To-day I observed a most beautiful pigeon, quite new to me; it was of a dark-brown colour, mottled under the throat and on the breast; it had also a high top-knot.

It is considerably smaller than the Sturt pigeon of his Central Australian expedition.
It was now the 28th of August, and the temperature of the atmosphere was getting warmer.

Journeying now again about north-west, we reached a peculiar pointed hill with the Finke at its foot.

We passed over the usual red sandhill country covered with the porcupine grass, characteristic of the Finke country, and saw a shallow sheet of yellow rain water in a large clay pan, which is quite an unusual feature in this part of the world, clay being so conspicuous by its absence.

The hill, when we reached it, assumed the appearance of a high pinnacle; broken fragments of rock upon its sides and summit showed it too rough and precipitous to climb with any degree of pleasure.