. I must confess that I was exceedingly astonished, for the first idea that occurred to my mind was--How could fish get into so isolated a spot? In the water-holes above us no animals of the kind could have lived. How then were we to account for their being where we found them, and for the no less singular phenomenon of brackish waters in the bed

wit

detained us longer than our usual hour, but at nine we mounted, and, crossing the creek at three-quarters of a mile, ascended a hill, connected with several others by sandy valleys, and saw that the creek, a little below where we crossed it, turned to the west. We could trace its course, by the trees on its bank, for several

s. After leaving the lagoon, which though moist had been sufficiently hard to bear our weight, we passed amidst tortuous and stunted box-trees for about three miles; then crossed the small dry and bare bed of a water-course, that was shaded by trees of better appearance, and almost immediately afterwards found ourselves on the outskirts of extensive and beautifully grassed plains, similar to that on which I

ifferent race, and was, without doubt, a secondary object of consideration with her companions; who, to secure themselves I fancy, intimated to us that we might take her away; this, however, we declined doing. One of the women went on with her occupation of cleaning the grass seeds she had collected, all the time we remained, humming a melancholy dirge. On leaving them, and turning to the point where they said no water was to be found, they exhibited great alarm, and followed us at a distance. Soon after we passed close to some gum-trees and found a small dry channel under a sand hill on the other side,

g that we had taken possession of his camp and water. He came fearlessly down the hill, and by signs ordered us to depart, threatening to go for his tribe to kill us all, but seeing that his anger only made us smile, he sat down and sulked. I really respected the native's bravery, and question much if I should have shewn equal spirit in a similar situation. Mr. Browne's feelings I am sure corresponded with my own, so we got up and left him, with an intention on my part to return when I thought he had co

lains on which we had last seen the natives, but larger. Near it there was a temporary cessation of the fearful country we had just passed, but it was only temporary, the sand ridges again crossed our path, and at five or seven miles from the lagoon we pulled up for the night in a small confined valley in which there was a little grass, our poor horses sadly jaded and fatigued, and our cart in a very rickety state. We could not well have been in a more trying situation, and as Mr. Browne, and Lewis (one of the men I had with me), went to examine the neighbourhood from a knoll not far off, while there was yet light, I could not but reflect on the singular fatality that had attended us. I had little hope of finding water, and doubted in the event of disappointment whether we should get any of the horses back to the Fish-pond, the nearest water in our rear. Mr. Browne was late in returning to me, but the news he had to communicate dispelled all my fears. He had, he told me, from the summit of the knoll to which he went, observed something glittering in a dark looking valley about three miles to the N.W., and had walked down to ascertain what it was, when to his infinite delight he found that it was a pool of water, covering no small space amongs

pause as to what was to be done, but on our return to the party prepared to cross it. I was fully aware, before leaving the old Depot, that as soon as we got a few miles distant from the hills, I should be unable to continue my angles, and should thenceforth have to rely on bearings. So long as we were chaining there was no great fear of miscalculating position; so far then as the second Depot, it would not be difficult for any other traveller to follow my course. From that point, as I have already stated, I ran on a compass bearing of 25 degre

ne sheet of water, in a valley about two miles to the south of us, and that Joseph an

s in having such a place to fall back upon, if we should be forced to retreat, as it had all the promise of durability for some weeks to come. We overtook the drays far upon the plains, and continued our journey for twenty miles, when I halted on a bare piece of sandy ground on which there were a few tussocks of grass, and a small puddle of water. On travelling over the plain we found it undulating, with shining hollows in which it was evident water sometimes collects. The stones, with which the ground was so thickly covered as to exclude vegetation, were of different lengths, from one inch to six, they had been rounded by attrition, were coated with oxide of iron, and evenly distributed. In goin

ttle or nothing on it to eat, the poor animals, loose as they were, did not ventu

polygonum bush was growing on the edge of the channels; and some of them contained the muddy dregs of what had been pools of water. Over this field of earth we continued to advance almost all day, without knowing whether we were getting still farther into it, or working our way out. About an hour before sunset, this point was settled beyond doubt, by the sudden appearance of some hills over the line of the horizon, raised above their true position by refraction. They bore somewhat to the westward of north, but were too distant for speculation upon their character. It was very clear, however, that there was a termination to the otherwise apparently boundless level on which we were, in that direction, if not in any other. Our view of these hills was but transient, for they gradually faded from sight, and in less than ten minutes had entirely disappeared. Shortly afterwards some trees were seen in f

three in number, and to the cart. There was, however, a dark kind of weed growing in the creek, and some half dozen stalks of a white mallow, the

turned from the course 332 degrees, or one of N.N.W. to one due north, allowing 5 degrees for easterly variation. My object was to gain the trees Mr. Browne had noticed, as soon as possible, but did not reach them until a quarter to ten. We then discovered that they lined a long muddy channel, in which was a good deal of water, but not a blade of vegetation anywhere to be seen. I turned back, therefore, to a small sandy rise, whereon we had observed a few tufts of grass, and allowed the animals to pick what they could. At this spot we were about a m

ugh a glass the evening before. It was flanked on either side by other hills, that projected into and terminated on this plain, as those we had before seen terminated in the Stony Desert; and they looked, as I believe I have already remarked, like channel head-lands jutting into the s

cape over which the eye wandered from the summit of

dark line met the sky; but to the north-east and south-west was a boundless extent of earthy plain. Here and there a solitary clump of trees appeared, and on the plain, at the distance of a mile to the eastward, were

g as I have already observed on the vast plain into which they ran. What, I will ask, was I to conclude from these facts?--that the winds had formed these remarkable accumulations of sand, as straight as an arrow lying on the ground without a break in them for more than ninety miles at a stretch, and which we had already followed up for hundreds of miles, that is to say across six degrees of latitude? No! winds may indeed have assisted in shaping their outlines, but I cannot think, that these constituted the originating cause of their formation. They exhibit a regularity that water alone could have given, and to water, I believe, they plainly owe their first existence. It struck me then, and calmer reflection confirms the impression, that the whole of the low interior I had traversed was formerly a sea-bed, since raised from its sub-marine position by natural though hidden causes; that when this process of elevation so changed the state of things, as to make a continuous cont

se, was once the focus of a mighty current, to judge from its direction passing to the westward), I no longer encouraged hopes which, if realized, would have been of great advantage to me, or regretted the circumstances by which I was prevented from more fully examining the north-east and northern shores of Lake Torrens. I felt doubtful of the immediate proximity of an inland sea, although many circumstances combined to strengthen the impr