"It seems to me that these trees furnish almost everything you need," said Mr. Hume. "If you include the birds who nest in them and the animals who climb in the branches," replied his brother-in-law, "I fancy the Blacks did not need to look beyond the eucalyptus for a living. The wood built their huts, and the bark thatched them. From the fibre they made mats for their floors and hats to keep off the sun, and clothes, which consisted of waist cloth and sandals. The leaves gave them medicine for the fever and salve for their wounds. The cockatoos nesting in the branches furnished them delicious food, while of the feathers the gins[2] made boas for their necks and wonderful Easter bonnets. It really would seem as if the gum trees were all they really needed. They have another use not to be slighted, for they take up the moisture rapidly and dry the soil in rainy seasons, thus reducing the malaria always found in such climates as these." "They are certainly useful," said Mrs. Hume. "Is this the station to which we are going?" as they drove through a fine gateway. "Yes," said Mrs. McDonald. "Wuurna-wee-weetch is quite up to date in every way. The house cost £30,000 to build and the ranch has every modern improvement. The grazing land hereabouts is perfectly adapted to sheep raising. It is so rich that you may dig ten feet down and still find rich black dirt. The owner of this ranch has been most successful. He has recently put in new wool sheds, sheep pens, washing ponds, and the like, and you may, if you wish, see the whole process of sheep raising, shearing, pressing, packing and transporting the wool. You will see it at our station on a smaller scale." They drove for an hour about the magnificent place, and over all the estate was an air of wealth and prosperity. The gardens were blooming with gay, tropical flowers, and the songs of the birds were in the air, as they flitted hither and yon through the branches of the magnificent trees. "What is that noise, Aunt Mildred?" asked Jean as they drove through a beautiful grove of pines which scented the air deliciously. "It sounds like a far away church bell." "It is the bell bird, dear, one of the curiosities of Australia," replied her Aunt. "Long, long before there was a church bell of any kind in Australia, this little, lonely bird made its curious bell-like note. There are some pretty verses by one of our poets about it." "Can you say them to us, Aunty?" "I will try,--they are really beautiful," she said. "'Tis the bell bird sweetly singing, The sad, strange, small-voiced bird, His low sweet carol ringing, While scarce a sound is heard, Save topmost sprays aflutter, And withered leaflets fall, And the wistful oaks that utter Their eerie, drearie, call.