It seemed, indeed,
as if the fairies had been bewitching them during the night. It was
late when we left the lovely spot. A pretty valley running north-west,
with a creek in it, was our next road; our track wound about through
the most splendidly grassed valleys, mostly having a trend westerly.
At twelve miles we saw the gum timber of a watercourse, apparently
debouching through a glen. Of course there was water, and a channel
filled with reeds, down which the current ran in never-failing
streams. This spot was another of those charming gems which exist in
such numbers in this chain. This was another of those "secret nooks in
a pleasant land, by the frolic fairies planned." I called the place
Glen Watson*. From a hill near I discovered that this chain had now
become broken, and though it continues to run on still farther west,
it seemed as though it would shortly end. The Mount Olga of my former
expedition was now in view, and bore north 17 degrees west, a
considerable distance away. I was most anxious to visit it. On my
former journey I had made many endeavours to reach it, but was
prevented; now, however, I hoped no obstacle would occur, and I shall
travel towards it to-morrow. There was more than a mile of running
water here, the horses were up to their eyes in the most luxuriant
vegetation, and our encampment was again in a most romantic spot.
Pages:
269
270
271
272
273
274
275
276
277
278
279
280
281
282
283
284
285
286
287
288
289
290
291
292
293