There is, perhaps, no more interesting sight to an European than to see the natives engaged in fishing. Those natives inhabiting the sea-coast country before the white man "put in an appearance," did not fish as their successors do, with modern hook and line, they used the spear and towrow, &c., and it is questionable whether they did not succeed in making as good hauls in their rude way, when the fish were undisturbed by the net, and plentiful, as they do now with the more approved and elaborate tackle and sophisticated fish to deal with. It is something altogether wonderful the way in which the aborigines seem to understand the movements of fish. An European would look upon the waters of the bay, or ocean, and see nothing but a wide expanse of water; an aborigine looks, and he sees shoals of fish, how, why, or wherefore, you cannot tell, but there it is. He is never mistaken. It is no fancy. To him the surface of the bay or ocean is like the page of a book to an educated man. He reads as he runs; each wavelet forming a character in his alphabet. Should a shoal of mullet come into the bay, and, without jumping up, he looks and he knows they are there, and can form a rough idea of the numbers of the shoal, in the same way that Napoleon Bonaparte could estimate the numbers of a marching army.

After a "fresh "" the "towrows" come into general requisition, more especially among the coastal tribes of the aborigines; and in some of the rivers and creeks they make large hauls. It is really an interesting sight to see them strip off and quietly stalk into the water, nets in hand, and held clear from the body on either side, and, looking for all the world like "black ghosts," moving without apparent volition or disturbance of a muscle, and calling up in the mind some of Dante's weird pictures :

"Then with eyes downward cast, and fill'd with shame,
Fearing my words offensive to his ear;

Till we had reach'd the river, I from speech
Abstained. And lo! towards us in a bark
Comes an old man, hoary white with eld,

Crying, 'Woe to you wicked spirits! hope not
Ever to see the sky again. I come

To take you to the other shore across,
Into eternal darkness, there to dwell.'"

To be successful in towrow fishing, the water has to be "thick" with discolouration. The fisherman stands perfectly still with his face to the point the waters flow from, and the towrows (a hand net with a hoop at the top) extended in either hand to right or left of his body, so held as to catch any fish that may be swept by the tide or flood, along the part of the stream occupied by the fisherman. If a fish is caught in one of the towrows he is taken out, bitten on the back of the head by the fisherman, and then thrown on to the bank, or put into a dillybag, hung across the shoulder. The dexterity exhibited in this species of fishing is wonderful, they catch hundreds of fish in this way.

ray.

The most marvellous instance, however, that the writer has ever heard of, in connection with the power exercised by the aborigines over fish, is in the case of the stingingThe power seems to be possessed by the old men, principally. The operator will stand upon the bank of a creek, river, or the shores of the bay, where stingingrays "lookout," and he shouts in a peculiar way, but at the top of his voice, when you will see every ray within hearing of the sound, dart up and make a sign of his presence. It matters not if the ray is below the mud hiding, up he jumps at the call. You will see hundreds jump together.

The main resource of the aborigines in the days be

;

fore the white man appeared, however, in obtaining their fish supply, was the spear. With this implement they killed large quantities of all sorts of fish, including eels but the latter were often obtained by damming and diverting a stream; more especially was this idea acted upon in time of flood, in the creeks, &c., where eels and other fish abounded. Besides these, they have other modes of fishing, and in their way they are all attended with success and it may be assumed the secret of the success is largely due to the fact, that they understand how, when, and where to "go-a-fishing," and spare no labour to succeed.

If it were only possible for an old, experienced, and clever aboriginal, to give to the world his knowledge of the habits of fish, birds, and animals; their modes of life in all the wonderful details that Edward, the shoemaker naturalist, could have done; the chances are that our great scientists would want to make him a member of all sorts of societies, and learned bodies. There is no possible doubt, that if a Buckland, Darwin, Huxley, Tindall, or a Wallace, were chosen from among the array of the great scientists, and dropped from a balloon or a cloud into the wilds of Australia, and told to find his own living, that his theoretical knowledge would be of little use, in comparison to the hard practical experience of the aborigine.

CHAPTER IX.

A SCHNAPPER PARTY ABOUT FIFTEEN YEARS

AGO.

"WHERE to, Sir?" " Bright Bros.' wharf!" "Right." The horse is swerved round on his hind legs, and friend and self are bowling along in a hansom cab to Bright Bros.' wharf, at the foot of Queen-street, at 12.55, the steamer starting at 1 o'clock sharp, on a schnapper excursion to Flat Rock. As we approach the wharf, we meet sundry cabs returning, after having deposited other members of the party, with their baggage at the steamer. Our things are carried on board the "Francis Cadell' (the name of the steamer) by one of the crew, amid a boisterous hurrah! from those aboard, a greeting that each new arrival receives. At last the welcome shout is heard, "cast off, Captain Davis, all aboard," to which the hearty response rings out, "All right, sir." The ropes are soon cast adrift, we drop quietly off from the wharf, and in another minute are steaming away round Kangaroo Point. Myself and friend, who by the way, is a member of a Sydney mercantile firm, and only on a visit to Brisbane, are standing on the bridge of the steamer, and are engaged in a survey of the motley crowd assembled in the after part of the boat, and who are all talking together, or singing "snatches" of some popular ditty; while the deck, seats, and hatchway

F

bristle with "swags," done up in blankets and rugs, and of all the colours of the rainbow. To describe the costumes, hats (especially the hats), boots, &c., &c., is altogether beyond the pen of the writer, it would require a Worth, or kindred genius to accomplish such a task. As we meditate and gaze upon the queer looking scene, my friend breaks the silence, by remarking, “in their guise, what a cut throat looking crowd they are;" and I reply, "truly! If we by any means get driven by a storm out to sea, and in our distress wanted aid from some passing vessel, if the occupants of same got a good look at our crowd, they would put us down for a lot of pirates, and keep us at a respectable distance." Who is that tall, fine-looking young his orders with such emphatic

"You're right. fellow, that gives authority."

"Oh, that's Mr. Architect. He is the captain of the party for the trip. I must introduce you to him, directly."

“What a remarkably tall man," continues my friend, "that gentleman is who is dressed in white drill; he has a very intellectual face, but he looks as if he was in a decline. Poor man; he must be a 'bad feeder,' or something is wrong with him."

"Yes," I reply, "he has something wrong with him; he's got no bottom to his stomach, at least that's my theory; because, when he sits down to a meal he can take a ship's cargo aboard, and never wink at the operation. He may be in a decline, but let me assure you he never declines his 'tucker,' and its a treat to see the way he enjoys it."

"Who is that stout and strongly built man with his coat cast off, and his shirt-front open; one sleeve tucked up, the other unbuttoned and hanging loose; and who