ON THE COAST OF ARE AN 95 



In the evening the wonted quiet of the 

 village is invaded by strange sights and sounds. 

 We have become suddenly and exuberantly 

 festive. Happily there is neither bill-poster nor 

 bellman in Corrie ; but a curious little placard, 

 fastened with some ingenuity to the face of a 

 rock, has made us aware during the last few 

 days that at the end of the week we might 

 expect the Annual Sports. And here we are in 

 the midst of them. There are races by land 

 and by sea. The latter are intensely exciting. 

 The boatmen are all known to us, and each has 

 his favourite. If the fate of an empire hung 

 upon the stroke we could not be more demon- 

 strative in our enthusiasm, and the wonder is 

 that one-half of us do not push the other half 

 into the water. We get the most amusement, 

 however, out of what is called the ' Greased 

 Jibboom.' A boat is taken a little way from 

 the shore. The mast of a lugger is lashed to 

 the stem so as to stretch over the water like a 



