R. K. Hervey, Once a Week (1863)
“ On the opposite side of the gully, some twenty feet above the fog level, stood a solitary tent, the sparks issuing from the chimney of which showed that its occupant kept up a good fire. “This is a nice night to cross the gully in,” thought I. “It is about ten to one that I shall miss the tree; and, even if I find it, it’s no fun groping one’s way in the dark across a slippery trunk with ten feet of water under one. If I thought old Jackson had turned in for the night, I’d go back and camp down before Sydney Bill’s fire.” ”
