The morning Johann Ulrich Voss and his party were due to sail to Newcastle on the first stage of their attempt to cross the continent, a fair number of friends and inquisitive strangers was converging on the Circular Wharf.

By now the tall grass was almost dry, so that there issued from it a sharper sighing when the wind blew. The wind bent the grass into tawny waves, in the crests of which floated the last survivors of flowers, and shrivelled, and were sucked under by the swell. All day the horses and cattle swam through this grass sea.

The station owner, Mr Brendan Boyle, welcomes Voss to Jildra homestead in December, 1845. The house is described as a "shack of undaubed slab, that admitted day- and starlight in their turn."

"This is my mansion," indicated the latter [Boyle], waving a lantern so that the room rocked, and the dimples which came when he spoke flickered on either side of his mouth. "I suggest that you, Mr Voss, and one or two of the others, peg your claims here on the floor, and allow me the pleasures of conversation, while the rest of the party enjoy the luxury of their own tents."

Their sojourn at the inn was of the briefest, for Mr Sanderson had provided horses, and it was his intention that they should proceed the following morning to his station at Rhine Towers, a journey of several days.

Sussex Street was not yet set so rigid that a cock might not shatter its importance, or blunt-nosed bullock, toiling over ruts, snuff at the dusty urban air, or piano scatter its distracted notes, from the house of Topp, Professor of Music, which was situated halfway down.