I rode about twelve miles to the southward, over very uneven ground, and obtained a good view of Cockburn Sound. The land did not bear a blade of grass, but was studded with a variety of beautiful plants.[1]
I returned by the beach, and a few miles from the river, I observed a long boat on the shore, with several things in her, which, as it afterwards appeared, belonged to the Atwick, having been blown a-drift from her, by the strength of the wind.
On my return, I received an invitation to the tent of a settler, where I met several others, who had assembled to spend the evening. The general topic of conversation was, of course, relative to land. I ventured to deprecate the idea of giving such large grants, but was cut short by one of Colonel Latour's agents, who clearly proved that it was exceedingly advantageous. I then hinted, that I thought the colony could not get on well without the aid of convict labour; but here I met with still greater opposition, as it was universally allowed, that if the soil were to be polluted with those sort of people,[2] no gentleman of respectability would have anything to do with it. This was, of course, an argument not to be controverted; so I thought it more
- ↑ Having selected several of these I carried them to Sydney, and presented them to my friend Mr. Cunningham, who pronounced them all new. Among others, one particularly struck my fancy—a splendid red and green velvetty-looking flower,—an undescribed anigozanthus.
- ↑ It appeared to me, that many of those I saw, although belonging to the undetected part of the community, owed such advantage more to good luck than to their own undeviating adherence to the moral law.
