AMBROSE — ON ST. MARGARET'S BAY FISHING GROUNDS. 67 



showers of meteors every thirty-three years little doubt can now 

 be entertained. The confirmation of these forecast last Novem- 

 ber, with the fine opportunity afforded in England for observing 

 the phenomenon, will, it may be hoped, assist science in further 

 unravelling the mystery in which these erratic bodies have been 

 shrouded, from the ages of ignorance and superstition when they 

 were looked upon with terror as portents of coming evil, to the 

 present day, in which they are better understood ; but whatever 

 may be the addition to the knowledge already possessed of these 

 wonderful bodies to be obtained from the numerous simultaneous 

 observations taken on the night of the 13th — 14th Nov. last, 

 man will find himself still, as it were, only at the very threshold 

 of the Great Creator's sublime works, the amazing profundity 

 of which time itself will prove too short, and the most powerful 

 human intellect too feeble, entirely to fathom. 



Art. VIII. Observations on the Fishing Grounds and 

 Fish of St. Margaret's Bay, N. S., — Continued, Br 

 Rev. John Ambrose. 



(Read March 4, 1867.) 



In resuming my account of the Fishes of St. Margaret's Bay, I 

 shall commence with the pollack. These fish — the full grown 

 ones — strike into the Bay in June, and leave about the last of 

 November. The young ones come much earlier. Their food is 

 the same as that of the cod, but the most taking bait is some- 

 thing white and shining, such as a strip cut from the belly of the 

 herring or mackerel. In the summer months they delight in the 

 rough shoal water ofi* the points or promontories where different 

 ■currents meet. In such places a dexterous angler with strong 

 salmon-gear and a whitish fly, may in the month of July kill 

 many more fish in a given time, and enjoy very nearly as good 

 sport, as among the salmon in our best streams. There is one of 

 these " pollack-rips " — as they are called — within a mile of my 

 residence, and in passing in my boat I often rest on my oars or 

 lay-to to watch the gambols of those lively fish, as on all sides 

 they leap out of water in pursuit of their insect prey. In row- 

 ing down through a narrow channel between Dover and Blind 



