ackless plain and
aboriginal forest is in a very different predicament. He is never
safe; his toils and tribulations are unceasing; danger may not exist,
but he must ever guard against it, for he knows not where it may lurk.
With him, security is temerity and eventual destruction. The ambushed
savage, the crouching beast of prey, the silent and deadly reptile,
the verdant swamp, flower-strewn and fathomless, wooing to
destruction, the rushing torrent and resistless hurricane, are but a
few of the dangers through which he threads his way. And when, at
close of day, weary and hungry, foot-sore or saddle-galled, he halts
for refreshment and repose, it seems but the beginning of his labours.
Wood must be cut and collected, the fire lit, the meal prepared, often
its very materials must be sought in pool and thicket, before the
wanderer can be at rest, and the cravings of appetite appeased. The
hardly-won repast concluded, the ground offers a comfortless couch to
his stiffened and jaded limbs, where to snatch such sleep as the
necessity of strict guard, and the ominous and mysterious noises of a
night in the desert, allow to descend upon his eyelids.

With a thorough knowledge and appreciation of the many difficulties,
dangers, and discomforts, inseparable from such an expedition, Dr
Ludwig Leichhardt, a German gentleman, remarkable for enterprising
spirit and scientific zeal, left Moreton Bay, upon the east coast of
Australia, in September 1844, to proceed overland in a north-westerly
direction to Port Essington, on the north coast, a distance of more
than three thousand miles. The Doctor was no novice in such
wanderings; he had already devoted two years to exploring the district
north of Moreton Bay; undaunted by hardship, his thirst for knowledge
unappeased, he had scarcely returned when he was ready to start again.
Many dissuaded him, pointing out the vast field of research afforded
within the limits of New South Wales, urging innumerable dangers--some
imaginary, but more real--taxing him with overstrained enthusiasm, and
inordinate lust of fame; even blaming him as a madman and a suicide.
He was neither to be deterred nor cajoled from his expedition, but
made his preparations, limiting as much as possible the amount of
provisions and stores, in consideration of the difficulties of the
route and encumbrance of baggage. He was also compelled, in conformity
with the plan he had formed, and with the smallness of his means, t