Had we not cast aside all traditions, revolting from the uniformity of life, from the rules of the bush as well as from the conventionalities of society?  Here we were to indulge our caprices, work out our own salvation, live in accordance with our own primitive notions, and, if possible, find pleasure in haunts which it is not popularly supposed to frequent.

Others may point to higher ideals and tell of exciting experiences, of success achieved, and glory and honour won.  Ours not to envy superior qualifications and victories which call for strife and struggle, but to submit ourselves joyfully to the charms of the “simple life.”

OUR ISLAND

    “Awake, O North Wind, and come, thou South,
    Blow upon my garden, that the spices thereof may flow out.”

Our Island!  What was it when we came into possession?  From the sea, merely a range displaying the varied leafage of jungle and forest.  A steep headland springing from a ledge of rock on the north, and a broad, embayed-based flat converging into an obtruding sand-spit to the west, enclose a bay scarcely half a mile from one horn to the other, the sheet of water almost a perfect crescent, with the rocky islet of Purtaboi, plumed with trees, to indicate the circumference of a circle.  Trees come to the water’s edge from the abutment of the bold eminence.  Dome-shaped shrubs of glossy green (native cabbage—­SCAEVOLA KOENIGII), with groups of pandanus palms bearing massive orange-coloured fruits; and here and there graceful umbrella trees, with deep-red decorations, hibiscus bushes hung with yellow funnells, and a thin line of ever-sighing beech oaks (casuarina) fringe the clean untrodden sand.  Behind is the vistaless forest of the flat.

Run the boat on the sand at high-water, and the first step is planted in primitive bush—­fragrant, clean and undefiled.  An empty jam tin or a broken bottle, spoors of the rude hoofs of civilisation, you might search for in vain.  As difficult would it be to find either as a fellow to the nugget of gold which legend tells was used by a naked black as a sinker when he fished with hook of pearl shell out there on the edge of the coral reef,

One superficial feature of our domain is distinct and peculiar, giving to it an admirable character.  From the landing-place—­rather more up towards the north-east cusp than the exact middle of the crescent bay—­extends a flat of black sand on which grows a dense bush of wattles, cockatoo apple-trees, pandanus palms, Moreton Bay ash and other eucalypts, and the shapely melaleuca.  This flat, here about 150 yards in breadth, ends abruptly at a steep bank which gives access to a plateau 60 feet above sea-level.  The regularity of the outline of this bank is remarkable.  Running in a more or less correct curve for a mile and a half, it indicates a clear-cut difference between the flat and the plateau.  The toe of the bank