.J.V AUTUMN WALK IN TASMANIA 
^^5 
to appear about the roads, and is usually seen only in moist dells 
amid patches of thick scrub, where it lives in pairs and builds its 
beautiful protectively-decorated nest. The dusky robin has no 
breast-colour at all, and is the largest of the group ; it is usually 
seen sitting on a tree-stump in a bush-clearing, gazing pensively 
at the ground, with its crown-feathers somewhat ruffed up, and 
assuming a very grave and judicial air, as if weighing some 
mighty problem within its tiny brain : as soon, however, as 
a moving insect or worm comes within ken, our “ stump-robin,” 
as it is commonly called in the bush, drops upon it with great 
celerity from its perch, clearly showing that its “ brown-study ” 
attitude was assumed for a purpose. Another name for this 
'grey robin in some parts of the island is “sad bird,” from its 
double call-note, into which it puts a suggestion of the deepest 
melancholy. 
Pushing on down the track we cross the Don River by a 
narrow crazy little foot-bridge called the “ Sawdust-bridge,” 
because its further end lands us on to heaps of sawdust left by 
the saw-mills of ancient settlers : we then take the left bank of 
the river, and while passing through a little grove of white gums 
are attracted by a number of little lumps of a substance with 
which the ground is strewn. On examination we find it to be 
the celebrated “ manna,” a sweet exudation from the tree- 
branches above, and about the origin of which there is some 
mystery, many authorities maintaining that it is caused by 
the puncturing beaks of the pretty blue and red leaf-hoppers 
belonging to the Homoptera, which derive their living from the 
tree sap, while others claim that they have found it distilling 
from trees which were free from those insects. We ourselves 
are strongly inclined towards the first explanation, the more so 
from the fact that we find among the manna-lumps on the 
ground, dozens of the hoppers which have fallen from the 
branches, stupefied or killed by the coldness of last night. Be 
that as it may, theories do not prevent us from calling a halt to 
enjoy some of this veritable “ manna in the wilderness,” which 
is as sweet as honey, and has no unpleasant stickiness about it. 
So, gathering and chatting under the drooping manna-gum 
branchlets, we pass a pleasant fifteen minutes (not the mauvais 
quart d'heuve !), and then once more set our faces down river 
until we reach the shingle of an ancient raised beach, and are in 
full view of the sea. We reach a tree-trunk lying on the beach, 
part of an old sea-wall which the breakers have long ago dis- 
integrated, and here we determine to stay awhile and lunch, 
with the sea-breeze in our faces, and the wavelets lapping 
musically hard by. Collecting some pieces of dry driftwood, 
of which there is abundance, we build a fire and sling over it 
our billy can, which we have brought full of fresh water. We 
make tea in the billy, a'nd while seated on the log discussing 
eatables, we notice a long-necked bird sitting on top of a great 
columnar mass of rock out on the headland, which rock- mass 
