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 of this magnificent country? What a contrast to the sombre monotony of the Australian forest.

Ferns!!! "Ram! Ram! Sita Ram!!! Could anything be more exquisite?

Tree fuchsias!! As big as gum-trees.

Pittosperum!!! Giants of convoluted shrubbery.

Llianas, and supple-jacks, and creepers!! festooning the forest, like boas and pythons of a new order of creation.

Mosses!! Never was carpet woven in loom half so exquisite.

And here, too, the "trail of the serpent is over all." The woodcutter is making sad havoc with this peerless bush. Deep ruts, with ruthlessly felled shrubbery, and withering branches on either side, lead away into the bosky dells, where the mossy giants, with all their adornment of orchid, and trailing fern, and hoary lichen, shiver under the fell strokes of the lumber-man, and bow their stately heads and fall to rise no more. Henceforth, for the clean, sappy wood, the odour of red herring and the smell of sperm candles take the place of the faint fresh scent of morning in the dewy glade, where the moss and wild flowers send up their sweet kisses; and we can almost fancy the giant shuddering as the ripping-saw tears at his vitals, or weeping, as the nails are driven, that forces him to embrace the oilman's or the chandler's distasteful wares.

What ho! What fresh beauty is this awaiting us? Here is surely the sweetest, prettiest, little lake ever sun shone on or wind caressed. It is