leaving a small area untouched. Nothing can be done to stem the torrent of these fires or to arrest their course, for they travel at sixty miles an hour.
Descending from Black Spur, we stopped to lunch at one of the characteristic Australian picnic places, above a tumbling mountain stream close to a place called Fernshaw. A fine rain was falling, and it was pleasant to find the shelter of a roof, and dry benches and tables. The place was a bird sanctuary; beautiful, and to us, unknown varieties came and watched us from a wooden fence that bordered the little clearing, or hopped about on the grass. The gorgeous Australian robin flaunted his brilliant vermilion and black plumage, here was the fabled "blue bird" in the life, a kind of wren; green finches, a large crow, the ever-present magpie, of course, and pretty fawn-coloured honey birds, said to cull honey from the flowers like bees, and the peewit, black and white, like a smaller magpie, and so called from his shrill, insistent note.
On the slopes of the Black Spur the eucalyptus attain to an unusual height, even for their soaring growth, and some of the tallest trees in Australia are to be seen here. It is impossible to be long in the country without hearing much discussion on questions of forestry. A great part of
