Thamanampalli Surekha

being to visit a sheep-station some twelve miles distant from the golden mount. The term "bush," as it is used in Australia, is indiscriminately applied to all descriptions of uncleared land, or to any spot away from a settlement, as a person in England would speak of the country when they are out of town. The general character of the bush we were at this time journeying through was typical of a great portion of the pastoral lands of Victoria. It consisted of undulating open forest - land, which has often been compared, without exaggeration, to the ordinary park-scenery of an English domain, the only difference which strikes the eye forcibly being the dead half-burnt trees lying about. To bring it home to the comprehension of a Londoner, these open forest-lands have very much the appearance of Hyde Park and Kensington Gardens, presenting natural open glades like the east end of the former, and frequently gladdening the eyes of the thirsty traveller with a glimpse of such small sheets of water as the Serpentine, to which the colonists apply the homely tern of " water-hole." At the same time it must not be supposed that the foliage of the trees in Australia has that luxuriant appearance presented by the elm, the beech, or the sycamore, which shade the sun's rays from the traveller like a canopy on passing below them. On the contrary, although the Australian gum - trees are not to be surpassed in height by the noblest giants of the northern woods, yet their leaves are few and scanty, while they hang from the branches with their edges upwards, bath sides of the leaf being the same, like the mistletoe - leaf, hence the sun's rays are but slightly screened from above, imparting a peculiar light to Australian forest-scenery, which artists have found it difficult to copy. Of course it is known to the most superficial observer that the European trees just named have their leaves fixed horizontally on the branches, and that upper side of each leaf is different from the under. when light therefore enters a forest with this description of foliage, it comes sideways, as it were, like that from an ordinary window into a room, whereas in the other it descends from above, like the light from a cupola. Besides this peculiar structure of the foliage, those trees are perennial evergreens, there is no fall of the leaf in autumn, no denudation of the branches in winter, and no budding in spring, throughout all seasons their foliage is the same. But as if nature must have a renewal and decay annually, the old bark peels off as a new one grows, the former hanging in long dry shreds from the trunks of the trees. When it is considered that nine out of every ten acres of bush-land in Australia is more or less covered with this description of timber, you can imagine the interminable region of the bush, its, monotonous scenery, its confined views of the surrounding country. From the deepest ravine to the highest mountain-top those gum - trees rear unscathed their iron arms. Over thousands of miles of hill and dole have those everlasting trees met our wearied gaze. In the cleared lands of Europe the traveller can see at a glance the varied landscape of mountain and valley, but in the bush of Australia he can only catch occasional glimpses of the distant country, when he is ascending or descending a hill. Though this description of forest-land we pursued our way pleasantly. The day was clear and sunny, such as you can find in Australia two hundred out of the three hundred and sixty-five. As we cantered along the bush track, the riding was smooth and agreeable, and the road felt saft and easy for the horse's feet. Every now and then we scared flocks of the ground-parakeet, feeding by the way-side as plentifully as sparrows in England, many of them not much larger, and all of the most brilliant plumage; while overhead the larger parrots and cockatoos were wheeling round and round amongst the trees, and breaking the stillness of the forest with their harsh and unmusical screams. The gorgeous livery of these feathered denizens of the Australian bush are now familiar to the many; but this is surpassed by the splendour of the insect creation. As we brushed past a thicket of shrubs in blossom, a could of butterflies and beetles on the wing would dazzle in the sunbeams like a shower of gems, and then settle on the honied sweets of flowers scarcely less brilliant in hue. Every where-around, above, and below-were objects to feast the sense of sight upon. After a two hours' smart ride we entered a quiet glade, through which ran a small clear brook. As we stopped to allow our horse to moisten his lips, and take a draught of the cooling beverage ourselves, we heard in the distance the tinkling of a sheep-bell. Guided by the sound, we soon came on a flock of sheep quietly feeding on the brow of a hill. At a short distance from them stood the shepherd, tranquilly smoking his pipe, and attending to his charge, as if there was no such thing as a gold-mine within many thousand miles. As we approached him at a walking pace, we could not but contemplate his peaceful occupation, so much in accordance with the stillness of the Australian wilderness, and forming a contrast to the turmoil and labours of the gold - diggers whom we had just left. And yet an Australian shepherd is no gentle prim-clad Lubin as described in the old pastorals, sitting with his crook and pipe, beguiling the fleeting hours by chanting same tuneful day; more frequently you find him a long-bearded bronze-featured "crawler," as he is termed in the colony, clad in a blue serge shirt, fastened round the waist by a brood leather belt, with probably a pistol stuck into it, a musket over his shoulder instead of a crook and smoking a short black pine in lieu of trilling