le beast and carry it off to put an
end to it mercifully. He does not put it back in the water, because
seals do much mischief in breaking the nets. The Indian children don't
mean to be cruel, but they have no imagination.

Then we go on a voyage of inspection all round the place. We saw the
fish when they were first landed from the nets, and the next proceeding
is when they are slit open by the Indian women, who cut off their heads
and tails and throw them into vats of salt and water. After this they
are fished out and chopped into round pieces to fit the tins. This is
done by Chinamen, who get so clever at it that they can judge exactly
how much to put into each tin to make just one pound weight; the tins
are weighed as they pass on, and all those not right are sent back to be
done again. The tins which pass the test roll down an inclined shute.
Look at them, one after the other, exactly as if they were alive! As
they run they roll in soldering stuff, so that their lids are sealed on
the way. But they have many other processes to go through before they
can be shipped off. Immense care is taken to get all the air out of the
tin, because if any were left in the fish would go bad. They are tried
and tested time after time at every stage. The salmon is cooked when
already in the tin, and the heating is so severe that all the bone
becomes soft too. You know this well in tinned salmon, don't you? You
know, too, the look of the tins, with their gaudy-coloured labels, as
they are sold in shops in England? These labels are stuck on after they
leave the cannery, which deals with the insides, not the outsides, of
the tins. There is a sarcastic saying at the canneries, "Eat what you
can and can what you cannot," but this is not fair, for the very
greatest trouble is taken to ensure the fish being quite good. When all
is ready, sailing ships come and are loaded up and carry off the
season's catch to all parts of the world. And this is going on all along
the coast at many and many a cannery, day after day, week after week,
during the fishing season.

There is so much to see that when we leave the last shed the day is
almost gone. At that moment two Chinamen pass us carrying a pig
suspended from a pole by its four feet tied together. The poor little
beast is going to be killed, for the Chinese are very fond of pork.

When we sit on the verandah after dinner, trying vainly to keep off the
mosquitoes by smoking strong tobacco, we ar