THE VICTORIAN NATURALIST. 163 



impracticable for horses, save for a short distance. Great trees 

 have fallen in thick patches across the track, the scrub on either 

 side and, in fact, often along the track is very dense, and to take 

 a horse along would necessitate the constant cutting of new 

 tracks round fallen timber, large detours having to be made. 



We halt for a time and then pass into the scrub. The woods 

 for the first part are composed of white gum and stringy- 

 bark, with numerous small blue gum saplings in the scrub, but 

 curiously not a single fully grown tree of this species was to be seen. 

 Gradually the scrub closed in around us, and in torrents of rain 

 we were climbing over logs and pushing our way through 

 Bursarias, Panax shrubs, and Asters of various kinds. After a 

 mile, and making several detours with the horses, we have to halt 

 and cut through a fallen tree where the scrub and timber is 

 too thick to force a way round them. We are drenched to the 

 skin, and then after another mile find ourselves at the entrance to 

 a gully blocked by the huge trunk of a fallen white gum. It is 

 pretty miserable, and we clamber on to the trunk to try and see 

 above the scrub where our track leads to. Two of our party, not 

 seeing much chance of collecting in such a district, and under 

 such climatic conditions, decide to turn back and seek shelter 

 under the hospitable roof of Mr. and Mrs. Fehrig. Four of us, 

 intent on somehow getting to the Falls, determine to go on, and 

 pushing our way through the gully — attacked by numerous 

 leeches — we mount a rise, and after a mile of hard work are glad 

 to camp in a small open spot. The ground is thick with Lomaria 

 procera, but, after cutting the scrub down, we put the tent up and 

 attempt to light a fire. The rain seems to have penetrated to 

 the interior of the logs, and it takes us two hours to get a good 

 fire going ; and then, for a short interval, it clears up, and we feel 

 better. It is only for a short time, however, and then the rain 

 comes down in torrents, and all night long pours down upon the 

 tent. 



25TH November. — We wake early to find it still drenching 

 wet. Our billies and pannikins are arranged with care to intercept 

 the main streams falling from the roof, and, surrounded by a sea 

 of mud, we make ourselves as comfortable as we can — two of 

 us smoking, two of us sleeping, and waking only when summoned 

 to meals. It is useless attempting to go out, so we make the 

 best of it, and are by no means entirely miserable. Kirby's 

 time is occupied in valiant struggles to keep the fire going, in 

 which, much to our comfort and his own discomfort, he is 

 successful. Work done, nil. 



26TH November. — All through the night it had rained, and 

 the morning breaks with little promise of anything better. We do 

 not care to face the tramp to the Falls, for we saw that it was 

 useless to take the horses any further, in such weather, and so 



