Identifier: sketcherstourrou00elwe (find matches)
Title: A sketcher's tour round the world
Year: 1854 (1850s)
Authors: Elwes, Robert Hullmandel & Walton
Subjects: Voyages around the world Voyages around the world
Publisher: London : Hurst and Blackett, Publishers, Successors to Henry Colburn
Contributing Library: Harold B. Lee Library
Digitizing Sponsor: Brigham Young University

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the cliff was so steep, projecting on eachside in huge buttresses, that I could not see the fall fromany part. The innkeeper told me that no one had ever beendown to the bottom, and I thought it not unlikely, for thereis probably nothing to be got down there, and people in thiscountry do not often make explorations with any otherobject. It is a most extraordinary and picturesque place,and when first seen through the trees, and filled with lightblue haze, presents a very striking effect. I saw somecurious flowers near the spot, one like a large red bottle-brush, called, I think, the Wimmera. Birds, too, abounded,particularly parrots, dark purple, and red, hopping on theroads, pecking whatever they could find. The road from the Weatherboard continued along the highland, and was surrounded by scraggy, rough-looking forest.On each side were deep valleys, in places surrounded bysteep cliffs, almost as grand in appearance as the gulf at theWeatherboard. Passing Blackheath, I descended Mount
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w y -P BATHURST. 291 Victoria into the Vale of Clydd. The view from the top ofthe hill was very beautiful, the flat vale filled with trees,and surrounded by an escarpment of cliffs, looked moreverdant and park-like than anything I had seen. A wreathor two of smoke, curling into the air, showed that a fewsettlers lived among the trees, and two or three little whitehouses in the distance, proved to be the village of Hartley.The road was conducted down the hill with a gentle slope;a steep, blue-looking abyss yawns on the left of the road,and formerly, even some time after the country was settled,there was great difficulty in the ascent and descent; thebullock-waggons laden with wool being hauled up and letdown with ropes. I dined at the little village of Hartley, which possessesa neat church and a very fair inn, kept by a bustling Scotch-woman. In the evening, after a tedious ride, thirty-fourmiles from the Weatherboard, I stopped at Solitary Creek, alonely looking house, well worthy of

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