The fish that have been caught and brought on shore are taken to the cellars. Fish cellars are usually dug out of the rock, and in them the pilchards are deposited in heaps, to be cured by the women, who work at this night and day. The cellar floor is covered with a layer of salt for the distance of five or six feet from the walls, and on this is laid a row of fish with their tails touching the wall; then next to these is laid another row, and so on in concentric rings, till a sufficient space is paved with fish. On this foundation is laid more salt, and then more fish, and this process is continued till the pile is complete and the cellar is stacked with fish. They are now said to be “in bulk,” and so are suffered to remain for some weeks, during which time boards are placed on them with stones, so as to squeeze out of them all superfluous water and oil. The process of salting completed, the fish are packed in barrels, and are sent away to market. After July or August the pilchards leave the coast, and do not reappear until the end of October or the beginning of November. They now appear in the Bristol Channel, and come down towards Land’s End, which they turn and follow the south coast of Cornwall, and then disappear. Formerly pilchards were smoked, and went by the name of _fumadoes_. The name clung to them after the smoking was abandoned, and _fumadoes_ is now corrupted into “fair maids.” There is a song of the pilchard fishery which is sung by the boatmen. I know of it but three verses, and I doubt if there be more. “The cry is, ‘All up! Let us all haste away! And like hearty good fellows we’ll row through the bay. Haul away, my young men! Pull away, my old blades! For the county gives bounty For the pilchard trades.’ “’T is the silver ‘fair maids’ that cause such a strife ’Twixt the master-seiner and his drunken wife. Haul away, etc. “She throwed away her fiddles (?) and burnt all her thread, And she turn’d him out o’ doors for the good of the trade. Haul away,” etc. The churches of the Land’s End district are not remarkably fine. They are not, however, without interest. The finest is that of S. Burian, about whom first of all a word or two. Buriena was an Irish damsel, noted for being both slender and beautiful. In fact, her willowy form obtained for her the nickname of Caol, or “the Slim.” She was a daughter of one Crimthan, “the Fox,” a Munster chieftain, a granddaughter of Aengus, King of Munster, who was baptised by S. Patrick, on which occasion the apostle ran the spike at the end of the pastoral staff into the foot of the king. Afterwards, when S. Patrick saw the wound and the blood, he was shocked, and said, “Why the dickens did you not tell me of it?” “I thought it was part of the ceremony,” replied Aengus.