352 DEAD FISH. CHAP. xxr. 



Disappointed but not baffled, Dick continued his 

 researches. " On Monday morning, after my work was 

 over, I walked out some two miles to a quarry by the 

 side of the road, where I knew fish bones abounded. 

 It is not a regular quarry, but a hole out of which stone 

 for road-metal had been taken. 



" ' Imperious Caesar, dead and turned to clay, 

 Might stop a hole to keep the wind away.' 



Who knows ? One thing is certain it is so with 

 the poor fish. Nearly all the houses in Thurso are 

 built of dead fish. All the ploughed fields are fields of 

 the dead. The living plants feed on the dead, and so it 

 is everywhere. Was it ever otherwise ? Once I believed 

 in a world without death hideous death. . But it is a 

 sad thought that death exists over all creation. Some, 

 however, say that death is necessary and a blessing; 

 because, without it, there could be no progress. Alas ! 

 is death then a necessity ? 



"I went to the quarry by the road-side, and was 

 grubbing away for old bones, to the no small amusement 

 of the passers-by. No doubt they thought me mad. 

 Some looked curious ; some looked pitiful. At last one 

 of them came and planted himself opposite me. 



"'Hae ye lost onything there?' 'No.' 'Then 

 what are ye seeking?' 'Auld banes.' 'Auld banes? 1 

 ' Ay, auld fish-banes.' ' 0, there's none o' them there : 

 I'm the man that quarried the hole : there's nae fish- 

 banes there.' ' If ye like to believe me, gudeman, the 

 banes are abundant.' 'Na!' 'Oh yes; it's an auld 

 bury ing-ground.' 'Eh!' ' Yes ; look at that.' 



