"And I have loved thee, Ocean! and my joy
Of youthful sports was on thy breast to be,
Borne, like thy bubbles, onward; from a boy
I wantoned with thy breakers--they to me
Were a delight; and if the freshening sea
Made them a terror, 'twas a pleasing fear,
For I was, as it were, a child of thee,
And trusted to thy billows far and near,
And laid my hand upon thy mane, as I do here."
Old Duncan Reed owned and worked a little lobster fishery of his own.
And before the great grief came that deprived poor Kenneth of a father,
he used to take great delight in helping the fisherman with this part of
his work. It was very simple. They had wooden cages which they sank at
the bottom of a deep pool among the rocks. There was a stone or two at
the bottom of each cage to make it sink, and it was lowered down at
night by a rope which was attached at the top of the water to a wooden
float.
The cages were baited, and Duncan used to find it a capital plan to put
a live crab or lobster into the cage. There was a hole at the top of
each cage for the creatures to crawl in, but it was so arranged that
once in they did not get out again.
As soon as one was sunk, rejoiced to find himself once more in his
native element, the imprisoned shell-fish would begin to eat. And
presently round would come another crab or lobster and look in for a
little at him with his eyes, which, you know, are upon stalks.
"You seem to be enjoying yourself in there," the newcomer would say.