THE VICTORIAN NATURALIST. 21 



it flies from tree to tree, serve to remind us that we are in a 

 land which, though undoubtedly not possessing many advantages 

 belonging to the old country, is yet of much greater interest to us 

 as naturalists. 



Saturday, i2TH January. — We start early from camp, being 

 anxious to reach Bendoc and camp some little distance on the 

 other side. Our way still lies through forest with moderately- 

 sized gums — stringybark, white-gums and messmates — and now 

 and then a waratah, but only very few of these. Stylidium and 

 Dianella are flowering in abundance. The country is uninterest- 

 ing, and falls gradually away to the north, making walking very 

 enjoyable and easy. We begin to see signs of civilization — first 

 cattle-yards, then water-races connected with the old diggings, and 

 old diggers' holes in the yellow-red silurian sandstone of which 

 the country is formed. Some miles on we cross a flat covered 

 with a luxuriant growth of grass, on which cattle are feeding, but 

 which in winter must be simply a bog ; then the ground becomes 

 slightly more undulating, with long rolling ridges, until at last we 

 come to a small settlement, with a few bark houses, and then the 

 rough track opens out into a road which winds through the wood 

 and brings us to cleared land, across which we can see the few 

 houses forming the township of Bendoc, and, rising behind this 

 the conical peak of Delegate Hill, lying on the border-line 

 between Victoria and New South Wales. 



It is a long time since we have seen any civilized human beings, 

 but this morning Bendoc is full of people, as one of its few 

 inhabitants has just died, and the funeral is to take place to-day. 

 The dwellers in the country side have evidently gathered into the 

 township from far and near, and the sight is one which, for its 

 quaintness and simplicity, we shall not easily forget. One old man 

 comes walking up the broad street, whom we at once instinctively 

 put down as the " oldest inhabitant " of the district, and whose 

 general appearance would form a delightful sketch for anyone on 

 the look-out for character studies. Carrying in his hand an old 

 handleless umbrella, which, with his clothes, must have weathered 

 many a Sabbath storm, he wears light tweed trousers, an open 

 evening-dress waistcoat, a short, what had once been black, coat, 

 but which in time of need would now easily serve as a mirror ; on 

 his head an ancient felt hat, reduced by constant battering to an 

 average height of perhaps 4^ inches, and to complete his toilet, 

 a brilliant new red handkerchief, tied in a neglige manner, 

 where a collar should have been. To describe the scene 

 is, however, scarcely within the legitimate scope of an 

 article for a field naturalists' club, but the recollection of the 

 anxious looks cast along the road by which the hearse was 

 expected to arrive, and the sight of the structure when at last it 

 did appear, drawn by two remarkable steeds, of whom one had 



