o landscape, either in
the trunk or branches. These sombre trees are, however, very useful for
timber, and they grow to an astonishing height, often rearing up their
lofty heads to 150 feet or upwards. The woods, in general, are very
brittle, partly, it may be, owing to the number of acacias which are to
be found among them; and no experienced bushman likes to sleep under
trees, especially during high winds. We must by no means form our ideas
of the appearance of an Australian forest from that of the neat and trim
woods of our own country, where every single branch or bough, and much
more every tree, bears a certain value. Except that portion which is
required for fuel or materials by an extremely scattered population in a
very mild climate, there is nothing carried off from the forests, and,
were it not for the frequent and destructive fires which the natives
kindle in many parts, no check worth mentioning would be placed upon the
natural increase and decay of the woods of New Holland. The consequence
of this is, that trees are to be seen there in every stage of growth or
ruin; and, occasionally, in very thickly-planted spots, the surface of
the ground is not a little encumbered by the fallen branches and trunks
of the ancient ornaments of the forest. Nor is it by the hand of Time
alone that these marks of destruction are scattered about in the vast
woodlands; the breath of a tremendous storm will occasionally
accomplish, perhaps, as much in a few hours as natural decay would in
many years.[30] Altogether, the forests of Australia may be said to be
in a purely natural state, and thus do they offer to the eye of the
inquiring traveller many objects less pleasing, it may be, but
nevertheless more sublime and solemn, than those with which the woods
of more cultivated countries commonly abound.

[29] See Wentworth's Australasia, vol. i. p. 3.

[30] See Account of the Effects of a Storm at Mount Macedon,
(Mitchell's "Three Expeditions," vol. ii. p. 283.)

To travel without any beaten track through a country clothed, in many
parts, very thickly, by forests like those just described, is in itself
no easy undertaking, and the operation of hewing a way for a mile or two
through the surrounding woods, during the very heat of the day, and
sometimes after a long march, is very trying. But when the exposure
to burning thirst, and to the uncertain disposition of the native
inhabitants is added, the patient endurance of succe