urned away, and the trunks of the trees badly
charred, but the trees have not been killed. The gum has a very thick
bark, purposely made to resist fire. This bark gets scorched in a
bush-fire, but unless the fire is a very fierce one indeed, the tree is
not vitally hurt. Around the blackened tree-trunks tongues of fire seem
to be still licking. At a height of about six feet from the ground,
those scarlet heart-shapes are surely flames? No, they are the waratahs,
which love to grow where there have been bush-fires. The waratah is of a
brilliant red colour, growing single and stately on a high stalk. Its
shape is of a heart; its size about that of a pear. The waratah is not
at all a dainty, fragile flower, but a solid mass of bloom like the
vegetable cauliflower; indeed, if you imagine a cauliflower of a vivid
red colour, about the size of a pear and the shape of a heart, growing
on a stalk six feet high, you will have some idea of the waratah.

Two of the flowers are picked--Tim's father will not allow more--and
they are brought to help the decoration of the picnic meal. Carried thus
over the shoulder of an eager, flushed child, the waratah suggests
another idea: it represents exactly the thyrsus of the Bacchanals of
ancient legends.

The picnickers find that their appetites have gained zest from the sweet
salty oysters. They are ready for lunch. A fire is started, with great
precaution that it does not spread; meat is roasted on spits (perhaps,
too, some fish got from the sea near by); and a hearty, jolly meal is
eaten. Perhaps it would be better to say devoured, for at a picnic there
is no nice etiquette of eating, and you may use your fingers quite
without shame as long as you are not "disgusting." The nearest sister to
Jim will tell him promptly if he became "disgusting," but I can't tell
you all the rules. It isn't "disgusting" to hold a chop in your fingers
as you eat it, or to stir your tea with a nice clean stick from a gum
tree. But it is "disgusting" to put your fingers on what anyone else
will have to eat, or to cut at the loaf of bread with a soiled knife. I
hope that you will get from this some idea of Australian picnic
etiquette. But you really cannot get any real idea of picnic fun until
you have taken your picnic meal out in the Australian Bush; no
description can do justice to that fun. The picnic habit is not one for
children only. The Jim whom we have followed will be still eager for a
picnic when he