with a wooden shovel and sprinkled with
salt, and handfuls of salt are thrown in
with the fish into the barrels.

There is no captain of the boats, no
recognised leader among the fishermen now.
That position was once filled by  "Long
Jacky Storr,"  and has been unoccupied
since his death. "Long Jacky" won his
leadership by his clear head and his stout
heart;  he had admirable judgment, knew
when to put to sea, and when to remain
ashore, and was as brave as a lion. Poor
Long Jacky was drowned, upset out of the
lifeboat—his three brothers were lost in
the same way—and his place has remained
vacant ever since. Is the class of men
deteriorating?  Our informant (no one
knows them so thoroughly), will not say
that, but they might be more sober, and
more decent in various ways, and as for all
the romantic side of the fisher's life, he
emphatically pronounced that to be
"roobbish." Is there any other noticeable
peculiarity about the men?  None, except
it be their extraordinary superstition and
belief in luck. They will remain fasting
for twelve hours, the whole time they are
out, and not touch bite or sup, lest it should
bring them ill-luck, and they will not put
to sea if they meet a woman on their way
to the boat (surely an ungallant superstition
this, and one which has never previously
been accredited to Jack!)  or a
dead pig. So the calling is carried on,
from father to son, from generation to
generation, the thrifty thrive, the careless
live on from hand to mouth, but all earn
their bread by the sweat of their brow, and
gain what can at best be but a scanty
subsistence, in toil always and frequently in
peril.

Whitby is the great place for the jet-
workers, of whom from twelve to fourteen
hundred are employed in the town. Some
fifteen years ago jet was dug from the sea
cliff stretching between Robin Hood's Bay
and Saltburn. But it is now tolerably well
exhausted in these cliffs, and the best is
found in the range of the Cleveland Hills,
in the neighbourhood of Osmotherley and
Carlton. There are about three hundred
miners engaged in digging for jet, and this
number is occasionally supplemented by an
addition of men from the iron mines, when
their work is slack. The jet lies in seams
something like coal, only much smaller.
In its natural state it is not at all unlike
iron ore, or charred wood. Bought in small
quantities, fresh from the mine, good hard
jet is worth from ten to sixteen shillings
the pound. Some of the very best which
was shown to us had been purchased for
seven shillings the pound, but that was
only because a very large quantity (five
hundred pounds' worth) had been taken.
In former years the miners came across
numerous seams of soft jet, but they were
never worth more than a sixth of the value
of the hard, and are now exhausted.
Engaged in the commerce are middle-men
(some of them interested in the mines and
allowing the men a certain share of the
profits) who buy from the miners and sell
to the manufacturers. The jet, when the
iron alloy has been cut away from it, is
worked up in grinding wheels and turning
lathes, is cemented together with a mixture
of shellac and black sealing-wax, and is
polished with rouge on boards, technically
called " rowge boards,"  covered with the
skin of the walrus, and between revolving
wheels covered with folds of list. Brooches,
ear-rings, necklaces, crosses, bracelets,
watch-chains, paper-knives, buckles,
crucifixes, and rosaries are manufactured in
the various jet-works at Whitby, whence
the great London "mourning warehouses,"
and the smart shops at Scarborough and
Harrogate, are supplied.

At Sandsend, three miles to the west of
Whitby, are large alum works belonging to
the Marquis of Normanby, but leased by
him to Mr. Armstrong. These works were
originally established in the reign of Queen
Mary, by a certain Sir Thomas Chaloner,
member of a family owning property in the
neighbourhood to this day. Sir Thomas,
who was a great traveller, noticed that the
strata in the vicinity of Sandsend and
Gainsborough were very similar to that of
the Papal alum-works near Rome;  noticed
more especially that in both places the
leaves of the trees were of a very peculiar
green. So struck was he with the idea that
he commenced to work, but found success
impossible without the assistance of some
skilled workmen. This assistance he knew
it would be impossible to procure by fair
means, so he accordingly sent to Rome and
persuaded one of the best workmen to have
himself headed up in an alum cask, and
stowed away on board ship. When this
trick was discovered, Sir Thomas was
solemnly cursed, banned, and excommunicated
by the Pope, but, oddly enough,
the alum works went on, notwithstanding,
and have gone on ever since. The alum
shale is quarried out of the hill-side, and
the liquid which then comes off it, when
cool, was at one time used for Epsom salts.