I would gladly have given my poor horses a longer rest than prudence would have justified, but we had not time for rest.  At 8 we again mounted, and went slowly on; and when darkness closed around us lit a small lamp, and one of us walking in front led the way for the others to follow; thus tracking our way over those dreary regions all night long, we neared our last remaining well, 36 miles distant from the creek, just as morning dawned.  Objects were still obscure as we approached the spot where our hopes rested, for our horses could hardly drag one foot after the other.  Mr. Stuart was in front, and called to me that he saw the little trees under whose shade we had slept; soon after he said he saw something glittering where the well was, and immediately after shouted out, “Water, water.”  It is impossible for me to record all this without a feeling of more than thankfulness to the Almighty Power that guided us.  At this place we were still 180 miles from Fort Grey; and if we had not found this supply, it is more than probable the fate of our horses would have sealed our own.  As it was we joyfully unsaddled, and, after watering, turned them out to feed.  Singular it was that the well on which we had least dependence, and from which we had been longest absent, should thus have held out—­but so it was.  At 9 we resumed our journey, there being about half a gallon a-piece for the horses just before we started; but although this, and the short rest they had, had relieved them, they got on slowly; and it was not until after midnight of the 27th, a.m. indeed of the 28th, that we reached the creek, with two short of our complement of horses, the Roan and the Colt both having dropped on the plains, but fortunately at no great distance, so that we recovered them in the course of the day.

It will naturally be supposed that, arrived at a place of safety, we here rested for a while; but my mind was no sooner relieved from one cause for anxiety, than it was filled with another.  If I except the thunder-storm which had enabled me to undertake my late journey from the creek, no rain had fallen, the weather had suddenly become oppressively hot, with a sky as clear as ether.  I had still the mountain range to the N.E. to examine, and the upper branches of the creek, and in this necessary survey I knew no time was to be lost.  Indeed I doubted if my return to the Depot was not already shut out, by the drying up of the water in Strzelecki’s Creek, although I hoped Mr. Browne still held his ground; but not only was I anxious on these heads, but as to our eventual retreat from these heartless regions.  I would gladly have rested for a few days, for I was beginning to feel weak.  From the 20th of July, and it was now the last day but two of October, I had been in constant exercise from sunrise to sunset; and if I except the few days I had rested at the Depot, had slept under the canopy of heaven.  My food had been insufficient to support me, and I had a malady