"Dr. Dodd."
He was reclining on the ground, and by his side, seated on a log, was a young woman, his wife, with an infant in her lap, her head bent over on her hand as if in grief. A small fire burnt by their side, whilst behind them was a light covered cart, perhaps containing all their worldly possessions. A short way off a horse stood feeding. Those two figures, with their little child, seemed sadly out of place where they then sat in that spot; the rough and sun-burnt bullock driver or gaunty stock-man would have been more in character. The woman, with that fine instinct which females of every degree possess, must have felt this, and her air of sorrow may have arisen from this cause, as she thought of home and friends far away in the pleasant village in that land now separated from her by the vast waste of waters. Were I given to poetising, I had here a theme for spinning out verses by the yard. I did not speak to them, I was too far off even to say"God speed them,"
but I wished it from my heart, for with that mysterious sympathy that binds human nature together I felt that they were unhappy and doubting, and had need of"God's speed"
to hearten them by the way. Cantering along briskly, the feeling of melancholy that had stolen over me was quickly dissipated, and some half-a-dozen miles further brought me to a resting place for the night at the Squatter's Home, a comfortable inn on a part of Mr. J. Loder's run. From Garton’s, "The Squatters' Home," to Davis', better known in the country as "Paddy Davis," a distance of twenty miles, the road is carried through a country precisely similar to that last described, now winding round gently sloping ranges, then passing along fine grassed flats, but all having the same rich, black, boggy, and slippery soil. As the road traversed an immense swampy flat, which lay at the base of a somewhat lofty mountain, the pinnacle of a branch I from the main range, I observed an extraordinary appearance in the surface of the flat, it being laid up in ridges, of about the size and having very much the appearance of the ridges of a ploughed field, and bearing a very great resemblance to old cultivated land that had been allowed to remain idle for some considerable time. This appearance is owing to the lodging of the water on perfectly flat land, which has worn for itself gentle channels by which to escape, in the same way at, in other parts of the country, the same lodgment of water wears the surface into those holes familiarly denominated"melon holes."
Another remarkable feature of this part of the country is the dead timber on some of the hills. At times a whole hill side will appear without a living tree upon it, the white trunks standing out gaunt, leafless, and dead, and stretching out their fast decaying branches towards heaven, like ghosts of the primeval forest appealing deprecatingly against the almighty fiat that has gone forth for their destruction. There is a very handsome green shrub that grows very plentifully in this region, being a kind of peppermint, with a long narrow leaf somewhat similar to the mountain myrtle. Its bright green leaves form a pleasing variation to the sombre hues of the dark topped gums, whilst it is the more singular from being the favourite selection of a large-sized caterpillar, that spins its web amongst the branches of this shrub. These webs are very curious in appearance, being composed underneath of a thick tough substance made by the insect, and somewhat resembling brown paper, only of a lighter colour. In the interior of this, which is funnel shaped, and about the size of an ordinary sparrow's nest, the web is formed, the top being covered with leaves, sticks, &c, so as with the web to exclude the wet. I took them in the first instance for birds' nests, and seeing them so very numerous I was led to look closer at them, when I saw at once from the appearance of the lower part that they could not be specimens of bird architecture. The web or nest that I examined contained eight of these caterpillars, so that it seems they join themselves into little communities to form a common shelter. Throughout the whole of this country the feed was most abundant, being a long bladed tufty grass, with ears shooting out of the tufts somewhat resembling the wild rye. This grass has the look of being coarse, but I am told that it is highly nutritious, and will fatten cattle or horses much quicker than stable feeding. I know from experience that horses eat it most readily. I passed over the country lying between Davis' and Tamworth, a distance of about twenty-four miles, through heavy and continuous showers, that completely drenched me before I was half-way, and left me but little opportunity of making observations on the road. The country appeared, so far as it could be seen through the universal sheet of water that covered its face, to bear the same generic features with that I had travelled over during the two preceding days. Within three or four miles of Tamworth, however, the track ascends some ridges, which offer a somewhat better footing for the traveller. Rising the crest of one of these, the town of Tamworth suddenly comes into sight, although I had previously been prepared for it, by the fences which branded the road, and by the road itself which had been cleared of trees and stumps for some distance. I caught only a faint view of the town through the misty rain, although the heavy ranges of the Moa rose high and black beyond, forming a fitting background to this uncomfortable picture. The town of Tamworth is divided into two unequal parts by the river Peel, the larger portion lying on the north or New England side of the river. It contains several good inns, one or two large stores, and about two hundred houses, many of them of brick, and built in a very tasty manner. A good deal of business seemed to be doing in the town, principally with diggers, amongst whom I noticed many Chinese. The church is only small, and the court-house is a miserable edifice. Luckily I crossed the river before the creeks, swollen by the heavy rains of the two preceding days, had had time to come down sufficiently to stop my passage. The water was however, quite high enough to be pleasant, and only by exceeding agility, for which I took all praise to myself on reaching the other side, was it that I escaped a wetting. Travelling along the feet of the lofty ranges that overhang the town, the road now passes along the rich alluvial valley that borders the Peel, until, reaching the Moa Creek a little above its junction with that river, it follows up the course of that stream, over fine dry flats, and along the base of vast broken granite ranges. On some of these the vast blocks of granite lie tossed about in almost chaotic confusion, forming all manner of curious forms and figures; and in one place especially, I observed a vast boulder about twenty feet in height, and round on every face but one, and on that one an enormous slice seemed to have been taken off obliquely, leaving it an appearance of overhanging the roadway so much that only a small impetus would be sufficient to dislodge it from the flat and smooth-faced pedestal of rock on which it stood, and to send it crushing everything before it. Yet that rock must have stood for centuries, unmoved by storms, though gradually yielding, atom by atom, to the imperceptible force of atmospheric agency. Joining the creek is the Swamp Oak Creek, running down by the foot of the Moonbie Ranges, and hemmed in on the other side by high steep hills of granite, quartz, and whinstone. This creek is celebrated from having been the locality where gold was first discovered in the Northern district of New South Wales. Over a fine roadway beautifully macadamised by the granitic debris washed down from the hills, I reached the Moonbies just as the clouds, that had collected in heavy masses overhead, had begun to discharge their watery contents, and with a feeling of satisfaction sheltered myself in the Coach and Horses, one of the two inns that the locality boasts of. That afternoon and the whole of the night the rain poured down in perfect torrents, and the next morning was greeted with the intelligence that my passage was barred before me. No mail passed, no team came along the road, only a solitary horseman, who had been compelled to return, was seen travelling disconsolately by, as if, like Noah's dove, he had been left by the waters with no place to settle down upon. Another day of inactivity occurred, the streams on the route not having sufficiently subsided, although this and the preceding day had been bright and sunny, and it seemed to me a sad sacrifice of comfortable travelling to have to wait for the going down of the rivers, until perhaps the rain began again. The third day, however, I left the Moonbie, the road winding gradually up a pretty grassy valley, with a clear and sparkling stream running through it. This valley soon narrows into a gully, the road crossing short spurs and small water-courses, until it suddenly mounts the face of a precipitous ridge, the top of which when reached, shows other ranges to be passed. Range upon range now succeeds in quick succession, all to be crossed and all heavy mounting. When the last mountain is conquered, an extended view to the southward is gained, the ranges that had appeared mountains from the valley, now looking like pleasant hills from the mountain top, whilst in the back ground towers the giant mountains of the Liverpool Range rising one above another in solemn grandeur, at first black and frowning, but growing blue and indistinct as they fade into distance. To the northward however, as in the cases of the other ascents, no very extended view is to be gained, the ranges shelving down easily, and branching off in two short ridges in every direction. Down one of these the road slopes very gradually, crossing several abrupt points of ridges until a narrow swampy valley is reached. Along the edge of this the road winds, occasionally crossing the stream that runs in a good body through the chain of large waterholes that occupied a good portion of the centre of the flat. These are considered to be the most dangerous crossing-places in the country; for, when the whole flat is covered with water, it is impossible to distinguish where these large holes are, and in many cases the road passes close upon the edge of them. Thus, a traveller not knowing the road, or through inadvertence, may plunge suddenly into one of them, and being unprepared for the immersion, in too many cases fatal consequences ensue. All along the road streams of water were making their way across the track, issuing from innumerable springs in the range side. The roadway, however, was firm and good, notwithstanding occasional difficulties from accumulations of these tiny streams making a spot soft here and there. These places were easily to be avoided; and now passing a few ranges not of very difficult ascent, I came to the waters of the Macdonald, that bete noir that had already cost me two days.