There Were Many Boats Here And
There Lying On The Sandy Shore, Or Anchored Out In The Lake.
These
fishermen had no boats; they had waded out waist-deep, and stood fishing
in the water dressed in their shirts.
As the fishing is strictly
monopolized, I should not wonder if these breekless, boatless fishermen
were poaching.
The quantum of fish in the waters, the scarcity of fish on the shore is
often referred to as a proof of the people's laziness. The fishing is so
severely monopolized that fish diet and fishing are to the people almost
lost arts. I heard of the delicious oysters found on the coast, but one
would require to go to England or Dublin to test their flavor. Lobsters
could be purchased in their season at Montreal, but not at the seaports
in Mayo. I asked for a bit of fish at Castlebar, where I remained some
time, and once succeeded in buying a small herring, for which I paid 2
1/2 pence.
To return to Pontoon; we stood on the bridge in the sunlight and drank
in the scene - broad blue waters, spotted with islands, guarded by the
munitions of rocks, watched over by the eternal mountains, bald and
wrinkled, every wrinkle scored deep on their brows, heather on the
cliffs, ivy creeping some places, ferns waving their delicate fronds in
another; bare, desolate grandeur here, tree-crowned hill tops waving
their magnificence before you there. This was the scene spread out on
either hand.
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