untered, they will readily imagine the startling effect which
these, as it were, magic words produced; we were electrified--our joy
knew no limits, and I was ready to embrace the fellows, who, seeing
the happiness with which they inspired us, joined with a most merry
grin in the loud expression of our feelings." The party were within a
fortnight's march of Port Essington, where they arrived on the 17th
day of December, and received a kind welcome and needful supplies from
Captain MacArthur, commandant of the place. After a month's stay, they
took ship, and reached Sydney at the end of March.

We have already referred to the strong feeling prevailing at Sydney
against the practicability of Dr Leichhardt's projected expedition, to
the numerous efforts made to induce him to abandon it, and to the
confident predictions of its failure, and of the destruction of all
engaged in it. It will be remembered, also, that about a month after
the departure of the adventurers from Moreton Bay, it had been found
necessary, in consequence of loss of stores and scarcity of game, to
send back some of the party, and that Mr Hodgson, suffering and
disheartened, had volunteered to return. His reappearance in the
colony strengthened the doubts already entertained, and little
surprise was excited when, a month or two afterwards, news came
through a party of natives, that the adventurous band had been
attacked, and its members murdered, by a tribe to the northward. There
could be small doubt of the catastrophe, which elicited from Mr Lynd
of Sydney, a bosom friend of Leichhardt, and to whom the Journal is
inscribed, some very beautiful stanzas. They were addressed to a party
formed to proceed, under guidance of Mr Hodgson, in the footsteps of
Dr Leichhardt, and to ascertain his fate. By favour of a near relative
of Mr Lynd, resident in the environs of Edinburgh, we are enabled here
to introduce them.

Ye who prepare, with pilgrim feet,
Your long and doubtful path to wend,
If--whitening on the waste--ye meet
The relies of my murdered friend,
Collect them, and with reverence bear
To where some mountain streamlet flows,
There, by its mossy bank, prepare
The pillow of his long repose.

It shall be by a stream, whose tides
Are drank by birds of every wing;
Where every lovelier flower abides
The earliest wakening touch of spring;
O meet that he, who so caress'd
All beauteous