THE AUSTRALIAN NATURALIST, 141 
wards, so leaving Jellore Creek with several regretful 
sighs, we resumed Indian file and turned our faces home- 
wards. I am no good on a homeward march. The fact 
that I am leaving Robins and stately Eucalyptus behind 
leaves me a long way in the rear, and I walk listlessly 
along until I am roused to action by Mr. Cheel calling to 
me to go to the right. J wonder why, but obey, and am 
repaid for my obedience by the sight of a Clematis in 
all its glory of full seed. I wonder how many have seen 
such a sight, for, beautiful as the Clematis is in full 
flower, its glory pales before the masses of beautiful snow- 
balls the seeds form, before they are freed to blow as the 
wind lsteth. 
As we returned to civilisation, Mr. Cheel proudly and 
carefully carrying a large Polyporus Hartmannn, and 
discussing its properties, is accosted by a boy on a fat 
pony who, with youthful ardour, says, ‘‘Hey, Mister, 
that ain’t a mushroom!’’ It was kindly intentioned of 
the boy, and daresay, if he still thinks of the ‘‘new chum’’ 
he rescued from a fearful death, he wonders why we all 
laughed so heartily. 
Once more on the Berrima Road we ston to admire 
Leptospermum flavescens Var grandiflorum, which we 
noted.in the early morning. It stands alone in its family, 
with its graceful habit and wealth of large pure white 
flowers. One cannot but remark on the indifference shown 
to our native plants when arrested by such a striking 
thing as grandiflorum; probably the fact that these can 
be gathered by the wayside is responsible for this indif- 
ference, and unless the florists are asked for these plants, 
they will remain in the background until they disappear 
from off the face of the earth. We were fortunate in 
securing six fruits from a plant, being determined to make 
an effort to perpetuate it. 
How different the country looked from the morning! 
A beautiful sunset clothed the hills with purple, and one 
could not help thinking of Longfellow’s beautiful poem, 
“The Day Is Done.’’ Certainly a feeling of sadness and 
longing came o’er us, as we retraced our steps and left 
so much behind us. One of those days that just happens 
as if some fairy had ‘‘Kenned us a’’’ and lifted the 
veil for a peep into wonderland. No wonder the sunset 
was purple. 
