A LABRADOR SPRING 
at their duties. These bells, which were 
“jangled, out of tune and harsh,”’ so inter- 
fered at times with my observation of small 
birds, whose notes I was trying to detect, that 
I was often tempted to say “Silence that 
dreadful bell: it frights the isle from her 
propriety.” 
As the village is a village of fishermen, it is 
appropriate that St. Peter should be its patron 
saint, and that a large tin fish perforated with 
the name of St. Pierre should swim as a weather- 
vane on a mast in the church yard, and that 
St. Peter’s cock, very fat and of considerable 
height, should act as a vane on a large cross at 
the end of the town. Still more appropriate 
is the painting over the altar in the church of 
the miraculous draught of fishes, where the 
boats are such as might be used at the present 
day on this stormy coast, and the details of 
pointed sterns and thole-pins have a familiar 
look. The painting, a copy of one by Tissot, 
is the work of a self-taught native, and is 
remarkably well done in soft and harmonious 
colours. Doubtless many a sturdy worshipper, 
while his lips moved in prayer as he counted his 
beads, has envied the success of this draught, 
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