October 1 



UITE early last month the pittospo- 

 rum came out and scented the world with 

 its sweetness. It streamed through 

 gardens and along roads, vieing with the 

 stocks and freesias in beauty, and for a 

 week or so the nights were intoxicating 

 with it& perfume. It is over now in the 

 gardens ; and in the bush, its native 

 sphere, only a stray blossom remains to 

 tell of the glory that has passed. But 

 though the pittosporum has had its day 

 and vanished, there is still a long suc- 

 cession of sweets to greet the senses at 

 every stage. The heavier-scented white- 

 blossomed plants, such as the white-beards and logania, are 

 almost over, but the real bush-sweet, aromatic scents have 

 taken their place. Up on the highlands there is a perfume 

 which, if you met it in the farthest corner of the earth, would 

 carry you straight back to Sydney on a sunny day. It is not 

 of any particular flower or tree, but of dozens and dozens of 

 them, all mixed up together, blossoms and leaves, and the 

 smell of the earth ; and it is a scent that brings freshness and 

 health with it, clears the brain, and makes you throw back your 

 head with a smile of content. 



NATIVE ROSE 



