ainly two of the smartest
young sportsmen--although only twelve years old--I ever met with. Both
were very small for their age, and I was always in doubt as to which
was which. They were always delighted to come with me, and did not
mind being soused by a roller now and then when filling my 'pippy' bag.
Pippies are the best bait one can have for whiting (except prawns) in
Australia, for, unlike the English whiting, it will not touch fish
bait of any sort, although, when very hungry, it will sometimes take
to octopus flesh. Bream, whether black or silvery, flathead, trevally,
Jew-fish, and, indeed, all other fish obtained 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
wrath-fully 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 snake are plentiful, and to tread on one means
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 further 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 fi