g the boat, we made land on the low,
muddy flats. No house was in sight, and it was not until long after
dark that we two shivering masses of mud reached an isolated cabin in
the middle of a patch of the redeemed ground right in the centre of a
large bog. A miserably clad woman greeted us with a warm Irish
welcome. The house had only one room and accommodated the live-stock
as well as the family. A fine cow stood in one corner; a donkey tied
to the foot of the bed was patiently looking down into the face of the
baby. Father was in England harvesting. A couple of pigs lay under the
bed, and the floor space was still further encroached upon by a goodly
number of chickens, which were encouraged by the warmth of the peat
fire. They not only thought it their duty to emphasize our welcome,
but--misled by the firelight--were saluting the still far-off dawn.
The resultant emotions which we experienced during the night led us to
suggest that we might assist toward the erection of a cattle pen.
Before leaving, however, we were told, "Shure t' rint would be raised
in the fall," if such signs of prosperity as farm buildings greeted
the land agent's arrival.

The mouth of Loch Foyle, one of the most beautiful bays in Ireland,
gave us a fine return in fish. Especially I remember the magnificent
turbot which we took off the wild shore between the frowning basalt
cliffs of the Giant's Causeway, and the rough headlands of Loch
Swilly. We sold our fish in the historic town of Londonderry, where we
saw the old gun Mons Meg, which once so successfully roared for King
William, still in its place on the old battlements. By a packet
steamer plying to Glasgow, we despatched some of the catch to that
greedy market. At Loch Foyle there is a good expanse of sandy and mud
bottom which nurses quite a harvest of the sea, though--oddly
enough--close by off Rathlin Island is the only water over one hundred
fathoms deep until the Atlantic Basin is reached. The Irish Sea like
the North Sea is all shallow water. Crossing to the Isle of Man, we
delayed there only a short while, for those grounds are well known to
the Fleetwood trawlers, who supply so much fish to the dense
population of North Central England. We found little opportunity of
trawling off the west of Scotland, the ocean's bottom being in no way
suited to it. On reaching the Western Hebrides, however, we were once
more among many old friends. From Stornaway on the Isle of Lewis alone
some ni