There is no more heart-breaking experience than a tour through the seared and ravaged bush-fire country. At Healesville yesterday an atmosphere of exhaustion after long days and nights of strain and anxiety, and of grief at the many fatalities in what is generally voted the worst series of fires in local history, hung over the township as heavily as the thick grey pall of smoke lying low over the surrounding hills.

It is a sad and melancholy story. There is an intolerable sense of desolation and wasted effort in observing the scene. Tall, blackened trees rise stark, gaunt and depressing. Little columns of smoke rise from them, or else they glow with patches of red embers. The very air is scorching.

In this as in other tragedies in the history of the State, the women played their part with a quiet control, a courage and endurance which borders on heroism. It is a courage which now, when the danger is over, still stands them in good stead...

[A, 12/1/39]