s that day. After they had rested a few hours I broke up the
encampment, and travelling for fourteen miles further over a scrubby
country, came to a patch of grass, at which we halted early. From the
nature of the country, and the consequent embarrassment it entailed upon
us, it was impossible for any of the party to have any longer even the
slight advantage formerly enjoyed of occasionally riding for a few miles
in turn; all were now obliged to walk, except the two youngest boys, who
were still permitted to ride at intervals. The weather was cloudy, and
showers were passing to the north-east.

March 26.--Upon moving on this morning we passed through the same
wretched kind of country for eighteen miles, to an opening in the scrub
where was a little grass, and at which we halted to rest. There was so
much scrub, and the sandy ridges were so heavy and harassing to the
horses, that I began to doubt almost if we should get them along at all.
We were now seventy-two miles from the water, and had, in all
probability, as much further to go before we came to any more, and I saw
that unless something was done to lighten the loads of the pack-animals
(trifling as were the burdens they carried) we never could hope to get
them on. Leaving the natives to enjoy a sleep, the overseer and I opened
and re-sorted all our baggage, throwing away every thing that we could at
all dispense with; our great coats, jackets, and other articles of dress
were thrown away; a single spare shirt and pair of boots and socks being
all that were kept for each, besides our blankets and the things we stood
in, and which consisted only of trowsers, shirt, and shoes. Most of our
pack-saddles, all our horse-shoes, most of our kegs for holding water,
all our buckets but one, our medicines, some of our fire-arms, a quantity
of ammunition, and a variety of other things, were here abandoned. Among
the many things that we were compelled to leave behind there was none
that I regretted parting with more than a copy of Captain Sturt's
Expeditions, which had been sent to me by the author to Fowler's Bay to
amuse and cheer me on the solitary task I had engaged in; it was the last
kind offering of friendship from a highly esteemed friend, and nothing
but necessity would have induced me to part with it. Could the donor,
however, have seen the miserable plight we were reduced to, he would have
pitied and forgiven an act that circumstances alone compelled me to.

After all