i2 4 BUSH DAYS 



sweet-scented limes are fragrant with memories of Heine 

 Each tree has its charm of romance and the soul should be 

 soothed and satisfied. Yet a vague unrest stirs within me, a 

 feeling of incompleteness which I cannot understand. Then 

 I turn a bend in the avenue and know what was missing. 



Before me, rearing its splendid head above all others, stands 

 a gum tree. Covered with blossom, it is a mine of sweetness 

 to the hundreds of honey-eaters which are noisily feeding 

 amongst its branches. In this Garden Avenue, stocked with 

 trees and fowers from far-off climes, the gum tree, with its 

 honey-eaters, stands out in bold relief, fresh and strong and 

 free. Its tall, slim trunk rises above the tallest oak, and its 

 branches stretch proudly skyw r ards, as if to leave below the 

 thought, that here in its own land, it is a stranger amongst 

 strangers. 



But to an Australian heart it fills a want that no trees of 

 old romance can satisfy. It does not send its branches across 

 the road to gossip with each passer-by, but it lifts its head 

 regally toward heaven, and speaks, not of a by-gone glory, not 

 of old song and story, but of a golden future to be. It tells 

 of a land where battles are bravely fought ; where courageous 

 hearts have won their way through drought and flood ; where 

 men have struggled hand to hand with Nature herself, and 

 conquered. It is rn emblem of the nation to be, strong, fear- 

 less and erect, living ro longer in the stories of the past, but 

 carving its ow r n history through the unknown future. 



