Ballarat, May 16th, 1854.

Soon after leaving the Mount Alexander Diggings on our way hither, we came out upon open, green downs, with a fine turf, and scarcely a tree upon them, and, at seven miles distance, crossed the Loddon, there a stream so small that in some places I could jump over it. The ford that we crossed I suppose some Nottingham man must have named, for it was Wilford.

Between the Loddon and Ballarat we alternately travelled through woody ranges and over wide extents of these high, green downs, as finely turfed as the South Downs themselves, and, of course, grazed by immense flocks of sheep. Most of these lie higher than the wooded ranges, and show themselves afar off. We had actually to descend into the wooded hills. These downs are all of volcanic origin, and covered with the black, rich soil which is always found on the volcanic plains. Here and there rises upon them a lofty conical hill, evidently an extinct volcano. These hills are smooth, and very green, and only thinly clothed with trees. At the feet of most of them lies a lake, or a great reedy swamp, as if the ground had sunk in the place from which the hill had been heaved up.

These downs are remarkably pleasant, and must in summer be fine, fresh places to live upon. They are splendid pastoral regions.