a bush life, having passed his previous career in the Austrian military service. How miserably his party, when just newly started, became broken up by dissension and fear, and how wretchedly he perished from want of ordinary caution and forethought on the part of the relief expedition, is now known to every one.
No sooner had Howitt returned to Melbourne with King, the sole survivor of the once noble and amply fitted Victorian expedition, than Government resolved to despatch him again to Cooper’s Creek, to bring in the remains of Burke and Wills. This he has accomplished most satisfactorily, and the very propriety of doing so (which has been canvassed by the leading journalists of the day, who would have preferred that the remains should be interred on the spot where they fell) has been borne out by the fact, that on his return to Cooper’s Creek he discovered that, despite every precaution to the contrary, the wild dogs had burrowed into the graves, and taken away some portion of the skeletons. Howitt speaks highly of the docility and kindness of the natives of Cooper’s Creek, to whom alone we are indebted for the fortunate escape of King, but for which all trace of that portion of the Victorian expedition which really did go forward to the task assigned it would have perished, without leaving a scrap of record, like the unfortunate Leichardt.
As some return for the kindness shown by the natives to King, Howitt was furnished with a large stock of provisions, and a number of brass plates, which, by the instructions of the Victorian Exploration Committee, were distributed among the aborigines of the Creek.
The different issue of these two great men’s exertions corresponds with the nationality of character attributable to each. Burke, with the gallant impetuosity of his race, dashed at the interior, and, though he perished in the attempt, wrested the prize by coup de main. Stuart, with the plodding persevering nature of his countrymen, was “canny” in his first attempts, till slowly but surely acquired knowledge enabled him to perfect and bring to a most satisfactory conclusion the question of the main road across Australia.
If the Adelaide people gave way to ecstasies of delight on Stuart’s safe return, neither did they omit to pay every respect and honour to the remains of the less fortunate leader, as Howitt and his party came down the same route, where a few days subsequently followed the Australian explorer. At several of the townships on the road funeral processions spontaneously formed themselves, shops were closed, and not unfrequently volunteer bands attended, playing the Dead March in Saul. When at length the funeral cortége reached Adelaide on the 11th December, thousands of people, headed by the Mayor and Council, all the city functionaries, and an innumerable retinue of citizens joined the procession, and accompanied the remains to their temporary resting-place in the barracks. As the dark plumes that nodded over the hearse which contained the ashes of these gallant men passed slowly up the street, heads were uncovered, shutters were closed, and as with one heart the nation expressed its sympathy and sorrow. Upon arriving at the barracks, the coffin, which was mounted with black velvet, and had a brass plate on the lid inscribed with the initials of the departed, was borne by Messrs. Howitt, McKinlay, and Murray, veteran explorers just returned from the interior, to the first of whom the Mayor took the opportunity of briefly expressing the general satisfaction at the successful close of his journey, while at the same time he thanked the assembled multitude for their spontaneous tribute of esteem to the dead.
Mr. Howitt then opened the box, and disclosed two parcels sewn in canvas, containing the bones of the deceased gentlemen.
AN ICE STORM.
It was in the early part of February, 1854, that the following phenomena came under my notice. I was at the time in the west of England at my country residence, which I should observe is situated at a considerable elevation above the sea. There had been a good deal of rain, serving to keep up the characteristic name of February, Fillditch, given by the old almanacs. The wet weather was succeeded by two or three warm days, which induced an immense amount of evaporation, and foggy nights resulted. The evening preceding the scene I am about to describe, had been perceptibly colder; the night was obscured by an intense fog, otherwise there was nothing remarkable.
The next morning I was awakened by a message from some of my people, begging me to get up immediately, for the woods were breaking down in every direction. The gardener added on his own authority, that he thought that in the space of an hour every tree round the house would be stripped. I rushed to the window, expecting to see the boughs swayed by the wind. There was hardly a breath of air stirring, but on all sides I heard the ominous sounds of splitting timber. Making my toilette with something more than “convenient speed,” I was soon at the scene of action, where I found in good sooth that the branches on every side came
Cracking, crashing, thunder down,
as though a legion of woodmen were felling whole plantations at a stroke. On looking round, I perceived to my amazement that every twig, every bough, was covered with a coating of transparent ice, half an inch or more in thickness. The walls of the house were glazed over; the grass was brittle under my tread, each blade being sheathed in ice; the trunks of the trees were like smooth cylinders of glass; in short, the whole scene had suffered a fantastic metamorphosis. Every object that the eye could rest upon was turned to glass; stalactites were hanging from the upper boughs in every conceivable form; the laurels and other shrubs were not to be recognised, but on examining the leaves, I found that the icy mould in which they were encased retained the most delicate impressions of every fibre. The dark firs were singularly beautiful,
They reared their stiffened heads in jewelled state;
Branches on branches bowed with icy weight,
As drooped their lower limbs superbly bound
In radiant fetters to the spangled ground.
