odings are indispensable when fishing
for flathead, else the fish invariably severs the line with his fine
needle-pointed teeth, which are set very closely together. Nothing comes
amiss to them as food; but they have a great love for small mullet or
whiting, or a piece of octopus tentacle.

Baiting our heavy lines with mullet--two hooks with brass-wire snoods to
each line--we throw out about thirty yards, then, leaving two or three
fathoms loose upon the shore, we each thrust a stick firmly into the
sand, and take a turn of the line round it. As the largest flathead
invariably darts upon the bait, and then makes a bolt with it, this plan
is a good one to follow, unless, of course, they are biting freely; in
that case the smaller lines for bream and whiting, etc., are hauled in,
for there is more real sport in landing a 10-lb. flathead than there is
in catching smaller fish, for he is very game, and fights fiercely for
his life.

Having disposed our big lines, we bait the smaller ones with 'pippies,'
and not two minutes at the outside elapse after the sinkers have touched
bottom when we know we are to have a good time, for each of us has
hooked a fish, and three whiting are kicking on the sand before five
minutes have expired. Then for another hour we throw out and haul in
again as quickly as possible, landing whiting from 6 oz. to nearly 2 lb.
weight. One of the 'Twins' has five hooks on his line, and occasionally
lands three fish together, and now and again we get small bream and
an occasional 'tailer' of 2 lb. or 3 lb. As the sun mounts higher the
breeze dies away, the heat becomes very great, and we have frequent
recourse to our water jar--in one case mixing it with whisky. Then the
whiting cease to bite as suddenly as they have begun, and move off into
deeper water. Just as we are debating as to whether we shall take
the boat out into mid-stream, Twin Dick gives a yell, as his stick is
suddenly whipped out of the sand, and the loose line lying beside it
rushes away into the water. But Dick is an old hand, and lets his fish
have his first bolt, and then turns him. 'By jingo! sir, he's a big
fellow,' he cries, as he hauls in the line, now as taut as a telegraph
wire, and then the other twin comes to his aid, and in a few minutes the
outline of the fish is seen, coming in straight ahead, as quick as they
can pull him. When he is within ten feet of the beach the boys run up
the bank and land him safely, as he turns his