inside the Heads. Steamboat traffic and the foul water
resulting from sewerage has driven them to the deep waters of the ocean.
One peculiar feature of schnapper fishing on the northern coast of New
South Wales is that, be the fish ever so plentiful and hungry, they
invariably cease biting immediately, if the wind should change to the
east or north-east. Yet on the southern seaboard, from Twofold Bay to
Galo Island, they will take the hook during a black north-easter, as
freely as they do when the wind is blowing from any other quarter.

From one end to the other of the coast of New South Wales, there is
grand rock-fishing to be had by anyone who once is initiated into its
mysteries, and is not afraid of getting an occasional drenching from
an ocean roller when there is any sea running. Right from the southern
boundary of the colony to the Tweed River on the north, are breaks in
the long sandy beaches, of rocky coast, which in most places are easily
accessible to the fisherman; and the water in these spots being
deep close under the verge of the cliffs, the deep-sea fish, such
as schnapper, blue and brown groper, the gigantic mottled rock-cod,
trevally, king-fish, the great Jew-fish, sea salmon, etc., at certain
seasons of the year cruise to and fro about the rocks in extraordinary
numbers. But, strange as it may appear, rock-fishing is almost unknown
to the average colonial, except those living near the principal ports.
The greatest ignorance, too, prevails as to the edible qualities of the
many varieties of excellent rock-fish, except the well-known schnapper.
The generality of the coast settlers look upon most coloured fish as
'bad to eat,' if not 'poisonous,' and particularly so in the case of
the delicious blue groper or blue-fish, the 'leather jacket,' and the
scaleless bonito, which latter occasionally visit the shores of the
colony in large 'schools,' and take a bait eagerly.

My boyish experiences of rock-fishing in New South Wales are full of
delightful memories. Then, accompanied by one of the few surviving
members of the Hastings River (Port Macquarie) blacks, my brothers and
myself would set out for a week's camping-out on the wild and lonely
coast between Port Macquarie and Camden Haven--a stretch of twenty miles
or so. Our equipment consisted of some very heavy lines and hooks for
the big fish, some fine tackle for beach fishing--for bream, whiting,
flathead, etc.--a couple of spears for cray-fish, an old