William John Wills—­as surveyor and astronomical observer, third in command.

Herman Beckler—­medical officer and botanist.

Ludwig Becker—­artist, naturalist, and geologist.

Charles J. Ferguson—­foreman.

Thomas F. McDonagh—­assistant.

William Paton—­assistant.

Patrick Langan—­assistant.

Owen Cowan—­assistant.

William Brake—­assistant.

Robert Fletcher—­assistant.

John King—­assistant.

Henry Creher—­assistant.

John Dickford—­assistant.

And three sepoys.

Signed by all the above in the presence of

John Macadam, M.D.

Robert Dickson.

Monday, the 20th of August, 1860, will be a memorable day in the annals of Melbourne, as recording the commencement of the expedition.  It was not a false start but a bona-fide departure.  Nearly the whole population suspended ordinary business and turned out to witness the imposing spectacle.  The camels were a great attraction.  The Melbourne Herald of the 21st gave the annexed description of the proceedings:—­

Tom Campbell, in a tender moment, sang a sweet hymn to a “Name Unknown,” and many an ardent youth in and since his time, has borrowed inspiration from the dulcet numbers of the familiar bard, and allowed his imagination to run riot in “castle-building” upon this simple theme.  Had we the poet’s gift, our enthusiasm might, doubtless, prompt us to extol in more lofty strain the praises of the “great unknown”—­the donor of the handsome instalment of one thousand pounds towards the organization of an expedition to explore the terra incognita of interior Australia.  But in the absence of the favour of the Muses, dull prose must serve the purpose we have in view.  If the “unknown” were present yesterday in the Royal Park, his heart must have leaped for very joy, as did with one accord the hearts of the “ten thousand” or more of our good citizens, who there assembled to witness the departure of the Exploring Expedition.  Never have we seen such a manifestation of heartfelt interest in any public undertaking of the kind as on this occasion.  The oldest dwellers in Australia have experienced nothing to equal it.

At an early hour crowds of eager holiday folks, pedestrian and equestrian, were to be seen hieing along the dusty ways to the pleasant glades and umbrageous shade (a warm breeze; the first of the season, was blowing from the north-east) of the Royal Park.  A busy scene was there presented.  Men, horses, camels, drays, and goods, were scattered here and there amongst the tents, in the sheds, and on the greensward, in picturesque confusion;—­everything premised a departure—­the caravansery was to be deserted.  Hour after hour passed in the preparations for starting.  By-and-by, however, the drays were loaded—­though not before a burden of three hundred-weight for each