A MORNING AT BALLYSHANNON. 379 



had once touched dry land. After two 

 ineffectual attempts, the fish was turned 

 under the edge of the projecting rock ; the 

 unerring iron, guided by the steady hand of 

 Paddy, entered his hack fin, and in a minute 

 he lay gasping and flapping on the turf, — 

 a white, fresh, glittering fish, that turned a 

 good fi ve-and-twenty pounds by the fish-house 

 scales. 



" Come," said the Squire, forgetting how 

 little his skill had to do with hooking it, u I 

 think no one will beat me to-dav." 



"Crimp him, Paddy; crimp him forth- 

 with," said the Captain ; " never mind your 

 wet jacket, you can change that to-morrow ; 

 then give him ten minutes of the holy spring, 

 and I doubt whether the saint that owns it 

 will get a better supper than we shall this 

 night." 



