July 7.—­Getting up the horses early, we proceeded up the King’s river, with a view of attempting to cross, but upon sounding the depths in one or two places, I found the tide, which was rising, was too high; I had only the alternative, therefore, of waiting for several hours until the water ebbed, or else of leaving the horses, and proceeding on without them.  Under all the circumstances, I decided upon the latter; the rain was still falling very heavily, and the river before us was so wide and so dangerous for horses, from its very boggy character, that I did not think it prudent to attempt to force a passage, or worth while to delay to search for a proper crossing place.  There was good feed for the horses where they were, and plenty of water, so that I knew they would fare better by remaining than if they were taken on to the Sound; whilst it appeared to me more than probable that I should have no difficulty, whenever I wished to get them, to procure a guide to go for and conduct them safely across, at the proper crossing place.

Having turned our horses loose, and piled up our baggage, now again greatly reduced, I took my journals and charts, and with Wylie forded the river about breast high.  We were soon on the other side, and rapidly advancing towards the termination of our journey; the rain was falling in torrents, and we had not a dry shred about us, whilst the whole country through which we passed, had, from the long-continued and excessive rains, become almost an uninterrupted chain of puddles.  For a great part of the way we walked up to our ankles in water.  This made our progress slow, and rendered our last day’s march a very cold and disagreeable one.  Before reaching the Sound, we met a native, who at once recognised Wylie, and greeted him most cordially.  From him we learnt that we had been expected at the Sound some months ago, but had long been given up for lost, whilst Wylie had been mourned for and lamented as dead by his friends and his tribe.  The rain still continued falling heavily as we ascended to the brow of the hill immediately overlooking the town of Albany—­not a soul was to be seen—­not an animal of any kind—­the place looked deserted and uninhabited, so completely had the inclemency of the weather driven both man and beast to seek shelter from the storm.

For a moment I stood gazing at the town below me—­that goal I had so long looked forward to, had so laboriously toiled to attain, was at last before me.  A thousand confused images and reflections crowded through my mind, and the events of the past year were recalled in rapid succession.  The contrast between the circumstances under which I had commenced and terminated my labours stood in strong relief before me.  The gay and gallant cavalcade that accompanied me on my way at starting—­the small but enterprising band that I then commanded, the goodly array of horses and drays, with all their well-ordered appointments and equipment were conjured up in all their circumstances of pride and pleasure; and I could not restrain a tear, as I called to mind the embarrassing difficulties and sad disasters that had broken up my party, and left myself and Wylie the two sole wanderers remaining at the close of an undertaking entered upon under such hopeful auspices.