October 28. — Travelling onwards for four miles, we passed a fine spring, situated in a swamp to our left, and at two more we came to a sheet of water, named Lake Hamilton, [Note 15: After my friend George Hamilton, Esq.] a large and apparently deep lake, with but a few hundred yards of a steep high bank, intervening between it and the sea; the latter was rapidly encroaching upon this barrier, and would probably in the course of a few years more force a way through, and lay under water a considerable extent of low country in that vicinity. Around the margin of the lake was abundance of good grass, but the bank between it and the sea was high and very rocky.

After leaving the lake we entered upon a succession of low grassy hills but most dreadfully stony, and at night encamped upon a swamp, after a stage of about sixteen miles. Here we procured abundance of good water by digging through the limestone crust, near the surface. The country around was still of the same character as before, but amidst the never-ceasing strata of limestone which everywhere protruded, were innumerable large wombat holes — yet strange to say not one of these was tenanted. The whole fraternity of these animals appeared to have been cut off altogether in some unaccountable manner, or to have migrated simultaneously to some other part. No emus or kangaroos were to be seen anywhere, and the whole region around wore a singularly wild and deserted aspect.