142 ON AND OFF THE TtJRF. 



There are some roads I have been on which do 

 not come under the designation of good, they are 

 about as bad as they make them. Lewis's Ponds 

 between Bathurst and Orange, not on the main 

 road, very much off it, is a queer place to get at. 

 I recollect on one occasion the noble Bathurst 

 aldermen and the mayor, who was a friend of mine, 

 chartered a four-in-hand coach with the laudable 

 endeavour of forcing a road direct to Lewis's Ponds, 

 and so diverting the trade from that then mining 

 centre to Bathurst instead of Orange. I was one 

 of the party. We had been invited to breakfast at 

 Mr. Sullivan's at Rock Forest. We left Creasy's 

 hotel brimful of hope. The mayor and aldermen 

 were full of pride at the thought of exploring the 

 route to Lewis's Ponds. I noticed our driver smiled 

 grimly. He knew more about opening up com- 

 paratively unknown routes than we did. We rattled 

 along pleasantly enough on a fair road, and Rock 

 Forest loomed in view. It looked a fair homestead, 

 and our stomachs after the drive in the keen air 

 of the early morning longed to partake of Mr. 

 Sullivan's hospitality. On we went until a creek 

 Avas reached. We attempted to cross that creek. It 

 was no go. We ^ot as far as the centre, and had 

 to get back as best we could. There was no break- 

 fast to be got, that was very clear, and we could 

 not reach Lewis's Ponds until after midday. We 



