It appeared that he had tried to scramble up a sandhill and had fallen back into the bush and died--a sad and melancholy fate for one so young.

He had laboured under great disadvantages in walking, having cut his feet in very gallantly swimming out to save one of the boats during a hurricane in Sharks Bay.
He was reduced to a perfect skeleton; having, in fact, been starved to death.

The sight drew forth a tributary tear of affection even from the native who accompanied the party.

Mr.Roe consigned poor young Smith's remains to the earth, and setting up a piece of board to mark the spot, smoothed down his lonely pillow, and moved with his companions in mournful silence towards the south.
It must have been an impressive scene; the sun, as if conscious that he was shining for the last time on the remains of the ill-fated young explorer, seemed to linger as if unwilling to descend into the western horizon; and his full red orb painted a number of light airy clouds that floated through the sky in the most brilliant colours, and shed a stream of fire over the water as it rolled with a mournful dirge-like sound on the strand close by.

The howl of a wild dog now and then fell on their ears as they performed their melancholy task, and alone broke the stillness that reigned around, as they retreated slowly along the beach.
Whilst on this humane excursion, Mr.Roe witnessed a wondrous gift possessed by the natives.