Please see page 157, Vol. xxiii, 1881, of the Gardeners' Monthly, in which an account is given of at last discovering the (supposed) remains of Dr. Leichardt, the distinguished explorer and botanist, who, in 1848, was last heard from, when trying to force his way to the Cougoon, through the unexplored wilds of Australia.

From recent advices from Cloncurry, in Queensland, which I enclose, we are led to infer that the "bleaching bones," previously mentioned as having been discovered in the "bush," were not those of the once noble, and intrepid, though unassuming, young German savant. Wherever the science of Botany is recognized, and floral beauty finds admirers, and the love of adventure meets encouragement, is the name of poor Leichardt favorably spoken of, more especially since his unaccountable disappearance.

Among my once numerous friends and acquaintances in Australia, the most anxious and painful suspense imaginable was manifested about him. His indomitable perseverance, true generosity, probity and active goodness, endeared him to all. Tears would dim the eyes of those who loved him, at the mere mention of his name, and his memory will be ever held sacred.

With but few exceptions, nearly all I conversed with about their unfortunate friend seemed to think he had either perished for want of water, or had been killed and eaten by the wretched baboon-like savages, who, in somewhat numerous groups skulked and prowled about the immense quantities of beautiful waving ferns that mingled with dense growths of splendid flowering shrubs and luxuriant herbaceous plants, so common to those parts. In such like leafy tangles, where the discomforts and perils which at times beset the bewildered traveller in the pathless and almost impenetrable scrub or low jungle - low, though much taller than himself - where no friendly compass is at hand to point the way, nor tree large enough to climb to take a bearing from, how greatly perplexed and embarrassed he soon becomes, in his endeavors to find a way out, the writer of this well knows from his own Australian experience.

A friend, whom no one knows as well as the writer, during the time he spent in Australia, has vivid memories of the fearful time he once passed when trying to get through such a rank mass of vegetation. It was wonderfully woven together with Kennedyas and Sollyas, which he unwittingly got entangled in when thinking to save several miles in a long journey from the far interior to Sydney, N. S. W. With hopes of considerably shortening the distance, he unfortunately ventured to cross a treeless scrub; and, as the sequel will show, he had reasons to thank God he ever got out again. Weary and footsore with walking so many days, he soon discovered he had made a mistake, as it did not prove the "short cut across" he expected. After considerable floundering about for several hours until nightfall, through every kind of obstruction possible to find in such a place, he began to feel still more fatigued, and somewhat alarmed at the thought of being lost. So, with as much determination as he could muster, he still continued to struggle on, without knowing which way he was wandering; until at last, through excessive fatigue and sheer exhaustion, he sank down in utter despair among the close herbaceous growth and thick green bushes that obstructed his vision.

Completely prostrated as he was physically, there was not, however, any rest for him there. He was almost worried to death with the millions of large, fierce, biting, stinging ants, which swarmed over everything, himself included; and which, in defence of his life, he was compelled to keep fighting until the bright sun arose in the morning.

Half frenzied with pain; stupid and feverish from loss of sleep; the sight of the beaming bush-traveller's guide seemed to give him fresh hopes and vigor again. As soon as the cardinal points could be made out he renewed the attempt to extricate himself; and, but a short distance from where the miserable night was passed, he fortunately discovered a clump of Charlwoodia con-gesta, with stems sufficiently stout to mount high enough to get a view of the park-like, open forest before him, and which at about midday he reached.

Had the person alluded to not been able to get out of the frightfully confounding, distracting bush-maze he seemed so hopelessly entangled in, of course he would have perished there. And such may, possibly, have been the unhappy end of the lamented Dr. Leichardt. Ml. Holly, N. J.

[It is more than likely that the nervous shock which one feels when the first idea of being lost comes over him, has often much to do with the J determination of his fate. It requires much nerve to retain presence of mind under these circumstances. The writer has had a number of these experiences, and can testify that it is the easiest thing in the world to feel " lost " and then come near realizing it.

One unpleasant experience was on a mountain top, which was the headquarters for his party for a few days. Desiring to find a species of lily, of which one of the others had found but a solitary specimen, he undertook to make a day alone in a wholly new direction. He carefully noted the trees and landmarks through the forest on his descent, making some artificial points where necessary. Nothing could be easier than to note these on the return. About noon he had reached a descent of perhaps 2,000 feet, when he was enveloped in a thick fog, which, with the deep shade of the firs and spruces, made it almost like night. When once you obtain the knowledge that you have lost the points of the compass, the feeling of utter helplessness is indescribable. It might seem that all one has to do after going down hill is to go up again. But a mountain side is not like an ordinary hill - there are little ups and downs, small plateaus, gullies to cross, and other incidents which soon make one uncertain whether he is going up the same hill he came down. In the fog emergency referred to, it was necessary to stop and think. He remembered that near the top of the mountain he had passed a strong spring, which was on his left hand. This spring ought to develop to a fair stream, and must run down hill.

The plan was to be sure that stream was on the left, and with the greatest care to avoid turning and getting the left on the right, to strike the stream, and then follow its course up hill. This was done - but even when it was struck there was the uncertainty that it might be another that had taken its rise somewhere since the other had been passed. But on this occasion it proved correct. By nightfall the top of the mountain was reached. The lesson it taught was, that in these emergencies everything is suspected, and the general uncertainty is what unnerves one. - Ed. G. M].