July 4.—­Our horses having been a good deal fagged yesterday, I did not disturb them early, and it was nearly noon when we moved away from our encampment, crossing the main watercourse, of which the ponds we were upon last night were only a branch.  In the larger channel, there were many fine pools of water, connected by a strongly running stream in a deep narrow bed, and which wound at a course of E. 25 degrees S. through a valley of soft, spongy, peaty formation, and over which we had much trouble in getting our horses, one having sunk very deep, and being with difficulty extricated.  After travelling two miles and a half, we obtained a view of Bald Island, bearing S. 15 degrees W.; and in two miles and a half more, we crossed a fine chain of ponds, taking its course through narrow valleys between hills of granite; these valleys and the slopes of the hills were heavily timbered; the soil was very rich, either a reddish loam, or a light black mixed with sand, and the grass interspersed among the trees was abundant and luxuriant.  After ascending the range, we passed principally over stony hills, and valleys heavily timbered, and with brush or underwood, filling up the interstices of the trees.

Ten miles from our last night’s camp we crossed the tracks of horses, apparently of no very old date, this being the first symptom we had yet observed of our approach towards the haunts of civilised man.  The day was cold with heavy squalls of rain, and as the night appeared likely to be worse, I halted early, after a stage of thirteen miles.  After dark the rain ceased, and the night cleared up, but was very cold.

July 5.—­Another rainy day, and so excessively cold that we were obliged to walk to keep ourselves at all warm; we spent a miserable time, splashing through the wet underwood, and at fifteen miles we passed a fresh water lake, in a valley between some hills.  This Wylie recognised as a place he had once been at before, and told me that he now knew the road well, and would act as guide, upon which I resigned the post of honour to him, on his promising always to take us to grass and water at night.  Two miles and a half beyond the lake, we came to a fresh water swamp, and a mile beyond that to another, at which we halted for the night, with plenty of water, but very little grass.  During the day, we had been travelling generally through a very heavily timbered country.

At night the rain set in again, and continued to fall in torrents at intervals; we got dreadfully drenched, and suffered greatly from cold and want of rest, being obliged to stand or walk before the fire, nearly the whole night.