Perhaps, of all the journeys into the interior, none have excited more
sustained interest than Sturt's. It must be admitted that his account,
however truthful it may have appeared to him at the time, is misleading,
and overdrawn. But whilst saying this let us look at the circumstances
under which he received the impressions he has put on record.
He was a thoroughly broken and disappointed man; for six months he had
been shut up in his weary depot prison, debarred from making any attempt
to complete his work, watching his friend and companion die slowly before
his eyes. When the kindly rains released him, he was turned back and
constantly back by a strip of desert country, that seemed to dog him
whichever way he turned. No wonder he fairly hated the place, and looked
at all things through the heated, treacherous haze of the desert plains.
When, therefore, he speaks of the awful temperature that rendered life
unbearable, and the inland slopes of Australia unfitted for human
habitation, it must be recalled that the party were weak and suffering,
liable to feel oppressive heat or extreme cold, more keenly than strong
and healthy men.
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