We buried Mr. Poole under a Grevillia that stood
close to our underground room; his initials, and the year, are cut in it
above the grave, "J. P. 1845," and he now sleeps in the desert.
The sad event I have recorded, obliged me most reluctantly to put Mr.
Piesse in charge of the home returning party, for I had had every reason
to be satisfied with him, and I witnessed his departure with regret. A
more trustworthy, or a more anxious officer could not have been attached
to such a service as that in which he was employed.
The funeral of Mr. Poole was a fitting close to our residence at the
Depot. At the conclusion of that ceremony the party again separated, and
I returned to my tent, to prepare for moving on the morrow.
At 9 a.m. accordingly of the 18th we pushed on to the N.W. The ground had
become much harder, but the travelling was still heavy. At three miles we
passed a small creek, about seven miles from the Depot, at which I
intended to have halted on leaving that place. We passed over stony
plains, or low, sandy, and swampy ground, since the valleys near the
hills opened out as we receded from them. On the 19th I kept the chained
line, but in consequence of the heavy state of the ground we did not get
on more than 8 1/2 miles. The character of the country was that of open
sandy plains, the sand being based upon a stiff, tenacious clay,
impervious to water.
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