ronomer, Mr. W.J. Wills, and the foreman, who had to look to
the careful packing of instruments, specimen cases, etc. The hired
waggons will proceed as far as Swan Hill only. Issuing from the
south gate of the park, the party went down behind the manure
depot, and thence on to the Sydney road, and the whole camped last
night near the village of Essendon.

. . .

The first day's march scarcely exceeded seven miles, the
camping ground for the night being on an open space of greensward
near the church at Essendon. Here I saw my son for the last time.
It was with a feeling of great misgiving that I took leave of him.
On shaking hands with Mr. Burke, I said frankly, "If it were in my
power, I would even now prevent his going." I then added, "If he
knew what I am about to say, he would not, I think, be well
pleased; but if you ever happen to want my son's advice or opinion,
you must ask it, for he will not offer it unasked. No matter what
course you may adopt, he will follow without remonstrance or
murmur." Mr. Burke shook me warmly by the hand in return, and
replied: "There is nothing you can say will raise him higher in my
estimation than he stands at present; I will do as you desire."
There were some photographers present to take likenesses. My son
refused to be taken. "Should it ever be worth while," he said, "my
father has an excellent one, which you can copy from." Alas! it has
been copied very often since.

The progress of the party was slow through the enclosed districts,
until they reached Swan Hill on the Murray, which, properly
speaking, is the northern boundary of the colony of Victoria. My
son's first letter was dated August 26th.

MY DEAR FATHER,

We are now at the Mia-Mia, lying between McIvor and Castlemaine (a
roadside public-house). We are all right enough, except as regards
cleanliness, and everything has gone well, barring the necessary
break-downs, and wet weather. We have to travel slowly, on account
of the camels. I suppose Professor Neumayer will overtake us in a
day or two. I have been agreeably disappointed in my idea of the
camels. They are far from unpleasant to ride; in fact, it is much
less fatiguing than riding on horseback, and even with the little
practice I have yet had, I find it shakes me less. I shall write to
you from Swan Hill, if not before.

Your affectionate son,

WILLIAM J. WILLS.

. . .

From Terrick Terrick, he writes, on the 31st of August, to
his friend Mr. Byerly: