d in Australia, are not so
dainty, for, although they like "pippies" and prawns best, they will
take raw meat, fish, or octopus bait with readiness. Certain species of
sea and river mullet are like them in this respect, and good sport may
be had from them with a rod in the hot months, as Dick and Fred, the
twins aforesaid, well knew, for often would their irate father
wrathfully ask them why they wasted their time catching "them worthless
mullet."

But let me give an idea of one of many days' fishing on the Hastings,
spent with the "Twins." Having filled a sugar bag with "pippies" on the
ocean beach, we put on our boots and make our way through the belt of
scrub to where our boat is lying, tied to the protruding roots of a
tree. Each of us is armed with a green stick, and we pick our way pretty
carefully, for black snakes are plentiful, and to tread on one may mean
death. The density of the foliage overhead is such that but little
sunlight can pierce through it, and the ground is soft to our feet with
the thick carpet of fallen leaves beneath. No sound but the murmuring of
the sea and the hoarse notes of countless gulls breaks the silence, for
this side of the river is uninhabited, and its solitude disturbed only
by some settler who has ridden down the coast to look for straying
cattle, or by a fishing party from the town. Our boat, which we had
hauled up and then tied to the tree, is now afloat, for the tide has
risen, and the long stretches of yellow sandbanks which line the channel
on the farther side are covered now with a foot of water. As we drift up
the river, eating our lunch, and letting the boat take care of herself,
a huge, misshapen thing comes round a low point, emitting horrid
groanings and wheezings. It is a steam stern-wheel punt, loaded with
mighty logs of black-butt and tallow wood, from fifty feet to seventy
feet in length, cut far up the Hastings and the Maria and Wilson Rivers,
and destined for the sawmill at Port Macquarie.

In another hour we are at our landing-place, a selector's abandoned
homestead, built of rough slabs, and standing about fifty yards back
from the river and the narrow line of brown, winding beach. The roof had
long since fallen in, and the fences and outbuildings lay low, covered
with vines and creepers. The intense solitude of the place, the
motionless forest of lofty grey-boled swamp gums that encompassed it on
all sides but one, and the wide stretch of river before it were