sequences which would be likely to result, and did
unfortunately result, from the fatal inactivity and idling of Mr.
Wright and his party on the Darling."

During the month of March, the Argus newspaper called attention to
the matter, and a letter, signed Lockhart Moreton, expressed itself
thus "What has become of the expedition? Surely the committee are
not alive to the necessity of sending some one up? Burke has by
this time crossed the continent, or is lost. What has become of
Wright? What is he doing?"

Then came a letter from Menindie, expressing strong opinions on the
state of affairs, but flattering to my son. It was evident to me
that these gentlemen knew or thought more than they felt disposed
to state directly in words. I have already mentioned that Mr.
Burke, while within the districts where newspapers could reach him,
had been harassed, from the time of his appointment, by remarks in
the public prints, evidently proceeding from parties and their
friends who thought the honour of leading this grand procession
more properly belonged to themselves. Being a gentleman of
sensitive feelings, these observations touched him to the quick.
When he was no longer within reach, they still continued, but he
found defenders in the all-powerful Argus. I am sorry to say, for
the sake of human nature, that there were some who went so far as
to wish no successful result to his enterprise.

Believing and trusting that these remarks of Mr. Moreton and
others, would stir up the committee to take some steps to ascertain
if Mr. Wright was moving in his duty, I contented myself with
writing to the Magnetic Observatory, to learn from Professor
Neumayer what was going on. He being absent on scientific tours, I
received answers from his locum tenens, to the effect that within a
month certain information was expected. The committee I did not
trouble, as their Honorary Secretary had deigned no reply to
letters I had previously sent.

In the month of June, unable to bear longer suspense, with a small
pack on my shoulders and a stick in my hand, I walked from
Ballaarat to Melbourne, a distance of seventy-five miles, stopping
for a couple of nights on the way at the house of a kind and
hospitable friend, Dugald McPherson, Esquire, J.P., at Bungel-Tap.
This gentleman has built a substantial mansion there, in the
Elizabethan style, likely, from its solidity, to last for
centuries. I arrived at Melbourne on Saturday, the 16th of June. On