SPILLET-FISHING. I7I 



" The Lord look to him ! " exclaimed another boat- 

 man, " if it be not a sin to pray for a bird." 



" He shall not carry his life to the water," rejoined 

 the Master, as he laid the barrel to his eye. 



But, notwithstanding prayer and prophecy, the gull 

 merely parted a few feathers, and flew off, to all appear- 

 ance, with little injury. 



*' By everything blind ! " exclaimed my kinsman, 

 '* the gun must have been charged with sawdust. Ha ! 

 let's see the flask 1 Frank, Frank, thou art a careless 

 gunner ; the powder is not worth one farthing." 



It was true. I had forgotten my flask in the pocket 

 of a wet cota more* and consequently the powder was 

 spoiled. 



Nothing puzzles me more, with the exception of 

 keeping the Sheriff at a distance, than preserving gun- 

 powder, and preventing my arms from rusting ; and it 

 is incredible how soon the humidity of this climate 

 spoils the one, and causes the other. 



" My grand magazine is a sort of basket, secured 

 with a lid and padlock, and covered with a sheep-skin, 

 which, like the coffin of Mahomet, hangs suspended 

 between sky and earth, from the couples of the kitchen. 

 This disposition secures it alike against damp and acci- 

 dent. My arms give me an infinity of trouble, but by 

 a weekly inspection I manage to keep all in order. 



" It is marvellous how quickly, even with moderate 

 care, powder spoils. With my attention i experience 

 little inconvenience, as I always warm my flask by 

 plunging it in boiling water before 1 take the field. 

 This renders the powder sufficiently dry, without 



"^Anglice, great-coat. 



