Sydney, 18 April 1846

My dearest brother-in-law,

Sir Evan Mackenzie (Baronet) is returning to England and plans on traveling to Germany a few weeks after his arrival, so as to show his young wife the beauties of our fatherland. I am seizing this opportunity to send you these lines, which contain a brief continuation of my journal. In my last letter, which I composed aboard the ship Heroine and which I addressed to William, or rather John Nicholson, I gave you an account of the course of my journey from Moreton Bay to Port Essington. I arrived in Sydney at the beginning of April, and a king could not have been welcomed with more animated joy, more heartfelt interest shown by an entire people. Supposing that I had long since died or been killed by blacks, Mr. Lynd, my dear friend, had composed a dirge, which I am sending you in English. The poem is very nice. A musician, Mr. Nathan, who set Byron’s Hebrew Melodies to music in England, set Lynd’s dirge to music. — My name was on everyone’s lips and everyone grieved the poor, unfortunate traveler through Australia’s wilderness, who only a few dared to criticize for his foolhardy endeavor. — While people shared in this almost universal feeling of concern, grief, and sympathy, I suddenly emerged out of my grave, successful in my endeavor, with discoveries of beautiful, previously unknown and barely imagined stretches of land in my pocket. A kind, universally liked tobacco trader named Aldis had strongly supported me with all kindness earlier, before my departure, and he was the first person I encountered after landing. When he recognized me (which took a long while) he welcomed me with such exultation that I did not know what to make of it. And as he accompanied me to Lynd’s house and shouted to everyone in the street “this is Leichhardt, who we’ve long since buried,

for whom we sang dirges, he comes from Port Essington and has conquered the wilderness” — I thought the entire city would dissolve into joy. My friend at first did not recognize me, since I was much bigger and stronger than I had been before my journey—yet when he recognized me his rejoicing knew no end. I received congratulations on the success of my journey from all sides and all quarters of society, and you can easily imagine that this unexpected interest pleasantly surprised me. I had been certain that some of the more educated men would favorably regard my endeavor to explore Australia’s interior; yet even in these circles I had occasion to anticipate narrow-minded and jealous remarks about the stranger, the non-Englishman. Yet I have not heard a single word of jealousy and even the family of Sir Thomas Mitchell treats me justly. — Societies were formed at once to raise money on my behalf so as to bestow a fitting reward upon me, and letters of thanks and substantial sums of money arrived from all sides, from all corners of the colony. —

Much as Mr. Lynd had composed a dirge, a young man, Mr. Sylvester, composed a hymn of joy, which I am also sending you. Mr. Nathan once again is setting it to music—yet his music has not been published yet. — Over the course of the last three weeks everyone who could manage it sought to pay their personal respects or sought my company at social functions, to which I am invited almost on a daily basis. Yet just as my meager resources failed to deter me from carrying out my plan, the flattering treatment and the accolades that I am everywhere accorded will not cause me to become vain and forget what remains to be done in light of what has been done already.

I hope to embark on a new expedition at the beginning of October, which,

although longer, should nevertheless be more interesting than the last one. I hope to return from Swan River in two years, because I intend to travel up to the tropics, to press toward the north-west coast of Australia at 22°–23° latitude, and to follow it southward to Swan River. At 23° 30’ latitude I crossed and left a river which, although not flowing, contained an ample amount of water. I now wish to follow this river upstream and at its source hope to discover the origins of the tributaries of the Burdekin or the origins of the river system of the Gulf of Carpentaria, which I am hoping to find at about 22°–23° latitude. On the plateau which I postulate for this water system I then want to head westward to the Cambridge Gulf and then to turn southward and to travel to Swan River about 150–200 English miles inland, parallel to the coast. I sent letters to India to obtain camels and will at the very least try to obtain the two camels that are already in the colony.

During my last journey, as well as in my present happy circumstances, and in my dreams of the impending expedition I constantly hear dear mother and father’s words of farewell in my ears: “The Lord will not leave you, my son.” This simple saying not only calms budding fears and fills me with renewed courage, but also serves as a constant reminder to associate the happy success of a dangerous venture with the ministration and protection of a benevolent heavenly Father.

Captain Perry (Deputy Surveyor General) is very busy preparing systematic and elegant renderings of my maps, and it is a joy to observe how the land I wandered through emerges out of Australia’s unknown, blank interior. —

I have translated Ronge’s protest into English and will publish it. I hope it will have a great impact, because everyone fears that the Roman Catholic Church aspires to gain the upper hand in Australia. Ireland probably sends the most immigrants and since the majority of the Irish are Catholic it is only natural that Catholics probably already dominate in numbers. I see little difference between Ronge and Luther; yet I think it is prudent on his part to uphold the Catholic Church in name instead of converting to Lutheranism as an individual. Do not forget to send me detailed reports about the developments in our dear Germany and I recommend that you write a few lines every day so as to keep a sort of journal. I am thinking about your children. Your eldest son would suit me admirably, provided I am more at peace with myself within two years. Let him forge his own path and see whether he has any interest in botany and natural history. Yet teachers of natural history in the secondary schools are usually such stiff and boring people that they completely kill the dormant seeds instead of waking and nurturing them, and they instill in youth distaste for observing nature. Should my new expedition be met with success, I will most likely be in a position to give you a hand financially.

Farewell dearest brother-in-law, and you, my dear sister, and convey my greetings to all of our relatives and friends—but especially to my beloved mother, from your affectionate and loving brother-in-law and brother

Ludwig

On board of the Heroine, an English ship sailing from Java to Sydney, 24 January 1845 [sic, for 1846]

My dearest brother-in-law,

I hope that you have received the letter that I wrote to you before embarking on my great expedition and in which I told you that I was about to cross the continent of New Holland and to travel from Sydney to Moreton Bay and from there to Port Essington on the north coast of New Holland. After 16 months, I have completed my journey and spent 14½ months in the wilderness with the blue sky above me and the forests of New Holland around me. Initially 9 people accompanied me (2 black New Hollanders, 1 negro, 4 young men and 1 16 year-old youth). The negro und one young man returned to Moreton Bay after about 70 English miles, so that those of us who continued on the journey totaled 8 in number. I had brought 16 bullocks and 15 horses with me; 9 of the bullocks I had broken in to serve as pack animals. Initially we traveled on foot and our horses carried the majority of our provisions. We gradually consumed these provisions and took to the saddle. — I had not thought that our expedition would take so long and consequently our provisions proved insufficient. We went without flour for 7 months, even longer without sugar, several months without salt, and eventually ran out of tea, so that we had nothing left but dried beef. This dried beef allowed me to complete my expedition, and since it is unknown in Germany, if I remember correctly, I want to tell you how I prepared it. In the evening, say, we would slaughter a bullock, strip off its hide, and quarter it. Overnight the meat cooled sufficiently and the following morning we sharpened our knives and cut the meat either into thin slices 8”–1–1½’ long and 3–4” wide or into strips an inch or less thick and 4–8–12’ long or longer. We hung these slices and strips from ropes, tree branches, or tree trunks and turned them over several times as they dried beneath the hot sun. Within 2–3 days they had dried enough to be packed away into bags without running the risk of them spoiling. If the butchered bullock had been fat, the dried meat was very nice and became better and tenderer by the day; yet if the animal was lean and if it had suffered on account of the long duration of the expedition, the meat was very tough and stringy and loosened our teeth and made our gums ache. Our bullocks were in good condition and remained fat until we reached the outer edge of the Gulf of Carpentaria; yet after that point they became weak and gaunt and provided us with little meat, and that poor. For 3 months we subsisted on water and dried meat alone, which we usually had to cook for 8–12 hours to tenderize it. Good dried meat is best consumed raw, however, and tastes better than cured beef, although my assessment may perhaps not be trusted since my stomach would have declared everything that was at all edible to be tasty during the expedition. For example, we ate the bullock skin after it had stewed for 12 hours (overnight) and we even preferred it to the lean meat. — We encountered little game on the east coast of New Holland and if we saw any my marksmen were unable to bring it down. The hope I had placed in them turned to have been too high and I found them to be very mediocre and unable to hit either birds or quadruped animals if these were not resting or at close range. As I made my way around the Gulf of Carpentaria, we came across numerous emus (the New Holland ostrich) and our greyhound caught a great number of them for us. My blacks also began to make more of an effort and we came away from there with considerable booty. — When we arrived at Port Essington we had slaughtered all but one of our bullocks, and I had lost 6 horses: one had broken its leg, another had eaten poisonous weeds and 4 had drowned in a river with steep, muddy banks. I had initially traveled along the east coast and crossed 4 river systems; I followed a fifth one upstream. It led me to the middle of the York peninsula (between the eastern ocean and the Gulf of Carpentaria). I crossed a vast plateau and found a different water system on its west side, which I followed downstream toward the Gulf of Carpentaria. I found very little water on the east side of New Holland — no flowing streams or rivers, although there were many dry streams and riverbeds. Every day I was forced to go on reconnaissance missions to find sources of water that we would be able to reach the following day. More often than not, the water was in holes deep enough to retain it for a considerable amount of time. Thunderstorms frequently helped me survive dry stretches of land by filling the dried-up holes with water. — The river that I followed to its headwaters carried an abundance of water and absorbed a lot of streams and smaller rivers coming from the plateau that forms the watershed of the York peninsula.

I followed the Dawson starting at 16°–25° 30’, the system of the Mackenzie from 24° 40’–23° 15’, the Isaacks from 22° 30’–21° 30’, and the Suttor from 21° 30’–20° 35’; the latter merges with the Burdekin, which I followed from 20° 40’ up to 18° 30’; it comes from more of a north-eastern direction and since I was headed west I had to leave this beautiful river, which probably has its source 80–90 English miles higher up. I found the headwaters of the Lynd on the west side of the plateau, which I followed downstream (from 18°–16° 30’) where it ends in a bigger river, the Mitchell, which probably flows into the ocean at 15° 15’. I followed it to 15° 51’, and then left it since it led me too far north. I now turned west toward the ocean. Here between the Mitchell and the ocean I was attacked by blacks one evening after we had gone to sleep. God saved me, yet one of my companions, Mr. Gilbert, a bird collector, was killed by a spear piercing his heart, and two of my other companions, Mr. Calvert and Mr. Roper, were critically wounded. The blacks fled as soon as we fired a shot. I buried Mr. Gilbert and continued my travels after two days, heading south parallel to the east coast of the Gulf of Carpentaria. I crossed the Nassau, the Staaten, the Van Diemen, a smaller river that I named the Gilbert, and the Caron, and reached the head of the Gulf. I now turned toward WNW and crossed a good number of unknown rivers of significant size. It is possible that several of them share a common estuary. Whereas the east coast of the Gulf was beautiful and fertile, thickets of small trees or shrubs covered the country on the west side of the Gulf. At its head, I discovered extensive plains, which were frequently several miles long and broad. — The rivers, meanwhile, were surrounded by open forests and abundant grasslands on both sides. They were deep and broad as long as the tidewater flowed into them, yet shallow where the fresh water began. From the head of the Gulf I headed parallel to the coast toward Limmen Bight (15°), about fifteen to thirty miles from the coast, and reached the shores of the ocean at Limmen Bight. Our travels were very cumbersome here and our progress was very slow since the broad salt water rivers forced us to travel upstream until we found a place to ford them. The grass was meager, our daily marches often long and tiring, and we were forced to make camp several times without having found any sources of fresh water. On these occasions we had to hobble our horses and keep watch over our bullocks at night. Several times we found ourselves on the banks of a beautiful, wide river yet we had to content ourselves with the reflection of the water since it was salty and brackish. As a consequence of the long marches, bad pasture, and lack of water our bullocks grew thinner and weaker with every passing day, and one after the other they stopped walking, lay down, and thus declared that nothing whatsoever could induce it to take one more step. In such instances I left the animal behind and continued my travels until we reached water. I remained there the following day and sent my blacks back, who then slowly coaxed the animal toward the camp, where we slaughtered it — a month would have been hardly enough for it to regain the strength necessary to complete our journey. —

From Limmen Bight I continued my journey in a WNW direction and, after having crossed two mighty salt water rivers (which unite), I reached a freshwater river which I followed far upstream towards the west and WNW to the plateau of Arnheim’s Land. In places this area is very beautiful, in places, especially around the upper course of the river, very mountainous; I named this river the Roper, in honor of my companion. The plateau is flat, sandy, and covered by fairly open forest. On the plateau’s west side I happened upon the springs and headwaters of the South Alligator River, to which I descended from the plateau along a very difficult path. I followed the South Alligator River downstream until its waters became salty and then turned northward toward the East Alligator River. — Vast plains surround these rivers for as long as they carry salt water; rolling hills border these treeless plains at a distance of about ¾-

1 mile from the river. I reached the East Alligator River not far from its mouth, and since it is very wide and deep here I was forced to follow it upstream until I was able to cross it. After I accomplished this I continued my travels northward, found the narrow tongue of land of the Coburg peninsula with the help of some friendly blacks, and finally reached the English settlement of Port Essington in Victoria on 17 December 1845. You can easily imagine how I felt upon seeing houses and being welcomed by civilized people. I had concluded a 14½ month expedition through the wilderness, which was deemed by most to be not only highly dangerous but impossible given my resources. In spite of painful losses, I had managed to bring one bullock to Port Essington, so death by starvation had still been a good way off. Moreover, I still had eight horses and none of us had been forced to walk, which is very exhausting in this climate and most likely would have worn us out quickly.

I saw blacks frequently during my travel and interacted with them several times. With one exception, which cost Mr. Gilbert his life, they were always friendly. Whenever we happened upon blacks during our journey their fear of the horses and bullocks was so great that nothing could induce them to stay, they always ran off screaming and crying. Yet when we remained in the same spot for a longer amount of time to dry our meat, they saw us standing on our own two feet and concluded that we, although rather strange creatures, were in general very similar to them. Hence they gathered together and a crowd makes even a coward brave: after they had observed us at length from a distance and from atop the trees, some of their bravest warriors came closer and made signs conveying friendly intentions. I trustingly went to meet them, took several pieces of iron, metal rings, and so forth with me, and offered them as presents. They reciprocated instantly by giving me spears, clubs, and various other things that they wore as jewelry or as a sign of certain rights of seniority. At the head of the Gulf of Carpentaria and on its west side I thrice encountered black clans and they made clear that they had either seen Europeans or Malays from the Moluccas, Timor, Celebes, or Java before, since they knew our guns and our knives and even offered us their women for the latter.

On the South Alligator River we encountered for the first time blacks who knew of the settlement of whites in the Northwest. One had a piece of cloth, another an iron axe. On the East Alligator the blacks knew a few English words and we were delighted as we heard that one of them asked to learn our names. It appears that they thought us to be Malays. As we finally approached the peninsula, their clay pipes and knowledge of tobacco, rice, flour, and bread indicated that we were close to reaching our journey’s destination. These blacks were extremely friendly, and upon seeing that we had nothing to eat but tough dried meat, they brought us the mealy roots of a grass which had a very pleasant, sweet taste. We were fortunate enough to shoot down a buffalo at the neck of the peninsula, which provided us with meat again and saved the life of my last bullock. The thought of slaughtering this bullock made me quite out-of-sorts: it was my favorite and I had loaded it with my own hands throughout the entire expedition; it had been wild and fractious at first, yet became gradually tame and calm, although from time to time it hit gave me a friendly kick with its hind foot, which usually rendered me lame for several days. It now lives in Port Essington; I gave it as a present to Captain Macarthur, who is the commander of the outpost. He promised to take care of it. Captain Macarthur welcomed me very cordially and did everything in his power to make me forget all about the hardships of my journey. I completed my maps and my report on the expedition during my stay in Port Essington and luckily a ship from Singapore arrived, which contrary to custom was headed for Sydney by way of the Torres Strait.

I am composing this letter aboard this ship (the Heroine) and although I usually feel ill at ease on the ocean, the captain of the ship, Mr. Mackenzie, has rendered my journey a pleasant and enjoyable one thus far, so that I am able to think and to write without becoming seasick.

I was rather unfortunate in my choice of companions and they did everything imaginable to render my travels unpleasant. A sixteen-year-old boy, to whom I had shown kindness in the past and whom I had taught since I believed that he had aptitude, proved a great worry to me. A convict (a man who had been sent to Australia on account of his crimes) asked me in Sydney to take him along, since he believed he would receive a pardon after completing the journey. He behaved well enough, yet he most likely stole dried meat for a long time before I finally caught him. Mr. Gilbert sought to cheat me in manifold ways and I would probably not have been able to enjoy many of the fruits of my labor during this expedition had he remained alive. I found out about his plans after his death. He had turned the boy against me, and had done likewise with one of my blacks. — Unfortunately I had taken 2 blacks along, the one led the other astray, and in the end both rebelled against me. Roper was an inexperienced, small-minded young man, who probably thought it beneath his dignity to obey me and believed that he had as much right to my belongings as I did myself. The only one whose behavior toward me, with a few exceptions, was beyond reproach was another young man, Mr. Calvert, who had crossed with me from England to Europe [sic, for New Holland] on the same ship.

None of my companions fell ill during the expedition, with the exception of diarrhea after they had eaten bad fruit. I myself suffered greatly from gall stones, which I, in great pain, passed with my urine. I thought I would die, yet God had mercy on me. Toward the end of my journey my companions tortured me so much that I probably would not have been able to stand it for much more than a month. I was completely exhausted, more mentally than physically, when I arrived at Port Essington. You can easily imagine that I find little joy in interacting with my tormentors after completing the expedition; the mere sight of them sickens me.

Upon my return to Sydney I will write an account of my expedition and prepare it to go to print. After completing this task, I will try to raise money for a different expedition through Australia’s interior, from the east to the west coast to Swan River. If I accomplish this, then I will travel along the northwest coast from Swan River to Port Essington. As you can see, I still have enough left to do here. When all of this is behind me, then my circumstances will guide me as to what more I shall do. I do not long for Europe, but I do for my European friends. If you were here I would hardly consider returning to Europe. — In Sydney it is believed that I have long since been killed or have starved to death, and so little did they trust in the happy success of my endeavor that they are about to launch another expedition headed by Sir Th. Mitchell, which will cost at least 7000 Rtl., whereas mine cost barely 900 Rtl. We shall see what the people say when I suddenly emerge from the grave with my pockets full of mountains, mountain ranges, rivers, and streams. I lost 6 of my best horses during my journey (2 belonged to Gilbert) and this forced me to throw away my beautiful botanical and geological collections almost entirely. I burned about 3000 dried plants—the Berlin Museum may join in my lamentations because I had intended to send a part of my collection to Berlin.

Farewell my dearest brother-in-law. Kiss Fettchen and your children, convey my greetings to dear mother and all who keep me in their thoughts,

Most affectionately,
your loving brother-in-law
Ludwig

Cambell’s Station, Darling Downs, 3 September 1844

My dearest brother-in-law,

I sent the last letter that I wrote to you from Newcastle on the Hunter, after I had returned from my journey to the Darling Downs and the Moreton Bay District. In Sydney I found all of my collections, which I had sent there from different places in the colony, in the best of order; that is, they had all reached their destination and none of them had suffered any weather damage. In May, June, and July I kept busy with classifying them and at the same time wrote up the geological notes that I had amassed during my travels. Approximately 6 months ago an expedition through the continent’s interior to the north coast had been proposed and the governing assembly had allocated £1000 sterling for this expedition. However, the governor had objected to paying this sum, and the proposal was sent to the English government for sanction. The English government, meanwhile, showed little inclination for supporting such a venture, or at the very least waited a long time to reply. Because I had spent a long time at the outer edges of the colony and because my desire to undertake such an expedition was great I decided to carry it out without government support. The plan was made and with eagerness and persistence I began to prepare myself and to outfit a party of young friends. As my efforts became more widely known, private individuals signaled their willingness to support me and I was finally able to finish my preparations with their help on top of my own meager resources. I left Sydney with 13 horses and 5 companions toward the end of August. I was granted free passage to Moreton Bay. In Moreton Bay I received a very hospitable welcome and assistance of every conceivable kind. I left Brisbane on 28 August and reached the Darling Downs on 1 September. My party now consists of 9 people, 15 horses, and perhaps 8–9 bullocks, which are to carry my provisions. So far I have had to suffer unfavorable winds and persistent rain,

making the streets almost impassable. My journey to Port Essington, including likely deviations from the route, adds up to about 2000 English miles. I can cover only about 10–15 miles each day, and therefore I will most likely spend 5–6 months en route. The continent’s tropical interior promises a rich yield for my scientific inquiries, and my expedition will probably even be of use to the colony, since it will open up communication between the east and north coast, which will likely enable the northern islands and China to forge closer connections with the east coast. The Darling Downs are 1800’ above sea level and an open, lightly wooded, moderately hilly region. I hope that this region extends far in a north-westerly direction and will allow me to progress more easily. I carry with me flour, tea, sugar and a few other foodstuffs but no meat provisions, since our shotguns are supposed to provide us with as many kangaroos, emus, bustards, pigeons, etc., as are necessary. — If you remember the longing with which I constantly yearned for this unknown land, then you will easily comprehend the joy which I feel at being able to see and to explore its unknown interior. I can hardly contain myself as I walk behind the long row formed by my horses and companions, and am able to tell myself: your persistence has finally been rewarded; you were able to do what many a wealthy man neither was able nor wanted to do. I provisioned myself under very favorable circumstances. I bought my horses, which 4 years ago probably would have cost £30–40, for £8 apiece. The remaining necessities of life were gifted to me. The weapons and ammunition were likewise presents. My instruments are the only serious expenditure aside from the horses. The colony will most likely repay my investments should I be so fortunate as to reach my expedition’s destination.

Yet even if I should not arrive at Port Essington, I will see so much of the continent that science will benefit greatly in the fields of geography, geology, and botany. — The mouths of several rivers have been spotted on the north coast; yet none of them seem large enough to conclude that they flow from far within the interior. Yet since all the large rivers were discovered inland, it is possible that here, too, I may happen upon a large river system, 3–400 miles away from the coast which flows into the Gulf of Carpentaria or toward the north coast. At the latitude of Moreton Bay, the side arm of the coastal range which runs along the entire east coast extends toward the west, and it is possible that this range constitutes the main ridge that separates the southern from the northern waters of the continent. I plan to follow along the southern slopes of this range until I reach the longitude of Port Essington and will then turn northward.

My journey will require 5–6 months to complete, and 5 months are necessary for my return. You can therefore not count on a letter from me in less than a year. However, I will write from Port Essington, and perhaps ships that anchor in Port Essington will take my letter to the East Indies.

The longer I live in the colony, the more familiar I become with this natural environment, the more at home do I feel and I would be a happy man if I had you by my side. I would then be certain that friendly, loving souls were awaiting me every time I returned from my often hazardous travels, and although I have found a noble, valiant friend in Mister Lynd, he is too much of an “old bachelor” to tend to me in a sisterly or brotherly manner.

A thousand greetings to dear mother and all my loved ones

Most affectionately,
your loving brother-in-law
L. Leichhardt

Newcastle, 15 May 1843 [sic, for 1844]

My beloved sister,

Today the steamer brought me all the letters that had arrived for me in Sydney during the last 3 months. Oh, what a delight! A letter from you, from Hilgenfeld, and Schmalfuß were among them. I have not heard such a dear woman’s voice since I left my fatherland. See how far my fate has sent me, and how I am becoming at home in the entire world. Even as a boy, it seemed to me that I might borrow the wings of the dawn in order to fly to the farthest seas. And you ask me, my dear sister, how I feel, whether peace also accompanies the tumultuous striving in my breast—my answer is that, although the passions in a man’s bosom act more fiercely upon him and are more difficult to master, his heart can still remain pure and free, and his eye can contemplate the past without pain and look calmly towards the future. I have left those dear to me at home, and this causes me sorrow; but I know that I have a warm place in their hearts, and that they think of me as a blessing which is absent. What should I tell you about my activities? You take delight in lovely flowers and their scents, you rejoice in the greening tree and the shade it casts, you look out beyond the earth and forest to the starry heavens, and you are moved deeply by so many voices that speak to you of an eternal being hidden from you. If Nature moves you to such affection, just think how it must move me as I make it my task to uncover her deepest secrets and reveal the laws which make her so majestic, so glorious. Would it not be a sin, if I were not to give the answer which our Savior gave to his worried mother when she found him in the temple: “Let me be. Do you not wish that I should serve my Father?” — I am not likely to gain any great amount of riches, but my science does not require much, and it brings me into contact with the best circles, where I receive the most friendly assistance with whatever I might require. I have just returned from an 18-month journey to the lesser-known parts of the colony. Everywhere one meets shepherds and herdsmen, and frequently well-educated men. However, I often lived alone in the woods, in the company of only my horse and my dog—and yet I have never been less lonely. My expenses are very little so long as I am living in the bush—and in Sydney I have good friends who allow me to reside in their houses. Even so, I am living on the funds that my friend Nicholson has placed at my disposal, and since I do not wish to impose upon him any further, I will soon have to think about how to earn my bread myself and obtain the money necessary for additional journeys. Who knows what the next moment will bring; if you two have difficulty foreseeing the immediate future, how much harder it is for me, as I am so much more at the mercy of fate and chance than you.

My thanks to Hilgenfeld for his brotherly suggestion; I am delighted that he thinks so highly of me, and I promise to write as long as the postage is not too expensive for you. Know that your faraway brother is close to you in his thoughts, that he is in your presence through his letters, while a neighbor, as long as he remains silent, might just as well be living in the wilds of Australia! Do not forget that, were I to return home, I would be in danger of facing a great deal of unpleasantness from the government. I am not willing to let myself be treated as a deserter—and yet precisely this is likely to be the case. The government has acted in a most foolish manner. Rather than taking advantage of what its native son can offer from abroad, enriching its museums and collections and gathering knowledge about far-off lands, it cast me off, like some wretched miser, when I asked to be freed from my military duty. This is a very sore point for me, and I am ashamed when I must admit here abroad how my womanish government has treated me. In London I was refused a Prussian travel pass to Paris; I was forced to accept a pass from the French consul which listed me as an Englishman. In Paris I attempted to get in contact with the government again. I went to the ambassador and requested a pass to Italy: instead all they wanted to give me was one to Prussia! What could I do? Should I have given up my connection to my brotherly friend and patron Nicholson, which promised me Switzerland, Italy, England, and the far reaches of the world—merely in order to comply with the senseless demand that I serve for a year in Berlin? I wrote to the government, explained my reasons and prospects, and what was the response? “It is impossible for the government to extend your leave beyond 1840.” Nicholson could not suppress a “Goddamn it,” and I hoped that such a sensible government, which in all likelihood has any number of travelers abroad, would come to regret having forced me to become a deserter. Had I been the son of a rich family, they would probably have accommodated this rare opportunity offered to one of the fatherland’s own naturalists. But since I was just the child of a poor farmer, without anyone to advocate for me, the government in its wisdom decided that it could not dispense with a year of military service in order to benefit from a traveler in New Holland. Oh the shame, the shame, the shame! Forgive me for dwelling on the subject for so long; I am angry again whenever I think about it. — Thus I was obliged to seek out scientific connections elsewhere, and [instead] of sending my collections to Berlin, they are now going to England and Paris. You will have learned from my letters to Schmalfuss that this country, although young, is already dotted with numerous towns which are gradually developing. The pleasures of life that Europe has to offer are also available here.

Many ships arrive and depart for all corners of the world, steamers travel along the coasts and several of the rivers and connect distant towns with each other. — To me, the bush seemed to be an uncharted wilderness when I began my journey; now I know that the busy, enterprising settlers are making tracks with their wagons in all directions, that herds of sheep and cattle cross through and pasture in it. The stations are about 3–5 German miles apart, and travelers are received with much hospitality everywhere. In some areas the dwellings are quite cozy, while in others they are mere huts made of boards with 2 or 3 rooms with the wind blowing through the cracks in the walls. They are roofed with bark, which can be stripped easily from a number of tree species. A traveler carries his own woolen blanket with him, for often he must sleep outdoors. But the air is so mild, the climate so healthy, and the ground so dry, that one sleeps just as peacefully and comfortably outside as one does under shelter. On countless occasions I have stretched out beside a pleasant fire, wrapped in my woolen blanket, and watched the movement of the stars as they passed shining and splendid above me. The constellations in this hemisphere are not the same as in [yours], and we share only a very few stars. But the same moon and the same sun shine upon us all, although not at the same time. This land might be one of the most fertile in the world, if the air were more humid and the rain more frequent. But from time to time there are long droughts, during which the sun sears all plant life and nearly turns broad swaths of land into deserts. And then comes a rainstorm—and the earth is quickly covered again with the most lovely green. Further to the north rain is more frequent, and the earth thus is more fertile. The mountains are covered with thick bushes and the ground is thick with grass. Livestock thrives most wonderfully on such pastures, although the sheep suffer notably when there is too much moisture. In these bushes I spent a substantial period of time investigating the various types of trees which grow there. Giant trees 200 feet tall loom like the pillars of heaven above a flock of shorter trees of 80–100’ in height. Vine-like plants wrap around them and bind them together in all directions, and frequently their crowns are woven with a rich festoon of blossoms. — Few of these trees have edible fruits. But many have beautifully grained wood that can be polished to a high gleam.

Awaken and nourish in your children a love for what is good, and do not worry about how many they are. Look at our family! There were eight of us, and some among you faced a difficult struggle before you could set down roots. I fear that Barth made a poor decision when he gave up seafaring, even though his attacks of gout during the sea journeys were very unpleasant. I am delighted to hear that Adolph has become a capable farmer. I hope that he will make the utmost effort to make dear mother’s life as easy as possible. Can you tell me what has become of the children of Pastor Roedelius, and of the Bocks? It is remarkable how impressions from one’s boyhood remain in spite of all that might come after. As a young boy I was greatly devoted to Bertha, and the older girl laughed at the small boy; at 16, 17, and 18 Lottchen Bock was my great flame. At present, after so long, and after a life stirred in so many ways, after so many inspiring impressions, Bertha still appears to me again and again in my dreams, and Lottchen does not! Is this not quite strange? — And yet I loved Bertha as a young boy and Lottchen as a young man. You are a wise woman, can you explain this to me? What has become of Ludwig Riemann? —
Now adieu, give your children a kiss in my name, greet Gottfried, Raimund, Herrmann, if you should happen to correspond with them, and write to me soon. I will give you news in a short while, even before I receive a response to this letter.

Most affectionately,
Your brother and brother-in-law
Ludwig Leichhardt

Newcastle on the Hunter River, 14 May 1844

My dearest brother-in-law,

My trusted mare has carried me back for over 600 English miles and I toured some of the strangest parts of the colony on my way. From Brisbane town in Moreton Bay I went to see several interesting spots that hold visible coal depots. They are covered by sandstone rock and it appears that the entire area extends over coal depots. However, the coal and sandstone are broken in various places by several rather curious mountains and mountain ranges, which I also visited, and which contain the same rock that I had already found in the Glasshouses and which German geologists have named domite, since it usually forms mountains resembling domes. Thick shrubbery covers the foot of some of these ridges. These thickets differ from the mountain thickets that I examined in the Bunya Bunya district, however. They are called rosewood scrubs, since an acacia whose wood has a rose- or violet-like odor grows so well there. There is a different type of acacia in the westerly plains, which the settlers call “myall” (A. pendula), that has hanging branches like a weeping willow; its wood also emits the loveliest violet-like odor, which is frequently noticeable when one approaches the myall shrubs. I, however, discovered a different, rather peculiar type of tree here. It grows to a height of about 45’, is 5/4’ thick at its base, three feet up swells to a width of 6/4–7/4’, and then shoots up into an elongated tip. Its foliage is very light, its crown unsightly. When attacked with an axe, it turns out that its trunk is so soft and spongy that the axe easily and deeply penetrates it. The young wood is as juicy as a cabbage core. It is edible and makes for a complete meal for a hungry stomach. As you can tell from my description, the shape of the tree somewhat resembles a French bottle, although the bottleneck is extremely elongated. The settlers therefore named this tree bottle tree. Its leaves are pale green, long, and lanceolate. I have failed to find either flowers or fruits, although I myself cut down a tree that had a circumference of 5’. From the area of the Brisbane I climbed through a high mountain pass to the Darling Downs, a high plain 1600’ above sea level. This pass is called “Cunningham’s Gap,” since the botanist Cunningham was the first to discover it. — The view from this pass toward the east was extremely varied and picturesque. I never saw anything like it in Europe, with isolated mountains in remarkable formations bathed in the loveliest crimson fog as the sun was setting behind the main range, while the far-off mountain ranges were lost in fainter and

fainter hues of blue, and the steep slopes of the main range, hidden in darkest shadow, lay before me like a giant amphitheater. A cascade plummeted 300’ down into a glen. —

At night I had the misfortune to lose my mare with the foal. She had served me as a packhorse and carried my papers and the pieces of rock that I picked up. I searched for her for eight days, yet to no avail. I therefore had to load all my belongings onto my other mare and continue my travels on foot. — I went to visit a compatriot, Mr. Friedrich Bracker from Mecklenburg, who oversees the flocks of sheep of a Mr. Bolton, and I made his dwelling the center for my explorations. The Darling Downs are expansive, grass-covered, treeless plains, crisscrossed by rolling mountain ranges that are covered by a very open forest. The ridges, plains, and climate offer the most perfect conditions for sheep farming as well as livestock breeding, and Bracker’s flocks of sheep are true examples of their kind. His sheep are Saxon Merinos, whereas most Englishmen crossbred those with an English breed of sheep, the Leicester sheep. He claims that this crossbreed ruins the wool, although the body of the sheep much increases in height and weight since the Leicester sheep is a very large breed. To give you an idea of the extent of sheep farming across the Downs and Moreton Bay and the speed with which it has expanded, I will only say that, according to trustworthy sources, exports from Moreton Bay already totaled £50,000 (35,000 Thaler) this year, although Moreton Bay has only been used as pasture land for two years, and the Downs for only 4–5 years. There are about 4000 head of cattle, and horses breed just as rapidly. — I rode about 90 miles in a northwesterly direction across the Downs. Extremely expansive plains (25 miles wide, 50 miles (English) long) stretch along the northern bank of the Condamine. This river appears to belong to the large river system that flows southeast toward South Australia and empties into Lake Alexandria. — Along the banks of several streams I found fossilized bones of gigantic animals that appeared to have been built much like kangaroos. The lower mandible is especially common; it contains two very long, horizontally arranged front teeth and four very large molars, each with two transverse ridges and a kind of heel. None of the large animals of the known continents display this dentition, especially when it comes to the front teeth; yet many of the indigenous animals have similar formations. — I found the teeth of 3 other true kangaroos, and those bones

were accompanied by clamshells, like those that still live in the river caves. The living conditions of these animals could therefore not have differed too greatly from those prevailing today. Yet such gigantic herbivores must have required a lot of water, and most likely lakes and swamps drying out caused their extinction. Similar animals presumably still exist in the wet interior of Australia between the tropics. All of the fossilized bones that I found were formed in accordance with the Australian type of animal and I doubt whether the elephant bones which were said to have been discovered in Australia, truly belong to this continent.

From the Downs I rode southward to New England, which has an even higher elevation than the Downs. It is supposed that the highest part of New England has an elevation of 3000’ above sea level. This plateau harbors the sources of the waters that flow westward to the Darling and to Lake Alexandria, whereas the easterly streams plummet from high cascades toward the eastern coastal lands. I went to the falls of the Apsley, which are 3–500’ high. Some of the rivers have eaten a long channel through the shale mountain ranges, for the actual coastal lands are still almost 20 miles removed from the main cascades. All of New England is covered with flocks of sheep and herds of cattle. 50,000 sheep graze on this plateau, and yet it is perhaps not even 10 years old, that is, 10 years ago it was still an unknown wilderness through whose forests only the black man roamed. By now the clans of the blacks have almost completely melted away, at least their independent spirit has been broken and they content themselves with the morsels that fall off the white man’s table. And this is the way it will be wherever European civilization suddenly and without warning comes into contact with the savages—and this is how it was everywhere! It often pained me to think, when I found myself among mighty clans, of the not-so-distant future when many of these strong individuals will have been pierced by a white man’s bullet, many will have been dragged to an early grave by malicious illnesses, and finally the remaining ones, ailing and decrepit, will subsist as beggars near the houses of whites or lust after intoxicating beverages in front of the public inns of newly founded cities. If it is impossible to civilize these black children of nature or even to familiarize them with the basic tenets of civilization, then I am too much a friend of my own race and would prefer a well-populated, well-governed country of whites to a great aimless mass of blacks squandering their lives. In the predominance of Caucasians we see the same law of nature that determines that the doe will follow the strongest buck.

The inhabitants of New England live quite comfortably, whereas the settlers in the Downs and around the Moreton Bay District are still satisfied with the simplest wooden shacks. Many of the young men are beginning to marry, and womenfolk introduce a feeling of respectability, pursuit of domesticity and peaceful neighborly relations, and calm reasoning into the minds of many of these youngsters, who indulge in debauchery and drinking when they return to the coastal towns from the bush, much like sailors who return to port after a long journey at sea. An almost exclusively male population in an expanse of perhaps 600 miles is a highly interesting but not very satisfactory state of affairs. Nowhere else is it as evident why God carved Eve out of Adam’s rib. The laborers, shepherds, and herdsmen are still for the most part people who were sent here on account of their misdeeds and crimes but have since been granted their freedom. Few of them are married. They have no wife to feed, no children to provide for, no relatives to consider. They only live for themselves! And since they are neither given to serious thoughts about the future nor higher thoughts about the present, their energy is dedicated to pursuing immediate pleasure—whenever they can indulge in pleasures. As soon as they arrive at an inn they forget about their master, their work, even the very punishment they will incur for neglecting their duties; they regard the innkeeper as their father, his wife as their mother, those two are the only ones that welcome them with kindness and open arms. Thus they stay here until they have spent the last cent of their wages on drink, which fortunately does not take that long, and then they return to their duties to work yet again for another year, only to repeat the cycle.

From New England I went to Port Stephens, which belongs to the Agricultural Company, a company that obtained 2 million morgen of land on the condition that it would promote agriculture and cattle and sheep farming. At first it selected the land surrounding Port Stephens, so as to have access to a harbor, yet because it proved little suitable to sheep farming the government granted the company 1 million morgen of land in the interior, on the Peel, where there are excellent pasture lands. However, Port Stephens would be highly suitable for wine-growing, if only the company were to pay attention to this branch of cultivation. — It is for the best that you did not behold me in the flesh when I rode into Newcastle after having lived in the bush for so long. My trousers were so torn that a red woolen shirt which I was wearing as a frock hardly masked the trousers’ weak spots. People took me for a shepherd, a bushranger (robber) and so forth. — You can imagine how pleasant it felt to once again put on clean clothes. But I must end this letter now; I am healthy and hope that you are as well. Farewell and do not forget

your affectionate and loving brother-in-law and brother
[No signature.]

P.S.S. [bottom of last page:] Convey my greetings to dear mother and all the others.
[top of first page:] Today I received your letter of 23–24 July 1843. Thank you very much for the pleasant news!! I received a letter from the Hilgenfelds dated 9 July. I will answer as soon as I arrive in Sydney!!

Archer’s Station, 2 February 1844

My dearest brother-in-law,

You will learn from my letter—which I sent your way included in missionary letters going to Germany—that I have been worrying quite a bit about the long-delayed answers to my letters. Who could have assured me that the Baltic Sea had not flooded the sandy plains of Pomerania and the March and carried away all my loved ones to deposit them, perhaps, on the coastal areas of Sweden? After all, the prophecy that London was to be swallowed up in March or May of 1840, made many a heart quake—how are the weak minds of the antipodes supposed to master the growing apprehension? And how can an antipodean grasp all the wonderful news of which you inform him in your dear, long-awaited letter of 29 April 1843? All of you healthy! Adolph married! A railroad in Fürstenwalde! Daguerreotype in Cottbus! I almost feel like that 200-year-old sleeper, who, when awaking upon his field, sees a steam-powered plough rushing toward him on which the farmhand smokes a cigar and reads the papers. Although I adhere to the maxim “better to have than to desire,” I acquiesce to your postponing mailing a Daguerreotype family portrait until my return to Sydney; I am looking forward to it as if it were a moment of reunion and I only hope that your faces conform to my reckoning—that sorrows have not carved deeper furrows than the natural passing of time warrants. Here we also saw the comet that you observed in Germany; it was one of the most magnificent celestial phenomena that I have been able to witness in my entire life and I could not get enough of gazing at the wonderful stranger, the fast wanderer, which was gliding on its vast orbit through the unfathomable space between the bright constellations of this deep dark blue sky and was lost to the blue night behind the stars of Orion. It was first sighted on 3 & 4 March and my straining eyes glimpsed the last muted gleam of light on approximately 11 April. Aside from the comet’s main tail (a), a lighter tail (b) appeared, which pointed away from it downwards and westwards at an acute angle; about like this: [small diagram]. It was many times longer than the tail, yet I only noticed it on the second evening. I am curious to learn whether this stripe was observed in Germany as well and how the astronomers explain it. I am still in the Moreton Bay District, although against my will, since the constant rains and the rising streams and waters are preventing me from returning home. You will have learned from my previous letters that this district differs greatly from the rest of the colony. The people here have almost too much rain, far too much for sheep farming – whereas the other parts of the colony suffer from drought. Then again, you have to distinguish the swath of land, about 6 miles wide, that runs along the coast and is exposed to regular ocean winds, which habitually carry saturated ocean air westward across the adjacent landscape between 10–11 and 3–4 o’clock. Along this stretch of coast, harvests are more dependable, although they also suffer during very dry years. The gardens commonly produce a high yield of peaches, figs, pomegranates, apricots, and grapes. — Vines thrive extraordinarily well, although the quality of the resulting wine has not yet proven to be very good. It is a pleasure to rest one’s eyes on the fresh green of vines and peach trees

after the woodland’s monotonous gray-green. The Hunter seems especially suited for planting vineyards and last year it produced almost 2000 quarts of wine and then some—which according to the experts are among the best wines produced in the colony. Potatoes do not flourish as much; the best are imported from Van Diemen’s Land; yet I have eaten nice European potatoes in the Moreton Bay district. All vegetables flourish admirably during the rainy season. Perhaps they even grow too much. Melons of varying quality, water melons, pumpkins, and cucumbers sprout everywhere in abundance—indeed, the pumpkin is more or less this colony’s potato and one joke goes: a native-born girl (Currency) can be distinguished from an immigrant English one (Sterling) by serving her a potato and a pumpkin. The native-born girl will first eat the pumpkin, whereas the English girl prefers the potato. The pumpkins are superb, big and mealy, they don’t spoil as quickly, and grow deep inland, around the hut of the herdsman and shepherd when all other vegetables would succumb to drought. In Moreton Bay “the sweet potato” (Convolvulus batatas) is being cultivated—a type of bindweed with potatoes or tubers. This plant produces high yields, tastes like a sweet, somewhat watery potato and often reaches a weight of 17 lb. Bananas and cane sugar also thrive here, yet the latter requires too much attention and work to be beneficial to the colony at the moment, since labor costs are so extraordinarily high here. — Some time ago I received a request from the French Museum to send to Paris a collection of the different types of wood found in the colony. I have tried to fulfill this request and have collected about 130 pieces of wood in this district, 1’ in length and 1–3” in diameter. If you consider how few types of trees form our German and native forests, you will be quite amazed when I tell you that that about 120 of these trees can be found within the radius of half a mile. 100 of these belong to the dense and fertile mountain and river vegetation, whereas 20–25 compose the open forest. Unlike at home, this forest cannot be named pine, fir, or oak or beech forest after the dominant species of tree, but those 25 different forest trees are evenly distributed— however, with some species predominating depending on the composition of the soil; the ground beneath the trees—which is usually covered with lingonberry and blueberry bushes in our oak forests—here nourishes predominantly a type of grass that was named kangaroo grass, either because it is prime nourishment for kangaroos or because, like wheat and oats, it reaches such a height that the grazing kangaroos barely manage stick their heads above it if they sit up on their hind legs and tails. — This grass ripens in October and November and the forest floor then takes on the appearance of a sweeping, continuous oat field. The dry season occurs in November and December and brings with it bushfires, which often extend for miles through the forest and clear its floor of grass and dry wood. The remaining ashes act

as a fertilizer for the young, sweet grass which springs upon the first rain shower and on which kangaroos, flocks of sheep, and herds of cattle graze with delight. Hundreds of miles are covered with fires during the hot season; it starts on the spot where a black man had settled for the night, when, upon his departure, he removes a hotly-glowing stick from his campfire and leaves it smoldering against a piece of tree bark so as to be able to create a new campfire instantaneously upon settling in again; or the traveling white man sets nearby dry grass on fire; or settlers systematically burn the old grass to generate fresh pasture for their flocks of sheep and herds of cattle. I have been told that at times fires are started by two tree trunks or branches rubbing against each other in the wind. I have never witnessed this and believe that this rarely happens, if there is even any truth to it at all. The blacks know to generate fire through rubbing or rather swiftly rotating a stick in the cavity of another; yet they find this too cumbersome and prefer to always carry burning sticks with them. The bushfires are oftentimes very picturesque, especially at night. A long, wavy line of fire, beyond which thick smoke whirls upwards, moves now slowly, now faster along its entire length against the direction of the wind, which feeds it the necessary oxygen; it encounters a shrub and engulfs it, crackling: it eats into the old trees, which are usually hollow on the inside, and as it (perhaps over the course of several years) finally reaches the tree’s cavity, it blows through the entire height of the tree—as it would do in an oven—and smoke curls out of the ends of broken branches until the fire itself reaches them and now blows forth from them as if this were a furnace. Burning branches fall down, and the flames engulf neighboring trees and quickly race across the foliage and flare up in a massive fire. In the end the tree loses its balance and topples over ablaze, its hollow branches break and splinter, and as fresh air gains easier access to the charred materials on the inside every broken branch becomes the center of its own lively fire. At night I have found myself near and even in the middle of these fires. Trees were toppling in every which direction, from all sides flames crept closer. If the grass is not too high one can jump over them; in high grass, when the flames are blazing high, it precarious. The greatest danger comes from toppling trees or when one is asleep at night. — Whereas fire reigns supreme in the forest from the end of November to the beginning of January, floods dominate during the end of January and in February. Frequent heavy thunderstorms occur even before Christmas, which are often accompanied by heavy rains. These thunderstorms hail from westerly areas (especially between S West–N West). In January, light steady rains frequently lasting three days, with intermittent heavy showers, follow in the wake of these thunderstorms. Winds either blow gently from the east or the air is completely calm. The showers then increase in frequency and severity, taking on the character of tropical torrents, and last 5–6 days or for weeks. Water quickly runs down the mountainsides into the ravines, which swell and carry it to the streambeds between high banks that had been almost dry up to this point. The water rises to the top,

spills over, and floods the neighboring plains and hollows. The barely flowing creek is now a magnificent, raging river, which [now] surrounds, erodes, and frequently uproots the thick trunks of trees growing in the riverbed. Yet since the water plunges sharply downwards it drains as quickly as it came and returns to middling levels within two to three days. Traveling now becomes very arduous. The ground is soaked; horses sink in deeply, carts get bogged down in muck that reaches their axles, and fierce gusts of wind more easily uproot tall forest trees, whose roots usually lie shallowly in light soil, which, when soaked by rain, no longer offers sufficient support for the tree. — Usually a sudden strong wind blowing from the west puts an end to this rain. Although wind changes direction from west to north, east, and south in Europe, in New Holland it follows the opposite path, from west to south, east, and north. — This is usually the case, and if it deviates, it usually corrects course back again. In Moreton Bay and Wide Bay I have noticed, however, that easterly winds suddenly change into westerly ones, as if two streams of air were flowing atop one another, of which the upper, westerly one at times sinks down.

There were plans to send an expedition from Sydney to the northwestern part of New Holland (to Port Essington), to investigate the interior of the country. I would certainly have accompanied this expedition, yet the government, or rather the present governor, opposed it on the grounds of insufficient funds. However, this opposition is attributed to personal motives, since Sir Thomas Mitchell, who was supposed to lead the expedition, is no friend of Governor Sir George Gibbs. As I am away from Sydney, I know nothing more concrete about this at the moment. It is likely that such an expedition will take place sooner or later. Everywhere I enjoyed the utmost hospitality and my present friendly host is Mr. David Archer, who owns sheep stations here. He is from Norway, where his father lives, who, however, is a Scotsman. I have encountered many young men who speak German and who, almost without exception, come from good families and are well-educated, although the lonely life in the bush has made some of them forget their good manners. Houses are commonly rough-hewn shacks covered with tree bark. A number of forest trees are easily split and their bark peels off in large sheets (6’ long, 6’ wide), so that the two utmost necessities for the construction of dwellings are at hand everywhere, or just about everywhere. — I will return to Sydney in 8 days and am currently in the best of health. One of my mares had a foal; my pointer bitch had 2 young pups.

Convey my greetings to dear mother, to Adolph and my new sister-in-law, to the Barths and to those friends in Cottbus who remember me. Greetings to Fettchen and your children from your loving brother-in-law,

Ludwig Leichhardt

Moreton Bay, 27 June 1843

My dearest mother,

I have already completed long journeys in these colonies—I have seen much and endured many trials. Alone in isolated forests or high mountains, I have often wrapped myself in my woolen blanket by my nightly fire and directed my thoughts to you and to all my loved ones at home. Your son is living a most remarkable life. Poor as he is, he struggles with the circumstances as valiantly as he is able, and again and again a helping hand comes when prospects seem most dark. Think of a young peasant in jacket and pants on a small black horse, a woolen blanket and satchel strapped across his saddle, a heavy hammer on the saddle horn and a smaller one in his pocket, and you will have fairly accurate vision of your dear son as he rides across the forest of Australia. Besides my horse, a white pointer is often my only companion. — When my goal is to make progress forwards and the landscape does not have anything remarkable to offer, I ride for 5–6 German miles. If the region is notable, I pause, give my horse a rest, and wander about the area in order to look about and collect whatever seems interesting to me. The settlers are generally very hospitable. They are typically young, unmarried men who own 500–1500 head of cattle, which they aim to increase as much as possible. The individual settlements are about 4 miles from each other and consist of several huts made of planks, which offer sufficient protection from wind and weather in this mild climate. — Some of the cattle are very lovely specimens, and I have never eaten such good beef or seen such fat beasts during my travels through Europe. — Other regions are covered with flocks

of sheep. Many thousands of sheep wander over the hills and plains of New England and the Darling Downs. These regions are particularly suitable for raising sheep, and often 2–3000 sheep may be kept in a single herd. This makes sheep farming much more profitable, as a shepherd’s wages are so high. They receive 140–190 Rtl. However, you must take into account that their needs are comparatively expensive. In the inner regions of the colony on these cattle or sheep stations, they live entirely off of beef or sheep; in addition they eat a kind of unleavened bread, which is called damper, and which, after the dough has been well kneaded, is baked in fresh ashes. Tee is consumed in unbelievable quantities, for a pitcher of tea is drunk with breakfast, lunch, and dinner. It seems to serve as the soup. On rare occasions they have pumpkins, which grow quite well and are very mealy here. Although the people have as much meat as they can eat—and each man eats nearly 2 lb a day, as a rule (they receive 12 lb per week)—on the other hand they do not have the vegetables which you take pleasure in. Potatoes and cabbage are quite rare, for the heat of the summer typically destroys all the plants. I have met a number of Germans and I am pleased to say that the German wins the affection of his neighbors everywhere because he works hard and is content with modest means, and because he is self-sufficient. — Several of the Germans are highly regarded as shepherds, and another was a wine-grower. Here in Moreton Bay I am living at the German Mission, which consists of good, upright people who have endured much in their attempts to convert the blacks, but have sadly made little progress. They are all married and together number 7 families at present with

22 well-raised children. I feel at ease among them, for it is far too seldom that one meets such virtuous people in this colony. — Although the blacks show little inclination to become Christian or to concern themselves with religious matters, they are often quite intelligent and shrewd. This is particularly the case when the children have been taken from their parents at a young age and have received a separate education. The black clans are dying out quite quickly at present and often there are only 2 or 3 individuals left in a clan that once numbered more than 100. In some areas they cause great damages for the settlers by killing cattle with their spears or driving away flocks of sheep and killing the shepherds. — About 100 miles to the north a ship with a number of oxen on board was wrecked about 8 years ago. One bullock swam to the shore and thrived wonderfully on the rich pasture. The blacks had never seen such animals and the mighty bullock filled them with wonder. They came from near and far to catch a sight of the unknown monster and there were many plans made for killing it. But as soon as they approached the bullock charged and drove them away. At last the white settlers reached these regions. They were quite familiar with this fat beast, and one bullet sufficed to slay it. It was extremely fat, and one gentleman who had tasted of its meat could not stop praising its tenderness.
I don’t know if I have written to you about how I was once in great danger when a wild bullock attacked me. I was alone in the woods—and just barely managed to save myself behind a tree. He attacked me multiple times; I gave him a blow with my hammer,

this seemed to cool his anger, and I dashed away, ducking behind one tree after another. — During this episode I lost my good hammer, which had accompanied my through France, Switzerland, and Italy—although of course this was greatly preferable to losing my life.
My health is sound, sounder than ever. But people have started to tell me that I look older than before—and the white hairs are becoming more abundant. Perhaps I would have had more difficulty enduring the hardships of travel if I had not always attempted to live a pure and abstinent life and to always remain worthy of the love of my dear mother. If you loved the boy and the youth, who, after all, sometimes caused you sorrow in spite of himself, you would love the man even more, in whom the passions of youth are gradually becoming calmer, even while he strives to preserve the joyful heart of a child. — Let us hope that we will see each other once more beneath the sky of the old world. Until then may God continue to grant you health and happiness. I would so like to hear from you—and probably letters from you are already waiting in Sydney. But the inland regions are not connected to Sydney by a regular postal route, and since I am constantly changing my place of residence, it is impossible to receive letters. Yet I might hear from you today even, for a steamer from Sydney has just arrived at Moreton Bay, which I expect to have letters from my friends in Sydney. I have the good fortune to have found a staunch friend in this country who supports me in any way he can; he might be William’s deputy, sent by the dear Lord to me when William remained behind in Europe. From William, my dear friend and brother, I have not heard anything for some time. Even so, I am sending him this letter to pass on to you.

Now adieu, dear mother. Give my greetings to all, from your dearly loving son.

Ludwig

Glendon, 16 January 1843

My dearest brother-in-law,

I received your letter of condolence at the beginning of December 1842. I cannot tell you how much the death of our dear sister Mathilde pained me. Yet I thank you for the gentle and diplomatic way in which you broke the terrible news to me. — You filled my mind with a whole host of memories of home; with tears in my eyes I accompanied you step by step on the well-travelled road from Cottbus to Trebatsch; I was so filled with melancholy about how everything has changed that the last, grievous message simply made the bucket overflow and I wallowed freely in my grief. Yet on the other hand I was glad to know that Adolph has taken possession of our father’s property. I was happy that Barth has extended a helping hand to him in this and that, by the same token, our dear mother can finally move into the residence reserved for her after waiting so long. May Adolph only be fortunate in choosing a wife who will treat mother well, so that her remaining days will not be marred by an unkind daughter-in-law.

After I had lived in Newcastle for about 8 weeks and from there had undertaken excursions in all directions, I bought a horse and thus, excellently fitted out, rode up the Hunter River. Whenever I encountered steeper hills I left my horse on good pastures and climbed the hills to examine their formation and the rocks of which they consist. A few shirts, a tea kettle, 1 £ of tea, and 2 £ of brown sugar were all I brought to sustain me. The settlers, who usually accorded me a friendly welcome, supplied me with damper, a kind of bread made of unleavened dough which is baked in hot ashes, and meat, and once in a while milk and eggs. In case I had to sleep under the open sky in the bush I carried a woolen blanket, in which I wrapped myself and then laid down beneath a tree. I camped out in this manner along the seashore, where the roar of waves lulled me to sleep, and within isolated woodlands, in which kangaroos grazed around me. — People wandering the forests of New Holland have nothing to fear from wild animals; the largest carnivorous animals are wild dogs the size of jackals which, although they do great harm to sheep, do not dare attack humans. The solitude of the forest, in the quiet of night beneath a brightly sparkling firmament, leaves an extremely deep impression on a lonely traveler — and I will never forget some of the nights of this sort. Yet the forest does alternate with open, cultivated regions, as is the case at home. Now and then in the outback, one finds close to a settler’s hut a small area cleared of trees for growing a little wheat or maize. Yet for the most part the settlers are busy with livestock breeding or sheep farming and buy their flour in town. The drought has lasted an extremely long time; the highly-praised banks of the Hunter River had barely enough grass to nourish my horse scantily. The entire region appeared as if it had been scorched. About 5 miles from Newcastle there is Maitland, a much more important city of

about 10,000 inhabitants. Although the beginnings of cities can be found higher up, they frequently hardly even qualify as villages, albeit with better dwellings. Considerable vineyards have been established in several places. The vines do exceedingly well in the most oppressive of heats. The leaves are always fresh and green, the grapes are numerous and large, while the seeds are usually smaller and further apart than I have seen them in the best wine regions of Europe. A great wine has not yet been pressed, although many have tried. — Yet the wine is quite drinkable. While a Mr. Walker Scott welcomed me into his home in Newcastle, I am entertained here in Glendon, about 50 English miles away, by his brother Mr. Helenus Scott, who owns vast property together with an older brother. Approximately 80,000 morgen of land belong to him, on which 9000 head of cattle run more or less rampant, and a great many flocks of sheep are driven about by shepherds. In the past, many shepherds were convicts; nowadays convicts are no longer brought to the colony and free immigrants do their jobs. Shepherd is usually the lowest rank at which an immigrant begins. He receives a salary of about 175 Rtl. (25 £) as well as room and board. If people would be content with this and try to make their settlements comfortable by planting small gardens and preparing a bit of land for farming, then they could live quite happily and free of worries with large families. Yet the immigrants’ minds are so filled with thoughts of great riches, which they want to acquire as quickly as possible, that they think of nothing except how to secure other employment and higher wages. Consequently, they are reluctant to pick up a spade because they do not plan on staying as it is, so that they spend their free time doing nothing and migrate from place to place and master to master, and in this way harm themselves and their employers. For the constant change of servants is extremely bothersome, since each new person has to acquire experience. — This anxious striving forward, this fondness for speculation, has been perceived as a peculiar trait specific to the English and that it would be very advantageous to convince German families to immigrate, who, used to domesticity as they are, would be eager to greatly increase their standard of living on this fertile soil. While the man would tend to his master’s affairs, his wife and children would look after the family business and in this way would gradually benefit both themselves and the landowners. I recognize the logic of this; yet whole families must emigrate, not just young men who long for home amidst the bleak forest, and who would always think only of making as much money as would enable them to return home as persons of independent means. I have frequently spoken with settlers about this matter. They are specifically seeking shepherds: yet in the regions where our best sheep farmers live there is no one who is even the slightest bit inclined to emigrate.

Most emigrants come from the Rhine region, from Hesse, Würtenberg [sic] and Baden; yet sheep farming plays less of a role there — and although vintners are much sought-after, they are relatively speaking less in demand than shepherds. — This part of the colony is extremely hot and subject to long droughts, which frequently destroy the wheat harvest that usually only turns out well 1 year in 3 to begin with. Yet all fruit trees thrive exceptionally well. The fertility of peaches, apricots, figs, nectarines, grapes, pears, apples is immense — although I have to at least partially exclude pears and apples when it comes to this incredible fertility. The lack of water is a big disadvantage. There are very few springs, very little running water. There are deep holes (waterholes) in which water stands year-round, and which are often brackish. However, artificially constructed brick containers would help redress this ill. This is also the reason why such astounding quantities of tea are consumed in this colony. Plain water cannot be enjoyed without harm. It is therefore boiled with tea and acquires an astringent taste. Every servant and even the shepherds therefore receives a weekly ration of tea and sugar (¼ lb of tea and 2 lb of sugar and 10 lb of meat and 12 lb of flour per week) — The sheep, which already roam up to 500 English miles inland in flocks of 500 to 1500, are small; their fleece is less thick, their wool less curly; cows produce less milk and the milk makes less butter; a cow commonly yields 1½ lb of butter per week when times are good. With regard to this point I must highlight, however, that calves are not weaned but share their master’s milk. Everyone is constantly striving to increase the size of the herds and neither male nor female calves are killed. When they are a few months old, they are branded with the seal of their owner and can then run around the vast enclosures to their heart’s content. These enclosures, which frequently encompass 1000 morgen, are very expensive; yet without them cowherds would become a necessity and their high salaries would leave little in the way of profit.

The Hunter River, which appears so enormous at its mouth, turns into an insignificant rivulet about 19 English miles higher up. Yet its banks are very steep and the torrential rains quickly fill it; the lack of bridges therefore means that in the winter one has to wait long periods of time before crossing the river becomes possible. For the most part, the rivulets are simply chains of puddles that retain a bit of water in the summertime. This lack of water, which seems to afflict the entire continent of New Holland at least to some degree, causes every trace of moisture to be absorbed when winds from the northwest or west sweep across the interior, and means that those of us on the east coast get the full heat of the earth exposed to the sun blowing on our faces.

When this happens, the heat is unbearable; sweat runs down one’s body in streams; all items of clothing except for shirt and pants are discarded and one would gladly take off those as well if decency would permit. Tree leaves desiccate, young crops are often lost, fruits almost bake on the trees. Yet since evaporating sweat in turn has a relative cooling effect, the heat is not felt to be as great as it would be in a wet climate, as prevails in the East Indies, for example. This is also the reason why the heat is less harmful to the body and people here suffer from fewer diseases than in the East Indies. The recent hot days have nonetheless made me a bit rheumatic. We had hot temperatures of 39–40° R (120° F), which exceeds blood heat by 9 degrees.

During my last journey on foot I caught a young kangaroo, which now affords much amusement. You know that the mother carries the young in a pouch until they are quite advanced in age. Now, if the animal is being chased and finds itself in great danger, it lifts the young one out of the pouch with its front legs and throws it overboard, so to speak. This is what happened to mine. It was so innocent that it jumped head-first into a bag which I held in front of it, probably believing that it was returning to its mother’s pouch. — Ants are extremely numerous in this country; you can find some as big as wasps, endowed with a similar stinger, while others are almost microscopically small, only the size of a grain of sand. — Termites construct cone-shaped dwellings of yellow clay that reach heights of 5 feet, or fill hollow trees with their cells — Magnificently colored parakeets are the main enemies of grapes and fruit; they fly around in flocks of 7–12, or even more. The cockatoos destroy fields of maize, on which they land by the hundreds.

Farewell my dear brother-in-law and my dear sister, give your children a kiss from me, and convey my greetings to mother and the Barths, Adolph and the Hilgenfelds

Most affectionately,
your Ludwig

Newcastle, 10 November 1842

My dear beloved mother,

How can I let the today pass without thinking of you, without being with you and adding my well-wishes to those of all of your children and grandchildren who have the advantage of living near you and can shake your hand and hug you! — O mother—the incessant appetite to learn drove me away from you and although my home remained continually present in my memories, they were only memories after all; I often lamented my fate which robbed me of the benefit, of the joy of living with you, although it opened the wide world for me. Yet at the very least you can take delight in one thing that not everyone enjoys; you have a loving soul on the other side of the earth which thence daily prays for your happiness to our heavenly Father. —

After I had lived in Sydney for about six months and had studied the city’s surroundings, inhabitants, its state of public affairs, and its way of life, I longed to see other parts of this colony. Remember that Sydney, a city of 42,000 inhabitants, covers a space that is perhaps bigger than Berlin due to the fact that the houses are customarily low-ceilinged and only inhabited by one family. Well now, [imagine] such a city in a young colony scarcely 52 years old, with all the comforts of European life and much livelier trade than in Berlin!! From this city I took a steamship to Newcastle, which is situated about 18 miles to the north, on the mouth of the Hunter River. The steamship typically leaves Sydney at 10 o’clock at night and arrives at Newcastle at 7 o’clock in the morning. This is a small city just beginning to develop, whose scattered houses sit atop the slopes of hills that dip down toward the river. A wealthy landowner, whose acquaintance I made in Sydney, offered me his apartment for the duration of my stay and I have now been living with him for these past seven weeks. Apart from the plants, rocks, and animals that I collected here, I’ve seen something of Australian agriculture. Upstream of the Hunter River there is rich soil that the river has deposited over the years, which yields rich harvests without the aid of fertilizers; yet unfortunately hot winds and the heat of the sun dry it out so much that farms can only count on a good harvest one year in three.

Artificial lakes could perhaps alleviate this water shortage; yet there are such few laborers here, and these few demand such extraordinarily high wages, that larger undertakings of this kind are out of the question for now. Apart from wheat, for the most part they grow maize, which is used as animal feed. You will easily recognize that landowners are hardly inclined to cultivate their land since the flour and grain that is imported from Van Diemen’s Land and South America is less expensive than what they can produce themselves. They therefore concentrate much more on livestock and sheep farming. The flocks of sheep are approximately 100–200 English miles (25–50 German miles) inland; cattle are allowed to roam freely in wide, unfenced swaths of woodland after each has been branded with its owner’s mark. Every year the young calves are caught and branded. Cows are milked only in the vicinity of cities in which butter and milk can be sold. Generally speaking, farmers try to increase herd size and sell the fat stock to the butchers. The animals are almost feral since they have so little interaction with humans. The herdsmen, who only make their rounds to examine the herds from time to time, are all mounted on horseback, and frequently horse and rider are subjected to attacks by the cows and bulls. — It’s different when it comes to the sheep. For this, regular shepherds have to be employed, who must be paid 220–350 dollars in annual wages. Depending on the terrain, every shepherd is responsible for 500–1000 sheep. These are vulnerable to attacks by dingos, which combine the cunning of the fox with the strength of a good sheepdog. The young men who arrive here from England typically come from good families and by and large possess some means. If they are poor, they enter into the services of established settlers for a little while, as accountants or inspectors. After they have saved up some money they move further inland to the as-of-yet unsettled parts and use their own capital to establish a cattle or a sheep farm. As a rule they lease between 1000 and 2000 morgen of land from the government, which provides their herd with ample grazing ground, and pay the fixed price of [50?] dollars annually. — They do not own the land, however, and when it is sold at public auction their claims

on it cease. Once the young man and his shepherd have arrived at the selected spot, he builds himself a hut made of split timber, which he roofs with tree bark. The hut consists of a room in which the settler eats and sleeps and of a fireplace, which is very spacious so as to prevent a conflagration. He has a tin teapot, a few plates, one cup, a couple of spoons. He subsists entirely on meat and a heavy, unleavened wheat-based bread called “damper.” — Flour is mixed with water to produce a dense dough, a huge fire is made with dried tree bark, and once the fire has died down the flattened dough is put into the hot ashes. Tea is almost the only available beverage. For breakfast, lunch, and dinner one drinks tea, sweetened with brown unrefined sugar. If there is no milk to be had, which is usually the case, a beaten egg is added to every cup. If eggs are absent, one has to make do without dairy. — Thus the young man, who perhaps was accustomed to every luxury in England, and on whom perhaps 2 – servants waited hand and foot in his father’s house, lives in profound solitude, surrounded by the bush on all sides; all of his attention is given to his herd. He is frequently in the saddle from early dawn until late at night, seeking escaped cattle or sheep. When he returns to his hut bone-tired, he has to stoke up the fire himself, has to make his tea, and cook his beefsteak or mutton chop. Often he cannot depend on his shepherd for help, because laborers are so rare that these impudent people often have to be treated with the utmost courtesy. Yet despite this hard way of life, this solitude has a particular appeal to a young, robust mind. He is astonished to find how little a person requires to satisfy his bodily demands and how much power he himself has to address any need. The young men often assured me that this self-knowledge, which they perhaps never would have acquired in England, is of more use to them than any riches, and some return to England completely content just with having learned how to live inexpensively. — The ease with which they roam the bush

atop their horses, which are used to wooded areas, the feeling of independence with which this peculiar, this wild life instills in them renders their solitary bark-covered hut dear to them and they often think back to it with quiet contentment after they have returned either to the cities or to England. If I paint a picture of a miserable shack exposed to wind and the elements on all sides then you must keep in mind that we live in a blessedly mild climate here, in which the thermometer never drops below freezing. For almost 8 months straight the sky is continually bright blue, or only cloudy for a few days, and the heat of the sun is frequently extreme. During the hot northwestern winds, the thermometer has been seen to climb up to 39° R (120° F.). Normally it is 16–20° R.

During the winter (April, May, June, July) we usually suffer under heavy downpours; even though extreme drought blights the harvest and often causes thousands of cattle and sheep to die of thirst, the amount of rainfall here is almost twice as high as it is in England or Germany. If the rain falling on the soil could be prevented from running off or evaporating, within one year a mass of water 6 feet deep would cover Australia, whereas hardly 3 feet of water fall on Germany. Yet in Germany this amount is spread out over the entire year, whereas here it pours down in torrents within the space of a few weeks. — When you receive this letter, 6 months will presumably have passed; yet be sure that I think of you as fervently when you read this letter as I do now while I am composing it. Farewell, beloved mother. A thousand kisses, a thousand well-wishes from

Your wandering son,
Ludwig

[P.S.] I have not received a message from you since my departure from Paris in August 1841. You know William’s address. He promised me to write to you. I wish I could spare you the expense of postage.

Sydney, 6 September 1842

My dearest mother,

It has now been a year since I have received any message from you. I wrote letters to you from Paris, from England, and shortly after my arrival from Sydney, which you will surely have received. Every Sunday, when I quietly reminisce about the past, I find myself in your presence, I see you, I hear you and I share your thoughts; but then the whole globe once again moves between us; you return to the beloved homeland whereas I am left to my own devices in a foreign land, where I have to find solace, quietude, and fulfillment within myself. I am not feeling unhappy! For so long I have been accustomed to living amidst nature and finding joy in observing and studying it. The only pain that occasionally weighs heavy on my heart is solely the fact that I am wandering the earth far from you, that I cannot communicate with you more often, even if it is only in written form. I feel that you would want to see me, too; that you, my dearest mother, also yearn to hug your son to your heart as he wishes to hug you—and yet! And yet I cannot at present make any promises for the immanent fulfillment of our wishes. When I was still at home and because of my poverty could not dare to hope to achieve what I am accomplishing now, I believed that I could easily sacrifice everything to satisfy the urge to see the world. God in heaven fulfilled my secret wishes: I received what often the most affluent do not receive; everywhere I found support and was able to pursue my affinity for the study of nature without worries; yet another worry then took hold of me: I always received support but was never independent. William gave me money to go to New Netherland; after arriving here in Sydney I soon found good friends who took me in and saved me from incurring any costs in a very expensive place, in which I would have needed to pay more than 10 Rtl. per week for simple accommodations. I can live here, study here, but I cannot leave this place without finding someone who would take me with him. On the other hand I have made the acquaintance of respectable families; I have often felt favorably inclined toward girls, indeed, I have been deeply in love, yet my dependence has always prevented me from taking serious steps and making my feelings known. So you see that your son is ruled by manifold emotions, by early memories, by the always-burning love for his study of nature, by the impressions of the moment, which are likely to be the most dangerous for him und to prematurely anchor his wandering ship. Yet even if my mind is often restlessly moving, I can still assure you that I believe I have continually improved and that I still feel as innocent as I did the last time you held me in your arms. And for this I thank you! Because when I seek out the source of my moral principles, I arrive at the small chamber in our old house with its tiny window in which you taught us our morning and evening prayers and first introduced us to our heavenly Father.

This spot—where 42,000 people now enjoy all the comforts of Europe—used to be wild, barren scrublands which fifty-two years ago even savage hordes seldom visited; now a mighty city stands here and the entire coast is dotted with cities being born. — The savages have either died out or been pushed back 50–60 miles into the interior and they only rarely come as far as Sydney. Although I am convinced that they will never adopt European culture, they nevertheless display much natural acumen and a lot of decorum and skillfulness. The poise with which a savage man strides through the streets of Sydney astonished me: the females usually are subject to much hardship since the men treat them almost like pack animals. — Sydney is surrounded by sandstone rock and sandy hills, which frequently remind me of the sandy Mark Brandenburg; the plants are not nearly as fresh and green as they are where you live and the landscape appears strangely dull and grayish-green. Dense woodlands and tall trees are almost completely absent here, although they exist in other parts of the colony; the bush is composed of low trees and shrubs which often sport very large, noticeable, beautifully colored flowers. There are indeed few places on earth where so many beautiful plants grow in such a small space. There are snakes in great quantities here; I have already killed two this past month myself; many are thought to be highly poisonous. One sees big flocks of parakeets in all colors here. In addition, a few remarkably beautiful birds with gorgeous coloring and plumage can be found. Your summer is our winter and winters here are mild with lots of heavy rains. Although winters are milder than at home or in England, we nevertheless frequently find the small changes, the damp cold, very unpleasant. The soil, although sandy, is fertile as soon as the required moisture is present; yet in summer long dry spells often thwarts the farmer’s every effort. This drought means that the land is ill-suited for farming and in the past in particular the greater part of the population turned to sheep and livestock breeding. Yet in the past they had access to free labor. The convicts who were transported here from England were forced to work for the colonists. At present, convicts are no longer brought here and free immigrants charge high fees for their labor services. As a consequence, sheep farming generates little profit and land owners who used to be very rich are either going bankrupt or are seeing their wealth diminish considerably. — The colony therefore finds itself in dire straits at present and a lot of people who came here in the hopes of quickly acquiring much wealth have been bitterly disappointed. Yet the man who is able and who wants to work quickly finds employment and can provide ample sustenance for himself and his wife and children. Artists have fewer prospects, as do men of science. Everything here revolves around physical labor!

As far as nourishment is concerned, the local farmer or worker is better off than a farmer at home. He can eat as much meat as he desires, vegetables are less abundant; potatoes are not nearly as good. Living quarters are, however, not so comfortable. Frequently they are but simple huts. Yet the climate is mild. Stoves are not necessary. But then, settlements are far apart. The easy sociability of a village is absent. Escaped convicts roam the streets and rob travelers, who, for this reason rarely carry large amounts of money. I wrote you earlier that rich and richly populated colonies exist in Van Diemen’s Land and in New Zealand as they do in the south of New Holland; that European customs and culture are fully at home here; that Sydney’s main streets are barely distinguishable from some streets in London; that Sydney is 8 times the size of Cottbus (I believe that Cottbus has a population of 5000); that steamships provide regular connections between all places. Abandon therefore all notions of a wilderness! The rich, and even the poor, live in and enjoy greater levels of comfort than the inhabitants of the Mark Brandenburg and you yourselves! In Sydney, public broadsheets (newspapers) are being printed! After I had resided in my detached quarters for a while, I made the acquaintance of an English officer, who invited me to stay with him to save on the very high rent. This gentleman’s name is Lynd. By now, I have already lived with him for more than three months and have good reasons to value him even more highly. — I tried to secure employment with the botanical gardens, yet I did not succeed because I was still too much of an unknown and had been here for too short a time. I could have not only continued my studies in peace, but they would even have paid me for doing so. This would have been too good an opportunity to pass up. Meanwhile, I have made the acquaintance of many highly-respected people and hope to soon secure a permanent position. — I have been tirelessly working collecting this whole time; gradually, as my materials become more organized, I will send you things to publish at home; and if Schmalfuß were to make inquiries at a reputable booksellers, for example Reimer in Berlin, I could perhaps be of use to you by ceding you the honorarium. It appears best to me to present such a publication in the form of letters, such as Raumer’s letters on England or Italy, for example. I am convinced that such a book, if published by a reputable bookseller, would indeed pay for itself. I leave this up to you. Do not hesitate to write me. I have asked William to get in touch with you by letter since communication between myself and William is much easier than it is between me and you. In addition, I could never ignore the expense that my letters create for you!

In a few days I intend to leave Sydney for a while and to go to Newcastle (on the Hunter River), which is situated about 20 miles north of here. Specifically, a prosperous landowner has invited me to visit him and since the area is very interesting I hope to fruitfully occupy my time there. It is indeed doing a favor to country’s isolated inhabitants, who rarely get to see strange faces or even people at all. It is possible that I might stay there permanently, for I have received a few offers which I have not yet considered enough to make a decision. — I am feeling well; yet I am very inclined toward diarrhea, which on occasion extraordinarily exhausts me. This generally happens to everyone who arrives here until one’s constitution has become acclimated to the climate, or perhaps the food, or the water. I was already subjected to this malady in Paris and would probably be dead by now if I had joined the Niger expedition into the heart of Africa, as I had originally planned.

Farewell my dear mother and my dear relatives. Be assured that I always carry you in my heart wherever my feet may carry me. Should I actually remain here for a very long time we might think about having young members of our extended family join me. I would then be surrounded by relatives and they could heartily dedicate the strength of youth to making money. A German tanner came here with me. I found him a position that pays 280 Thaler a year with few substantial expenses. After perhaps 10 years he can return home a prosperous man.

Most affectionately,
Your loving Brother-in-Law and Son
Ludwig