The South Australian Naturalist. 
70 
A SUBURBAN WALK. 
On a recent Saturday afternoon a small party of members 
rambled through a little-known part of the suburbs and saw some 
very novel sights. 
For one thing, during a walk of over three miles we were never 
out of sight of golden oranges shining out against a lovely back- 
ground of deep green, often bordered with rows of the beautiful 
delicate pink blossoms of almond trees in full rich bloom. 
What a wonderful show they make in July and August ! 
Only rarely a feathery wattle raised its pyramid of yellow 
glory amongst the exotic evergreen beauty of the citrus trees. 
It was an unfrequented track we took. Our much-travelled 
lady member chose it for us. Not once on our three-mile route 
did we see (or even hear) a bus ! 
Yet we were not more than four miles out. 
Our guide led us along a narrow lane crossing a purling brook 
(not creek, please), bordered with orange trees and almonds. 
Here we saw several of the ancient habitations of S.A., with 
slate roofs, little windows made up of tiny panes set at all imposs- 
ible levels, and with the dearest old trees and old fashioned 
gardens. 
Yet even in this Eden the snake Las of late intruded. Here 
he takes the form of the builder, who has begun operations by 
ruthlessly cutting down and grubbing up and sawing into sections 
(preparatory to splitting into vulgar fence posts) the beautiful- 
coloured gums of a goodly part of the old estate. Hurrying past 
the scene of destruction, we come to the really extraordinary part 
of our tour. Here, we could hardly persuade ourselves that ire 
were in Adelaide, the prim, and straight, with streets so rectang- 
ularly set. Not only was the lane crooked but it was actually 
curved, so that one could not see far ahead, or to the rear, 
Appropriately enough it is known as, “Lovers’ Lane.” Even 
the two bachelors of the party were impressed and after we had 
crossed and duly admired the bridge at Felixstowe one of the 
two volunteered to show us some more green lanes, which he 
seemed to think would hold their own against our “Lovers’ Lane.’' 
And to our amazement, so it came to pass. Behold then, the nar- 
row lane, with green gardens on either side, and the party striding 
on agog with excitement, when suddenly a bovine quadruped is 
heard rushing on, with a horseman in full pursuit. Some mem- 
bers seek safety through the fence, while others bravely repel the 
invader of our sylvan sanctity. When peace is restored, our vali- 
ant guide takes us boldly through a private garden (nothing 
eatable handy, be it noted), and then to an almost forgotten 
break in a thick hedge, which we found open, but closely-guarded, 
first by a wheel-barrow and secondly by a big black dog, who 
eyed us suspiciously, but evidently is able to distinguish that we 
