Part 26 (2/2)

(Signed) RODERICK MURCHISON,

President of the Royal Geographical Society.

P.S. This letter shall be printed in the Proceedings of the Society.

I replied thus:--

TO SIR RODERICK MURCHISON,

President of the Royal Geographical Society.

27 Arundel Street, Strand, 18th November, 1862.

SIR,

It was with much satisfaction that I received your letter of the 11th instant, acknowledging the appreciation by yourself and the Council of the Royal Geographical Society, of the merits of my lamented son in the Burke and Wills Exploring Expedition in Australia. That he, and he alone, was the only one who had the least pretension to the t.i.tle of geographer, is manifest; --therefore it is not strange that Dr. Mueller and my friends in Australia should feel somewhat annoyed in the matter of the Medal.

I am not surprised that it should have so happened under the circ.u.mstances. The motto 'Sic vos non vobis', would be appropriate for him in memoriam. The clothes, for the want of which he died, so amply provided by himself, were worn by others; the land discovered has been called exclusively by another name;--the Gold Medal should follow.

Still I am grateful for your well-expressed remarks at the meeting of the 10th instant, and for this written testimonial of the 11th, from yourself and the Council.

I have the honour to be,

Sir Roderick,

Your obedient and humble servant,

WILLIAM WILLS,

Father of the late Explorer.

Several poetical tributes in honour of the adventurous dead were published in Victoria. I select one which appeared in the Melbourne Herald, on the 1st of December, 1861.

THE LOST EXPLORERS.

'Tis but a little lapse of time Since they pa.s.sed from out our sight; Their hearts with hope were buoyant, And each face with gladness bright; And many were the fervent prayers That in safety they might go, Through a hidden land to the distant strand Where ocean billows flow.

Theirs was no gay adventure In some softly pleasant place: They left home's quiet sanct.i.tude To meet a hostile race; To carve a pa.s.sage through the land, That down its channels wide, With a joyous start might flow a part Of the restless human tide.

Across bleak stony deserts, Through dense scrub and tangled brier, They pa.s.sed with hearts undaunted, And with steps that would not tire; Through mora.s.s and flooding waters, Undismayed by toil and fears, At their chief's command, with salient hand, Fought on the pioneers.

Battled with cold and famine, Battled with fiery heat, Battled o'er rocks till a trail of blood Was left by their wounded feet; Battled when death with his icy hand Struck down the body of Gray;-- 'Onward!' they said, as they buried the dead, And went on their gloomy way.

Now gather round your household hearths, Your children by your knee; 'Tis well that they should understand This tale of misery.

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