more of my friends. We had not long, however, left the encampment when it
began to rain and drove us back to the tents, effectually defeating the
object with which we had commenced our walk. Heavy rain was apparently
falling to the westward of us, and the night set in dark and lowering.

In some parts of the large plains we had crossed in the morning, I had
observed traces of the remains of timber, of a larger growth than any now
found in the same vicinity, and even in places where none at present
exists. Can these plains of such very great extent, and now so open and
exposed, have been once clothed with timber? and if so, by what cause, or
process, have they been so completely denuded, as not to leave a single
tree within a range of many miles? In my various wanderings in Australia,
I have frequently met with very similar appearances; and somewhat
analogous to these, are the singular little grassy openings, or plains,
which are constantly met with in the midst of the densest Eucalyptus
scrub.

Every traveller in those dreary regions has appreciated these, (to him)
comparatively speaking, oasises of the desert--for it is in them alone,
that he can hope to obtain any food for his jaded horse; without,
however, their affording under ordinary circumstances, the prospect of
water for himself. Forcing his way through the dense, and apparently
interminable scrub, formed by the Eucalyptus dumosa, (which in some
situations is known to extend for fully 100 miles), the traveller
suddenly emerges into an open plain, sprinkled over with a fine silky
grass, varying from a few acres to many thousands in extent, but
surrounded on all sides by the dreary scrub he has left.

In these plains I have constantly traced the remains of decayed
scrub--generally of a larger growth than that surrounding them--and