a thing we had always wanted very much to see and despaired of doing so. It was the little Australian tree bear, or koala bear, once very common, now becoming rare. We heard from a French waiter that there was one in the hotel, and presuming on our experience of Australian good nature, sent a message to its unknown owner to ask if we might see it before we left. He brought it down immediately, carried in the arms of his little girl, and it really was an adorable little thing. It was about the same size as the very largest child's "Teddy Bear," grey in colour. Its little hand-like fore paws were holding on to the lace of the little girl's pinafore, one on each side of her neck, and it turned its head and fixed a pair of wistful eyes upon us. She said it slept all day and woke up at night, when it cried for milk like a cat. It only ate gum leaves. "When we were boys," said its owner, "we used to hunt them. It took thirty or forty shots to bring one down, and then it would take eight or ten dogs to finish one, they are so tough." Even so, these charming and harmless little animals, which live in the gum trees and feed on their leaves, are becoming exterminated.
It was late afternoon when we made our third and last visit to Pinkenbar. The scene in the neighbourhood of the station was so typically
