_Dec. 3._ The first part of our journey was over rich flats, timbered
sufficiently to afford a shade, on which the grass was luxuriant; but we
were obliged to seek open ground, in consequence of the frequent
stumbling of the cattle.

We issued, at length, upon a plain, the view across which was as dreary
as can be imagined; in many places without a tree, save a few old stumps
left by the natives when they fired the timber, some of which were still
smoking in different parts of it. Observing some lofty trees at the
extremity of the plain, we moved towards them, under an impression that
they indicated the river line. But on this exposed spot the sun's rays
fell with intense power upon us, and the dust was so minute and
penetrating, that I soon regretted having left the shady banks of the
river.

_Dec. 31._ I had no inducement to proceed further into the interior. I
had been sufficiently disappointed in the termination of this excursion,
and the track before me was still less inviting. Nothing but a dense
forest, and a level country, existed between me and a distant hill. I
had learnt, by experience, that it was impossible to form any opinion of
the probable features of so singular a region as that in which I was
wandering, from previous appearances, or to expect the same result, as
in other countries, from similar causes. In a geographical point of
view, my journey had been more successful, and had enabled me to put to
rest for ever a question of much previous doubt. I had gained a
knowledge of more than 100 miles of the western interior, and had
ascertained that no sea, indeed, that little water existed on its
surface; and that, although it is flat generally, it still has
elevations of considerable magnitude upon it.