menu_book Chapter 17

The journals contained in the body of this publication, illustrated by the map which accompanies it, are, I conceive, so descriptive of every part of the country known to us that little remains to be added beyond a few general observations. The first impression made on a stranger is certainly favourable. He sees gently swelling hills, connected by vales, which possess every beauty that verger

of trees and form, simply considered in itself, can produce, but he looks in vain for those murmuring rills and refreshing springs which fructify and embellish more happy lands. Something like those tributary streams which feed rivers in other countries are here seen, for when I speak of the stream at Sydney I mean only the drain of a morass, and the river at Rose Hill is a creek of the harbour, which above high water mark would not in England

be called even a brook. Whence the Hawkesbury, the only freshwater river known to exist in the country, derives its suppliers, would puzzle a transient observer. He sees nothing but torpid, unmeaning ponds, often stagnant and always still and less agitated by heavy rains, which communicate with it.

Doubtless, the springs which arise in Carmarthen Mountains may be said to constitute its source. To cultivate its banks within many miles of the bed of the stream, except on some elevated detached spots, will be found impracticable, unless some method be devised of erecting a mound sufficient to repel the encroachments of a torrent, which sometimes rises fifty feet above its ordinary level, inundating the surrounding country in every direction.

The country between the Hawkesbury and Rose Hill is that which I have hitherto spoken of. When the river is crossed, this prospect soon gives place to a very different one. The green veils and moderate hills disappear at the distance of about three miles from the riverside and from Knight Hill, and Mount Twiss, the limits which terminate our researches.

Nothing but precipices, wilds and deserts are to be seen. Even these steeps fail to produce streams. The difficulty of penetrating this country, joined to the dread of a sudden rise of the Hawkesbury forbidding all return, has hitherto prevented our reaching Carmarthen Mountains. Let the reader now cast his eye on the relative situation of Port Jackson.

He will see it cut off from communication with the northward by Broken Bay, and with the southward by Botany Bay, and, what is worse, the whole space of intervening country yet explored, except a narrow strip called the Kangaroo Ground, in both directions, is so bad as to preclude cultivation. The course of the Hawkesbury will next attract his attention.

To the southward of every part of Botany Bay we have traced this river, but how much farther in that line it extends we know not. Hence, its channel takes a northerly direction, and finishes its course in Broken Bay, running at the back of Port Jackson in such a manner as to form the latter into a peninsula. The principal question then remaining is, what is the distance between the head of Botany

Bay and the part of the Hawkesbury nearest to it, and is the intermediate country a good one, or does it lead to one which appearances indicate to be good? To future adventurers, who shall meet with more encouragement to persevere and discover than I and my fellow wanderers did, I resign the answer. In the meantime, the reader is desired to look at the remarks on the map which were

made in the beginning of August 1790 from Pyramid Hill, which bounded our progress on the southern expedition, when, and when only, this part of the country has been seen. It then follows that from Rose Hill to within such a distance of the Hawkesbury as is protected from its inundations, is the only tract of land we yet know of, in which cultivation can be carried on for many years to come.

To aim at forming a compensation of the distance of time, of the labour and of the expense, which would attend forming distinct convict settlements beyond the bounds I have delineated, or the difficulty which would attend a system of communication between such establishments and Port Jackson, is not intended here. Until that period shall arrive, the progress of cultivation, when it shall have once passed

Prospect Hill, will probably steal along to the southward, in preference to the northward, from the superior nature of the country in that direction, as the remarks inserted in the map will testify. Such is my statement of a plan which I deem inevitably entailed on the settlement at Port Jackson.

In sketching this outline of it, let it not be objected that I suppose the reader is well acquainted with the respective names and boundaries of the country, as long residence and unweirid journeying among them have made the author. To have subjoined perpetual explanations would have been tedious and disgusting. The ability with the relative positions of a country can neither be imparted or acquired,

but by constant recurrence to geographic delineations. On the policy of settling with convicts only, a country at once so remote and extensive, I shall offer no remarks. Whenever I have heard this question agitated since my return to England, the cry of, what can we do with them, where else can they be sent? has always silenced me.

Of the soil, opinions have not differed widely. A spot eminently fruitful has never been discovered. That there are many spots cursed with everlasting and unconquerable sterility, no one who has seen the country will deny. At the same time, I am decidedly of opinion that many large tracts of land between Rosehill

and the Hawkesbury, even now, are of a nature sufficiently favourable to produce moderate crops of whatever may be sown in them, and provided a sufficient number of cattle be imported to afford manure for dressing the ground, no doubt can exist that subsistence for a limited number of inhabitants may be drawn from it. In my former narrative, I have particularly noticed the sudden disappearance of the cattle

which we had brought with us into the country. Not a trace of them has ever since been observed. Their fate is a riddle, so difficult of solution that I shall not attempt it. Surely, had they strayed inland, in some of our numerous excursions, marks of them must have been found.

It is equally impossible to believe that either the convicts or natives killed and ate them without some sign of deduction ensuing. To imperfect husbandry and dry seasons must indubitably be attributed part of the deficiency of former years. Hitherto, all our endeavours to derive advantage from mixing the different soils have proved

fruitless, though possibly only from want of skill on our side. The spontaneous productions of the soil will soon be recounted. Every part of the country is a forest. Of the quality of the wood take the following instance. The supply wanted wood for a mast, and more than forty of the choicest young trees were

cut down before as much wood as would make it could be procured, the trees being either rotten at the heart or riven by the gum which abounds in them. This gum runs not always in a longitudinal direction in the body of the tree, but is found in it in circles like a scroll. There is, however, a species of light wood which is found excellent for boat building,

but it is scarce and hardly ever found of large size. To find limestone many of our researchers were directed, but after repeated assays with fire and chemical preparations on all the different sorts of stone to be picked up it is still a desideratum, nor did my experiments with a magnet induce me to think that any of the stones I tried contained iron.

I have, however, heard other people report very differently on this head. The list of esculent vegetables and wild fruits is too contemptible to deserve notice if the sweet tea whose virtues have already been recorded and the common orcas root be accepted. That species of palm tree which produces the mountain cabbage is also found in most of the freshwater swamps within six or seven miles of the coast, but it is rarely seen

farther inland. Even the banks of the Hawkesbury are unprovided with it. The inner part of the trunk of this tree was greedily eaten by our hogs and formed their principal support. The grass, as has been remarked in former publications, does not overspread the land

in a continued sward, but arises in small detached tufts, growing every way about three inches apart, the intermediate space being bare, though the heads of the grass are often so luxuriant as to hide all deficiency on the surface. The rare and beautiful flowering shrubs which abound in every part deserve the highest admiration and panegyric.

Of the vegetable productions transplanted from other climes, maize flourishes beyond any other grain, and as it affords a strong and nutritive article of food, its propagation will, I think, altogether supersede that of wheat and barley. Horticulture has been attended in some places with tolerable success. At Rose Hill I have seen gardens which, without the assistance of manure, have continued for

a short time to produce well-grown vegetables. But at Sydney, without constantly dressing the ground, it was in vain to expect them, and with it a supply of common vegetables might be procured by diligence in all seasons. Vines of every sort seem to flourish, melons, cucumbers, and pumpkins run with unbounded luxuriancy, and I am convinced that the grapes of New South Wales will, in a few years, equal

those of any other country. That their juice will probably hereafter furnish an indispensable article of luxury at European tables has already been predicted in the vehemence of speculation. Other fruits are yet in their infancy, but oranges, lemons, and figs, of which last indeed I have eaten very good ones, will, I dare believe, in a few years become plentiful.

Apples and the fruits of colder climes also promise to gratify expectation. The banana tree has been introduced from Norfolk Island, where it grows spontaneously. Nor will this surprise if the genial influence of the climate be considered. Placed in a latitude where the beams of the sun in the drearious season are sufficiently powerful for many hours of the day to dispense warmth and nutrition, the progress of vegetation

never is at a stand. The different temperatures of Rose Hill and Sydney in winter, though only twelve miles afford, however, curious matter of speculation. Of a well-attested instance of ice being seen at the latter place I never heard. At the former place its production is common, and once a few flakes of snow fell.

The difference can be accounted for only by supposing that the woods stop the warm vapours of the sea from reaching Rose Hill, which is at the distance of sixteen miles inland, whereas Sydney is but four. Look at the journal which describes the expedition in search of the river said to exist to the southward of Rose Hill.

At the time we felt that extraordinary degree of cold were not more than six miles southwest of Rose Hill and about nineteen miles from the seacoast. When I mentioned this circumstance to Colonel Gordon at the Cape of Good Hope, he wondered at it, and owned that in his excursions into the interior parts of Africa he had never experienced anything to match it.

He attributed its production to large beds of niter which he said must exist in the neighbourhood. End of footnote. Again, the heats of summer are more violent at the former place than at the latter, and the variations incomparably quicker. The thermometer has been known to alter at Rose Hill in the course of nine hours more

than fifty degrees, standing a little before sunrise at fifty degrees, and between one and two at more than one hundred degrees. To convey an idea of the climate in summer, I shall transcribe from my meteorological journal accounts of two particular days which were the hottest we ever suffered under at Sydney.

December 27, 1790. Wind nor nor west. It felt like the blast of a heated oven, and in proportion, as it increased, the heat was found to be more intense, the sky hazy, the sun gleaming through at intervals. At nine a.m., eighty-five degrees.

At noon, one hundred and four. Half past twelve, one hundred and seven and a half. From one p.m. until twenty minutes past two, one hundred and eight and a half. At twenty minutes past two, one hundred and nine. At sunset, eighty-nine.

At eleven p.m., seventy-eight and a half. Footnote. By a large thermometer, made by Ramsden, and graduated on Fahrenheit scale. End of footnote. December 28.

At eight a.m., eighty-six. Ten a.m., ninety-three. Eleven a.m., one hundred and one. At noon, one hundred and three and a half. Half an hour past noon, one hundred and four and a half.

At one p.m., one hundred and two. At five p.m., seventy-three. At sunset, sixty-nine and a half. Footnote. At a quarter past one, it stood at only eighty-nine degrees, having from a sudden shift of wind

fallen thirteen degrees in fifteen minutes. End of footnote. My observations on this extreme heat, succeeded by so rapid a change, were that of all animals man seemed to bear at best. Our dogs, pigs, and fowls lay panting in the shade, or were rushing into the water.

I remarked that a hen belonging to me which had sat for a fortnight frequently quitted her eggs and showed great uneasiness, but never remained from them many minutes at one taught by instinct that the wonderful power in the animal body of generating cold in air heated beyond a certain degree was best calculated for the production of her young. The gardens suffered considerably.

All the plants which had not taken deep root were withered by the power of the sun. No lasting ill effects, however, arose to the human constitution. A temporary sickness at the stomach, accompanied with lassitude and headache, attacked many, but they were removed generally in twenty-four hours by an emetic followed by an anodyne. During the time it lasted we invariably found that the house was cooler than the open air,

and that in proportion as the wind was excluded, was comfort augmented. But even this heat was judged to be far exceeded in the latter end of the following February when the northwest wind again set in and blew with great violence for three days. At Sydney it fell short by one degree of what I have just recorded, but at Rose Hill it was allowed by every person to surpass all that they had before felt, either there or

in any other part of the world. Unluckily they had no thermometer to ascertain its precise height. It must, however, have been intense from the effects it produced. An immense flight of bats driven before the wind covered all the trees around the settlement. Once they every moment dropped dead or in a dying state, unable longer to endure the

burning state of the atmosphere. Nor did the parakeets, though tropical birds, bear it better. The ground was strewn with them in the same condition as the bats. Where I ask the cause of this intolerable heat I should not hesitate to pronounce that it was occasioned by the wind blowing over immense deserts which I doubt not exist in

a northwest direction from Port Jackson and not from fires kindled by the natives. This remark I feel necessary as there were methods used by some persons in the colony both for estimating the degree of heat and for ascertaining the cause of its production which I deem equally unfair and unphilosophical. The thermometer, whence my observations were constantly made, was hung in the open air

in a southern aspect, never reached by the rays of the sun, at the distance of several feet above the ground. My other remarks on the climate will be short. It is changeable beyond any other I ever heard of, but no phenomena sufficiently accurate to reckon upon are found to indicate the approach of alteration.

Indeed for the first eighteen months that we lived in the country changes were supposed to take place more commonly at the quartering of the moon than at other times, but lunar empire afterwards lost its credit. For the last two years and a half of our residing at Port Jackson its influence was unperceived. Three days together seldom passed without a necessity occurring for lighting a fire

in an evening. A abidete, or abit de samissaison, would be in the highest degree absurd. Clouds, storms, and sunshine pass in rapid succession. Of rain we found in general not a sufficiency, but torrents of water sometimes fall. Storms in summer are common and very tremendous, but they have ceased to alarm from rarely

causing mischief. Sometimes they happen in winter. I have often seen large hailstones fall. Frequent strong breezes from the westward purge the air. These are almost invariably attended with a hard, clear sky.

The easterly winds, by setting in from the sea, bring thick weather and rain except in summer when they become regular sea breezes. The aurora australis is sometimes seen, but is not distinguished by superior brilliancy. To sum up, notwithstanding the inconveniences which I have enumerated, I will venture to assert in few words that no climate hitherto known is more generally salubrious.

To this cause I ascribe the number of births which happened, considering the age and other circumstances of many of the mothers, women who certainly would never have bred in any other climate, here produced as fine children as ever were born, end of footnote, or affords more days in which those pleasures which depend on the state of the atmosphere can be enjoyed than that of New South Wales.

The winter season is particularly delightful. The leading animal production is well known to be the kangaroo. The natural history of this animal will probably be written from observations made upon it in England as several living ones of both sexes have been brought home. Still such an account shall appear.

Probably the following desultory observation may prove acceptable. The genus in which the kangaroo is to be classed I leave to better naturalists than myself to determine. How it copulates, those who pretend to have seen disagree in their accounts, nor do we know how long the period of gestation lasts.

Prolificate cannot be termed, bringing forth only one at birth which the dam carries in her pouch wherever she goes until the young one be enabled to provide for itself, and even then, in the moment of alarm, she will stop to receive and protect it. We have killed she kangaroos whose pouches contained young ones completely covered with fur and of more than fifteen pounds weight, which had ceased to suck and afterwards were

reared by us. In what space of time it reaches such a growth as to be abandoned entirely by the mother we are ignorant. It is born blind, totally bald, the orifice of the ear closed, and only just the centre of the mouth open.

But a black score denoting what is hereafter to form the dimension of the mouth is marked very distinctly on each side of the opening. At its birth, the kangaroo, notwithstanding it weighs when full-grown two hundred pounds, is not so large as a half-grown mouse. I brought some with me to England, even less, which I took from the pouches of the old ones.

This phenomenon is so striking and so contrary to the general laws of nature, that an opinion that the animal is brought forth not by the pudenda, but descends from the belly into the pouch by one of the teats which are there deposited. On this difficulty, as I can throw no light, I shall hazard no conjecture. It may, however, be necessary to observe that the teats are several inches long and capable

of great dilatation. And here I beg leave to correct an error which crept into my former provocation, wherein I asserted that the teats of the kangaroo never exceed two in number. They sometimes, though rarely, amount to four. There is great reason to believe that they are slow of growth and live many years.

The animal has a clavicle or collarbone similar to that of the human body. The general colour of the kangaroo is very like that of the ass, but varieties exist. Its shape and figure are well known by the plates which have been given of it. The elegance of the ear is particularly deserving of admiration. This far exceeds the ear of the hare in quickness of sense, and is so flexible as to admit

of being turned by the animal nearly quite round the head, doubtless for the purpose of informing the creature of the approach of its enemies, as it is of a timid nature and poorly furnished with means of defence, though when compelled to resist it tears furiously with its forepaws and strikes forward very hard with its hind legs. Notwithstanding its unfavourable conformation for such a purpose, it swims strongly, but

never takes to the water unless so hard pressed by its pursuers as to be left without all other refuge. The noise they make is a faint bleat, queryless, but not easy to describe. They are sociable animals and unite in droves, sometimes to the number of fifty or sixty together, when they are seen playful and feeding on grass, which alone forms their food.

At such time they move gently about like all other quadrupeds on all fours, but at the slightest noise they spring up on their hind legs and sit erect, listening to what it may proceed from, and if it increases they bound off on those legs only, the four ones at the same time being carried close to the breast like the paws of a monkey, and the tail stretched out acts as a rudder on a ship.

In drinking the kangaroo laps. It is remarkable that they are never found in a fat state being invariably lean. Of the flesh we always eat with avidity, but in Europe it would not be reckoned a delicacy. A rank of flavour forms the principal objection to it. The tail is accounted the most delicious part when stewed.

Hitherto I have spoken only of the large or grey kangaroo, to which the natives give the name of Patagora. Footnote. Kangaroo was a name unknown to them for any animal until we introduced it. When I showed Colby the cows brought out in the gorgon, he asked me if they were kangaroos.

End of footnote. But there are, besides the kangaroo rat, two other sorts. One of them we called the red kangaroo from the colour of its fur, which is like that of a hare, and sometimes is mingled with a large portion of black. The natives call it bagure.

It rarely attains to more than forty pounds weight. The third sort is very rare, and in the formation of its head resembles the opossum. The kangaroo rat is a small animal, never reaching at its utmost growth more than fourteen or fifteen pounds, and its usual size is not above seven or eight pounds. It joins to the head and bristles of a rat, the leading distinctions of a kangaroo, by

running when pursued on its hind legs only, and the female having a pouch. Unlike the kangaroo, who appears to have no fixed place of residence, this little animal constructs for itself a nest of grass on the ground, of a circular figure, about ten inches in diameter, with a hole on one side for the creature to enter at, the inside being lined with a finer sort of grass, very soft and downy.

But its manner of carrying the materials with which it builds the nest is the greatest curiosity. By entwining its tail, which, like that of all the kangaroo tribe, is long, flexible and muscular, around whatever it wants to remove, and thus dragging the load behind it. This animal is good to eat, but whether it be more prolific at birth than the kangaroo

I know not. The Indians sometimes kill the kangaroo, but their greatest destroyer is the wild dog, who feeds on them. Footnote. I once found in the woods the greatest part of a kangaroo just killed by the dogs, which

afforded to three of us the most welcome repast. Marks of its turns and struggles on the ground were very visible. This happened in the evening, and the dogs probably had seen us approach and had run away. At daylight next morning they saluted us with most dreadful howling for the loss of their

prey. End of footnote. Immediately on hearing or seeing this formidable enemy, the kangaroo flies to the thickest cover in which, if he can involve himself, he generally escapes. In running to the cover they always, if possible, keep in paths of their own forming, to avoid

the high grass and stumps of trees which might be sticking up among it, to wound them and impede their course. Our methods of killing them were but two, either we shot them, or hunted them with greyhounds. We were never able to ensnare them. Those sportsmen who relied on the gun seldom met with success unless they slept near covers

into which the kangaroos were wont to retire at night, and watched with great caution and vigilance when the game in the morning sallied forth to feed. They were, however, sometimes stolen in upon in the daytime, and that fascination of the eye which has been by some authors so much insisted upon so far acts on the kangaroo that if he fixes his eye upon anyone and no other object move at the same time he will

often continue motionless in stupid gaze while the sportsman advances with measured step towards him until within reach of his gun. The greyhounds for a long time were incapable of taking them, but with a brace of dogs, if not near cover, a kangaroo almost always falls, since the greyhounds have acquired by practice the proper method of fastening upon them.

Nevertheless, the dogs are often miserably torn by them. The rough, wiry greyhound suffers least in the conflict, and is most prized by the hunters. Other quadrupeds besides the wild dog consist only of the flying squirrel, of three kinds of opossums, and some minute animals, usually marked by the distinction which so peculiarly characterises the opossum tribe.

The rats, soon after our landing, became not only numerous, but formidable, from the destruction they occasioned in the stores. Latterly, they had almost disappeared, though to account for their absence were not easy. The first time Corby saw a monkey, he called Warrah a rat, but on examining its paws he exclaimed with astonishment and a fright, Mullah a man.

At the head of the birds the cassowary or emu stands conspicuous. The print of it which has already been given to the public is so accurate for the most part that it would be malignant criticism in a work of this kind to point out a few trifling defects. Here again naturalists must look forward to that information which longer and more intimate

knowledge of the feathered tribe than I can supply shall appear. I have nevertheless had the good fortune to see what was never seen but once in the country I am describing by Europeans, a hatch or flock of young cassowaries with the old bird. I counted ten, but others said there were twelve. We came suddenly upon them, and they ran up a hill exactly like a flock of turkeys, but

so fast that we could not get a shot at them. The largest cassowary ever killed in the settlement weighed ninety-four pounds. Three young ones, which had been by accident separated from the dam, were once taken and presented to the governor. They were not larger than so many pullets, although at first sight they appeared to be

so from the length of their necks and legs. They were very beautifully striped, and from their tender state were judged to be not more than three or four days old. They lived only a few days. A single egg, the production of a cassowary, was picked up in a desert place, dropped on

the sand, without covering or protection of any kind. Its form was nearly a perfect ellipsis, and the colour of the shell a dark green, full of little indents on its surface. It measured eleven inches and a half in circumference, five inches and a quarter in height, and weighed a pound and a quarter.

Afterwards we had the good fortune to take a nest. It was found by a soldier in a sequestered solitary situation made in a patch of lofty fern about three feet in diameter, rather of an oblong shape, and composed of dry leaves and tops of fern stalks very inartificially put together. The hollow in which lay the eggs, twelve in number, seemed made solely by the pressure

of the bird. The eggs were regularly placed in the following position. One egg, three eggs, five eggs, three eggs. The soldier, instead of greedily plundering his prize, communicated the discovery to an officer who immediately set out for the spot.

When they had arrived there they continued for a long time to search in vain for their object, and the soldier was just about to be stigmatised with ignorance, credulity or imposture when suddenly upstarted the old bird and the treasure was found at their feet. The food of the cassowary is either grass or a yellow bellflower growing in the swamps. It deserves remark that the natives deny the cassowary to be a bird because it does not

fly. Of other birds the varieties are very numerous. Of the parrot tribe alone I could, while I am writing, count up from memory fourteen different sorts. Hawks are very numerous, so are quails.

A single snipe has been shot. Docks, geese and other aquatic birds are often seen in large flocks, but are universally so shy that it is found difficult to shoot them. Some of the smaller birds are very beautiful, but they are not remarkable for either sweetness or variety of notes.

To one of them, not bigger than a tom tit, we have given the name of coachwhip from its note exactly resembling the smack of a whip. The country, I am of opinion, would abound with birds did not the natives, by perpetually setting fires to the grass and bushes, destroy the greater part of the nests, a cause which also contributes to render small quadrupeds scarce.

They are besides ravenously fond of eggs, and eat them wherever they find them. They call the roe of a fish and a bird's egg by one name. So much has been said of the abundance in which fish are found in the harbours of New South Wales that it looks like detraction to oppose a contradiction. Some share of knowledge may, however, be supposed to belong to experience.

Many a night have I toiled, in the times of distress, on the public service from four o'clock in the afternoon until eight o'clock next morning, hauling the sun in every part of the harbour of Port Jackson. And after a circuit of many miles between twenty and thirty hauls, seldom more than a hundred pounds of fish were taken.

However, it sometimes happens that a glut enters the harbour, and for a few days they sufficiently abound. But the universal voice of all professed fishermen is that they never fished in a country where success was so precarious and uncertain. I shall not pretend to enumerate the variety of fish which are found.

They are seen from a whale to a gudgeon. In the intermediate classes may be reckoned sharks of a monstrous size—skate, rock cod, grey mullet, bream, horse mackerel, now and then a sole and John Dory, and innumerable others unknown in Europe, many of which are extremely delicious, and many highly beautiful. At the top of the list is an article of food, stands a fish which we named Light Horseman.

The relish of this excellent fish was increased by our natives who pointed out to us its delicacies. No epicure in England could pick a head with more glee and dexterity than they do that of a light horseman. Reptiles in the swamps and covers are numerous. Of snakes there are two or three sorts, but whether the bite of any of them be mortal

or even venomous is somewhat doubtful. I know but of one well-attested instance of a bite being received from a snake. A soldier was bitten so as to draw blood, and the wound healed as a simple incision usually does without showing any symptom of malignity. A dog was reported to be bitten by a snake, and the animal swelled and died in great agony.

But I will by no means affirm that the cause of his death was fairly ascertained. It is however certain that the natives show on all occasions the utmost horror of the snake, and will not eat it, although they assume lizards, goenads, and many other reptiles delicious fare. On this occasion they always observe that if the snake bites them they become lame,

but whether by this they mean temporary or lasting lameness I do not pretend to determine. I have often eaten snakes and always found them palatable and nutritive, though it was difficult to stew them to a tender state. Summer here, as in all other countries, brings with it a long list of insects. In the neighbourhood of rivers and morasses, mosquitoes and sandflies are never wanting

it any season, but at Sydney they are seldom numerous or troublesome. The most nauseous and destructive of all the insects is a fly which blows not eggs but large living maggots, and if the body of the fly be opened it is found full of them. Of ants there are several sorts, one of which bites very severely. The white ant is sometimes seen.

Spiders are large and numerous. Their webs are not only the strongest, but the finest and most silky I ever felt. I have often thought their labour might be turned to advantage. It has, I believe, been proved that spiders, were it not for their quarrelsome disposition, which irritates them to attack and destroy each other, might be employed more profitably

than silkworms. The hardiness of some of the insects deserves to be mentioned. A beetle was immersed in proofed spirits for four hours and, when taken out, crawled away almost immediately. It was a second time immersed and continued in a glass of rum for a day and a night, at

the expiration of which period it still showed symptoms of life. Perhaps, however, what I from ignorance dee wonderful is common.