Pent in the ridges for ever and ever,

The Bellbirds direct him to spring and to river,
With ring and with ripple, like runnels whose torrents
Are toned by the pebbles and leaves in the currents.

Often I sit, looking back to a childhood,

Mixt with the sights and the sounds of the wildwood,
Longing for power and the sweetness to fashion,
Lyrics with beats like the heart-beats of passion ;-
Songs interwoven of lights and of laughters
Borrowed from Bellbirds in far forest rafters ;

So I might keep in the city and alleys

The beauty and strength of the deep mountain valleys;
Charming to slumber the pain of my losses.

With glimpses of creeks and a vision of mosses.'

'O do let us hunt up the Bellbird!' cried Annie. 'It is sure to be in some lovely cool spot, and near the rippling water.'

Away they went, and hand in hand as children in glee. A slight bell-like laughter from the maiden, however, scared away the Bell-bird. But now came a burst from the Naturalist.

'O, Annie dear, do you see that charming flower. It ought not to be here.'

'And why not, my philosopher?'

'Because, according to all the books, it should have been at home on the western side of the Island, though this is damp and cool enough. But go, and see it.'

The girl was highly delighted with it.

'I have seen it before,' said she, 'and recognize a

very dear friend of mine. Though the Waratah of the mountain is called our finest flower, the Tasmanian Lily is my favourite.'

'But the right name, dear, is Blandfordia, being called after the Marquis of Blandford.'

'That may be a recommendation to an aristocrat from England, but we poor, simple girls of the colony would prefer to have it the Tasmanian Lily.'

'But it is not a Lily white.'

'Certainly, I have no ambition to have the pallid delicacy of a London maiden. Our Lily is crimson, you see.'

'And the cheeks of my Tasmanian Lily are crimson, also,' said the fond lover. He was called to order, however, as his botanical ardour led his lips to the crimson cheeks of the Lily, and was told that his improper conduct had unnecessarily heightened the colour in blushes.

A very close inspection of the Blandfordia took place. The stalk rose nearly a yard high, and carried an umbel of from ten to a score of pendulous flowers an inch long, and good width, of a glorious colour; part being of deep crimson, and the tips of yellow. The calyx was tubular, and the stamens were hidden in the hanging bell.

'And now, Horace, as you have seen the Tasmanian Lily at last, what do you think of it?'

'You know, my dearest,' he replied, 'that it is our privilege to look beyond the form to the spirit, from

the sensuous to the ideal, without losing respect and regard for the suggesting object. So must I acknowledge my pleasure in this dear flower; though my heart of hearts is pledged in dearest love for that which it humbly typifies,-my own betrothed Tasmanian flower and Lily.'

The young lady was subdued by this violent attack, and might have looked a speech, if she could not have spoken one then, had not a shrill coo-ee aroused them to a consciousness of the outer world.

Immediately after Tom's voice was heard.

'Why, Horace, you must have lost yourself. Julia and I have been hunting for you everywhere. All wait for you. Everything is packed, and you must pack up sharp.'

The pair gave a radiant glance at each other, and then left the Blandfordia to its solitude. Though both joined in laugh and song with their friends on the road homeward, they each dreamed, at silent moments, of the last scene of the pic-nic.

The parting words of Horace that evening were— 'Good-bye, my dear Tasmanian Lily.'

CHAPTER XXVII.

A BACHELOR'S FARM.

MR ROBERTS had made his selection of a thousand acres on the western side of the Huon River, and had

gone upon it. Horace had engaged to pay a visit and concluded to do so before any wedding entanglements came in the way.

The ordinary Huon River steamer ran thither at convenient intervals, and Mr Roberts proposed a certain place for meeting, at which horses would be in readiness. Horace contrived to lessen his regret at leaving a certain lady, by stealing away the lover from her sister, Tom having consented to accompany his mate for a holiday.

The voyage was favourable.

Mount Nelson wel

comed them out of the harbour, and the charming Brown's River district was passed an hour after. Bruni Island then lay to the left, as the varied woody heights rose successively on the other side. Tom, as a colonial native, knew all the points, and was fluent in description.

'Look!' said he, as they peeped into a pretty little bay on the western shore. 'That is Oyster Cove. The last resting-place of our Blacks was here. The last of my dark-skinned Tasmanian countrymen died here, though the last man of the tribes dropped off, through drink, in Hobart Town a year or two ago.' 'How came they down here?'

'They were brought down from Flinders Island, in Bass's Strait. A good many had been landed there after the Black War, and there they were to have been civilized, while kept away from bad and dangerous Whites, who had hunted them on the mainland.

'And what success attended the effort?'

They were civilized off the earth, Horace.

The old folks wouldn't live, and the young folks never filled up their places.'

'That would certainly make short work of the tribes.'

'It did. The remnant were led down here, so as to be better looked after, as it was hoped. But they died after the same fashion. One tough old woman has seen the rest off the scene.'

'Is that our Lalla Rookh?'

'The very same ideal beauty. Strange enough, right across the channel here, on the Bruni side, is the place where Government made a blacks' settlement just forty years ago. They were put under the care of a good fellow, George Robinson, who afterwards got some of them to go with him after the wild tribes.'

'Why did he do that?'

'To save their throats. Lots of parties were out after them, getting five pounds a head from Government. But for one caught, a dozen or score were murdered. The rest burnt and killed in revenge. Robinson bravely went seeking to get them in. He had some narrow escapes.'

'But did he gain them over?'

'He did after great difficulty, and had the satisfaction of bringing them in mobs, at various times, to Hobart Town.'