106 FISHING GOSSIP. 
it will be said, seems so rough and crude that it can 
hardly be expected to awaken the elegant enthusiasm 
of a British angler. But after all— 
“ Quand on n’a pas ce qu’on aime 
Tl faut aimer ce qu’on a.” 
And a genuine brother of the craft, even if he be 
offended by the rudeness of its implements in New 
South Wales, will find much to interest him in the 
objects with which he becomes acquainted during its 
exercise. He may lack the technical knowledge of 
the naturalist, and the artistic dexterity of the painter, 
but he ought to have a quick eye to observe, and a 
true feeling to appreciate, the objects in which they 
respectively delight. And if indeed thus qualified, 
he will find the accessories of his sport scarce less 
delightful here than at home. For scenery, indeed, 
we can show nothing like the “emerald meadows” 
_ of Driffield or Leintwardine, or by Itchin side—no 
mountain-girt lakes or deep rocky tarns, mirrors for 
the wild shore and the changeful sky. But we have 
craggy gorges, through which the flashing waters 
thunder; noble rivers, with endless change of pool, 
and eddy, and stream; broad lagoons, around whose 
margin the wild-fowl paddle among the blue water- 
lilies ; while far aloof the stately swan floats lazily 
over the still deep, with rosy bill and glossy plumes : 
“ Black, but such as in esteem, 
Prince Memnon’s sister might beseem.” 
