Lilian Wooster Greaves,
Wongan Way
(1927)
“ But if ever those days come, when our rocks shall be melted in the furnace, and our hills dissolved in the crucible; no burnished metal can be so precious to us as the wide clear vision of our early years here. No king of industry can love the land as we love it in its innocence and infancy. No noisy town can claim our affection as the “long, long ways,” the slopes and gullies, the smiling wheatfields of Wongan Hills West. ”
