ions, approximated very nearly to
the truth. The circumference of that horizon was unbroken, save where an
isolated hill rose above it, and looked like an island in the ocean.

When I reached the point at which Mr. Oxley had been checked, I found the
Macquarie, not "running bank high," as he describes it, but almost dry;
and although ten years had passed since his visit to this distant spot,
the grass had not yet grown over the foot-path, leading from his camp to
the river; nor had a horse-shoe that was found by one of the men lost its
polish. In this locality there are two hills, to which Mr. Oxley gave the
names of Mount Harris and Mount Foster, distant from each other about
five miles, on a bearing of 45 degrees to the west of south. Of these two
hills Mount Foster is the highest and the nearest, and as the Macquarie
runs between them to the westward, it must also be closer than Mount
Harris to the marshes. I therefore naturally looked for any discovery
that was to be made from Mount Foster, and I according ascended that hill
just as the sun was setting. I looked in vain however for the region of
reeds and of water, which Mr. Oxley had seen to the westward; so
different in character were the seasons, and the state of the country at
the different periods in which the Surveyor-General and I visited it.
From the highest point I could gain I watched the sun descend; but I
looked in vain for the glittering of a sea beneath him, nor did the sky
assume that glare from reflected light which would have accompanied his
setting behind a mass of waters. I could discover nothing to intercept me
in my course. I saw, it is true, a depressed and dark region in the line
of the direction in which I was about to go. The terrestrial line met the
horizon with a sharp and even edge, but I saw nothing to stay my
progress, or to damp my hopes. As I had observed the country from Mount
Foster, so I found it to be when I advanced into it. I experienced little
difficulty therefore in passing the marshes of the Macquarie, and in
pursuing my course to the N. W. traversed plains of great extent, until
at length I gained the banks of the Darling, in lat. 30 degrees. S. and
in long. 146 degrees. E. This river, instead of flowing to the N. W. led
me to the S. W.; but I was ultimately obliged to abandon it in
consequence of the saltness of its waters. I could not, however, fail to
observe that the plains over which I had wandered were wholly deficient