A COLD FOWLING CRUISE 



ANY readers will re- 

 member that the winter 

 of 1894-95 was almost 

 Arctic in its severity. 

 The inland waters were 

 frozen over, the ground 

 was hard as iron, 

 hunting and steeple- 

 chasing were stopped 

 throughout the United 

 Kingdom for nine or ten 

 weeks on end, unfortun- 

 ate householders, with blue noses, growhngly dipped 

 chilblained fingers into their purses for the repairing of 

 burst waterpipes, roundly anathematising King Frost 

 the while ; in short, it was a bitter winter, and the only 

 men who derived any benefit from its rigour were skaters, 

 wildfowlers, and plumbers. 



It was during the early part of this hard winter 

 that I joined the 15 -ton yawl Seamew, which was lying 

 fitted out for a week's cruise in search of fowl and fish 

 along the East coast, in the canal basin, Gravesend. 



As neither my saihng companion. Captain J., nor 

 myself were particularly anxious to spend a night in 



the muddy little dock, we agreed to sail down to 



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