of small vessels instead of open boats the codfishery of Iceland may be enormously and profitably increased and developed. But besides this, there are many other matters connected with the fishery which are capable of vast improvement. Although salt fish will doubtless always remain the chief and most suitable form for export, there seems to be no reason why some of the fish should not be sent fresh to the English markets, either alive in welled vessels, or, what is evidently more practicable, frozen, packed in ice, or in refrigerators. The export of fresh cod and halibut in ice from the Faroes to England has already been commenced; and a similar experiment is likely soon to be tried in Iceland. The latter country has the advantage that there the necessary ice can be obtained on the spot at little cost, while it must be imported to the Faroes at considerable expense; and as Iceland is only three and a half days' direct steaming from the United Kingdom, the distance offers no great obstacle. Something might also be done in the way of smoking and kippering the fish. It is the more desirable that a new market for Iceland fish should be opened up, as the increasing importation of salt cod from France to Spain is somewhat affecting the export from Iceland to the Spanish market.

Besides the fish themselves, the other products of the fishery could be worked up to much greater advantage than is done at present. By more skilful treatment and the use of better apparatus, a purer and more valuable quality of oil, as well as a larger quantity, could be obtained from the livers; while the bones and other refuse might be made into a valuable manure, as they are in Norway, Newfoundland, Shetland, and elsewhere.

Altogether, the Iceland cod-fishery presents a fine opening for foreign enterprise and capital. | The natives have neither the means nor the energy necessary for its proper development. As an example of their backwardness in this respect, it may be mentioned that Iceland was practically unrepresented at the Fisheries Exhibition in London. It is from abroad, and preferably from England, that the impulse and the means must come; and if properly applied, they will not fail to yield a rich return to the investors, and at the same time confer a great and lasting benefit on the country.

The herring-fishery on the coasts of Iceland may be said as yet to be only in its infancy; but we do not enter upon the subject here, as we have already had an article dealing with it (Nov. 4, 1882).

ten men. The usual fishing season is from January or February till August. During the winter months, the sharks frequent shallower waters, and are found about twenty miles from land, in fifty fathoms of water or thereabouts; in summer, they seek deeper waters, and are caught one hundred miles or so off the coast in a depth of two hundred fathoms. It having been ascertained by sounding that the ship lies in water of a suitable depth, preferably with a sloping soft mud bottom, the vessel is anchored, and fishing commences. The hook used is twelve or eighteen inches long, baited with seal-blubber and horse-flesh, weighted with an eight-pound sinker, and attached by a couple of yards of strong chain to an inch and a half line. The hook is allowed to hang motionless about a couple of fathoms from the bottom. As a rule, the sharks are shy of taking the bait at first, and the fishers may wait long for their first bite; but once the sharks commence to take,' they crowd to the spot, and may be hooked in quick suc cession; they then take the bait greedily and with little caution.

It often happens that a shark which has slipped off the hook after being drawn up to the ship's side and harpooned, takes the bait again after a short interval, and is drawn up with the harpoons sticking in its body. As soon as the shark reaches the surface, harpoons and lances are struck into it and the spinal column cut. Large hooks are fixed into the body, and chains passed round it; and thus secured, it is cut open and the liver removed. Formerly, it was customary, after taking the livers, to fasten the bodies astern of the vessel, thus attracting other sharks to the surface, which were harpooned as they rose to feed on their dead comrades. Now, the bodies are generally cast loose after the liver has been removed; and sinking to the bottom, they attract other sharks to the spot, thus enabling the vessel to lie and fish for a longer time without changing its position. Some fishers, however, say that if the bodies are allowed to sink, the sharks which flock to the spot gorge themselves to such an extent on the carcases that they lie dormant and decline the bait for weeks afterwards. Whether this view be correct or not, it at least commands so much credence, that it has been proposed to forbid by law the slipping of dead sharks at sea, on the ground that doing so tends to spoil the fishing. This enactment, however, has not as yet passed into law, and it would prove very difficult to enforce it.

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complete, the shark is dug up, sometimes slightly pressed, to get rid of part of the juices, and then cut into long strips, which are hung up in the air, and sheltered from rain, until thoroughly wind-dried. The shark is then fit for use, and is esteemed a great delicacy by connoisseurs. It is not unpalatable, though somewhat highly flavoured; but generally its powerful odour deters the uninitiated from tasting it.

The livers are brought ashore and stored in vats till the solid matters have settled to the bottom; after which the more fluid portion is melted in iron pots over an open fire. The oil thus obtained is more or less dark-coloured, according to the degree of decomposition which the liver has suffered before melting, and the temperature to which it has been subjected. By this process the liver yields about two-thirds its bulk of a coarse and not very savoury oil. A shark-oil refinery can generally be detected by its odour at a considerable distance off. Of late years, refining by steam has come considerably into use, and the liver is taken as fresh as possible. By this means a finer, lighter-coloured, and less odorous oil is obtained, though the yield is less. The bodies, too, always contain a considerable quantity of oil, which could probably be extracted by pressure or other means, and the residual mass made into manure.

The crews of vessels engaged in shark-fishing are paid about fifty-five shillings a month, with a premium of sixpence per barrel of liver. The captain gets two shillings and threepence per barrel on the first hundred barrels of the season's catch, and three shillings and fourpence per barrel on the remainder.

Shark-fishing in the winter months is a somewhat dangerous pursuit, owing to the frequency of storms and the brief daylight. The decked vessels often encounter very rough weather, and have sometimes been lost, while open boats are naturally subjected to much greater risks. Of this we had not long ago a melancholy instance, when three boats engaged in shark-fishing in the Faxa Fiord were lost in one day, their crews, amounting in all to thirty men, perishing. The use of open boats is consequently diminishing, and the number of decked vessels increasing as rapidly as the limited means of the Icelanders will permit. Shark-fishing is a decidedly remunerative industry, and may be made still more profitable by the use of better craft and appliances, and by improvements in the method of extraction, and consequently in the quality of the oil.

A TRADITION OF COTTLEY HALL. CHAPTER I.-COTTLEY HALL AND ITS MASTER.

THE wind is high to-night. An enthusiast in spiritualistic fancies, or a dreamer of dreams, needs but to seat himself by the great fireplace of Cottley Hall and listen to the rumbling noise which resounds in that capacious chimney, and he would forthwith be supplied with food for mental imagination to his heart's content. Into Cottley Hall-where everything is either too small or too large, and inconvenient to the utmost extent which human ingenuity could possibly make it it would be hard for

the most commonplace individual to enter without experiencing a spice of uncanny romance. If odd corners, twisting stairs, and a wealth of carved panelling could render it a thing of beauty in the eyes of the artist and the romancer, Cottley Hall was a gem of its class, of the first water. Ä noticeable fact about the large draughty rooms was that the favoured mortals who gathered round the great wood-fires which blazed therein at winter-time experienced agreeable sensations of extreme chilliness on one side and overpowering heat on the other. All the bedsteads were of a large old-fashioned type, though these gigantic four-posters looked but strange atoms compared with the enormous rooms in which they were located, the approach to them being mostly across a long uneven floor, upon which bygoneshaped articles of furniture appeared few and far between. Across the doors of these apartments were drawn pieces of antiquated tapestry, worked with divers representations of Solomon and the Children of Israel, all habited in a sort of semiRoman attire. The window-casements were uniformly filled with glass of a ghastly green colour, which when penetrated by the sun's rays, imparted an unwholesome and mildewy character to the countenances of the Wise King and his contemporaries.

The unwary stranger who ventured into the upper regions of Cottley Hall without a guide speedily found himself involved in a labyrinth of passages and turnings which seldom failed to reduce him to great straits before being extricated therefrom. Between the roof and the third floor was a dreary wilderness of attics, seldom entered by the domestic element-not that they believed in the inevitable ghost supposed to haunt these regions, but because the numerous low intersecting beams rendered locomotion somewhat unsafe. In many places the walls were graced with ancient wooden-faced family portraits, which caused not a little discomfort to visitors who found themselves for the first time the object of their dull expressionless gaze.

The strange exaggerated figures of Solomon and the Israelites have caught but little sunshine lately, owing to a long spell of overcast sky, the few fitful rays that have lighted on Cottley Hall being insufficiently strong to penetrate its thick glazed windows. To-night, the tapestry flaps drearily, for a stiff gale is blowing across country, and cold currents of air find their way into the huge deserted rooms. The tall timber-trees surrounding the park are creaking and bending to the blast; but the sturdy gables of Cottley Hall stand firm as the day when they were built. Just such a wild night as this closed upon the 6th of September 1651, three days after the sanguinary and decisive battle of Worcester. Hugh Everett was owner of the Hall at that time, a zealous Parliamentary speaker of high reputation. was not by strength of arm or by mighty deeds of valour that Master Everett had gained unto himself those honours which had procured him the fat and fair manor of Cottley; from his childhealth, his capabilities fitting him rather for a hood up the Republican had seldom enjoyed good statesman than a soldier, while at the same time his inclinations were more of a civil than of a military character. The 'desperate and cruel Malignant,' Sir John Rossey, from whom this

It

wealthy patrimonial estate had been alienated since the fatal field of Naseby, closed the long line of his family by getting shot through the head at Rowton Moor; and now Master Everett reigned in his stead, more secure in his position than the hot-headed knight had latterly been, but none the less looked upon by his numerous tenants as a usurper and a pleasure-hating upstart.

Cottley Hall is black and silent, and its chimneys and gables point darkly to the sky. The place might well appear deserted, for no light is to be seen in its niany windows, and no response is made to show that the inhabitants are aware of that hollow knocking at the front door. Said knocking continues at intervals, but at length grows desultory and faint, though the wind howls unceasingly amongst the great Cottley elms, making noise enough to drown twenty such feeble sounds. Out of sight at the back of the building, partly obscured by overhanging masses of ivy, a single light proceeds from a small mullioned window opening upon the library of the Hall. This is Master Everett's favourite retreat, and here he sits, surrounded by books and pamphlets bearing such interesting titles as A Fan to purge the Threshing-floore, and A Seed sown upon Goode Grounde, together with the bitterly malevolent and better-known treatise upon the Unloveliness of Love-locks. Hugh Everett's age does not exceed thirty-five years, but a troubled harassing life has given him the appearance of a man of fifty. Short scattered gray hairs, sharp features, and a thin stooping figure, are his principal characteristics, the extreme plainness of his countenance being fully equalled by that of his dress. The Master of Cottley is poring over a leather-bound collection of sermons, and though apparently engrossed in his occupation, he is nevertheless in an unusually absent frame of mind. He has not altered his position for nearly an hour, neither has he attempted to turn a leaf; there is something in the lonely howling of the wind to-night which reminds him of his half-forgotten school-days. Although his eyes are fixed upon that printed page before him, Hugh Everett's thoughts are far away in the remote past, looking back with a sorrowful yearning towards scenes and faces which were familiar to him long before these troubles came upon the land.

CHAPTER II.-AN UNEXPECTED VISITOR.

Things had remained in this state, as we have said, for nearly an hour, when, chancing to raise his head, Master Everett's wandering gaze encountered a silent figure standing at the other end of the room. Though but faintly seen by the lamp's dim uncertain light, there was something about the face he seemed to recognise, and he sat spell-bound for a moment before starting from his chair. The spell was broken by a forward movement on the part of the apparition, and Everett raised a fearful cry, which was instantly choked by the application of a palpably human hand to his mouth. Easily mastered in the ensuing scuffle, the Republican sank back and glared fiercely at his detainer, while his breath came thick and short.

The scattered recollections in Everett's mind

slowly pieced themselves together, and he answered after a pause: 'I do now.'

'That's one to my score then,' said the individual with a short laugh. What are you afraid of?'

'Nothing, Walter Cunningham, nothing,' answered Everett, controlling his agitation by a great effort. 'Yet you have sought me in a strange fashion.'

And if I have, friend Hughie,' said the newcomer, that counts for nothing, does it? I am in trouble, and have come to you for help. Old friendship should bind us, if nought else ; and were I now in your place-though, heaven knows, I don't wish to be-you should have it for the asking.'

'How did you enter the house?' inquired Everett, whose under-current of thought would scarcely allow him to follow what the other said.

'My conscience pricked me somewhat as to the matter of creeping in,' quoth Cunningham; but when a house keeps bolt and bar so stubbornly as yours does, one must take some liberties in extremis.'

'What trouble are you in? Why do you come here?' asked Everett nervously. 'Have you joined in any fresh broil, to disturb the peace of this unhappy country?'

'Peace! unhappy broils!' ejaculated Cunning ham. What are you talking about? Can it be possible that you have not heard of Worcester fight?'

The Master passed his slim hand across his forehead and answered in a husky, perturbed voice: "Many rumours have I heard of laterumours of war and strange tales of battle, but little did I wot that Walter Cunningham was concerned therein.'

'He was, and he glories in it!' exclaimed his companion with sudden enthusiasm. Hast ever heard, Hugh, of any man being possessed with a fighting demon? I was that day.-Oh, ye powers! give me such another before I die, and I shall leave this world content! Down went Hamilton, down went Maurice and Maffey, before those fanatics; yet throughout the medley I bore a charmed life. My cloak was riddled with bullets-see that shot-hole in my hatyet not a wound, not a scratch. Could such a day again fall to my lot, I should well nigh esteem myself invincible!' The Cavalier, who had been gesticulating wildly throughout the whole of this disconnected speech, threw himself back in the chair and set his teeth with a sardonic grin.

Hugh Everett's blood was up; his thin bent frame trembled partly with nervous eagerness and partly with anger while he listened to the fugitive's discourse; but now his powerful voice, which had been so often raised in behalf of his party, broke forth like a deep enraged roar: And it is thus thou boastest in thy strength and thy unrighteous cause! What can have prompted thee, thou stirrer-up of strife, to venture hither with thy evil, self-exalting tale; hast thou no fear in thrusting thy head into the very lion's

This sudden outburst produced no effect whatever upon Cunningham; he crossed one leg

'What a frightful emergency!' was the exclamation of Everett, who had not ceased to pass his fingers over the mass of carved work affixed to the panelling. 'You cannot, you dare not offer any resistance.'

Bethink you, Hugh Everett,' said the Cavalier grimly, as he touched the hilt of his rapier. 'Have you lived so long in this world and yet cannot guess what a desperate man dare do?'

Everett's face turned white as chalk; but the smothered moan which broke from his lips was quickly followed by a cry of joy. 'I have found it!' he exclaimed. "The panel yields !'

Coming to his aid, Cunningham pushed a portion of the wainscoting on one side, discovering a dark cavernous aperture.

'Enter; be not afraid,' said Everett, holding up the lamp and throwing its light upon the blackened walls of the chimney. Cross that log of wood which you see, but trust not to it overmuch. On the other side is the "priest-hole." -Stay a moment. Take this other flask with you. I will let you out when the danger is past.'

Cunningham entering, placed one foot upon the thin worm-eaten beam and faltered.

"Quick!' cried Everett, for an unmistakable sound now smote upon his ears.

Steadying himself as he was best able, Cunningham passed over the yawning pit in safety and gained a ledge on the other side. The panel closed hurriedly, and through the thick darkness came a muffled sound of knocking.

'I' faith,' thought the hunted man, as he groped his way into the priest-hole, 'I cannot say much for the hiding-places of the Catholics. Admirable as places of concealment they may be; but their accommodation is detestable.'

The priest-hole was a diminutive apartment, or rather recess, contrived in the thickness of the outer wall, and aired by a loophole which admitted an unpleasantly strong draught. A low stone seat occupied one end of the little place, and upon this Cunningham seated himself to wait with praiseworthy patience.

CHAPTER IV.-SUSPICIONS.

I am mighty glad to think that you are no Malignant harbourer, Master Everett. Never mind a tough test for character, sir; it's terribly dry work while it lasts. With your permission, my men here shall broach a cask of ale or strong waters wherewithal to refresh themselves in the kitchen.'

The speaker, an athletic man of middle stature, was an officer in charge of a small body of Parliamentary troopers who had invaded the sanctity of Cottley Hall at this singularly inopportune time. A more unprepossessing individual than Major Brand-by which name the officer had introduced himself to Everett-it would have been difficult to find; he was a bandy-legged, blackbrowed enthusiast, with an offensive guttural voice, and a dark ragged mustache. Yet, in spite of his personal disadvantages, the Republican officer commanded a large degree of respect, being an excellent specimen of that energetic class of people who mount by sheer dogged perseverance over their fellow-creatures' shoulders. His deepset, lynx-like eyes were remarkably piercing; and

Hugh Everett, already much unnerved, felt himself quite unequal to the task of retaining his composure while subjected to their scrutiny. Slightly bowing his head, ostensibly in deference to military authority, but in reality to hide his confusion, the Master replied: "Cottley Hall is at your service, Major Brand. I shall in nowise hinder any steps you may think fit to take. Nevertheless, your men must be content with what they can get, for my visitors are far from being numerous.'

At a word of command the troopers quitted the library, none remaining except a large, powerfully built fellow, whose habiliments bespoke him to be a non-commissioned officer.

'Now, Master Everett,' said the major, 'we can converse together comfortably.'

'But,' argued Everett, naturally anxious to quit the vicinity of his friend's hiding-place, your men have no scrupulous regard for property; would it not rather be better that we should first see them properly quartered?'

'No,' answered Brand gruffly, for as cats seem by instinct bound to regard the canine race as their natural enemies, so did this official consider all those who in any way opposed his wishes as being suspicious malcontents, on whom it was expedient to keep a watchful eye.

The surly answer brought a faint flush to Everett's pale cheeks. You take strange liberties with me, Major Brand,' he said, for a moment losing all self-control. 'Times must be sorely changed if my bare word is not sufficient to remove such as you from Cottley Hall.'

'Spoken like an upholder of the_good causeel, Humphries?' remarked Brand to the tall trooper who stood looking on.

"Nay!' replied Humphries, speaking with that Scriptural affectation which Everett only used in his more agitated moods, 'the speech savoured mightily like the ranting of some vainglorious Cavalier. If your worshipful pleasure that he should be arrested still holds," I will proceed to attach his person without delay.'

'Arrest me-attach my person!' exclaimed Everett, starting back. Where is your authority to do so?'

Hold your peace, Humphries!' said the officer quickly. You are over-zealous.-We will stick to the matter now in hand, if you please,' he continued, addressing himself to Everett. Any questions concerning authority shall be answered by me as a member of that army who placed you in your high seat.'

'What is it you have to say to me, then?' asked the Master, wearily leaning his head upon his hands.

"This much,' replied Brand, with a significant glance towards his inferior. We are seeking for, amongst others, a troublesome youth named Walter Cunningham. Report has tracked him here, and an eye-witness testifies to his having entered the gates of Cottley Hall this very evening. Ask yourself, sir, whether a stiff-necke Malignant would tarry at the abode of a wellknown adherent to our cause, unless he were likely to find friends within.'

'I will answer no more,' muttered Everett, fairly driven into a corner. 'You have searched my residence; you have doubtless interrogated my servants; and now, finding nought against