%images;]> lchtml-004304 French fisherman. ...: a machine readable transcription. Lewis Carroll Scrapbook, Library of Congress Selected and converted. American Memory, Library of Congress.

Washington, DC, 2003.

Preceding element provides place and date of transcription only.

For more information about this text and this American Memory collection, refer to accompanying matter.

 Rare Book & Special Collections Division, Library of Congress. Public Domain

The National Digital Library Program at the Library of Congress makes digitized historical materials available for education and scholarship.

This transcription is intended to have an accuracy rate of 99.95 percent or greater and is not intended to reproduce the appearance of the original work. The accompanying images provide a facsimile of this work and represent the appearance of the original.

 2004/05/18
0001

FRENCH FISHERMEN.

I was this autumn walking on the jetty belonging to a French seaport, and watching a little fishing boat as it moved out of the harbour. The herring season was beginning, and from the number of the crew the boat was evidently departing on a fishing expedition of some importance.

It was one of those bright October mornings, when, if we could keep our physical eye open, and memory's eye shut, we might fancy August full upon us again, and winter three months off. The sea and the sky seemed strangely to blend colours, whilst one could be pleased with the fancy, that the little fringe of brilliant white breakers along the beach had one time or other been caught up to the sky, and left their traces in the delicate frothy clouds that now sailed over their heads.

There was not much wind to fill the sail of the smack, and it moved slowly out of harbour in the sight of a group of fisher-women, who were standing near us, and leaning over the side of the pier to catch the last glimpse of husbands, sons, and brothers. The vessel had just crossed the bar, when I noticed a rush amongst the women. “Voyez, ils font leure prierè,” said one. There was the boat's crew with faces turned towards the shore, looking up at a Crucifix, which [text ends here].

[Text ends here]