ABSTRACT
January 12th, 1836. Early in the morning, a light air carried us towards the entrance o f Port Jackson. Instead o f beholding a verdant country scattered over with fine houses: a straight line o f yellowish cliff brought to our minds the coast o f Patagonia. A solitary lighthouse, built o f white stone, alone told us we were near a great and populous city. Having entered the harbour, it appeared fine and spacious; the level country, showing on the cliff-formed shores bare and horizontal strata o f sandstone, was covered by woods o f thin scrubby trees, that bespoke useless sterility. Proceeding further inland, the country improved; beautiful villas and nice cottages were here and there scattered along the beach. In the distance stone houses, two and three stories high, and windmills, standing on the edge o f a bank, pointed out to us the neighbourhood o f the capital o f Australia.
