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upon the net, and then a very exciting, and on moonlight 
nights a very beautiful scene sets in. Millions of silvery 
little fish are sputtering and clattering on the surface of the 
water in the tuck-net. Half a dozen men are in the midst 
of them up to their knees in fish, handing them into the 
boats in baskets, and working for dear life. Everybody 
is giving orders at the top of his voice about everything, 
and nobody is obeying anybody, and so the work goes 
on until the coming tide stops them, and causes them to 
run the risk of the escape of the fish before the next low 
water. Most of the fish thus caught are salted for 
export, but many find their way through the locality of 
their capture in the cowels or baskets exhibited on our 
Cornwall stall, and which are worn in the picturesque 
way shown in the lithograph also exhibited there. A 
strong woman can carry i cwt. of fish in the way shown, 
and for miles. 
But the waving of a huer’s bushes has a very curious 
effect on any fishing village which happens to get sight, or 
news of it. To the stranger it would appear that the whole 
population of the place had suddenly gone lunatic. Every 
available man, woman and child turns out and rushes 
violently down the steep cliff to the sea shouting “ heva! 
heva ! ” Whence the word is derived, we do not know ; but 
it is the signal that shoaling fish are in sight, and that the 
population must turn out to be ready to receive them, for 
all this fish-work requires to be done with the utmost 
dispatch. 
A very curious thing, and entirely inexplicable, about 
these shoaling pilchards, is that at uncertain periods they 
shift their course for years together. For instance, fifty 
years ago, St. Ives on our North coast had almost a 
monopoly of the shoaling pilchard ; now she divides with 
