It was early for cunners, but we were lucky enough to catch as nice a mess as ever you saw.

A cod for the chowder was not so easily secured.

At last Binny Wallace hauled in a plump little fellow crusted all over with flaky silver.
To skin the fish, build our fireplace, and cook the chowder kept us busy the next two hours.

The fresh air and the exercise had given us the appetites of wolves, and we were about famished by the time the savory mixture was ready for our clamshell saucers.
I shall not insult the rising generation on the seaboard by telling them how delectable is a chowder compounded and eaten in this Robinson Crusoe fashion.

As for the boys who live inland, and know naught of such marine feasts, my heart is full of pity for them.