and miles before them. They struck across it in a west-north-west direction. Wills says in his Diary: "I know not whether it arose from our exaggerated anticipation of horrors or not, but we thought it far from bad travelling ground; and as to pasturage, it is only the actually stony ground that is bare." After crossing something more than twenty miles of the desert, they came upon "a fine creek with a splendid sheet of water." It was named after Gray, one of the party. Here they rested for a day (December 24th), to celebrate Christmas. "This was doubly pleasant," says the Diary, "as we had never in our most sanguine moments anticipated finding such a delightful oasis in the desert. Our camp was really an agreeable place, for we had all the advantages of food and water attending the position of a large creek or river, and were, at the same time, free from the annoyance of the numberless ants, flies, and mosquitoes that are invariably met with amongst timber or heavy scrub."

Next day they traversed soft clay plains, and came upon an encampment of blacks, who beckoned them away to the north-east; but they held on their course of north-west by north, and soon met a magnificent creek running in the direction of the savages. As the day was very hot, and the camels tired from travelling over the loose, yielding soil of the earthy plains, they halted beside this stream at one o'clock in the afternoon, and remained there for the rest of the day. Starting next morning at five o'clock, they kept along the banks of the creek, which were very steep, and rose to the height of from twenty to thirty feet above the water. Fine lines of timber and extensive tracts of box-forest with grassy plains were seen in the neighbourhood of this stream. After crossing to the opposite bank at the first fording-place they met, they advanced in a due north direction; but coming again on the creek, and finding that it turned too much to the east, they quitted it on the 30th of December. They took with them a ten days' supply of water, as hills were visible to the north, which appeared to be stony. During the six or seven days that followed they travelled through a dreary desert, destitute of vegetation.

On the 7th of January, they entered the tropics. From this point the country underwent a striking change for the better. They first traversed "fine open plains of firm argillaceous soil," subject to inundations from the numerous creeks that intersected them. A few extracts from the Diary will give a fair idea of the rich and fertile country through which they now passed.

"January 8.-As we proceeded, the country improved at every step; flocks of pigeons rose and flew off to the eastward, and fresh plants met our view on every rise; everything green and luxuriant. The horse licked his lips, and tried all he could to break his nosestring in order to get at the food. We camped at the foot of a sandy rise, where there was a large stony pan with plenty of water, and where the feed was equal in quality and superior as to variety to any that I have seen in Australia, excepting, perhaps, on some soils of volcanic origin.

"January 9.-Traversed six miles of undulating plains covered

with vegetation richer than ever. Several ducks rose from the little creeks as we passed, and flocks of pigeons were flying in all directions. . . . The grasses are numerous, and many of them unknown to me, but they only constitute a moderate portion of the herbage; several kinds of spurious vetches and portulac, as well as salsolaceæ, add to the luxuriance of the vegetation. At seven miles, we found ourselves in an open forest country. . . . We soon emerged again on open plains. . . . At one spot we disturbed a fine bustard which was feeding in the long grass. I should have mentioned that one flew over our camp last evening in a northerly direction. This speaks well for the country and climate.

"January 12.-We started at five a. m., and keeping as nearly as possible a due north course, traversed for about eight miles a splendid flat, through which flow several fine, well-watered creeks, lined with white gum-trees."

On this day they entered a series of low, slaty sandstone hills which they called the Standish Ranges. The country they travelled through up to the 27th of January was filled with ranges of different elevations, some of which they experienced great difficulty in crossing -"the camels," Burke's brief notes tell us, "bleeding, sweating, and groaning." There was a continuous rise perceptible all the way in crossing the ranges, while the large ant-hills, which they met, afforded a proof, Father Woods remarks, that they were coming to the north

coast.

On the 27th of January, they reached one of the sources of the River Flinders. Burke called the stream the Cloncurry, after Lord Cloncurry, to whom he was related. Here the country was everywhere fresh and green; palm-trees, bearing abundance of fruit just ripening, were numerous, and gave a most picturesque and pleasant appearance to the stream. One of the camels could not be got out of the soft bed of the channel, and had to be abandoned, as blacks were observed to be hiding in the box-trees close by, and there was danger in delay. During the succeeding days heavy rains poured down, and the ground became so soft that the camels could scarcely travel. Being convinced that they were now in the neighbourhood of the Gulf of Carpentaria, Burke determined (February 9th) to leave King and Gray at their 119th camp or resting-place, and proceed with Wills to the sea. He took with him the horse "Billy" and three days' provisions. In crossing a stream "Billy" sank so deeply in a quicksand as to be unable to stir; the only means they found efficacious for extricating him was by undermining him on the creek side and lunging him into the water." The hole thus made served afterwards to point out the route followed by the explorers. They called this stream Billy's Creek.

Travelling due north, they arrived at an open plain covered with water, which was ankle deep. From inequalities in the ground, the water sometimes reached the knees. After wading through this for several miles, they came to a hard, well-trodden path which had been formed by the blacks. This path led to a forest, through which flowed a pretty water-course. They found a number of yams (the dioscorea of

Carpentaria), which the blacks had dug up and rejected, but which sharp hunger made the explorers eat with great relish. About half a mile farther on, they saw a black resting by his camp-fire, whilst his gin (wife) and picaninny (child) were chatting beside him. "We stopped for a short time," says the Diary, "to take out the pistols that were on the horse, and to give them time to see us before we were so near as to frighten them. Just after we stopped, the black got up to stretch his limbs, and after a few seconds looked in our direction. It was very amusing to see the way in which he stared, standing for some time as if he thought he must be dreaming; and then having signalled to the others, they dropped on their haunches and shuffled off in the quietest manner possible. Near their fire was a fine hut, the best I have ever seen. . . . Hundreds of wild geese, plover, and pelicans, were enjoying themselves in the water-courses on the marsh, all the water on which was too brackish to be drinkable, except some holes that are filled by the stream that flows through the forest. The neighbourhood of this encampment is one of the prettiest we have seen during the journey. Proceeding on our course across the marsh, we came to a channel through which the sea-water enters. Here we passed three blacks, who, as is universally their custom, pointed out to us, unasked, the best part down. This assisted us greatly, for the ground we were taking was very boggy. We moved slowly down, about three miles, and then camped for the night."

They did not succeed in gaining sight of the open sea, as the swampy nature of the ground impeded their progress, and a forest of mangroves to the north cut off the view. They determined, however, to proceed as far as possible, hoping to gaze upon the wide waters of the Gulf of Carpentaria. They left the horse hobbled, and walked fifteen miles down the river Flinders, but they failed to reach the beach; this caused them no great concern, as they found that the tide regularly ebbed and flowed, and that the water was quite salt.

What their feelings of triumph were at the successful accomplishment of their undertaking, may be more easily imagined than described. They had completely crossed the Australian Continent from south to north; they had succeeded in the enterprise that had baffled so many others, and performed a deed which would make their name famous to the end of time. They had braved the dangers, and opened up the depths of that immense region, over which mystery had so long hung, and which was wont to excite so much curiosity. They had demonstrated that the vast central tract of Australia, far from being the waste it was hitherto considered contained myriads of fertile acres, fit for the habitation of man, and, perhaps, destined hereafter to be the abode of millions of civilized human beings.

The other half-unloving seems,

With well-weighed word and measured mien ;

But love within her gentle breast

For ever flutters, though unseen:

And gaily reigns she over all—
The rose, by right a queen.

Surely my heart were cold and hard
Unless it held you passing dear,
My peerless lily, and my rose;
Did it not throb to know you near ;
Did I not all your words and ways
Love, cherish, and revere.

For you have been far more to me
Than I could dare to dream or ask:
Your eyes the light by which I see
Through worldly mist and folly's mask;
Your love the coveted reward

Of life's unfinished task.

"AFTER a search so long and anxious, is this my reward ?" asked Lucas Plunkett, reproachfully.

We intrude upon a conversation he held with the elder of his cousins, early in the day that followed his discovery of their abode.

"I am grateful for the anxiety you have shown. I can but offer my gratitude and my thanks; a further reward it is not in my power to bestow," replied the lady.

"Why mock me with this coldness, Mary? You know you have it in your power to repay any sacrifice I could make.”

"Mr. Plunkett," she returned, "I will not pretend to mistake your meaning. Let me speak to you plainly, and put an end to a suit which can only be a source of disquiet and distress to both of us. My hand I will not give without my heart, and this can never be yours. Do not ask me to explain why it is so; it will be better for yourself and for me that you should not. If you would show yourself a friend, urge me no further. Be kind, and do not require me to repeat again a refusal which can never be retracted."

With all her affected firmness, Mary Dillon found it impossible wholly to conceal her agitation. She trembled visibly, her face was deadly pale, its pallor being rendered more striking by contrast with the mourning weeds she wore. She had reason to dread the effect of her answer on the wrathful temper of her suitor. Somewhat to her surprise it evoked no display of anger.

"If I have been persevering," he said, quietly, "it was because you encouraged me to hope."

"How or when have I done so ?” she asked, with astonishment. "You promised that if the day should come when you would need my protection I might offer it, and not be rejected. I have waited for it long, but that day is come at length."

"Pardon me, I did not promise thus."

"Even thus, and by the side of your father's bier."

'No, no," she answered, with a shudder, as the recollection of that dreadful night came back upon her. "Such was not the promise I gave; but, even though it were, I am not friendless yet."

"You do not know what dangers are before you," said Plunkett, ominously.