eme kindness of Mr. Robert Smith we were at last enabled
to get under way for the scene of the "rush." Disregarding the many offers
of men willing to guide us along a self-evident track, we started with one
riding and one packhorse each. These and the contents of the pack-bags
represented all our worldly possessions, but in this we might count
ourselves lucky, for many hundreds had to carry their belongings on their
backs--"humping their bluey," as the expression is.

Our road lay through Northam, and the several small farms and settlements
which extend some distance eastward. Very few used this track, the more
popular and direct route being through York, and thence along the
telegraph line to Southern Cross; and indeed we did pass through York,
which thriving little town we left at dusk, and, carrying out our
directions, rode along the telegraph line. Unfortunately we had not been
told that the line split up, one branch going to Northam and the other to
Southern Cross; as often happens in such cases, we took the wrong branch
and travelled well into the night before finding any habitation at which
we could get food and water.

The owner of the house where we finally stopped did not look upon our
visit with pleasure, as we had literally to break into the house before we
could attract any attention. Finding we were not burglars, and having
relieved himself by most vigorous and pictorial language (in the use of
which the teamsters and small farmers are almost without rivals) the owner
showed us his well, and did what he could to make us comfortable. I shall
never forget the great hospitality here along this road, though no doubt
as time went on the settlers could not afford to house hungry travellers
free of cost, and probably made a fair amount of money by selling
provisions and horse-feed to the hundreds of gold-fever patients who were
continually passing.

Southern Cross, which came into existence about the year '90, was a pretty
busy place, being the last outpost of civilisation at the time of our
first acquaintance with it. The now familiar corrugated-iron-built town,
with its streets inches deep in dust under a blazing sun, its incessant
swarms of flies, the clashing of the "stamps" on the mines, and the
general "never-never" appearance of the place, impressed us with feelings
the reverse of pleasant. The building that struck me most was the bank--a
small iron shanty with a hession partition dividing it into office