it, damped our spirits; we pressed on, however, with difficulty, over
ground that was totally destitute of vegetation. Instead of lofty timber
and a living stream, we wandered along the banks of an insignificant
watercourse, and under trees of stunted size and scanty foliage. We
stopped on the 20th at the angle of a creek, in which there was some dry
grass, in consequence of the animals being almost in a starving state, but
even here they had but little to eat.

A violent thunder-storm passed over us in the afternoon, but it made no
change in the temperature of the air. The weather, although it had been
hot and sultry, had fallen far short of the intense heat we experienced in
crossing the marshes of the Macquarie, when it was such as to melt the
sugar in the canisters, and to destroy all our dogs; and our nights were
now become agreeably cool.

A PARTY OF NATIVES.

We still, however, continued to travel over a dead level, nor was a height
or break visible from the loftiest trees we ascended. A little before we
stopped at the creek, we surprised a party of natives; old men, women, and
children. They were preparing dinners of fish in much larger quantities
than they could have devoured--probably for a part of the tribe that were
absent; but the moment they saw us they fled, and left every thing at our
mercy. On examining the fish, we found them totally different from any in
the Macquarie, and took two of the most perfect to preserve. In the
afternoon one of the men came to inform me that the tribe was coming down
upon us.

Mr. Hume and I, therefore, went to meet them. They were at this time about
150 yards from the tent, but seeing us advance, they stopped, and forming