The creek came from the south-westward, and was lost
in the scrubs to the east of north. A thick and vigorous clump of
eucalypts down the creek induced me first to visit them, but the
channel was hopelessly dry. Returning, I next went up the creek, and
came to a place where great boulders of stone crossed the bed, and
where several large-sized holes existed, but were now dry. Hard by,
however, I found a damp spot, and near it in the sand a native well,
not more than two feet deep, and having water in it. Still farther up
I found an overhanging rock, with a good pool of water at its foot,
and I was now satisfied with my day's work. Here I camped. I made a
fire at a large log lying in the creek bed; my horse was up to his
eyes in most magnificent herbage, and I could not help envying him as
I watched him devouring his food. I felt somewhat lonely, and
cogitated that what has been written or said by cynics, solitaries, or
Byrons, of the delights of loneliness, has no real home in the human
heart. Nothing could appal the mind so much as the contemplation of
eternal solitude. Well may another kind of poet exclaim, Oh, solitude!
where are the charms that sages have seen in thy face? for human
sympathy is one of the passions of human nature.
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