The Battery and the Boiler

njoying himself and the smells with which that port is not unfamiliar. He chanced to be a friend of that French fisherman.

"You're early afloat, Mounseer," he said.

"Oui, monsieur. Vill you com'? I go for feesh."

"Well, wee; I go for fun."

They went accordingly and bore away to the northward along the coast before a light breeze,--past the ruined towers which France had built to guard her port in days gone by; past the steep cliffs beyond Boulogne; past the lovely beach of Wimereux, with its cottages nestled among the sand-hills, and its silted-up harbour, whence Napoleon the First had intended to issue forth and descend on perfidious Albion--but didn't; past cliffs, and bays, and villages further on, until they brought up off Cape Grisnez. Here the Frenchman let down his trawl, and fished up, among other curiosities of the deep, the submarine cable!

"Behold! fat is dis?" he exclaimed, with glaring eyes, uplifted brows, shoulders shrugged, hands spread out, and fing