'If you travel on the road, and chance to stick in Bargo,

To avoid a bad capsize, you must unload your cargo;

For to pull a dray about, I do not see the force on,

Take a bit of green hide, and hook another horse on.'

I have just travelled through the Bargo Brush, on the Great Southern Road, but such a road, I unhesitatingly say, never existed in any other civilised or uncivilised part of the world. Dr. Leichhardt met with nothing like it on his overland journey to Port Essington ; nor did Bruce, in his travels in Abyssinia ; nor did Mungo Park, or Dr. Livingstone, in their travels in the interior of Africa.
To give any thing like a graphic description of the state of the road would be impossible. For about twenty miles it is a succession of pits and bogs, and holes of every kind, and in order to prevent the escape of any of the unfortunate travellers into the bush, a ditch has been cut on both sides of the road, so that they are as well secured (although not so safe) as they would be on a treadmill. Every thing that nature and art could do to render a road impassable and dangerous, has been done on the Great Southern Road. Although I have had two days rest since I returned home, I still feel appalled at the dangers I have encountered, and most grateful to Providence for my preservation of both life and limb. My friend and I, who travelled together in a gig determined that we would spare no time or pains in exploring - so as to perform (what appeared to be a miracle) - the getting through this slough of pits and bogs, without breaking a bone of man or beast, or the shafts or springs of our gig. For this purpose one led the horse and the other walked ' before, to explore and take soundings of the pits, bogs, &c.
At times we were fairly brought to a stand-still, on account of the almost unfathomable holes, and the great number of drays, &c, deeply embedded in the slough. The poor carriers appeared to be at their wits' end. I have never seen such a fine set of strong, healthy fellows so dead beat as were the carriers on this road. And I shall never forget their kindness in assisting us in our difficulties. But for I them our horse and gig would have become a wreck on the Great Southern Road, and, probably, little more than the whip would have been visible to act as a beacon to warn travellers not to approach it. On, one occasion, when we had got deeply bogged, I asked a man, who was at the time hard at work with a spade digging his dray out of a bog, to come and as assist us. He immediately came, and also another man, with whose help we saved the life of our horse. Twice our horse got bogged up to the belly, notwithstanding the utmost precautions we could use, and on one occasion broke a shaft, which we had to splice in the best we could with the reins, some straps, and saplings. One of the mail-driven told us that one of his wheelers had sunk to the hips, and was I with difficulty drawn out by the remainder of the team. He said he had been twenty-two hours in coming thirty-two miles, and that nothing should induce him to continue driving by night on such a dangerous road.
Is not this a case for Government interference…? Thomas Holt, Camden Villa, Newtown.〔(''Sydney Morning Herald'' 13 February 1861 )〕