420 The Australian Bush. 



the old hands, many of whom could not probably read a sentence, 

 and who, it is needless to say, make no pretensions to good-breeding 

 or gentility), that I never heard religion made a jest of ; nor did I 

 ever find, as is too often the case with the lower classes at home, 

 especially if it should chance which, although probably seldom 

 happening in England, is of daily occurrence in the colony that a 

 gentleman is reduced to the level of the working man, that his 

 better manners or birth are thrown in his teeth. I have, on the 

 contrary, always found that a man (and there were, unfortunately, 

 but few) who neither drank nor swore, and spent the Sunday in a 

 proper manner, was always looked upon with respect 'by his rough 

 bush associates, for they always seemed to have an idea that such a' 

 man could be trusted, and his advice and assistance relied on, in cases 

 of difficulty and emergency. 



It will be very odd if, wherever tne party may be camped, they 

 are not in the neighbourhood of some swamp or creek which swarms 

 with duck, and the man who, like myself, prefers a night's flight- 

 shooting to almost any other sport, will find this country one peculiarly 

 adapted to his pursuit. 



Of all field sports in the colony, I think I did like a good 

 night's flight-shooting the best. There is a charm in this silent, 

 solitary sport which I could never find in any other. When seated 

 well in the shade, by the side of some favourite feeding-ground, with 

 the moon just on the wane, all is still, save the occasional cry of 

 some night-bird, as it rises from the neighbouring swamp, or the 

 whistle of the wings of a pair of ducks, as they pass overhead, and 

 the croaking of hundreds of small frogs in concert, the deep clock 

 of the bull-frog joining, as it were, in bass accompaniment. The 

 slight ripple of the clear water dances in the moon's silvery rays, 

 when all at once " whish," a splash in the water, and a sharp " quack, 

 quack, quack, quack," warns the shooter that a black duck has 

 pitched, and the concert of frogs is hushed in an instant. This is 

 soon joined by others, and having risen on the water three or four 

 times to shake their feathers, and chased each other about for a few 

 minutes, they settle down to feed. Now is a moment of breathless 



