if anyone saw him walking with her. The workman of
the towns escorts his lover on Sunday afternoons, and is not ashamed;
but the fisher-folk never walk openly in couples.

Courtship is a very unpoetic affair with them. No one ever heard a
fisher use such a word as "love:" he would not consider himself a man if
he once learned such a fragment of "Massingem." If by any chance the
village grows crowded and some of the young men have to go southward to
the seaports, then those who return may bring sailor-like ways with
them; but the natives always remain hard and undemonstrative.

It is difficult to say when the fisher-lad is considered to have reached
man's estate. A good deal depends on his physical development. The work
to be done at sea is so very heavy that only a very powerful fellow can
perform it. It sometimes happens that a very strong lad of eighteen can
do a "man's turn;" but usually a fisherman must be thoroughly "set"
before he is counted as one of the elect. He then begins to think of
marriage, and his long Sunday evening journeys become frequent. He must
marry a fisher-girl; for if he chooses a hind's daughter he is as badly
off as a one-armed man. The work done by the fisher-women needs long and
special training: the baiting of lines is a delicate and subtle
operation, while the business of seeking bait is one which no
country-woman ever learns properly. Moreover, a country girl who has
been used to wearing long dresses and shoes can never take kindly to
bare feet and brief petticoats: the cold and exposure are too much for
her. A fisherman who marries a girl from inland is considered to have
wrecked his chances in life, and the gossips bewail his fate. He is shut
off from social intercourse; for his wife, even though she may have
lived within two miles of the sea, cannot meet the clannish fishers on
equal terms. If, however, the fisherman marries according to natural
law, he and his wife begin their partnership without any of the
frivolities of wedding trips and such like. The girl settles down
quickly; and in a week she is baiting lines in the stone-floored
kitchen, or tramping inland with her great fish basket slung round her
forehead. She bows her strong figure under her burden, and the great pad
which prevents the rope from cutting her brow looks like a strange
head-dress. Her husband is too secretive to exhibit any pride, but he is
satisfied with his helpmate.

The fisherman has no amusements. In the