SCENES ON THE JOHNSTONE RIVER. 
269 
SCENES ON THE JOHNSTONE RIVER, 
NORTH QUEENSLAND. 
BY CLEMENT L. WRAGGE, F.R.G.S., E. R. MET. SOC. 
Having lately returned to Adelaide from my meteorological 
inspection tour, I can now send a few notes of my travels in 
Queensland, which I think will be of interest to my many 
friends at Home. Among other regions I visited the district 
of the Johnstone River in the vicinity of the sugar 
plantations—probably the most fertile piece of country in 
Australia. The Johnstone is navigable for vessels of light 
tonnage. The signal station for ships stands on a rocky 
capelet, open to the great Pacific, which forms a natural 
breakwater between the embouchure of the river and the swell 
of the ocean, thus forming a beautiful bay. Immediately to 
northward the neck of land widens, and becomes a luxuriant 
tropical garden. My visit was in November last. Here I 
wandered with much satisfaction, now strolling amid little 
groves of bananas, then wandering listlessly among fine 
clumps of cocoanut palms—shading in delicate tracery the 
wooden shanties of the station—and threading my way 
between long rows of tempting pineapple. Anon I pass shady 
bowers formed by the broad leaves of the granadilla, and then 
saunter into the dense native scrub at the back. The air is 
thick with butterflies, embellished with the most delicate 
colouring, and myriads more are settled on the bushes, sipping 
the nectareous juices of the flowers and fruits and the 
saccliariferous matter exuding from the foliage. My mind 
would swiftly travel to the other end of the world and draw 
contrasts between these lavish scenes and the cold fogs and 
drizzling rains enshrouding the leafless trees of my beloved 
Cliurnet Valley, while bleak Ren Nevis came in for his share 
in the thoughts. New beauties discover themselves at every 
turn. North and West are the noble hills, part of the 
Bellenden Ker range, covered with a great mantle of jungle 
stretching down, in tier upon tier of lustrous leaves, to the 
edge of the sea ; while the contour of the coast-line is nicely 
broken by the broad flats backed by the green slopes at the 
mouth of the river. At length I rejoined the steamer and 
proceeded towards Geraldton. The temperature of the river 
at the mouth was 81’6° ; dry bulb, 81*1°; wet bulb, 74-0°; at 
11.15 a.m. I took a great number of observations throughout 
the trip, but only give a few selected values. 
