Digby 
handiest way of disposing of the garment until 
needed. Yet these thin, gray, misshapen 
spectres have an incredible amount of good meat 
packed under their shrivelled skins, and they 
bring in many thousands of dollars to the 
industrious fisher-folk. 
Nor, while we are upon the subject, is dried 
fish the sailor's only revenue from the prodigal 
cod. Upon the decks of the ships are great 
odorous vats full of livers from which the sun's 
rays are economically extracting the oil. 
Fish oil once encountered is very lasting, and 
is not readily forgotten — or forgiven. The 
cod-liver oil of the apothecary is a fragrant 
delicacy compared to the contents of the vats 
as they come frothing in from the fishing 
grounds. 
Then there are the "sounds," as the sailors 
call the swim-bladders. They too are saved, 
and having been dried in the sun go to the 
manufacturer to come forth as gelatin, or 
perchance as glue. " Fried fresh sounds and 
cods' tongues " form a delicacy highly prized 
by the fisher-folk and not to be scorned by the 
discriminating stranger. 
The sounds are sent to the United States^ 
13 
