And every day the city grows quicker, and spreads farther, till it seems as if, in a very little while, there will be no bush left at all.<br><br>Those of us who love the trees and flowers and birds, watch with sad eyes the passing of the bush. Sometimes we raise our voice in protest, or lift helpless hands against the onward rush. But it is in vain. The city grows and grows, and the country must give way. While it is still with us I have tried to catch with my pen a picture of some of the spots most dear to me. If, in the pages of this little book, I have been able to keep for others a memory of some greenwood spot, a fragrance of some bushland flower, then I am content.<br><br>I give my thanks to the proprietors of the Sydney Morning Herald for permission to reprint these articles, which first appeared in the pages of that journal.