A SEASIDE YARN. 49 
nerves of an ogre, and sink it by a piece of line 
to within three feet of the bottom, and be assured 
your trouble will not be thrown away. J remember 
some few years ago, when visiting the island of St. 
Helena, having great sport with the mackerel, which 
are at times to be taken there in large quantities, pro- 
vided the proper method is pursued. Whilst busily 
occupied in (on this occasion) my by-no-means-pro- 
fitable piscatory operations, a canoe-like boat, paddled 
by a perfect specimen of a “coast of Guinea nigger,” 
made its appearance under the stern, and I was ad- 
dressed as follows: “Suppose massa wants for catch 
um fish, an Massa Teward gib um plenty biscuit- 
dust an lilly bit ob pork, massa come along ob me, 
plenty catch um berry soon.” Right welcome was 
my sable friend, “a man and a brother.” Massa 
Teward was found equal to the occasion for once. 
Pork and biscuit-dust were procured, embarked, and 
we started. After paddling about half-a-mile from 
the ship the tail end of an eddy or run was reached, 
and the canoe was anchored by letting go a heavy 
stone at the end of a rope made fast to the midship 
thwart. The gunwale was thus brought down almost 
to the water’s edge, a proceeding rather unpleasantly 
suggestive of sharks, which at times, to quote from a 
bucolic friend, “show in this district a capacity for 
feeding and increase of bulk perfectly amazing.” My 
sable gondolier produced from some secret nook four 
E 
