uld see it was the truth and nothing but the
truth.--[Watch produced]--That is the watch Mr. Wills desired the
survivor to give to his father, which I have done.

1070. There was a pocket-book, was there not?--Yes, which Mr. Burke
gave me on the evening before his death, requesting me to deliver
it to Sir William Stawell, but under any circumstances I was not to
deliver it to any other gentleman of the committee. I delivered it
to Sir William Stawell this morning.

1071. Did you know anything of the nature of the contents of it?
--No, except what Mr. Burke read to me affecting myself, and which
Sir William Stawell has read to me this morning. The same book I
showed to Mr. Howitt, telling him that it was Mr. Burke's desire
that I should deliver it to Sir William Stawell himself. Mr. Burke
also gave me his watch, and told me it was the property of the
committee; the same I delivered to Mr. Howitt.

1072. You kept possession of the book?--Yes, and gave it over to
Sir William Stawell this morning.

1073. How did you preserve all those things while with the blacks?
--I had a small canvas pouch, which I always carried about with me
on my person.

1074. Did they ever covet anything?--Yes, they used often to make
me show them the contents of it.

. . .

The letter and watch being handed to Mr. Burke, my son then lent him
his pistol, the only defence he could have retained against hostile
attack, and lying on the bare ground, resigned to his fate,
urgently requested them to leave him. Imagination, with all the aid
of poetical fancy, can conceive no position to exceed this in utter
desolation. It has been said, and many may think, they ought not to
have separated. No consideration, or argument, should have induced
his two companions to abandon him. It was indeed a trying
alternative, but falling in with the blacks appeared to be the only
chance of rescue for the whole party; and had this fortunately
happened before the sudden and total prostration of Burke, there
can be no doubt they would have hastened immediately to bring the
same succour to my son. King informed me that Mr. Burke was
dreadfully distressed, and that he had great difficulty in
persuading him to go on. At times he would stop and exclaim, "How
can I leave him, that dear, good fellow?" He was usually in
the habit of addressing him as "My dear boy," for although
twenty-seven, and wearing a beard, he had such a youthful
appearance that few would have taken