His troubles and trials commenced after landing at Rockingham Bay, near the site of the present town of Cardwell, in trying to pass over swamps, and then cutting his way through tangled, dark, vine-scrubs to the summit of the steepest ranges in North Queensland. They were obliged to leave their carts and harness behind, and wasted much time in looking for a place to ascend the ranges. They quarrelled with the blacks soon after starting, and some of the men took fever. They reached the Herbert, and went into the heads of the Mitchell and Palmer Rivers, passing over the site of the Palmer goldfield. Here the strength of the party began to fail, and horse flesh was their main dependence for food. At Weymouth Bay, Carron and seven men were left, all sick with disappointment and hardship, and in a low state of health. Kennedy and Jacky, with three men, pushed on along the coast northwards to Cape York. One man was wounded by a gun accident, and he and the other two were left at Pudding Pan Hill, and were never heard of again. The leader and Jacky went on, intending to return to the scattered party. They were followed by hostile blacks, who speared the horses, and afterwards mortally wounded Kennedy himself, who died in Jacky's arms. Jacky himself was also speared, but he buried his leader in a grave dug with a tomahawk, and after many hairbreadth escapes and much privation, he reached the northern shore, where the "Ariel" was waiting for the arrival of the party. Only one man, and he an aboriginal, endured to the end, and but for his keen bush knowledge, courage, and splendid devotion, neither of the two other survivors would have been rescued, nor any tidings of the mournful fate of the party have been made known to the world. The "Ariel" sailed to Weymouth Bay, and found the two men, Carron and Goddard, barely alive, the only survivors of the eight left there by Kennedy. Kennedy's papers planted in a tree by Jacky, were afterwards recovered by him. When the nature of the country through which Kennedy travelled is understood and its difficulties known, it is no wonder that mishaps occurred to him. Stony mountainous country, thick dark scrubs, long dense grass, with tribes of fierce blacks ready to throw a spear on every occasion, were enough to tax the capacity of any leader, without the accompaniment of sickness, want of rations and disorganisation. E. KENNEDY. His task is ended, his journeying o'er. He rests in the scrub, by that far northern shore; By the long wash of the Coral Sea, Brave Kennedy sleeps now quietly. Not lonely he lies in his last bed, For loving memories o'erbrood his head; Kindly to him, the tall ferns lean, In love, their fellowship of green. Sweetly for him, the bird's deep song, Is sung when summer days are long; Soft drips the dew in the morning sun, Rest harassed one, thy task is done.