I went out some days ago, about four miles off, to hunt kangaroos; we huntsmen saw five, but the dogs never got sight of them. I went astray returning, and no wonder, for nothing is more perplexing than walking in the bush; you have no object to steer by, except your shadow or a compass; the one is always changing with the day, and the other may mislead, unless you keep your eye constantly upon it. The country is most singular, but does not possess those features of extreme interest which I expected; there is (as far as I have seen) great sameness in the scenery, and several parties which have been beyond the mountains (perhaps to the distance of 100 miles) report the scenery to be of the same character—undulating ground and extensive plains; but no very striking object, no large rivers, no lakes of any extent—and the low lands are subject to floods in winter. The river on which I have my grant from Government has been but lately discovered, and is not, I believe, navigable; it runs strongly in winter, and forms a series of pools and shallows in summer; its course is to the north-west, the more northerly part being nearest the Swan River, but the better ground along its banks lying more to the south; on this has been laid out the site of three towns; Northam—said to be about twenty-eight miles from the head of the Swan; York—ten miles farther, and Beverly—(close to which is
