On the 31st, after crossing a ridge under which we were encamped, we passed through a very pretty grassy and park-like country, and what was very unusual, not stony on the surface. There were in places a great many wombat holes, but these were now all occupied by their tenants, and the whole aspect of the country was more encouraging and cheerful; the extent of good country was, however, very limited. Towards the coast was a low scrubby-looking region with salt lakes, and to the east it was bounded by a dense brush, beyond which were extensive plains of a barren and scrubby appearance. In the midst of these plains were large fields of a coarse wiry-kind of grass, growing in enormous tufts, five or six feet high, and indicating the places where swamps exist in wet seasons; these were now quite dry, but we had always found the same coarse-tufted grass growing around the margins of the salt lakes, and in those places also where we had found water. This description of country seemed to extend to the base of Wedge Hill, which I intended to have ascended, but the weather was too cloudy to obtain a view from it. The character of the country to the north and north-east was equally low and unpromising, with the exception of two peaks seen at considerable distances apart.

Our stage to-day was sixteen miles to Lake Newland, [Note 17: Named after my friend R. F. Newland, Esq.] a large salt-water lake, with numerous fine and strong springs of excellent water, bubbling up almost in the midst of the salt. In one place one of these springs was surrounded by a narrow strip of soil, and the stream emanating from it took its winding course through the skirts of the salt-water lake itself, inclosed by a very narrow bank of earth, on either side; this slight barrier being the only division between the salt and the fresh water. From the abundance of fresh water at Lake Newland, and the many patches of tolerably grassy country around, a very fair station might be formed, either for sheep or cattle.