want of rest, being obliged to stand or walk before the fire, nearly the
whole night.

July 6.--The morning still very wet and miserably cold. With Wylie acting
as guide, we reached in eight miles, the Candiup river, a large chain of
ponds, connected by a running stream, and emptying into a wide and deep
arm of the sea, with much rich and fertile land upon its banks. The whole
district was heavily timbered, and had good grass growing amongst the
trees. From the very heavy rains that had fallen, we had great trouble in
crossing many of the streams, which were swollen by the floods into
perfect torrents. In the Candiup river I had to wade, cold and chill as I
was, seven times through, with the water breast high, and a current that
I with difficulty could keep my feet against, in order to get the horses
over in safety; the only fordable place was at a narrow ledge of rocks,
and with so strong a stream, and such deep water below the ledge, I dared
not trust Wylie to lead any of them, but went back, and took each horse
across myself. The day was bitterly cold and rainy, and I began to suffer
severely from the incessant wettings I had been subject to for many days
past.

Four miles beyond the Candiup river, we came to King's river, a large
salt arm of Oyster Harbour, here my friend Wylie, who insisted upon it
that he knew the proper crossing place, took me into a large swampy
morass, and in endeavouring to take the horses through, three of them got
bogged and were nearly lost, and both myself and Wylie were detained in
the water and mud for a couple of hours, endeavouring to extricate them.
At last we succeeded, but the poor animals were sadly weakened and
strained, and we were compelled to return back to the same side of the
river, and encamp for the night, instead of going on to King George's
Sound as I had intended!