ple, he amused himself gaffing the salmon, which
he from time to time sent as presents to his friends; and even now, in
this season of dearth, many a well-filled hamper found its way up the
steep cliffs to be despatched to some remote corner of the kingdom.
It was on one of these days that an enormous fish--far too big for
any basket--was carefully encased in a matting, and sent off by the
Coleraine coach, labelled, "The largest ever gaffed at Port-na-Whapple."
Many an eye, half glazed with hunger, saw the fish, and gazed on the
superscription as it was sent into the village, and looks of ominous
meaning were cast over the deep cliffs towards the little cottage below.
The morning after this, while Sir Archibald's servant was at the post
for his letters, a boat rowed into the little cove, and some men, having
thrown out the anchor, waded ashore.

"What brings you here, fellows?" cried Sir Archy, haughtily, as he met
them on the beach.

"We are come to gaff a bigger fish than yours o' yesterday," said the
foremost, striking him on the forehead with the handle of the gaff;
and he passed the spear through his heart while he yet reeled under the
blow.

[Illustration: 092]

Notwithstanding the most active exertions of the Government of the day
and the local magistrature, the authors of the foul deed were never
discovered, and although there could be no doubt they were well known
to a large population, none betrayed them. More strange still, from that
day and hour not a fish was ever taken at Port-na-Whapple!

The property had fallen into Chancery, and, the interests of the
claimants not being very closely guarded, the fishermen were again at
liberty to fish wherever they pleased. The privilege was of no
value; the fish had deserted the spot, and even when they swarmed at
Carrig-a-rede, and all along the shore, not one ever was taken there!
That the place was deemed "uncannie," and that none frequented it, need
not cause any wonder, and so the little cottage fell into ruin, the
boat-house was undermined by the sea and carried away, and even of the
little boat-pier only a few bare piles now remained to mark the place,
when at length there arrived, from Dublin, a doctor to take charge of
the Ball in-tray Dispensary, and, not being able to find a habitable
spot in the village, he was fain to put the old cottage in repair,
little influenced by the superstition that attached to the unholy place.

He was an elderly man, whose