On the 17th we passed Wilson’s Promontory, the southern extremity of Australia, connected with the main by a low sandy isthmus, only left dry it is probable of late years.  It is a very mountainous tract, rearing its many peaks in solemn grandeur from the waves and burying their summits* at most seasons of the year, in a canopy of grey mist.  On some occasions, however, the bold outline of the mountains is relieved against a clear sky, and their loftiest points catch the first rays of the morning sun, as it rises from the eastern ocean.  Many small islands are dispersed over the sea in front of this promontory, and partake of its character, being apparently the tops of mountains thrusting themselves up from the deep, and suggesting the belief that new countries are about to be disclosed.  Passing Port Western, generally called Western Port, a high mound on the south-eastern extremity of Grant Island was the most conspicuous object.  The next remarkable feature in the coast is Cape Shanck, a projection at the western end of a long line of cliffs.  Lying close off it is a rock, named, from its exact resemblance, Pulpit Rock.

(Footnote.  Nearly 3000 feet high.)

PORT PHILLIP.

In a small bay on the east side of this headland we caught a glimpse of some rich valleys; but from thence for a distance of 16 miles, the coast retains a barren sandy character to Port Phillip, which we reached on the afternoon of the 18th.  We scarcely found any ripplings in the entrance, an occurrence of extreme rarity; for it will readily be imagined that a body of water required to fill a bay thirty miles deep and twenty broad, passing through an entrance one mile and a half in width, must rush with great violence; and when we take into account the extreme unevenness of the bottom (soundings varying from 40 to 25 and even 9 fathoms) no surprise can be felt that such a stream, particularly when opposed to a strong wind, should raise a dangerous sea.  The force of it may be conjectured from a fact of which I was myself witness.  Standing on one of the entrance points, I saw a schooner trying to get in with all sails set before a fresh breeze, and yet she was carried out by the current.  Another observation is also recorded for the guidance of the stranger passing into the port.  When in the middle of the entrance, a low clump of dark bushes breaking the line of white sand beach beyond Shortlands Bluff, was just seen clear of the latter.

The first appearance of Port Phillip is very striking, and the effect of the view is enhanced by the contrast with the turbulent waves without and in the entrance.  As soon as these have been passed, a broad expanse of placid water displays itself on every side; and one might almost fancy oneself in a small sea.  But the presence of a distant highland forming a bluff in the North-East soon dispels this idea.  Besides this bluff (called by the natives Dandonong) Arthur’s Seat, and Station Peak are the principal features that catch the eye of the stranger.  The latter, called Youang by the natives, is one of a small group of lofty peaks rising abruptly out of a low plain on the western shore of the bay; whilst Arthur’s Seat towers over the eastern shore, and forms the northern extremity of a range subsiding gradually to the coast at Cape Shanck.