fact, I now corrected my impression, that she whom I had seen on the previous day had realized the poet's wish. Two-thirds of it she certainly had attained, namely, the "lodge" and the "wilderness," but the "boundless contiguity of shade" which had formed the latter part of his aspiration had not been granted to her. Whatever merits may belong to trees of the eucalyptic kind, that of bestowing shade is not one of them. They reach a great height before throwing out their branches, and the leaves upon these hang straight down from their stalks, so that the rays of the sun penetrate the foliage most unmercifully.
I was very glad when we gained the shelter of the next stopping-place; a little low-roofed inn, amongst towering red gum-trees, beneath which the waving bracts of the zamias, or palms as they are popularly called in the colony, imparted somewhat of a semi-tropical character to the foreground. Here another large party of kangaroo dogs came bounding out, and barking in a manner that appeared quite formidable. I found, however, that they had no worse intention than that of announcing the arrival of customers to the inn, and that the noise answered the purpose of an ostler's bell. The hubbub was appeased by the appearance of the mistress of the house, who came forward to welcome me in kind Irish accents; and the dogs, who now knew better than to overstep their duty, relapsed into silence. They had evidently played their part in providing for my breakfast, for kangaroo figured among the dishes.
Our last halt was to water our horse at a wayside well, called St. Ronan's (whether in honour of the saint, or of Scott's novel, I never knew), where we found one or two
