for twenty to thirty feet from its summit, the colour of the stone is
red. The column itself must be seventy or eighty feet above the
pedestal. It is split at the top into two points. There it stands, a
vast monument of the geological periods that must have elapsed since
the mountain ridge, of which it was formerly a part, was washed by the
action of old Ocean's waves into mere sandhills at its feet. The stone
is so friable that names can be cut in it to almost any depth with a
pocket-knife: so loose, indeed, is it, that one almost feels alarmed
lest it should fall while he is scratching at its base. In a small
orifice or chamber of the pillar I discovered an opossum asleep, the
first I had seen in this part of the country. We turned our backs upon
this peculiar monument, and left it in its loneliness and its
grandeur--"clothed in white sandstone, mystic, wonderful!"

From hence we travelled nearly west, and in seventeen miles came to
some very high sandhills, at whose feet the river swept. We followed
round them to a convenient spot, and one where our horses could water
without bogging. The bed of the Finke is the most boggy creek-channel
I have ever met. As we had travelled several miles in the morning to
the pillar, and camped eighteen beyond it, it was late in the
afternoon when we encamped. The country we passed over was mostly
scrubby sandhills, covered with porcupine grass. Where we struck the
channel there was a long hole of brine. There was plenty of good grass
on the river flat; and we got some tolerably good water where we fixed
our camp. When we had finished our evening meal, the shades of night
descended upon us, in this our first bivouac in the unknown interior.
By observations of the bright stars Vega and Altair, I found my
latitude was 24 degrees 52' 15"; the night was excessively cold, and
by daylight next morning the thermometer had fallen to 18 degrees. Our
blankets and packs were covered with a thick coating of ice; and tea