loyally determined to stay with him to the last. One horse was killed for food; dysentery broke out; the natives deserted them, but came back starving and penitent, and were permitted to remain with the white men. Then came the tragedy which makes this narrative so conspicuously terrible, even in the annals of Australian exploration. Two of the black men shot the overseer, Baxter, as he slept, and then ran away, perishing, it is supposed, miserably in the desert. Eyre, when some distance from the place where poor Baxter rested, looking after the horses, heard the report of the gun and hurried back, arriving just in time to receive the pathetic look of farewell from the murdered man, who had served him so long and so faithfully. Wylie, the black boy, who had been with Eyre in Adelaide, now alone remained, and it is scarcely possible to imagine a more appalling situation than that in which Eyre then found himself. The murderers had carried away nearly the whole of the scanty stock of provisions, leaving only forty pounds of flour, a little tea and sugar, and four gallons of water. They had also taken the two available guns, and nearly all the ammunition. The body of Baxter was wrapped in a blanket--they could not even dig a grave in the barren rock. Left with his sole companion, Eyre sadly resumed the march, their steps tracked by the two blacks, who probably meditated further murders; but, with only cowardly instincts, they dared not approach the intrepid man, who at length outstripped them, and they were never heard of more. Still no water was found for 150 miles; then a slight supply, and the two men struggled on, daily becoming weaker, living on horse-flesh, an occasional kangaroo, and the few fish that were to be caught--for it must be remembered that at no time were they far from the coast. On the 2nd of June, nearly four months after they had bidden good-bye to the cutter at Fowler's Bay, they stood on the cliffs, looking out over the ocean, when they saw in the distance two objects which were soon recognized as boats, and shortly afterwards, to their unbounded joy, they discerned the masts of a vessel on the farther side of a small rocky island. Animated by a new life, Eyre pushed on until he reached a point whence he succeeded in hailing the ship, and a boat was sent off. The vessel proved to be a French whaler, the Mississippi, commanded by an Englishman, Captain Rossiter. The worn-out travellers stayed on board for a fortnight, experiencing the utmost kindness, and with recruited strength and food and clothing, they bade a grateful farewell to the captain and crew, and resumed their journey. For twenty-three days more Eyre and his attendant Wylie pursued their way. Rain fell heavily, and the cold was intense; but at length, on the 27th of July, they reached Albany, in Western Australia, and the journey was accomplished.