We buried Mr.Poole under a Grevillia that stood close to our underground room; his initials, and the year, are cut in it above the grave, "J.

P.1845," and he now sleeps in the desert.
The sad event I have recorded, obliged me most reluctantly to put Mr.
Piesse in charge of the home returning party, for I had had every reason to be satisfied with him, and I witnessed his departure with regret.

A more trustworthy, or a more anxious officer could not have been attached to such a service as that in which he was employed.
The funeral of Mr.Poole was a fitting close to our residence at the Depot.

At the conclusion of that ceremony the party again separated, and I returned to my tent, to prepare for moving on the morrow.
At 9 a.m.accordingly of the 18th we pushed on to the N.W.The ground had become much harder, but the travelling was still heavy.

At three miles we passed a small creek, about seven miles from the Depot, at which I intended to have halted on leaving that place.