French River 
yielding great store of codfish to Sandy and 
his fishermen. 
There is a wide and slightly rolling meadow 
to be crossed before the house is reached, and 
this meadow, when we passed that way, had 
been given a recent top-dressing of fish-heads, 
which sent forth a mighty odour. As the 
house was approached, however, the fish-heads 
were left behind, and the strong, clean winds 
from the sea drove the stench landward, leaving 
about the McDonald habitation only its legiti- 
mate odours of fresh and drying fish. 
Fish is the keynote to life at Sandy Mc- 
Donald's. There is fish everywhere about the 
place ; indeed, man himself seems a subordi- 
nate work of nature, created for the purpose 
of catching and curing fish. 
The house stands on the top of the bluff 
and down below are fish in all stages of prepa- 
ration. Down there, too, are the buildings 
where the fish are salted and laid in piles to 
await their turn on the flakes. 
These dark-hued old fish-huts, with their 
briny odours and weather-worn aspect, give one 
the feeling that they have grown there like 
barnacles on the bank. They stand with their 
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