One day a party of us
drove out in search of a good fruit-garden. We went over the hill to
the south, and down the long valley on the Talbot road, raising clouds
of white dust as we went; then up another hill, from the summit of
which, down by the banks of the creek, and almost close to the foot of
Mount Greenock, we discovered the garden of which we had come in
search. We descended and entered the garden, still covered with
greenery, notwithstanding the tremendous heat, and there found the
fruit in perfection.

Mount Greenock is one of the many volcanic hills which abound in this
neighbourhood. It is almost a perfect cone, some eight or nine
hundred feet high. "What a splendid prospect from the summit!" said
one of my companions. "Well, let us go up--there will probably be a
fine breeze on the top." "Too hot by far," was the answer. "Not at
all," said I, "the thing is to be done." "Well," said my friend, "you
may go if you like; but if you do, and are back in three-quarters of
an hour, I'll undertake to shout fruits and drinks for the remainder
of the afternoon."

A noble offer! So I immediately stripped, took one look at the steep
hill above, the withered grass upon it almost glittering in the sun,
and started. I was soon across the nearly-dry creek, and, beginning
the ascent, I went on pretty steadily until I was within about two
hundred feet of the summit, when the great heat began to tell upon me.
I stopped, looked down the steep hill up which I had come, saw what a
little way further comparatively I had to go, and clambered upward
again. It was still a long and fatiguing pull, mostly over loose lava
stones; but at last I reached the top, panting and out of breath.
After such a tremendous pull as that, I do not think any one will
venture to say that my lungs can be unsound.

I looked round at the magnificent view. It was indeed well worth
climbing the hill to see. I first turned my eyes northward towards
Majorca. There it was, with its white streak of pipeclay above it.
Beyond, in the distance, lay Carisbrook, with the bald hill standing
out in bold relief behind it. Nearer at hand are the mining works of
several companies, with their engine-sheds surrounded by huge piles
of refuse. Turning my eyes southward, I saw Talbot, about a mile off,
looking quite an important place, with its numerous red-brick
buildings and clusters of comfortable-looking houses. On the west,
towards Maryborough, lay a wide extent of b