This--this was our life we were beginning to live--our very own life; not
life hampered and restricted by the wills, wishes and whims of others;
unencumbered by the domineering wisdom, unembarrassed by the formal
courtesies of the crowd.

September and the gin-gee, the quaint, grey-barked, soft-wooded tree with
broad, rough, sage-green leaves, and florets massed in clumps to resemble
sunflowers, was in all its pride, attracting relays of honey-imbibing
birds during the day, and at night dozens of squeaking flying-foxes.
Within a few yards of high-water stands a flame-tree (ERYTHRINA INDICA)
the "bingum" of the blacks. Devoid of leaves in this leafy month, the
bingum arrays itself in a robe of royal red. All birds and manner of
birds, and butterflies and bees and beetles, which have regard for colour
and sweetness come hither to feast. Sulphur-crested cockatoos sail down
upon the red raiment of the tree, and tear from it shreds until all the
grass is ruddy with refuse, and their snowy breasts stained as though
their feast was of blood instead of colourless nectar. For many days here
is a scene of a perpetual banquet--a noisy, cheerful, frolicsome revel.
Cockatoos scream with excitement and gladness; honey-eaters whistle and
call; drongos chatter and scold the rest of the banqueters; the tiny
sun-bird twitters feeble protests; bees and beetles maintain a murmurous
soothful sound, a drowsy blending of hum and buzz from the rising of the
sun until the going down thereof.

The dark compactness of the jungle, the steadfast but disorderly array of
the forest, the blotches of verdant grass, the fringe of yellow-flowered
hibiscus and the sapful native cabbage, give way in turn to the greys and
yellows of the sand in alternate bands. The slowly-heaving sea trailing
the narrowest flounce of lace on the beach, the dainty form of Purtaboi,
and the varying tones of great Australia beyond combine to complete the