Heads of the Plenty, Oct. 28. 1852.

We are now really on our journey. On Wednesday last we left Melbourne. There was a train of three carts, attended by thirteen men, well armed, and, therefore, not very likely to be attacked by bushrangers. Our blue cart, well loaded, and drawn by two capital horses,—the shafter a bay, whom we named Ben, and the leader a handsome gray, whose name too was Gray,—led the way, the articles it contained defended from any rain that might overtake us by a good tarpaulin. Our party consisted of myself, Alfred and Charlton, and my nephew Edward. The next party was headed by the surgeon of the ship we came over in, and Mr. L., our fellow-passenger, and was completed by several young men, whom they had engaged from amongst the intermediates. The third was headed by a Captain Nolusbolus, who chose to follow without asking any one's permission, and was made up of his ship associates. We led the way, because we had possessed ourselves of most information regarding the route.

We had made all possible inquiries on this point, from parties most likely to know, both as to the best route to the Ovens, and as to the state of the roads; and, as in all such cases, we found no two persons of the same opinion.