POINT CUNNINGHAM.

February 14.

Leaving this anchorage we found another in a bay on the mainland, 12 miles South from Point Swan, and 11 North-West from a remarkable headland named by Captain King, Point Cunningham, in honour of that distinguished botanist, whose zealous exertions have added so much to the Flora of Australia.  I well remember when we were preparing to sail from Sydney, in May 1839, the scientific veteran seemed to enter with the utmost interest into all the details of the coming adventure.  And even, though the natural force of that frame which had so often set danger at defiance, while engaged in the ennobling pursuits to which his honourable career had been devoted, was too palpably failing the mind whose dictates it had so long obeyed; the fire of the spirit that had burned throughout so brightly, seemed to leap up in yet more glowing flame, ere quenched forever by the ashes of the grave! alas! within the brief period of two months, the world had closed upon him for ever!

SUCCESSFUL SEARCH FOR WATER.

A point, fronting a small islet, almost joined to it at low-water, was selected as a fitting spot for the commencement of our well-digging operations, which we hoped to bring to a more successful termination than our former attempt at Point Swan.  After sinking to a depth of eight feet our anticipations were fully justified, the water flowing in through the sides in great abundance.  It was quite fresh, and in every way most acceptable to us all; but tinged as it was with the red colour of the surrounding soil, we could at once perceive that it was only surface water.  As we watched it filling our neatly excavated well, we found no great difficulty in understanding why, in this continent, a native speaks of any very favoured district, as “Very fine country—­much plenty water—­fine country;” thus comprehending in the certain supply of that one necessary of life, the chief, nay almost the sole condition essential to a happy land.

SKELETON POINT.

We named this Skeleton Point from our finding here the remains of a native, placed in a semi-recumbent position under a wide spreading gum tree, enveloped, or more properly, shrouded, in the bark of the papyrus.  All the bones were closely packed together, the larger being placed outside, and the general mass surmounted by the head, resting on its base, the fleshless, eyeless skull grinning horribly over the right side.  Some of the natives arrived shortly after we had discovered this curious specimen of their mode of sepulture; but although they entertain peculiar opinions upon the especial sanctity of the house appointed for all living—­a sanctity we certainly were not altogether justified in disregarding—­they made no offer of remonstrance at the removal of the mortal remains of their dead brother.  Whether here, as in the neighbourhood of Fremantle, they regarded us as near kindred of their own under a new guise, and so perhaps might suppose that we took away the