damme, none the less because you are, and not de Beaujeu at all.

But Mr. Wharton, looking after Beaujeu as he strode away from the door, spake to himself: "Now I am passably a rogue; but you

M. de Beaujeu found Mr. Healy The Monthly Review.

waiting for him. Mr. Healy yawned, and, "Has the fish bit?" said he.

"Bah," says Beaujeu, "'tis a mere philanthrope."

"You would be well matched," said Mr. Healy.

H. C. Bailey.

The Premier was beating out against a heavy sea towards Horse Island, the headquarters of the fishing-fleet during the season. It was very like crossing the English Channel. The ship seemed to try to stand on her head, and then to sit down hard on her rudder, then she would roll over till you thought she was gunwale under, andjust as you were bracing yourself for the counter-roll-she would give another jerk to show you that there were yet a few inches to spare. The chairs were tobogganing along the decks on their backs, and some of the passengers were progressing down the saloon on all-fours. One of the men who had crossed the Atlantic was hanging on to a stanchion, and announcing with unnecessary ostentation that he was "going to enjoy this immensely"; the captain was holding a small girl upside down over the rail; and an English girl had rescued a baby from a very sea-sick mother and was crooning over it on a sofa. The rain was drenching down in furious gusts, and the throbbing of the racing screw, as the stern lifted clean out of water, seemed to vibrate through her every plank. Byand-by the man who was going to enjoy himself immensely turned a sort of pale green, and announced that he really believed that..." and the aposiopesis that ensued proved that his prognosis was correct. The only accessible shelter was the steward's pantry, which I

managed to reach by a series of short tacks, and there sat down under the plate-rack, expecting momentarily to be buried under an avalanche of falling crockery.

In less than an hour and a half it was all over, and we were resting quietly in a sort of atoll harbor at the north-western extremity of Horse Island, The two little fishing-fleets were nestling under the Chieftain and the Fisherman, their respective tugs, for nobody had ventured out to-day; the gray-backed gulls were circling and craking and chattering overhead; and the passengers reappeared, looking green but cheerful, and pretending that they weren't so very sick after all.

The harbor itself was almost a circle, with a small segment missing at the mouth. One-half of it consisted of a narrow curve of shingle washed up by the waves; at the outermost point a few scrubby bushes appeared to be growing out of the bare stones. The other half was mainland, mostly covered with spruce, having a wide clearing in front dotted over with Indian teepees, tents, and a dozen or so wooden houses occupied by the white population of the Island. Along the water's edge were great piles of cordwood, and huge reels for drying the nets; and under the lee of every teepee and every tent and every house was a fringe of "husky" dogs. One, the prop

"Zounds, how can I tell?" said Mr. Wharton.

I

"Pardon. It is then pure love, your affair with my Lady Sunderland. had forgot that it might be." His light blue eyes were wide and innocent as Mr. Wharton stared at them. After a moment Wharton laughed.

"Did you say you were the devil?" said he.

"I was born too late. The part had been filled. No. Pray, Mr. Wharton, counsel your dear lady to cut the brass 'S' from her bridoon. "Tis eloquent. And less charitable minds than mine own might misjudge rendezvous with Mr. Wharton even in the chaste mud of Turnham Green. But let me admire your political foresight. Faith, I am a novice beside you."

Mr. Wharton looked him between the eyes. "So you was with Jack last night?" Beaujeu nodded. "And you'd not have known me from Adam by yourself?"

"Alas, Mr. Wharton, I was so sadly ignorant." M. de Beaujeu smiled.

"Jack's tongue waggles damnably," growled Mr. Wharton.

"But it has given me now the excuse to ask-pray where does my Lord Sunderland stand?"

"He will keep Black James as quiet as he can. He has all to lose by a rising and devil a penny to gain. So he is for peace and quietness. What did you expect?"

"Just that," said Beaujeu with a shrug. "Bien, there are always the Jesuits. They will make our James meddle with the Church, and then we'll not hear the parson preach his right divine to cut us in quarters." He

ton walked away to the window, drew back the curtain, flung open the casement, and stood in the cool wind looking out at the night.

"I'll have no answer for you," he said at last.

"And do you love your good King so?" Beaujeu sneered. Mr. Wharton swung round.

"No, by God!" he cried. "My hate is as good as yours, M. de Beaujeu, but I would have no man hang for my private hates."

"Faith, we can take heed to ourselves. We

"Ay, we can play our game, and bolt betimes if we are like to lose. We are mighty fine-we that cock our hats in town-but we are not England." He caught the surprised arm of. M. de Beaujeu and dragged him to the window, and pointing through the moonlight to the meadows and the fragrant tilth and the ricks and houses looming lonely and dark far out beyond the town, "Look! that is England," he cried, "that

"Where the buttercups grow and the bumpkins," said Beaujeu sneering. "You affection them, Mr. Wharton ?" Mr. Wharton turned to face him.

"I'll not have one brisk lad of the shires get his silly neck broke for me. And there's your answer, M. de Beaujeu." Beaujeu stood a moment with the sneer on his lip. Then he smiled.

""Tis so in fact," said he. "We differ a little. 'Tis my desire to let nought hamper my hate for King James. A bequest of my father, Mr. Wharton, you understand? With you other things weigh. But I am myself the last man in the world to be rash, Mr. Wharton. Did I say that my present motto was 'wait'? May I hope, therefore, that we shall rest friends?"

"To a friend of Harry Sidney, Tom Wharton's a friend," said Wharton. "I am yours, M. de Beaujeu-and,

damme, none the less because you are, and not de Beaujeu at all.

But Mr. Wharton, looking after Beaujeu as he strode away from the door, spake to himself: "Now I am passably a rogue; but you!" M. de Beaujeu found Mr. Healy The Monthly Review.

waiting for him. Mr. Healy yawned, and, "Has the fish bit?" said he. "Bah," says Beaujeu, "'tis a mere philanthrope."

"You would be well matched," said Mr. Healy.

H. C. Bailey.

The Premier was beating out against a heavy sea towards Horse Island, the headquarters of the fishing-fleet during the season. It was very like crossing the English Channel. The ship seemed to try to stand on her head, and then to sit down hard on her rudder, then she would roll over till you thought she was gunwale under, andjust as you were bracing yourself for the counter-roll-she would give another jerk to show you that there were yet a few inches to spare. The chairs were tobogganing along the decks on their backs, and some of the passengers were progressing down the saloon on all-fours. One of the men who had crossed the Atlantic was hanging on to a stanchion, and announcing with unnecessary ostentation that he was "going to enjoy this immensely"; the captain was holding a small girl upside down over the rail; and an English girl had rescued a baby from a very sea-sick mother and was crooning over it on a sofa. The rain was drenching down in furious gusts, and the throbbing of the racing screw, as the stern lifted clean out of water, seemed to vibrate through her every plank. Byand-by the man who was going to enjoy himself immensely turned a sort of pale green, and announced that he really believed that..." and the aposiopesis that ensued proved that his prognosis was correct. The only accessible shelter was the steward's pantry, which I

managed to reach by a series of short tacks, and there sat down under the plate-rack, expecting momentarily to be buried under an avalanche of falling crockery.

In less than an hour and a half it was all over, and we were resting quietly in a sort of atoll harbor at the north-western extremity of Horse Island, The two little fishing-fleets were nestling under the Chieftain and the Fisherman, their respective tugs, for nobody had ventured out to-day; the gray-backed gulls were circling and craking and chattering overhead; and the passengers reappeared, looking green but cheerful, and pretending that they weren't so very sick after all.

The harbor itself was almost a circle, with a small segment missing at the mouth. One-half of it consisted of a narrow curve of shingle washed up by the waves; at the outermost point a few scrubby bushes appeared to be growing out of the bare stones. The other half was mainland, mostly covered with spruce, having a wide clearing in front dotted over with Indian teepees, tents, and a dozen or so wooden houses occupied by the white population of the Island. Along the water's edge were great piles of cordwood, and huge reels for drying the nets; and under the lee of every teepee and every tent and every house was a fringe of "husky" dogs. One, the prop

had been and deer

erty of the Hudson's Bay Company, was pointed out to me as a pure-bred Esquimaux; the others crossed with sheep-dogs hounds and coyotes - at least they looked like it, anything that was big enough to pull a load and hardy enough to stand the cold. They were black and white and gray and yellow and red and badger-pied; but there was a strong family resemblance running through the entire pack, especially about the head. The fishermen, Indians mostly, were down at the dock preparing to start that night. The rain was still pouring down steadily; and on the lake outside were racing white horses, whose manes somehow seemed to me less thick and spumy than those of breakers at sea.

Then the manager of the Fish Company invited me to stop over and spend the day on the Chieftain with the fishing-fleet, adding that the Fisherman had to make another trip to Grand Rapids to collect the sturgeon catch, and would be back in time for the next steamer at Horse Island; and the Hudson's Bay officer promised to provide a couple of good Indian canoe-men to shoot the rapids; and a fellow-passenger agreed that the chance was too good to lose, so we carried our "dunnage" ashore and threaded our way through huskies and stumps of felled trees to an unoccupied shack, where we turned in about nine o'clock.

At two in the morning Norman Mackenzie, a grizzled old Orkneyman, rapped hard on the window and shouted

"Get up, and see what good luck we'll get, if we haff shentlemans with us." And an hour or so later we were steaming out into the faint gold of the rising sun, on a calm unruffled sel We towed four white-hulled masted, schooner-rigged fishing-bo two on each side, that looked l brood of water-fowl paddl

their mother. As the breeze freshened they began to curtsey up and down, with two great wings of spray arching away from their bows; the sails were lowered, and the men were asleep in the stern; from the funnel of the steamer rose a thin glassy vapor, but no smoke, for we were burning green birch logs; and the land behind us faded away into a smudgy blue line. By half-past five the cook was parading the deck and ringing a hand-bell. and two minutes later we were overeating ourselves down below.

We ran fifty miles before we picked up the net-buoys, for the fish move farther and farther out into the lake as the shallow water grows warmer and then we dropped boat after bost and finally stopped alongside a Br dingnagian fishing-float, with a bac and white flag flying from th The crew had been busy arm boxes, three feet by two an inches deep, on the forwar couple of planks stretche a gunwale to gunwale har en bows into a sort of wei receptacle for the “eulr”were drowned in the bis" that are often su herring, and are o ter; the jackfis 1as "dogfish.” ered-finned SUCEST glittering 1 when w the bow 2 five tho (ATTH.

JE

half-dead fish that fall from the net occasionally; and big, gray-backed gulls were paddling up to the refuse, and pecking, and fighting, and gorging. The net was hauled into a big wooden tray, and the fish stripped there; in the case of a bad tangle, the man would grab the head in his teeth and clean off the meshes with both hands. There was a dead, pale, wan glimmer under the green water, flashing into an ascending cataract of silver as the fish rose from the surface, for we had a two days' "lift" to make, and, by the way, were only earning one cent per head instead of the three paid for a fresh-caught haul-for fish that have been long in the net, or much knocked about, get soft quickly, and won't stand packing. The whitefish average from 2 lb. to 3 lb., dressed. Behind us the bare masts of the fishing-boats were rocking to and fro, and above them the gulls would wheel, and check, and drop like plummets near where some big fish was flapping on the surface of the water like a wounded bird. Then the gull would circle round him like a prizefighter watching for an opening, swim in suddenly and deal a savage peck, and then fly away, to be followed by another and another.

The crew were a queer mixture: there was one, Isaac, who bore a striking resemblance to the late Earl of Beaconsfield, if you can imagine the latter with his face dyed to the color of a Red Indian and his body clad in yellow oilskins, sou'wester and all. Whenever a big fish would slant down from the rising net and slide into the water like a gleaming red arrow, the skipper from the bridge would yell out, "Fish, Isaac!" and Isaac would drop his work hurriedly, seize the gaff or the landing-net, and retrieve his quarry, or grin sheepishly if he missed him. The white-fish, as they dropped fresh into the boxes, looked diaphanous and semi

opalescent, turning to a metallic lustre as they gasped out their lives in the sun; occasionally they would utter a sort of squeaky chuckle. The men worked silently after a time. The lake was quite still: you could hear plainly the ticking of the clock in the pilothouse, punctuated by a greasy slap, as a big fish was flung down into the scaly deep, or the fat, slippery flip-flap of a struggling victim in the boxes; the sailing-boats had gradually drifted farther and farther away to the sky-line. At noon the boxes had begun to fill up; the cook appeared with a sharp hook and helped himself, dancing a few steps of a hornpipe as he spotted a particularly fine specimen for the crew's dinner. The nets were divided into twelve or fourteen lengths, and between each length were big stones used as sinkers; these were unfastened and laid aside, and the nets themselves folded into trays and hurriedly. slid away down to the stern.

By one o'clock we have half of them in, and are heading due north: we can just see Mossy Point on the farther shore through the glasses; elsewhere is open water. The fish are coming in "in bunches," and the men are getting a little slacker. I am sitting in the stern, with the sun beating on my back; an enormous spider is racing over the deck at my feet in short, hiccuppy spurts; the net trays, with their wooden floats, look like huge dishes of Bologna sausages; fish scales are rained about everywhere, like shining discs of tin foil, and a bickering covey of gulls is riding astern. The men cannot leave their nets, and therefore have to dine in relays. One of them, who has just appeared from below, makes a sudden rush at the landing-net, and springs to the side, planting one foot firmly in the middle of a box of fish. Wherefore the "Chief" hurls an evil clayey-looking monster, called a "mudpork," with deadly aim, landing him