A Pleasant Time at Penzance. 57 



full moon is beaming, the boat rises and falls with 

 the incoming tide, the austere rocks of St. Michael's 

 Mount frown upon us, and " screams the wild sea 

 mew " as it hovers o'er us, an anxious watcher of our 

 success, hoping, no doubt, to clutch some of the 

 silvery fish that may escape from our net. Then 

 ever and anon the porpoises rise and blow as they 

 reach the surface — a not unlucky omen; for where 

 the carcase is the vulture will be, and the fact of 

 their presence denotes the movement of a shoal of 

 pilchards. 



At length the hour arrives for proving the net, 

 and we haul in a few fathoms. The result is highly 

 satisfactory, many pilchards are entangled in the net, 

 and the size is pronounced good. The simple way 

 in which the fishes are caught surprises me. They 

 straightway run their heads into the meshes of the 

 net, and the more they struggle the faster they are 

 held, and they cannot move backwards by reason of 

 their gills being held fast. Then we let go the net 

 again, and patiently bide our time. 



The moon sinks behind the hill, and the bay is 

 seen studded with the lights of the large fleet of 

 boats occupied in the same way as ourselves. At 

 this hour the night was beautiful, the stars shone 

 brilliantly, the lights of the town of Penzance 

 twinkled in the far-off distance. When a heavy 

 bank of clouds rose from beyond the high hills and 

 moved seawards, darkness spread over us. Weird- 

 looking bhds hovered close over our boat, doubtless 

 scenting the pilchards which were lying on the deck. 

 From one boat lying about half-a-mile beyond us 

 voices are heard — the occupants of that craft were 



