Under the Southern Cross. Ballou Maturin Murray

dainty sweetness. The green and striped aloe grows wild in clusters affording variety and beauty of effect to all around. There were here and there clusters also of the yellow-leaved wattle, producing by its foliage almost the exact effect of blossoms; and as the river is ascended, an abundance of the water-loving mangrove is seen bordering the banks, like willows in New England. And if one turns for a moment from the enchantment near at hand, far away over the plains and undulating country, mingling with the very clouds, are seen the Blue Mountains. All far-away mountains present an aspect of blue, but those of New South Wales are indeed cerulean.

      A quiet aspect of stupid respectability, if we may be permitted the term, environed the town of Parametta. It is a dull place, and fully merits its expressive nickname of Sleepy Hollow. One is half inclined to look for a coating of blue mould over the streets and houses. While driving in the neighborhood, where everything seemed so purely English, one felt the sight of the many orange-trees in full bearing, or the flitting about of small paroquets, to be a sort of incongruity. The early colonists, as we were told, tried to raise wheat hereabout, but the soil was ill adapted to that cereal, though for raising oranges and semi-tropical fruits Parametta has since become quite famous.

      The town is just fifteen miles from Sydney, and has in its environs some beautiful drives. Rocky Hall, the residence of a hospitable and wealthy citizen, not far from the town of Parametta, contains in its spacious grounds an orchard with a marvellous variety of growing fruits. The proprietor, Mr. James Pye, is good authority on all subjects relating to horticulture. The salubrious character of the climate has enabled this gentleman to produce in abundance thriving specimens of nearly every known fruit either tropical or hardy, added to which he has a large and choice variety of flowers.