M'Ivor Diggings, June 20th, 1853.

I must give you yet some further details of our journey hither, as it is only by a complete narrative of the journey that those who follow us can have any real idea of what it is: the whole distance, be it remembered, being only seventy-five miles.

The weather had been fine while we were down in Melbourne for a couple of days, and the north wind and sun had considerably dried the roads, so that we got through the abominable road between the fences better than before. Instead of finding a party of good-natured Skyemen this time, we overtook a party who had more the appearance of Cockneys. Their cattle did not appear very likely to drag them through that six mile quagmire, and we proposed, for mutual security, to lend each other an extra horse in any case of sticking fast. They declined, saying, somewhat haughtily, they were quite strong enough to take care of themselves. In less than half an hour they were stuck fast up to the axles, and then came to ask us to lend them a horse. Though they did not deserve it, and though we believed they would not have lent us one, had the case been ours, after the manner in which they repulsed our offer, yet we stayed and helped them out, but we then went on and left them to their own sufficiency.