nes well enough, and it was good enough for our
horses, which was the greatest consideration. I rested my horse here
for an hour, and then rode to the tea-tree. The party, however, were
not there, and I waited in expectation of their arrival. In about an
hour Mr. Tietkens came and informed me that on his return to the camp
the other day he had found a nice little water, six miles from here,
and where the party was, and to which we now rode together. At this
agreeable little spot were the three essentials for an explorer's
camp--that is to say, wood, water, and grass. From there we went to my
clay pans, and the next day to my lonely camp of dreams. This, the
30th August, was an auspicious day in our travels, it being no less
than Mr. Tietkens's nine-and-twentieth birthday. We celebrated it with
what honours the expedition stores would afford, obtaining a flat
bottle of spirits from the medical department, with which we drank to
his health and many happier returns of the day. In honour of the
occasion I called this Tietkens's Birthday Creek, and hereby proclaim
it unto the nations that such should be its name for ever. The camp
was not moved, but Mr. Tietkens and I rode over to the high mountain
to-day, taking with us all the apparatus necessary for so great an
ascent--that is to say, thermometer, barometer, compass, field
glasses, quart pot, waterbag, and matches. In about four miles we
reached its foot, and found its sides so bare and steep that I took
off my boots for the ascent. It was formed for the most part like a
stupendous turtle back, of a conglomerate granite, with no signs of
water, or any places that would retain it for a moment, round or near
its base. Upon reaching its summit, the view was most extensive in
every direction except the west, and though the horizon was bounded in
all directions by ranges, yet scrubs filled the entire spaces between.
To the north lay a long and very distant range, which I thought might
be the Gill's Range of my last expedition, though it would certainly
be a stretch either of imagination or vision, for that range was
nearly 140 miles away.

To the north-westward was a flat-topped hill, rising like a table from
an ocean of scrub; it was very much higher than such hills usually
are. This was Mount Conner. To the south, and at a considerable
distance away, lay another range of some length, apparently also of
considerable altitude. I called this the Everard Range. The horizon
west