square, nor anything like it; and so it will turn out in the long-run. Look at the bankrupt list in every Gazette, and say what you think of that, sir.'

"Ah!" responded the other; "things are out of square there, at all events. By the way, another of your nobs is gone, I see what's his name, in street, I mean."

"Yes, sir; I am sorry for it. Fifty thousand pounds, they say, and not five shillings in the pound, nor anything like it; and all gone in this mad, wild-goose chase after railway scrip. And yet, it was done so secretly, and the party had such a reputation for wealth, and shrewdness too, that a week ago it was looked upon as one of the firmest houses in Birmingham.”

There was something in the tone the conversation had taken which arrested the young traveller's attention. The street mentioned was that in which his father's business was carried on; and he felt some curiosity to know which of his neighbours was spoken of as Mr. What's-his-name. Meanwhile the conversation went on.

Perhaps you have got let in there, Mr. Smith ? "

"No, sir, not a penny," was the answer. "Oh, I fancied you might," said bear-skin; 'you said you were sorry."

66

Well, sir, I suppose it is possible to be sorry for others as well as for one's-self. I am sorry, too, for these shocks that are given to commercial confidence; it seems to be coming to that now, that everybody will be suspected, and as much mischief will be done that way as has already been done in another. Besides, I am sorry for Mr. Sutherland and his family-for-"

In a moment Arthur was effectually recalled from his land of dreams; and before Mr. Smith could finish the sentence he had begun, he was interrupted by the voice of the hitherto silent traveller.

"Excuse me, sir; but did you say that Mr. Sutherland" Arthur stopped short there; he could not frame the question that trembled on his lips to his own satisfaction.

"It is of Mr. Sutherland I was speaking, sir," replied Mr. Smith, mildly. "But not of —, that is, you do not mean that there is a, that there is anything wrong in Mr. Sutherland's affairs ?"

"It is too well known by this time to be doubted. You have heard that his name was in yesterday's Gazette, and his place is closed. The common report is that Mr. Sutherland has ruined himself by railway transactions, and that he is involved to the amount I have stated."

"But not Mr. Everard Sutherland ?" said Arthur, with increasing agitation, which all his efforts could not subdue. "Some other person of the same name perhaps; not Mr. Everard Sutherland of street ? There must be some mistake."

But no: the reply he received precluded all possibility of mistake; and thankful now for the dull light of the railway lamp, the young man, stunned and bewildered by the sudden and unexpected intelligence of his father's ruin, sank back again into his corner, his pleasant day-dreams all dispersed, and in their stead a confused and tangled web of gloomy forebodings. Shortly afterwards, the

|

rough-coated man left the train, and Arthur became aware that he was undergoing the scrutinizing gaze of his only remaining companion. Before he could screen himself from this disagreeable examination, the silence was broken.

"I am not wrong, I think," said the gentleman whom we have introduced as Mr. Smith, "in believing that I address Mr. Arthur Sutherland ?"

"I am Arthur Sutherland, certainly," replied the young man; "but you have the advantage of me, sir. I have never before had the pleasure of meeting Mr. Smith, I believe."

"Once before, sir, under different circumstances rather; but that is of no consequence now. I have to apologize, very sincerely I assure you, for the pain I have unintentionally given. I was not at all aware who was my travelling companion when I spoke of

"It is of no consequence, sir," said Arthur; “if what you say is true, I must have known it tonight; and a few hours sooner or later makes no difference;" and he again relapsed into a silence from which his fellow-traveller did not attempt to rouse him, until the shrill scream of the engine gave note that the end of the journey was reached. Then Mr. Smith again spoke.

"One word with you, Mr. Sutherland," he said, respectfully; "I am afraid you will find matters in a sad state; it seems strange to me that you knew nothing of this before; but, at all events, I have been thinking I may be of some little use to you; and if so, here is my card; come and see me.'

Arthur mechanically took the offered card, and muttered an acknowledgment of thanks for the proffered kindness: in a few minutes, a car was conveying him and his luggage from the railway station to his father's house.

"Tell me, Jessy," were almost the first words he uttered, as his sister, in tears of mingled sorrow and gladness, welcomed his arrival," is what I have heard this night true ?"

"Dear Arthur, you have heard nothing too sorrowful to be true. We are ruined.”

"And our father-what of him, Jessy ?" She shook her head mournfully. The mad excitement of a few months, and its results, had brought about an imbecility of both mind and body, painful to witness. "You are our only hope now, Arthur. Oh! how glad I am you are come back at

last."

Arthur Sutherland slept little that night. In the news which his sister had confirmed he foresaw the downfall of all the hopes which had so recently shed such a bright halo round the future. The partnership would be a partnership in poverty and disgrace, and the matrimonial engagement must end in bitter disappointment.

"I am sorry for you, Arthur," said the father of the young lady, the next day, when the young man called on him at his counting-house: "and I must say you have behaved honourably in coming to me first; but your own good sense will tell you that the connexion ought to be dropped altogether. You know I did not give my consent to it very willingly at first; and now

66

There needed nothing more than that emphatic "now," and Arthur returned home agitated and cast down.

The arrival of Arthur Sutherland, however, was

very opportune. He had a good report among his father's creditors; and it was known that he had had no share in the errors which had brought about the failure. His assistance was valuable in winding up the heavy affairs of the bankruptcy; and, with straightforward and honourable frankness, he made his services available to the utmost.

One evening, while the business was yet uncompleted, and after the harassing duties of the day were over, as he was slowly returning from the counting-house to his father's residence, he was accosted by a gentleman whom he dimly recognised as the companion of his railway journey. "I have been expecting and hoping you would take me at my word, Mr. Sutherland, and would have called on me before now. But as you have not, I was just going to find you. Are you disengaged? If you are, and will allow me, I will walk homewards with you."

Arthur took the offered arm.

“And now, what are you doing? how are you getting on? But I need scarcely ask you this; for everybody I meet speaks in praise of your disinterested efforts to make the best of this disastrous affair; and, now I think of what I am saying, I am not sorry you have not been to see me before

"What is the meaning of this ?" thought Arthur; but he did not speak, and presently his home was reached.

66

"And now, Mr. Sutherland," said Mr. Smith, when they were alone, may I ask what you intend doing when these affairs are finally settled ?"

Arthur replied that he had formed no plans for the future. He supposed, however, that a mercantile situation might be obtained.

"Your father's business was a good one, I believe, Mr. Sutherland; why not take it into your own hands ?"

We shall not report further of the conversation of that evening. Arthur found that, by some means, he had obtained the good-will of a sympathizing and able friend; and after the interviewwhich was prolonged to a late hour-the young man entered the room in which his sister was waiting for him, in a more hopeful frame of mind than he had enjoyed since his return home.

A few weeks passed away; and then it became known that Arthur Sutherland had entered on the business which his father had been compelled to relinquish, with all the advantages of an enlarged and profitable foreign trade which he had been the means of opening. He made no mystery of the fact that the unsolicited assistance of Mr. Smith had enabled him to take this step; and when this was explained all wonder ceased; for the largehearted, open-handed, but sometimes eccentric liberality of that gentleman was no secret. Nevertheless, there was a mystery which for months afterwards remained uncleared; and we hasten on to its disclosure, leaving it to the imagination of those of our readers who think that a story of ups and downs is by no means complete if it does not end with a wedding, to guess for themselves how Arthur Sutherland again wooed, and finally won the lady of his choice.

"There was a wedding then?"

Yes, a very quiet, modest affair indeed, ma'am; not at all such an one as you would approve, if you are in any way given to romantic musings. But there was a wedding, and that is something; and a few wedding visits were paid, and in due time returned.

"You never saw Mrs. Smith before, do you say, Mr. Sutherland?" It was in Mr. Smith's drawing-room that this fragment of a conversation passed.

Never before she did us the honour to call the other day. Never, at least, that I can remember."

"Look again, Mr. Sutherland; are you quite sure? And this girl"-laying his hand on his eldest daughter, "have you never seen her be fore?"

Arthur was puzzled by the tone of the speaker; but he repeated the assurance that if he had ever had that pleasure, his memory played him falsely.

Perhaps you will refresh our friend's memory, Edith," said Mr. Smith to his wife.

"Do you not remember," asked the lady, in a soft, gentle voice, "a dreadful storm, on a July night, many years ago; and travelling from London on the coach, and a poor young woman, lightly clad, with an infant in her arms, a fellowpassenger ?"

66

Yes, yes, I certainly remember that-all that," said Arthur, eagerly, for the truth at once flashed on his mind.

"And the poor woman's foolish alarm? and the harshness of the coach proprietor, who would have turned her out of the coach? and how it was he did not do it ?"

"And that young woman's husband, Mr. Sutherland," continued Mr. Smith, "who told you that he would find means of repaying the kindness which was shown without expectation of reward or thanks? Have you never happened to meet with him since, in your travels? Tell him, Edith, what you know about it ?"

66

"I am that poor woman," said Edith.

It was even so; the seed of a little kindness, sown years before, had sprung up and borne this goodly fruit. The bread cast upon the waters had returned after many days.

HOW TO DO GOOD.-Dr. Johnson wisely said, "He who waits to do a great deal of good at once, will never do any thing." Life is made up of little things. It is but once in an age that occasion is offered for doing a great deed. True greatness consists in being great in little things. How are railroads built? By one shovelful of dirt after another; one shovelful at a time. Thus, drops make the ocean. Hence, we should be willing to do a little good at a time, and never "wait to do a great deal of good at once." If we would do much good in the world, we must be willing to do good in little things, little acts one after another; speaking a word here, giving a tract there, and setting a good example all the time; we must do the first good thing we can, and then the next, and the next, and so keep on doing good. This is the way to accomplish any thing. Thus only shall we do all the good in our power.

THE HERRING FISHERY OF

YARMOUTH.

ON a fine, clear, bracing morning in the month of October, nothing can be more pleasant to a person in robust health than to stroll down to the broad beach at Yarmouth, and witness the landing of the fish. The visitor unacquainted with the town, when he first reaches the jetty, perceives few indications that mercantile transactions of any importance are about to take place. He probably sees here and there a few stragglers, indolently pacing up and down indulging in familiar chat, while his olfactory nerves will be regaled by fumes from what Cowper calls "the noxious weed," but which is too commonly regarded as redolent with fragrance by those who inhale it in the teeth of a north-easter. While peering about in search of adventure, our visitor's attention is attracted by the anxious gaze of some weather-beaten tar, whose spy-glass is in frequent requisition, sweeping the horizon. On the beach he may see here and there a heap of "swills," so carelessly placed that they look as if they had been left there by the preceding tide. Presently he discovers that the tall post, which only a few minutes ago looked like the dismantled spar of some sunken vessel, has now the British flag flying from its top, and on inquiry he learns that it is hoisted for the purpose of indicating that a sale of fish will shortly

take place. The ferry-boats are about to be launched, and the sturdy beachmen, leaving the watching-rooms, are wending their way across the sands, each to his proper place. With the strength of an ox, each man bears his part, and the heavy ferry-boat, quitting the beach, soon makes her way through the surf, and, being pulled along-side the fishing-lugger that has just arrived in the roadstead, the first anxious inquiry is, "What fish have you got?" It may be that few boats have come in, and that the catch is but short. A signal is telegraphed ashore, intelligible enough to those who are in the secret, but of no import to the uninitiated.

Our stranger now begins to think that at last something is about to take place, and is not in the least degree insensible to the fact that the wind has made its way through his broad-cloth wrappers, which he finds by no means warm enough for the climate, especially should he not happen to have broken his morning's fast. His ear at length catches the sound of a bell, which he had not before noticed, in obedience to which the stragglers are all wending towards the spot thus indicated. A quantity of wash-tubs, accompanied, too, by several women, induces the gentleman to think that, instead of a fish sale, he is going to witness a grand washing fete, or perhaps it is about to be decided who shall be the queen of the suds. But while

At this juncture the salesman again pulls his bell, and having mounted upon a small projecting footboard or rostrum attached to the post, he begins to harangue the bystanders on the scarcity and consequent value of the finny strangers who have just honoured them with a visit. They are all good plump fresh fish, and he invites them to offer him a tempting bid. A momentary pause ensues, when some cadaverous outstander intimates that he wouldn't mind giving him "six bob for a hunder."

"Ah, well, bor, I shan't take that neither. Bid me ten bob, and I'll talk to you."

A good-tempered-looking man, who seems to have held his tongue till he could hold it no longer, now says, "Well come, Bill, I tell ye what-I'll gi' ye eight bob, only you must lend me your tub to take 'em home."

66

Ah, well then, I shan't do that neither; I ha' lost so many o' my tubs, I don't mean to lend 'em out any more at all; so you must just bring your own swills and fetch 'em away if you buy 'em. But your price ont do. Who'll gi' me another bid ?"

Come, Bill, don't look so cross this cold morning, I'll gi' ye another trippuns" (three-pence).

Thank ye: eight and three; who'll advance on eight and three ? "

The bid is given, and perhaps a further advance is obtained. A few small dealers take a hundred, or two, three, four, or five hundred each, with which they hurry away, to vend them fresh by retail, as far as a half-worn-out horse will carry them. The market price will then probably fall 3d. or 6d., and the remainder will be purchased for curing, either in the town or along the railway. An entirely new trade has been opened since the introduction of this mode of travelling, large quantities now being cured at Norwich, and some even in London, besides other convenient places where fuel is procurable at a trifling cost.

In the height of the season the boats, more particularly the Yorkshire and west-country boats, come into the harbour, where they have greater facilities for landing, and considerably less labour in carting. In that case the scene of activity is transferred from the beach to the quay. The fish is landed in swills; not unfrequently a score or so of Yarmouth carts, ready horsed, are in attendance; and the fish are sold by auction either by the quayside, or the buyers follow the auctioneer to some neighbouring house. The sale goes off very quickly, seldom lasting many minutes, and no sooner are the fish disposed of than they are hurried off to the offices to be cured.

This process, if the fish be intended for home consumption, is rapid in all its stages. Large tubs filled with water are in readiness to wash them, as soon as they are stripped of the salt and scales, which are laid aside and sold for manure. Having passed through the hands of the "washers," they pass on to the "rivers," who take out the gills and put them on "spits" or sticks about the thickness

of an old-fashioned yard-wand or candle-rod, quite apart from each other. They are then hung between small rafters called "loves," which rise in tiers one above another, beginning at six or eight feet from the ground, up to near the roof, where the tiles are so laid as to insure ventilation. They are smoked from 12 to 36 hours, according to the length of time they are required to keep. After this they are taken down, packed in hampers or barrels, and sent to market for consumption.

More care, however, and longer time, are requir ed for preparing fish for a foreign market. In this case they are sometimes kept at sea for a week or more, being packed in salt. When brought ashore, they are laid upon the floor to the depth of about two feet, where they remain about two days, and then are put into baskets for the purpose of being washed from the salt. After this they are suspended for about a week, and exposed to the heat of fires, when they are fit for packing into barrels, which generally contain about 1000 each. The principal places of export are Leghorn, Naples, and the ports of the Mediterranean.

Curious mistakes are sometimes made by strangers respecting the herring fishery, and it is not unfrequently the case that inquisitive persons seeking information from, men employed upon the beach, are what the Norfolk people call "rigged," that is, they receive information which is intended to mislead. We have often heard of cockney fishers catching red herrings, but never remember but on one occasion a verification of the jest. This pardonable error was made by a young gentleman, who, seeing a fisherman land at the jetty, having two or three red mullets, which very delicious fish are occasionally caught off here, requested the attention of his mamma to the "red herrings" the man had caught.

In catching the herrings the fishermen are often greatly annoyed by the dog-fish, which is destructive both to the nets and to the fish. The damage he does is chiefly by biting the herrings, which, when damaged by his shark-like teeth, are called

croptions," and also by biting the nets in the same manner. The company of the dog-fish, as may well be imagined, is not courted in piscatory society: his exterior is not particularly repulsive, but his manners are so decidedly bad, that at sea or ashore he is a very robber and pirate, opposing his teeth promptly to the hand of every man who encounters him. The treatment he receives when caught is most truly a barbarous one. It not unfrequently happens that a lot of them when taken are divested of their fins and thrown overboard alive.

The herring, when fully cured, is generally ex cluded from the table of the epicure; but we remember a gentleman, as remarkable for his penurious habits as for his wealth, who on one occasion so far overcame his parsimony as to invite a wealthy merchant to dine with him; he went, and to his disgust as well as surprise he found that the miser had prepared for him, as an especial treat, a

66

red-herring dumpling." While the reader may smile at this, he will perhaps hardly be prepared to learn that herring-pies were formerly a royal dish. The city of Norwich, in 1397, paid 9s. 10d. "for making the king's herring-pies." That they were esteemed at court so lately as 1629 appears from a