and cheerless as was the prospect from that elevation, there was one
feature in the landscape, which still gave me hope that something might
be done in that direction, and had in fact been my principal inducement
to select a line nearly north from Spencer's Gulf, for our route on the
present expedition; this feature was the continuation, and the
undiminished elevation of the chain of hills forming Flinders range,
running nearly parallel with the course of Lake Torrens, and when last
seen by me stretching far to the northward and eastward in a broken and
picturesque outline.

It was to this chain of hills that I now looked forward as the
stepping-stone to the interior. In its continuation were centered all my
hopes of success, because in its recesses alone could I hope to obtain
water and grass for my party. The desert region I had seen around its
base, gave no hope of either, and though the basin of Lake Torrens
appeared to be increasing so much in extent to the northward, I had seen
nothing to indicate its terminating within any practicable distance, in a
deep or navigable water. True the whole of the drainage from Flinders
range, as far as was yet known, emptied into its basin, but such was the
arid and sandy nature of the region through which it passed, that a great
part of the moisture was absorbed, whilst the low level of the basin of
the lake, apparently the same as that of the sea itself, forbade even the
most distant hope of the water being fresh, should any be found in its
bed.

It was in reflections and speculations such as these, that many hours of
the night of my first encampment with the party passed away. The kindness
of the Governor and our many friends had been so unbounded; their anxiety
for our safety and comfort so great; their good wishes for our success so
earnest, and their confidence in our exertions, so implicit, that I could