The gorse and the broom were a fine accent in the landscape.

Here and there they burst out in sudden conflagrations of vivid yellow against a background of sober or sombre color, with a so startling effect as to make a body catch his breath with the happy surprise of it.

And then there was the wattle, a native bush or tree, an inspiring cloud of sumptuous yellow bloom.

It is a favorite with the Australians, and has a fine fragrance, a quality usually wanting in Australian blossoms.
The gentleman who enriched me with the poverty of his formation about the gorse and the broom told me that he came out from England a youth of twenty and entered the Province of South Australia with thirty-six shillings in his pocket--an adventurer without trade, profession, or friends, but with a clearly-defined purpose in his head: he would stay until he was worth L200, then go back home.

He would allow himself five years for the accumulation of this fortune.
"That was more than fifty years ago," said he.