20 CORRACH-BAH j OR, 



The old dun eight-day clock had just " chapped " seven, 

 when my gallant crew cleared out of harbour, and, with, 

 my rods, bait, provisions, and pea-jacket, were making 

 for Port Sonachan Quay, where I had directed them to 

 meet me. The morning was colder, the wind had changed 

 from west to east " a bad airt " for the fish. There were 

 certain appearances also in the sky which foreboded 

 squally weather. The best of the fishing-ground is below 

 Port Sonachan, so I did not wish to waste time on such 

 an unpropitious day, until we got there. I sauntered 

 dreamily along, admiring the views as they unfolded them- 

 selves, and had sat for some time on Port Sonachan shore, 

 listening to a chorus of ctickoos, before the measured 

 stroke of Sandy and Johnny appeared at some distance, 

 slowly propelling their clumsy boat. I question if I 

 gained much time by my manoeuvre, though Sandy 

 appeared quite satisfied with the rate of their progress. I 

 was soon seated in the stern, with lovely baits towing 

 behind. "No a rug," as Sandy repeatedly said ; but he 

 endeavoured, poor fellow, to keep up our spirits by telling 

 a tale of every wood, hill, or rock, we crept slowly past. 

 " There's the badger's rock, sir ; he has never left it for 

 the last fifty year." The grey hermit of the rock called 

 me back to my boyish days. The " brock-holes " in the 

 oak wood the traps my brothers and I had purloined 

 from the old keeper, who preferred killing vermin by the 

 lazy method of the gun my delight when I detected 

 the first poor captured badger all rose fresh before me, 

 as in those sunny mornings of life's early spring. My 



