immunity from mosquitoes which Heidelberg then afforded. The river meadows by the Yarra were composed of a deep, black, fertile loam, eminently suited for orchards, cereals, and root crops. Taking into consideration the quality of the soil, the proximity of the river, the variety of the landscape, no suburb would have equalled Heidelberg in attractiveness had it not been handicapped by distance from the metropolis. Rail, road traffic, and settlement--all appeared to have gone north, south, west; anywhere but towards Heidelberg. Now that every foot of building land near Melbourne has been bought and built upon--has become "terraced slopes," in the evil sense of modern overcrowding, perhaps the beneficent Heidelberg and Alphington Railway will open up the untouched glades which still silently overlook the murmuring river, still lie hushed to sleep in the shadow of the great Australian mountain chain. CHAPTER XIX THE WOODLANDS STEEPLECHASE Oh! the merry days, The merry days, when we were young! Sang the ladye fayre. I can hear the clear rich tones even now. Ah me! what days were those! Why will they not come back? We are scarcely of such hoar antiquity that we may not enjoy the present reasonably, when "gracieuses" dames and demoiselles look brightly on us with those haunting eyes of theirs. But, oh! the awakening at dawn, that is when we find the difference. How glorious was it to regain consciousness from out a realm of poet dreams, with the certainty of a day of stirring world-strife before us. At the _reveille_ of that enchanted time, how gaily the knight donned harness and mounted steed, serenely conscious of his ability to perform his devoir "right manful under shield," confident of winning his guerdon, even, perchance, a smile from the Queen of Beauty herself. Now, alas, the sky seems lowering and sad-coloured, the lines of the foe ever serried and close ranked, the blows come shrewder and more difficult of parry. More than once has the knight been, by trusty squire or faithful friend, Dragged from amid the horses' feet, With dinted shield and helmet beat. We were ever and anon minded to answer in the affirmative to the "rendez vous!" of Fate so persistently repeated. Yet will we forward still, parrying lance-thrust here, fending sword-play there. Many a trusty comrade is down; we miss the cheery tones of a voice that sounded never far from our right arm, in feast or in foray. Yet still _en avant_ seems more natural than halt or retreat.