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Having taken a “ stirrup-cup,” in the Highland fashion, at the door of Mr. Fordham’s hotel, we mounted, about half an hour after sunset. That we should have chosen such an hour to start upon a journey, through a mountain forest and rugged defiles, may seem strange; but so genial are the nights in Australia, and so free from those chills and damps which in Britain are the prolific sources of rheumatism and catarrh, that we preferred travelling by the light of “ Cynthia’s silver orb,” which was just then shewing her disk through the foliage of the towering eucalypti, crowning the undulating ridge before us. Having passed the last of several weather-boarded cottages, in the outskirts of Adelaide, we began to cross the inclined plain, five miles in breadth, which separates the city from the foot of the hill range. We also passed the No. 1 Cattle Station of the South Australian Com pany, whose dairy was less profitable than those of private individuals, through causes which are, in some degree, inseparable from the very nature of joint-stock commercial associations. The plain which we were now traversing had precisely the appearance of an orchard, being thinly interspersed with small gregarious mimosee, or acacias of the tribe which Shakspeare has celebrated in the lines— . “ Drop tears as fast as the Arabian tree Its medicinal gum.” During the heat of summer, these trees, whose stems seldom exceed six inches in diameter, distil, through crevices in their bark, lumps varying from the size of a nut to that of a pear, of a clear, transparent gum, similar in appearance, and, to the best of my judgment, in me-