the distinction of being recorded the sole victim of this historic battery.
As the weather had been favourable for fishing, the wharves on the channel beach presented a characteristic picture when we strolled one day to the little cove to watch the unloading of the dory fleet. The gleaming cod were tossed from the bottom of capacious motor-boats to platforms about the workers' benches. Women with white kerchiefs tied about their heads helped in the various processes and lightened the somewhat sombre scene with their banter. On adjacent wharves long tables were devoted to the dressing of the tiny caplin which "strike in" each June or July, burdening the breakers, and littering the shore with stranded fins so that buckets are filled by being merely dipped in the surf. Fried fresh they excel in tastiness the smelt or sardine. Salted and dried they are in demand in the delicate-eating shops of Paris at a sou apiece. Their preparation is mainly carried on by women, and by Breton beach-boys who come out to serve a year on shore before spending another two years on the Banks to complete their naval apprentice-ship.
Many of these boys speak the language of Brittany, which resembles English more than French. "Count for M'sieur and Madame," urged his employer of one who stood stockily in his sabots before a fish-laden table. When he complied, to the amusement of his nudging companions, we could
