To a man accustomed to camels for exploration, the beautiful horse
sinks into the insignificance of a pigmy when compared to his majestic
rival, the mighty ship of the desert, and assuredly had it not been
for these creatures and their marvellous powers, I never could have
performed the three last journeys which complete my public
explorations in Australia.
I have called my book The Romance of Exploration; the romance is in
the chivalry of the achievement of difficult and dangerous, if not
almost impossible, tasks. Should I again be called on to enter the
Field of Discovery, although to scenes remote from my former
Australian sphere, I should not be the explorer I have represented
myself in these pages, if, even remembering the perils of my former
adventures, I should shrink from facing new. An explorer is an
explorer from love, and it is nature, not art, that makes him so.
The history of Australian exploration, though not yet quite complete,
is now so far advanced towards its end, that only minor details now
are wanting, to fill the volume up; and though I shall not attempt to
rank myself amongst the first or greatest, yet I think I have reason
to call myself, the last of the Australian explorers.
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