ad gradually ascended some hills; and as the sweep of the valley led
southerly, we continued along it until we got to its very head; then,
crossing the ridge we descended the opposite side, towards a beautiful
plain, on the further extremity of which the river line was marked by the
dark-leafed casuarina. In spite of the badness of the weather and the
misfortunes of the day, I could not but admire the beauty of the scene.
We were obliged to remain stationary the following day, in consequence
of one of the drays being out of repair, and requiring a new axle-tree.
I could hardly regret the necessity that kept us in so delightful a spot.
This plain, which the natives called Pondebadgery, and in which a station
has since been formed, is about two miles in breadth, by about three and
a-half in length. It is surrounded apparently on every side by hills. The
river running E. and W. forms its southern boundary. The hills by which we
had entered it, terminating abruptly on the river to the north-east, form
a semi-circle round it to the N.N.W. where a valley, the end of which
cannot be seen, runs to the north-west, of about half a mile in breadth.
On the opposite side of the river moderate hills rise over each other, and
leave little space between them and its banks. The Morumbidgee itself,
with an increased breadth, averaging from seventy to eighty yards,
presents a still, deep sheet of water to the view, over which the
casuarina bends with all the grace of the willow, or the birch, but with
more sombre foliage. To the west, a high line of flooded-gum trees
extending from the river to the base of the hills which form the west side
of the valley before noticed, hides the near elevations, and thus shuts in
the whole space. The soil of the plain is of the richest description, and
the hills backing it, together with the valley, are capable of depasturing
the most extensive flocks.

Such is the general landscape from the centre of Pondebadgery Plain.
Behind the line of gum-trees, the river suddenly sweeps away to the south,
and forms a deep bight of seven miles, when, bearing up again to the N.W.
it meets some hills about 10 miles to the W.N.W. of the plain, thus
encircling a still more extensive space, that for richness of soil, and
for abundance of pasture, can nowhere be excelled; such, though on a
smaller scale, are all the flats that adorn the banks of the Morumbidgee,
first on one side and then on the other, as the hills close in