Whaby’s station.

On the morrow we pushed up the southernmost of the valleys, at the junction of which we had encamped, having moderate hills on either side of us.  At the head of the valley we crossed a small dividing range into another valley, and halted for the night, on the banks of a creek from the westward, as we found it impossible to reach Whaby’s station, as we had intended, before sunset.  Nothing could exceed the luxuriance of the vegetation in this valley, but the water of the creek was so impregnated with iron, as to be almost useless.  Being anxious to obtain a view of the surrounding country, I ascended a hill behind the camp, just as the sun was sinking, a time the most favourable for the object I had in view.  The country, broken into hill and dale, seemed richer than any tract I had as yet surveyed; and the beauty of the near landscape was greatly heightened by the mountainous scenery to the S. and S.E.  Both the laxmania, and zanthorea were growing around me; but neither appeared to be in congenial soil.  The face of the hill was very stony, and I found, on examination, that a great change had taken place in the rock-formation, the granite ranges having given place to chlorite schist.

We reached Whaby’s about 9 a.m. of the morning of the 27th, and received every attention and civility from him.  The valley in which we had slept opened upon an extensive plain, to the eastward of which the Morumbidgee formed the extreme boundary; and it was in a bight, and on ground rather elevated above the plain, that he had fixed his residence.  He informed me that we should have to cross the river, as its banks were too precipitous, and the ranges too abrupt, to admit of our keeping the right side; and recommended me to examine and fix upon a spot at which to cross, before I again moved forward, expressing his readiness to accompany me as a guide.  We accordingly rode down the river, to a place at which some stockman had effected a passage,—­after a week’s labour in hewing out a canoe.  I by no means intended that a similar delay should occur in our case, but I saw no objection to our crossing at the same place; since its depth, and consequent tranquillity, rendered it eligible enough for that purpose.

The river Dumot.

The Dumot river, another mountain stream, joins the Morumbidgee opposite to Mr. Whaby’s residence.  It is little inferior to the latter either in size or in the rapidity of its current, and, if I may rely on the information I received, waters a finer country, the principal rock-formation upon it being of limestone and whinstone.  It rises amidst the snowy ranges to the S.E., and its banks are better peopled than those of the stream into which it discharges itself.  Of course, such a tributary enlarges the Morumbidgee considerably:  indeed, the fact is sufficiently evident from the appearance of the latter below the junction.

During our ride with Whaby down its banks, we saw nothing but the richest flats, almost entirely clear of timber and containing from 400 to 700 acres, backed by ranges that were but partially wooded, and were clothed with verdure to their very summits.  The herds that were scattered over the first were almost lost in the height of the vegetation, and the ranges served as natural barriers to prevent them from straying away.