MACKEREL TROLLING.
I HAVE grown up by the sea—from my earliest childhood I have wandered about between the skerries, the breakers, and the cliffs. There are smart sailors in my native place, and no wonder, for they begin early. No sooner have the children learnt to walk than they, the first thing in the morning, with nothing on but their shirt, must climb up on the nearest rock or knoll to have a look at the weather or the sea; if the weather is calm, they put their finger into their mouths and hold it up in the air to feel if there is any air stirring, and whence it comes. As soon as they can handle an oar they are out in boats, and before long they are playing with the dangers of the sea among the breakers. In my youth I used often to go to sea with a pilot from those parts, one of the finest seamen I have known. The happy times I spent with him belong to my
