of one immense
tree, but there were really two trunks which furnished this mountain of
foliage. They were Moreton Bay Fig-trees, and were full of green fruit.
This tree, the fruit of which we believe is useless, has a singular
habit which recalls that of the banyan-tree; namely, that of forming
many aerial roots which hang downward from the branches, though they do
not grow long enough to reach the earth and produce new stock like the
banyan,--which is known, by the way, as the Indian fig-tree.

Within the Botanical Gardens the flowers were as attractive and in as
great variety as the trees. Fuchsias, roses, camellias in great variety,
pansies of the double species, a whole army of brilliant tulips, and
many other plants were in gorgeous bloom, though this was in July,
which, it must be remembered, is winter in Sydney. The collection of
camellias was remarkable both for the size to which they grew and for
the abundance of the blossoms. Over three hundred were counted on one
tree, as white as untrodden snow, all being of perfect form and
freshness; there were others double, single, striped, and scarlet, all
thrifty and lovely, but none of them quite equal to the myriad-decked
one in white. The azaleas, double scarlet geraniums, violets,
heliotropes, and daphnes were dazzling in color and confusing in their
abundance. Nestling among the mounds of rock-work were succulent plants,
orchids, cacti, ferns, and other pleasing forms of delicate vegetation.
Flowers bloom in every month of the year in this region, out of doors,
and are rarely troubled by frost.

As we came out of the Public Garden after this first visit, the last
rays of the setting sun threw tremulous shadows over the foliage and the
pale faces of the marble statues. The softening colors of the western
sky were reflected clearly in the unruffled arm of the bay close at
hand, tinging its waters with purple and golden hues. It was a scene and
moment to put one at peace with all the world. The atmosphere was
intoxicatingly fragrant just at this bedtime hour of the flowers,
filling one here, within pistol-shot of the crowded, boisterous life of
the town, with sensuous delight.

Sydney has two or three moderate-sized but very attractive arcades,--one
especially worthy of note leading from George Street near the City Hall,
in which are many fine shops, refreshment saloons, and cafes, with
flower and fruit stores. These areas being under glass--that is, roofed
over