Brightly shone the sun, the sky was dressed in blue and gold and "the fields were full of star-like flowers, and overgrown with joy,"* on the first day of my ride homeward along the green banks of the Murrumbidgee, having crossed the river in a small canoe that morning. Seven months had elapsed since I had seen either a road or a bridge although during that time I had travelled over two thousand four hundred miles. Right glad was I, like Gilpin's horse, "at length to miss the lumber of the wheels," the boats, carts, specimens, and last but not least, Kater's compasses. No care had I now whether my single step was east or north-east, nor about the length of my day's journey, nor the hills or dales crossed, as to their true situation, names, or number, or where I should encamp. To be free from such cares seemed heaven itself, and I rode on without the slightest thought about where I should pass the night, quite sure that some friendly hut or house would receive me and afford snugger shelter and better fare than I had seen for many a day. (*Footnote. Remains of Peter Corcoran. Blackwood's Magazine.) APPEARANCE OF THE COUNTRY ON THE MURRUMBIDGEE. We had arrived on the Murrumbidgee seventy-five miles below the point where that river quitted the settled districts and ceased to form a county boundary. I found the upper portion of this fine stream fully occupied as cattle-stations, which indeed extended also, as I was informed, much lower down the river; and such was the thoroughfare in that direction that I found a tolerable cart road from one station to another. I passed the night at the house of a stockman in charge of the cattle of Mr. James Macarthur, and I was very comfortably lodged. October 28. With the Murrumbidgee still occasionally in view we pursued the road which led towards Sydney. Each meadow was already covered with the lowing herds for which it seemed to have been prepared; and the traces of man's industry were now obvious in fences, and in a substantial wooden house and smoking chimney, usually built in the most inviting part of each cattle run. All the animals looked fat and sufficiently proved the value of the pasturage along this river. Steep and rugged ridges occasionally approached its banks and, in following the beaten track, I this day crossed acclivities much more difficult for the passage of wheel-carriages than any we had traversed throughout those uncultivated wastes, where even the pastoral age had not commenced. The scenery at various points of the river seen this day was very beautiful; its chief features consisting of noble sheets of water, umbrageous woods, flowery meadows, enlivened by those objects so essential to the harmony of landscape, cattle of every hue.