54 
JOURNEY TO BETHELSDORP. [1813. 
I thought it right to decamp. While retiring, as I 
walked on the sand of the river, observing the foot- 
steps of a man, like Robinson Crusoe, I shrunk back ; 
but on looking around I found that the footsteps must 
have been my own. 
We left March river (as we called it for want of its 
real name) at three o'clock, P.M. and at four had a 
glimpse of Mussel Bay. As we travelled along we 
found the road strewed with dead beetles, most of 
which die one of the most painful deaths conceivable. 
Their entrails are eaten away by some litde insects. 
I have found some walking along with little more 
than their hearts left. Before sun-set we reached 
Little Brak river; and we arrived very opportunely, 
for the tide from the ocean, which comes up every 
twelve hours, was returned, and a postman who knew 
the crossing well, came up at the time we had occa- 
sion for his counsel. He rode foremost, then our 
spare oxen followed, and after them our waggons ; and 
we all got over safe, though our oxen, at one time, 
had only a few inches of their bodies above water. 
In ten minutes we had to cross another wide branch 
of the same river, w^hich, though not so broad as the 
former, M'as deeper. Cupido gave some serious advice 
to the black postman about salvation. We went forward 
in the dark till about nine, P.M. when we were glad to 
halt at a pool of water, being considerably fatigued. 
2nd. When I awoke, at four in the morning, I 
found we were surrounded by a thick fog. Walking 
