t in. There are a good many rocks--the water dashes over them
finely when the tide is high and the sea rough. I got rather stiff
sitting still and walked about a little on the hard beach and talked to
the fishermen. They were looking on amused and indulgently at our
amateurs, and said there were plenty of fish of all kinds _if_ one knew
how to take them. They said they made very good hauls with their nets in
certain seasons--that lots of fish came in with the tide and got
stranded, couldn't get back through the nets. One of them had two
enormous crabs in his baskets, which I bought at once, and we brought
them home in the bottom of the auto wrapped up in _very thick_ paper, as
they were still alive and could give a nasty pinch, the man said.

About five, I thought I made out my party more distinctly; their faces
were turned homeward, so I went to meet them as far as the dry sand
lasted. I had a very long walk as the tide was at its lowest. They came
back very slowly, stopping at all the little pools and poking their nets
under the rocks to get what they could. They had made a very fair basket
of really big shrimps, were very wet, very hungry, and very pleased with
their performance.

We had very good tea and excellent bread and butter at the hotel. They
gave us a table on the piazza in the sun which finished drying the
garments of the party. I fancy they had gone in deeper than they
thought. However, salt water never gives cold and nobody was any the
worse for the wetting. The woman of the hotel said we ought to go to see
a fisherman's hut, on the top of the cliff near the lighthouse, before
we went back. The same family of fishermen had lived there for
generations, and it was a marvel how any one _could_ live in such a
place. We could find our way very easily as the path was marked by white
stones. So we climbed up the cliff and a few minutes' walk brought us to
one of the most wretched habitations I have ever seen: a little low
stone hut, built so close to the edge of the cliff one would think a
violent storm must blow it over--no windows--a primitive chimney, hardly
more than a hole in the roof--a little low door that one had to stoop to
pass through, one room, dark and cold--the floor of beaten earth, damp
and uneven, almost in ruts. There were two beds, a table, two chairs,
and a stove--nondescript garments hanging on the walls--a woman with a
baby was sitting at the table--another child on the floor--both
miserab