108 
REACH ALBANY. 
we had not a dry shred about us, whilst the whole 
country through which we passed, had, from the 
long-continued and excessive rains, become almost 
an uninterrupted chain of puddles. For a great 
part of the way we walked up to our ankles in 
water. This made our progress slow, and rendered 
our last day’s march a very cold and disagreeable 
one. Before reaching the Sound, we met a native, 
who at once recognised Wylie, and greeted him 
most cordially. From him we learnt that we had 
been expected at the Sound some months ago, but 
had long been given up for lost, whilst Wylie had 
been mourned for and lamented as dead by his 
friends and his tribe. The rain still continued falling 
heavily as we ascended to the brow of the hill 
immediately overlooking the town of Albany — not 
a soul was to be seen — not an animal of any kind — 
the place looked deserted and uninhabited, so com- 
pletely had the inclemency of the weather driven 
both man and beast to seek shelter from the storm. 
For a moment I stood gazing at the town below 
me — that goal I had so long looked forward to, had 
so laboriously toiled to attain, was at last before me. 
A thousand confused images and reflections crowded 
through my mind, and the events of the past year 
were recalled in rapid succession. The contrast 
between the circumstances under which I had com- 
menced and terminated my labours stood in strong 
relief before me. The gay and gallant cavalcade 
that accompanied me on my way at starting — the 
