The whole article is pure poetry. Here is a snippet of my favourite parts...
"Ye who would view fair Melrose right
Go visit it by the pale moonlight."
Writes Scott, and ye who would see Blackboy Camp at its fairest go visit it at sunset, when the wooded hills draw about them their stately night-robes of purple shadow, and the fertile valleys change their striped afternoon frocks of emerald green vineyard and good red earth for quiet homely gowns of fading sage and grey.
Truly it is a spot that a poet might love. I have travelled much in WA, and I know of no places excepting Bridgetown and Albany possessing the same picturesque charm.
There is an exquisite harmony in the whole design. The bold bluff outline of the hill itself stands out against the wider background of Greenmount rising sheer above it; but between is a subtle grading of the valley and a slow ascent of vine-crowned terraces, with here and there a prosperous villa tastefully designed to blend agreeably with the landscape. The wider horizon conveys the same pleasing impression, as if this Blackboy Hill had been selected by some Thoreau or Whitman as a vantage ground from which to view a perfect scene at every point of the compass.
The camp itself is an ideal site for its purpose, not only as regards natural drainage, but for its hard sun-baked soil which, although dusty enough in all conscience when an Easterly wind blows, is nevertheless about as clean as a camp-site possibly could be.
[wandoo or white gum] Both red and flooded gums give a delightful shade much appreciated by the men when a kindly drill sergeant permits a few minutes rest and smoke-oh.
Tea break at Blackboy Hill campground during early years.
