The country traversed by this new road is equally barren, and more mountainous than the district between Parramatta and the Hawkesbury.  Amid those rocky heights and depths, across which I had recently toiled on foot, marking out with no ordinary labour, the intended line, I had now the satisfaction to trot over a new and level road, winding like a thread through the dreary labyrinth before me, and in which various parts had already acquired a local appellation not wholly unsuited to their character, such as Hungry Flat, Devil’s Backbone, No-grass Valley,* and Dennis’s Dog-kennel.  In fact, the whole face of the country is composed of sandstone rock, and but partially covered with vegetation.  The horizon is only broken by one or two summits, which are different both in outline and quality from the surrounding country.  These isolated heights generally consist of trap-rock, and are covered with rich soil and very heavy timber.  The most remarkable is Warrawolong—­whose top I first observed from the hill of Jellore in the south, at the distance of 108 miles.  This being a most important station for the general survey, which I made previously to opening the northern road, it was desirable to clear the summit, at least partly, of trees, a work which was accomplished after considerable labour—­the trees having been very large.  On removing the lofty forest, I found the view from that summit extended over a wild waste of rocky precipitous ravines, which debarred all access or passage in any direction, until I could patiently trace out the ridges between them, and for this purpose I ascended that hill on ten successive days, the whole of which time I devoted to the examination of the various outlines and their connections, by means of the theodolite.

(Footnote.  Originally Snodgrass Valley—­but Vox populi vox Dei.  The present name is shorter, and has the additional merit of being descriptive—­for the valley contains but little grass.)

Looking northward, an intermediate and lower range concealed from view the valley of the Hunter, but the summits of the Liverpool range appeared beyond it.  On turning to the eastward, my view extended to the unpeopled shores and lonely waters of the vast Pacific.

Natives of Brisbane water.

Not a trace of man, or of his existence, was visible on any side, except a distant solitary column of smoke, that arose from a thicket between the hill on which I stood and the coast, and marked the asylum of a remnant of the aborigines.  These unfortunate creatures could no longer enjoy their solitary freedom; for the dominion of the white man surrounded them.  His sheep and cattle filled the green pastures where the kangaroo (the principal food of the natives) was accustomed to range, until the stranger came from distant lands and claimed the soil.  Thus these first inhabitants, hemmed in by the power of the white population, and deprived of the liberty which they