of use, by
blowing the insect tribes out to sea; and that but for them the crops
would, in summer time, be completely eaten away.

Another source of discomfort is the flies in summer. They abound
everywhere. They fill the rooms, and as you pass along the streets
they rise in clouds. The ceilings are sometimes black with them, and
no food can be left exposed for an instant without the certainty of
its being covered with them. There is one disgusting yellow-bodied
blow-fly, which drops his maggots with extraordinary fecundity. The
flies are also a nuisance in the bush, where veils are usually worn
when driving, to prevent their annoyance. And in the swamps there are
vigorous and tormenting musquitoes, as I have elsewhere described.

After the parching heat of summer, and especially after the excessive
dryness occasioned by the hot winds, the whole face of the country
becomes, as it were, combustible, and bush-fires have at such times
burst forth apparently spontaneously, and spread with great rapidity.
The "Black Thursday" of the colony, some fifteen years since, when
fire covered many hundreds of miles, is still remembered with horror;
but, as settlement and cultivation have extended, these sudden
outbreaks of fire have become comparatively rare.

When Christmas arrives, summer is at its height. It finds us perhaps
gasping with heat, sitting in our shirt-sleeves for coolness, and
longing for the cool evening. Yet there are few who do not contrive to
have their Christmas roast and plum-pudding, as at home. As
strawberries are then in their prime and in great abundance, many hold
strawberry picnics on Christmas Day; while sober church-goers enjoy
them at home.

The abundance of fruits of all kinds affords one of the best proofs of
the geniality of the climate. First come strawberries, followed by
abundance of plums, peaches, and apricots, and afterwards by pears and
apples in plenty. Our manager's garden at Maryborough is a sight worth
seeing in summer time. Having a plentiful supply of water, he is able
to bring his fruit to great perfection. The plum and peach trees
seemed almost overburdened with their delicious loads. Through the
centre of the garden is a cool green alley, shaded with a vine-covered
trellis. The bunches of fast-ripening grapes are hanging on all sides,
and promise an abundant crop.

Some of my pleasantest associations are connected with the January
afternoons spent in the orchards about Majorca.