To make Australia the richest and most self-supporting country that sun ever shone upon, wherein every man could follow out the old saying of sitting under his own vine and fig tree, what is wanted? The answer to this problem is to bring to our rich alluvial surface the waters under the earth. On the great inland plateau that occupies two-thirds of the entire continent, we find the soil teeming with elements of surpassing fertility. Even the grudging rainfall that comes so seldom has developed a wealth of indigenous herbage, grasses, and fodder plants unequalled in any other part of the globe. The earth seems to have put forth every inherent vitalising power it possesses to render its creatures independent of cruel seasons. What traveller but has noticed the magical effect of rain upon the deep friable soil, formed by the denuded limestone rock. Almost instantaneously fresh life springs up. Within but a short time the dry and withered stalks of grass assume a deep rich green, the soft broad leaves and joints are replete with moisture. The bare ground is quickly coated with trailing vines and creepers, bearing succulent seed pods, grateful and moist. The rough-coated, staggering beast that could scarce drag its feeble legs out of the muddy waterhole, becomes in a few weeks strong and vigorous. What would not such a land be with a constant fertilizing stream of water through, and about it? In approaching the subject of our subterranean water supply, the peculiar physical formation of Australia must be borne in mind. The great flat tableland that stretches in almost unvarying monotony from shore to shore, fringed round with its strip of coastal land, resembles--to use a homely simile--nothing so much as a narrow brimmed, flat crowned hat. The moisture-laden clouds that visit us, break on the sides of this hat, giving the brim, or coast, the full benefit of their precipitation; drifting over the plateau, or crown, with rapidly decreasing bulk. Thus, the great plain, in size the greatest, and in soil the richest part of us, is always labouring under the curse of irregular and inefficient rainfall; and whatever good we may do in the way of water storage and we may do so much-we have always the threat of many years of drought hanging over, during which our treasury of water will be drained, and not replenished. Welling from the sides of the tableland we find large permanent springs, in many cases the sources of fine strong-flowing rivers, the component parts of whose waters now first see the light again after countless ages. Storms and floods may come and go unheeded, their steady flow is-maintained unchecked by summer or winter weather; for their birth is deep down in the earth, where meteorological disturbances are unknown. Like an old and battered tank, through whose cracked and leaky sides the water it contains is escaping, so these springs find vent through fissures in the mighty tableland, to flow down to the sea.