THE KING OF FISHES." 61 



you may perceive the fair coast on the other side of 

 the sea, lying bathed in sunlight. An open stretch 

 beyond shows us a beautiful sandy patch of beach, and 

 round the cliff there is another mile or two of sand. 

 Nestling almost under the cliff is a solid, well-built 

 cottage. Rows of stakes run out into the sea from 

 the beach, and these bear a net which twice or thrice 

 expands into pockets as the stakes depart from the 

 straight line and assume a semicircular form. 



Piles of stakes are stacked at the door of the cot- 

 tage, nets hang about in profusion, and a coble or flat- 

 bottomed punt (with a prow) is drawn up on the beach 

 close to the shelly margin which marks the highest 

 lap of the tide. Long-shaped baskets made with 

 strong osiers are packed and ready to be carted off to 

 the nearest town. The baskets are stuffed apparently 

 with the bracken fern that grows so profusely around ; 

 but a tail, sticking out beyond the fern-packing here 

 and there, reveals the fact that the king of fishes is 

 being sent off to the town, and that we are beholding 

 the scene of his capture and of his ensnaring by the 

 arts of man from his native depths. 



The salmon fishery before us is an old institution. 

 Capture here, smacks of the conventional. There is 

 no play with rod and line, no hour or two of humour- 

 ing your fish, of tiring him out, and of finally landing 

 him triumphantly on the sward by aid of the lethal 

 "cleek." Not in vain, however, do our sunburnt 

 friends, the fishers, spread their nets out into the sea. 

 Stake-nets and drift-nets capture the silvery fishes 

 readily enough ; and it would be difficult to say how 

 many pounds' weight of salmon may be carried off to 

 the city in a single day, after a big haul. 



Be that as it may, one thing is certain that the 



