revenue therefrom for the maintenance of a free school. Until well up to the middle of the next century the catching of mackerel, bass, cod, and herring, duly regulated, was conducted from shore by seines, weirs, pounds, and “fykes.” And then men put to sea for voyages to the Banks, and prospered. And in 1850, when codfishing was at its height, more than half the capital invested in it by Massachusetts came from the Cape. The deep-sea voyaging of the clipper ship era has been dead these sixty years, but still fishermen from the Cape, though in smaller numbers now, join up for a cruise to the Banks. They are more frequently swarthy newcomers from Cape Verde and the Azores than the English stock of the early nineteenth century when the Reverend Mr. Damon, of Truro, surveying with delight the arrival of a fleet of four or five hundred mackerel schooners, cautiously modified his emotion and exclaimed: “I should think there must be seventy-five vessels! I never saw such a beautiful sight!” And it was good Mr. Damon, perplexed in his petition for fair winds, whether men should be sailing north or south, who thus trimmed ship: “We pray thee, O Lord, that thou wilt watch over our mariners that go down to do business upon the mighty deep, keep them in the hollow of thy hand; and we pray thee that thou wilt send a side-wind, so that their vessels may pass and repass.” [Illustration: THE FISH-HOUSE] Mr. Rich gives a lively description of the old fishing days, when “all Yankees fished with hand-lines from the vessel.” “The model fisherman keeps his craft snug and taut. He has tested her temper and strength through storm and calm. He will defend her sea-going and fast-sailing almost with his life. A larger fleet and finer manœuvring have never been seen than in a fleet of fishermen. Sometimes three or four hundred sail, from forty to perhaps one hundred and forty tons, all sea-going, well equipped and well-manned, haul aft their sheets in a freshening breeze to reach a windward harbor. Codfishing on the Banks was considered tough work. The boy who could graduate from that school with full honors, could take care of himself; fight his own battles. It was kill or cure; few, however, were killed; he was sure to come home hale and hearty.” But sometimes the fare ran short on a long cruise, and the staple bean soup grew thin. “What in creation are you doing?” a skipper asked a little Dutch sailor who was peeling off his jacket as he surveyed the scanty meal. “Tive for the bean, by Cot,” answered Dutchy. “Going to the Grand Bank meant leaving home in April for a three to five months’ trip, with no communication till the return. It meant besides the usual sea casualties, to be shut up in the fog, exposed to icebergs and cut off from the world as if alone on the planet. Do not imagine, however, that these men felt they were prisoners, or even dreamed of being unhappy. It was their business and they were more happy