RAMBLES BY RIVERS. 177 



Geclong: here the banks remind us of the dark glen-like scenery of some 

 parts of Ireland, — high hills, whose declivities reach to the water's edge, 

 dark hollows intersecting, into which the daylight scarcely seems to glance. 

 The first object we meet with here is the Black Fan-tailed Flycatcher, a 

 bird whose breast is pure white, and the remainder of its plumage jetty 

 black, ever darting from place to place, wagging its tail as it alights; — 

 and then we have the glorious feeling of hiding, 



"and abiding 

 From the common gaze of men, 

 Where the silver streamlet crosses 

 O'er the smooth stones, green with mosses, 

 And glancing, 

 And dancing, 

 Goes singing on its way." 



Small as the stream is here, its banks are indeed lovely to behold, 

 planted, as they are, with rich dense masses of the fresh green sea-rush, 

 (Scirpus maritimus,) known to many by the rivers near the sea at home, 

 from the cover of which we start a fine pair of Bitterns, who fly heavily 

 and lazily away; the delicate convolvulus twining elegantly around the stems 

 of the loosestrife, the pink flowers of which are always attractive; and 

 then the lovely white crimson-marked flowers of the Damasonium, just 

 peeping, nymph like, above the surface of the water, on which its dark 

 green leaves float refreshingly; our old friend, the vervain, is here too, 

 and the pretty pink Melaleuca paludosa. The crow's nest which you see 

 some fifteen or twenty feet above you on yonder tree, shows that floods have 

 there deposited portions of palings and brushwood, swept away during the 

 winter from the residences of settlers higher up; indeed it is said the 

 water on one occasion rose above the bridge itself. How merrily rushes 

 the stream over its pebbly bed, musical as a young girl's laugh, anon 

 widening and becoming deeper, flowing quietly and gently like the more 

 mature thought of manhood. The very scum in some parts teems with 

 animal life, lightly skimming the surface of the water — 

 " Flumina libant 



Summa leves." — Vikg. 



And it is of the contents of this same, which we so carefully put aside 

 in our bottle, that we intend to discourse. Here are beauties such as 

 many of you have never even imagined, those green hair-like tufts are 

 sufficient to keep the mind on the alert for months to come; and see, 

 too, with the naked eye even, how many thousands of shells we can de- 

 tach with care, — in fact, we have an impromptu aquarium in which these 

 will thrive for many a long day. But they are only shells, we fancy 

 already we hear some one say, — they are, but shells, or their inhabitants, 



