lakes, either belonging to fresh or salt water. It appears, however, that the very existence of these lakes is a mere matter of tradition, as none of the present generation have ever ascended to their shores, through fear of the "nancras" or imaginary centipedes, or crocodiles, (for it does not appear very clearly which is meant by the term,) which inhabit the banks of all these inaccessible lakes, and with which even whole valleys are said to be so infested that it is impossible to get a native to visit them. After passing the Thames, the cliffs become white and look like chalk: they are, however, of a compact volcanic stone very good for building, more especially at Mercury Bay, where a gentleman who has resided there for some years has worked a sufficient quantity of it to build a wharf—perhaps the first wharf built of hewn stones in Australia, those in Sydney being chiefly built of wood. Mercury Bay is a very good harbour for ships of any size; but the country around is very mountainous, and the river running in at the head of the bay so small as to be only fit to turn a mill, the purpose to which it is about to be applied by the gentleman who has purchased the whole country in that neighbourhood from the natives. If he ever gets it to work, it will pay well, and will be the only one worked by water-power in Australia. The cowrie or pine of the country (Dammara australis) is abundant here, although it is almost the southern limit of its growth. The cowrie adheres to the general predilection I have observed in all true pines for bad land; it always grows on steep clayey hills, but does not form entire forests containing no other tree, like the pine-forests of America. I have indeed seen but one small patch of land on which the greater part of the trees was cowrie. In most of what is here called "cowrie land" the trees are often a quarter of a mile asunder, and rarely closer than a hundred yards: it is, in my opinion, the least beautiful of the pine tribe, especially in its young state,
