Another man who was passing, unhitched his own team and helped him up. On an offer to pay being made, the good Samaritan declared he had been paid beforehand. “Why, I never saw you before in my life, did I?” “I’ve seen you, though,” said the other; “I heard you speak one night outside the ‘Vic.’ and I went in and took the pledge--me and my family has been happy ever since!” Whitby and the Herring Trade, 30th August 1888. Any fresh herrings for breakfast, sir? Four a penny this morning, sir!” Such was my greeting this day, as I turned out of my lodgings for an early lungs’-full of this inspiring air. I had almost broken out on that fish-wife with, “Why, you abominable old woman, you asked me twopence for three yesterday”; but restraining my natural, if not righteous indignation, I replied meekly, “Four a penny! Why, what makes them so cheap, ma’am?” “T’ boats all full--ha’n’t had sech a catch this summer,” which news gladdened me almost as much as if the catch had been my own. No one can watch these grand fellows, the Dogger Bank fishermen, and not feel, a sort of blood-relationship to them, and the keenest sympathy with their heroic business on the great waters. So, thinks I, I’ll go down to the quay directly after breakfast, and see them all at their best, those hard-handed, big-bearded, soft-hearted sea-kings from all the East and South Coast towns of England, from Sunderland to Penzance. When they are such grand, silent, kindly creatures on every day in the week, even when the catch has been poor and light, what will they be to-day?