Not a trace of man, or of his existence, was visible on any side, except
a distant solitary column of smoke, that arose from a thicket between the
hill on which I stood and the coast, and marked the asylum of a remnant
of the aborigines. These unfortunate creatures could no longer enjoy
their solitary freedom; for the dominion of the white man surrounded
them. His sheep and cattle filled the green pastures where the kangaroo
(the principal food of the natives) was accustomed to range, until the
stranger came from distant lands and claimed the soil. Thus these first
inhabitants, hemmed in by the power of the white population, and deprived
of the liberty which they formerly enjoyed of wandering at will through
their native wilds, were compelled to seek a precarious shelter amidst
the close thickets and rocky fastnesses which afforded them a temporary
home, but scarcely a subsistence, for their chief support, the kangaroo,
was either destroyed or banished. I knew this unhappy tribe, and had
frequently met them in their haunts. In the prosecution of my surveys I
was enabled to explore the wildest recesses of these deep mountainous
ravines, guided occasionally by one or two of their number. I felt no
hesitation in venturing amongst them for, to me, they appeared a harmless
unoffending race.* On many a dark night, and even during rainy weather, I
have proceeded on horseback amongst these steep and rocky ranges, my path
being guided by two young boys belonging to the tribe, who ran cheerfully
before my horse, alternately tearing off the stringy bark which served
for torches, and setting fire to the grass-trees (xanthorrhoea) to light
my way.

(*Footnote. On my return from the interior in 1835 I learnt with much
regret that a war had commenced between my old friends and the mounted
police.)