rom the modest
little sloop with one mast and small sail to the big steam trawlers
which are increasing every year and gradually replacing the
old-fashioned sailing-boat. One always knows when the fishing-boats are
arriving by the crowd that assembles on the quay; that peculiar
population that seems natural to all ports, young, able-bodied sailors,
full of interest about the run and the cargo--old men in blue jerseys
who sit on the wall, in the sun, all day, and recount their
experiences--various officials with gold bands on their caps, men with
hand carts waiting to carry off the fish and fishwives--their baskets
strapped on their backs--hoping for a haul of crabs and shrimps or fish
from some of the small boats.

_All_ the cargo of the trawlers is sold before they arrive to the
marieurs (men who deal exclusively in fish), and who have a contract
with the big boats. There is no possibility of having a good fish except
at the Halles, where one can sometimes get some from one of the smaller
boats, which fish on their own account and have no contract; but even
those are generally sold at once to small dealers, who send them off to
the neighbouring inland towns. In fact, the proprietor of one of the
big hotels told me he had to get his fish from Paris and paid Paris
prices.

The fishwives, the young ones particularly, are a fine-looking
lot--tall, straight, with feet and legs bare, a little white cap or
woollen fichu on their heads--they carry off their heavy baskets as
lightly as possible, taking them to the Halles where all the fish must
go. They are quite a feature of Boulogne, the young fishwives. One sees
them often at low tide--fishing for shrimps, carrying their heavy nets
on their shoulders and flat baskets strapped on their backs into which
they tip the fish very cleverly. They are quite distinct from the
Boulonaises matelottes, who are a step higher in the social scale.
_They_ always wear a wonderful white cap with a high starched frill
which stands out around their faces like an aureole. They, too, wear
short full skirts, but have long stockings and very good stout
_shoes_--not sabots--which are also disappearing. They turn out very
well on Sundays. I saw a lot of them the other day coming out of
church--all with their caps scrupulously clean--short, full, black or
brown skirts; aprons ironed in a curious way--_across_ the apron--making
little waves (our maids couldn't think what had happened to their white
a