Fish, like horse-flesh, corrupts the mind and manners.

After a certain age, the Newhaven fishwife is always a blackguard, and
ugly; but among the younger specimens, who have not traded too much, or
come into much contact with larger towns, a charming modesty, or else
slyness (such as no man can distinguish from it, so it answers every
purpose), is to be found, combined with rare grace and beauty.

It is a race of women that the northern sun peachifies instead of
rosewoodizing.

On Sundays the majority sacrifice appearance to fashion; these turn out
rainbows of silk, satin and lace. In the week they were all grace, and no
stays; now they seem all stays and no grace. They never look so ill as
when they change their "costume" for "dress."

The men are smart fishermen, distinguished from the other fishermen of
the Firth chiefly by their "dredging song."

This old song is money to them; thus:

Dredging is practically very stiff rowing for ten hours.

Now both the Newhaven men and their rivals are agreed that this song
lifts them through more work than untuned fishermen can manage.

I have heard the song, and seen the work done to it; and incline to think
it helps the oar, not only by keeping the time true, and the spirit
alive, but also by its favorable action on the lungs. It is sung in a