to the large waterhole on which the present telegraph station bearing the name of Daly Waters, stands.  The creek was then lost in a swamp, and Stuart was unable to find the channel where it reformed, which has since been named the Birdum.  Missing this water-guide, Stuart worked his way to the eastward, to a creek he named the Strangways, which led him down to the Roper River, a river which he had never striven to reach, his sole aim being the Victoria.  He crossed the Roper, and followed up a northern tributary, which he named after his constant friend John Chambers.

Scarcity of water was now a thing of the past, but his stock of spare horseshoes had to be most jealously guarded, for his horses were beginning to fall lame, the country he was on was very stony, and he was far removed from Adelaide.  From the Chambers he came to the lower course of a creek called by Leichhardt Flying-Fox Creek, re-named by Stuart the Katherine, the name it now bears.  Thence he struck across the stony tableland and descended on the head waters of a river which he christened the Adelaide, and on following this river down he found himself in rich tropical scenery, which told him that at last he was approaching the sea-shore.

On the 24th of July he turned a little to the north-east, intending to strike the sea-beach and travel along it to the mouth of the Adelaide.  He told only two of the party of the eventful moment awaiting them.  As they rode on, Thring, who was riding ahead, suddenly called out, “The Sea,” which so took the majority by surprise that they were some time before they understood what was meant, and then three hearty cheers were given.

At this, his first point of contact with the ocean, Stuart dipped his feet and hands in the sea, as at last he gazed across the water he had so perseveringly striven for years to reach.

He attempted to get to the mouth of the Adelaide River along the beach, but found it too boggy for the horses.  Wishing to husband the forces at his command, Stuart wisely resolved to push no further; he had a space cleared where they were, and a tall sapling stripped of its boughs to serve as a flagstaff.  On this he hoisted the Union Jack which he had carried with him.  A record of their arrival, contained in an air-tight case, was then buried at the foot of the impromptu staff, and Stuart cut his initials on the largest tree he could find.  The tree has since been found and recognised, but the buried memorial has not been discovered.  More fortunate than the ill-fated Burke, Stuart surveyed the open sea from his point of contact with the ocean, instead of having to be content with some mangrove trees and salt water.

McDouall Stuart, whose last expedition we have thus followed out to its successful end, is rightly considered the man to whom the credit for the first crossing the continent is due.  His victory was all his own; he had followed in no other person’s footsteps; he had crossed the true centre, and he had made the coast at a point much further to the north than that reached by Burke and Wills, their journey having been considerably shortened by its northern end being placed on the southern shore of the great gulf that bites so deeply into north Australia.  Along Stuart’s track there is now erected the Overland Telegraph Line, an enduring monument to his indomitable perseverance.