A SEASIDE YARN. 45 
of it. On a fish biting, being struck, and making 
a rush, the stick was instantly cast into the water, 
where it acted as a float, the line was allowed to run 
out from the gourd, and the scaly victim dexterously 
humoured, until pitched high and dry on the sand 
by the nimble fingers of this ill-favoured but artful 
old nigger, who managed to catch more than all the 
rest put together. “So much for fine tackle!” said 
I. The greater number of fish caught appeared to 
be a species of barbel, of very fair size and condition. 
The mouths of rivers, open beaches, and sand-bars, 
are favourite resorts of the bass, where, feeding in 
with the coming tide, at times barely covered by the 
creaming surf, he may be successfully fished for with 
rod and “ledger,” “hand-line,” or “ ground-bolter.” 
Spoon-bait trolling may also at times be practised, 
with considerable success, near his haunts, particularly 
in the evening, when bass are most disposed to feed. 
A rising tide is by far the best for sea-fishing. 
Each feathered roller of the young flood, as it thunders 
on the strand, tolls the dinner-bell of our scaly gour- 
mands the fish, and in they come accordingly. 
Curious it is to watch the extreme state of bustle, 
wriggle, and hungry activity that this same flood-tide 
brings with it. Our submarine acquaintances have 
evidently decided, one and all, that “the good time 
coming, boys” is, on this occasion at least, in the pre- 
sent and not the future tense, and as the first inward 
