1 836. J GREAT CL1FE-B0UNDED VALLEY. 437 



grew bold and lofty. But when once on the sandstone platform, 

 the scenery becomes exceedingly monotonous ; eacli side of the 

 road is bordered by scrubby trees of the never-failing Euca- 

 lyptus family ; and with the exception of two or three small 

 inns, there are no houses or cultivated land : the road, moreover, 

 is solitary ; the most frequent object being a bullock-waggon, 

 piled up with bales of wool. 



In the middle of the day we baited our horses at a little inn, 

 called the Weatherboard. The country here is elevated 2800 

 feet above the sea. About a mile and a half from this place 

 there is a view exceedingly well worth visiting. Following 

 down a little valley and its tiny rill of water, an immense gulf 

 unexpectedly opens through the trees which border the path- 

 way, at the depth of perhaps 1500 feet. Walking on a few yards, 

 one stands on the brink of a vast precipice, and below one sees a 

 grand bay or gulf, for I know not what other name to give it, 

 thickly covered with forest. The point of view is situated as if 

 at the head of a bay, the line of cliff diverging on each side, 

 and showing headland behind headland, as on a bold sea-coast. 

 These cliffs are composed of horizontal strata of whitish sand- 

 stone ; and are so absolutely vertical, that in many places a person 

 standing on the edge and throwing down a stone, can see it strike 

 the trees in the abyss below. So unbroken is the line of cliff, 

 that in order to reach the foot of the waterfall, formed by this 

 little stream, it is said to be necessary to go sixteen miles round. 

 About five miles distant in front, another line of cliff extends, 

 which thus appears completely to encircle the valley ; and hence 

 the name of bay is justified, as applied to this grand amphi- 

 theatrical depression. If we imagine a winding harbour, with 

 its deep water surrounded by bold cliff-like shores, to be laid dry, 

 and a forest to spring up on its sandy bottom, we should then 

 have the appearance and structure here exhibited. This kind of 

 view was to me quite novel, and extremely magnificent. 



In the evening we reached the Blackheath. The sandstone 

 plateau has here attained the height of 3400 feet; and is covered, 

 as before, with the same scrubby woods. From the road, there 

 were occasional glimpses into a profound valley, of the same cha- 

 racter as the one described ; but from the steepness and depth 

 of its sides, the bottom was scarcely ever to be seen. The 



