rm a wall three quarters of a mile in
length, though sometimes they are much longer. The fish are not caught
by being encircled, but by running their heads through the meshes, where
they are held by the gills, which open in the water like the barbs of an
arrow, and consequently cannot be withdrawn; their bodies being larger
than the meshes, they thus remain hanging, unable to extricate
themselves.

At one end of this wall of nets a boat is secured, and drifts with the
tide. Here she remains until it is supposed that all the fish coming in
that direction have either passed by or been caught. The fishermen then
begin hauling in the net. The operation of hauling in nearly a mile of
net, perhaps full of fish, is no easy task, especially when there is a
"loppy" sea and the night is dark. This is, however, the most easy way
of catching pilchards, which can be pursued at nearly all times of the
year, for the fish swim about in small schools away from the shore, from
May until winter is well advanced, when the water becoming cool, they
return westwards to a warmer climate in the depths of the Atlantic. The
fishermen told us that the most propitious time for fishing is when
there is a loppy sea during a thick fog at night, as the pilchards do
not then perceive the nets in their way, and swimming against them, are
caught. When the water is transparent, the fish, perceiving the
luminous meshes, swim aside and escape. This appearance is called
brimming. As it rarely occurs during twilight, the fishermen choose
that time for shooting their nets, and wait until dawn before hauling
them again into their boats.

We could learn nothing about the natural history of pilchards; the
fishermen did not appear to trouble their heads on the matter. Some
said that they went away to far off regions during February, March, and
April, to deposit their spawn; others, that they went in search of food;
but where they went to, none of them could venture to suggest.

As we wished to get to Penzance before dark, should a breeze spring up,
we returned on board. Sailing along very close to the coast, we came
off Helston, situated on the inner side of a curious lagoon, separated
from the sea by a narrow spit of sand. Occasionally, in rainy seasons,
when the streams which run into the lagoon cause the water to rise to an
inconvenient height, so as to flood the shores, a narrow channel is cut
in the spit; and the water rushing through it at trem