e cockney who gets in the clutches of a pair of plyers of
this sort, for he becomes as fixed as if he were actually in a vice,
frequently making a virtue of necessity, and stepping on board, when he
had much better stroll on land.

Away he goes, on the wings of the wind, like--a gull! Should he be a
knave, it may probably be of infinite service to society, for he is
likely ever afterwards to forswear craft of any kind!

Donkies too abound, as they do in most watering placesand, oh! what a
many asses have we seen mounted, trotting along the beach and cliffs!

The insinuating address of the boatmen is, however, irresistible; and if
they cannot induce you to make a sail to catch the wind, they will set
forth, in all the glowing colors of a dying dolphin, the pleasurable
sport of catching fish!

They tell you of a gentleman, who, "the other day, pulled up, in a single
hour, I don't know how many fish, weighing I don't know how much." And
thus baited, some unwise gentleman unfortunately nibbles, and he is
caught. A bargain is struck, 'the boat is on the shore,' the lines and
hooks are displayed, and the victim steps in, scarcely conscious of what
he is about, but full well knowing that he is going to sea!

They put out to sea, and casting their baited hooks, the experienced
fisherman soon pulls up a fine lively whiting.

"Ecod!" exclaims the cockney, with dilated optics, "this is fine--why
that 'ere fish is worth a matter of a shilling in London--Do tell me how
you cotched him."

"With a hook!" replied the boatman.

"To be sure you did--but why did'nt he bite mine?"

"'Cause he came t'other side, I s'pose."

"Vell, let me try that side then," cries the tyro, and carefully changes
his position.--"Dear me, this here boat o'yourn wobbles about rayther,
mister."

"Nothing, sir, at all; it's only the motion of the water."

"I don't like it, tho'; I can tell you, it makes me feel all over
somehow."

"It will go off, sir, in time; there's another," and he pulls in another
wriggling fish, and casts him at the bottom of the boat. "Well, that's
plaguey tiresome, any how--two! and I've cotched nothin' yet--how do you
do it?"

"Just so--throw in your hook, and bide a bit--and you'll be sure, sir, to
feel when there's any thing on your hook; don't you feel any thing yet?"

"Why, yes, I feels werry unwell!" cries the landsman; and, bringing up
his hook and bait, requests the good-natured boatman to pull for shore,
'l