boundless forest, is like a calm on the line, irksome enough; but there
is also the risk of losing the men sent in pursuit who, even after coming
on the objects of their search, may be unable afterwards to find the
camp, especially when there may be no watercourse to lead them to it.

December 7.

The weather still very sultry. The horses were brought in at a
quarter-past eight by Worthington, who had traced them up the valley to
two miles above our former encampment. The rich soil in this valley is
nearly as deep as the bed of the rivulet, which is twenty feet lower than
the surface; a substratum of gravel, similar to that in the bed of the
watercourse, appears in the bank; the pebbles, consisting chiefly of
trap-rock, seemed to be the water-worn debris of the Liverpool range. The
cattle and horses being at rest, we were occupied this day in making
various observations with our instruments, trying the rate of the
chronometer, etc. A thundercloud and a little rain afforded some relief
from the excessive heat of the atmosphere. The night was very calm; but
the mosquitoes were numerous and troublesome.

A SQUATTER.

December 8.

A road or track, which we found about half a mile east from the camp, led
us very directly, on the bearing of 335 degrees, to Loder's station,
distant about six miles from our encampment. Here stood a tolerable house
of slabs, with a good garden adjoining it, in charge of an old stockman
and his equally aged wife. This man was named by the blacks Longanay
(Long Ned).* The station was situated on a fine running stream called the