BY THE HON. A. NORTON, M.L.C. 85 



forest, lying here there and everywhere, formed an almost im- 

 passable barrier. The track we followed was about eight feet 

 in width ; from this the trees had been removed, but in many 

 cases the stumps had been left in xitn ; a few wheel tracks how- 

 ever showed that it was sometimes used for vehicular traffic. 

 Slowly enough we progressed for several miles, never by any 

 chance catching sight of a human being. By and by the country 

 opened out somewhat, and we found a camping place for the 

 night. It was an odd sort of road for taking fat stock. After 

 this we followed on through some rough, stony ranges, and at 

 last sighted the Hanging Rock diggings. And wh^t a wild 

 place this was. A few hastily constructed timber stores and 

 shanties and very many dirty looking tents. I had little time 

 for looking about me here though. Neither of my men had any 

 money but the faintest smell of liquor affected them very 

 quickly. We had to cross a deep gully, then climb a steep hill- 

 side through the township. I never understood how I got those 

 men along on that occasion ; they never lost another opportunity 

 of getting very drunk. We surmounted the hill at last and 

 looked down a mach steeper and more stony decline. As we 

 descended I had to pick my way too cautiously to watch the 

 men. I slipped and fell two or three times and carried some 

 bruises with me for several days. This road I concluded was 

 used only for carriage purposes by pack animals or skids. I 

 think it was on the following day that we got to Crawney 

 Mountain. The road here had become a sort of goat track 

 leading along the steep mountain side. Somebody — I can- 

 not remember his name — had a station hereabouts. I always 

 think of him with gratitude, however, for he gave us a supply of 

 good fresh beef for which 1 paid him. In the evening we formed 

 our camp beside the river Isis whose bright and sparkling water 

 drains down the buttress spurs of the New England ranges. The 

 track we had followed was extremely picturesque, but I never at- 

 tempted it after that trip. On a later occasion I tried a shortcut to 

 a station on the Peel River below Tamworth. That time I took 

 the road from Walcha by Surveyor's Creek, the home of good 

 old John and Mrs. Scott, their daughter Agnes and their son 

 John, to Bendemeer. After a good homely lunch with these 

 hospitable friends young John started me on the right track, 

 but he warned me it was almost impossible for anyone to follow 

 who had not been over it before. His warning was justified by 

 the event, for by taking the likeliest-looking of two tracks, some 



