The night of the 2nd July was still more severe in its effects upon the spirits and constitutions of the party, and the rain poured on them incessantly. Miserable nights were these to spend their vigils. Up, however, they rose with the returning dawn—stiff and aching in every limb; then wringing the wet from their stanched blankets, and feasting upon the raw breast of an albatross, journeyed on to seek a retreat from the recurring storms. On the 3rd, private Inglis discovered a cave close to the shore, whither the party joyfully repaired; and as the day was fine, they dried their dripping clothes and blankets. Meanwhile, watching from their lairs upon the passing birds, they brought down eighteen from the wing to replenish their impoverished game store. Stones they threw as if fired from rifles and used sticks with an address not inferior to Kaffirs. Necessity indeed was indulgent to give certainty to the primitive means they employed to secure their prey. Next day, from the return of a severe frost, all power of feeling and motion left their feet and fingers, and confined them to the dreary cave for a full week. Until the 26th July, the cave afforded them a partial retreat from the severe inclemencies of the weather. On that day, private Inglis, the most successful of the adventurers, discovered a small hut about three miles away, in which a number of men’s names were carved. Under the last name was cut the words, “On a journey round the island, 27th May, 1849.” This unlooked for intimation gave rise to strange emotions and speculations, and the last cloud of despair vanished before the sudden hope which sprung up in his breast. How intensely did he gaze upon the portentous words! and how often did he read them to assure himself that the passage was not the insane impression of a diseased mind! Satisfied that the inscription was not a mental caprice, he started off to announce to his fellow-sufferers the purport of his discovery. All received the intelligence with wondering doubt. “Where! where!” burst from every lip, and hastening forward, they followed Inglis to the hut. There indeed was the “handwriting on the wall;” and seeing in that ominous sentence, the legacy of their lives bequeathed to them by Providence, each voice was swelled in thankful ascriptions to that gracious Power, which, hitherto, had so marvellously preserved them.