after, sundry fishermen, as well of this kingdom
as also of France, Flanders, and the
low countries, yearly about the feast of St.
Michael the Archangel, resorted thither,
where they continued in tents made for the
purpose by the space of forty days, about
the killing, trimming, salting, and selling
of herrings, to all that hither came for
that purpose." Yarmouth, therefore, could
bear on her shield no more appropriate
device than three glittering herrings, not
even when she decapitated them, and
reheaded them, in the first or second Edward's
reign, with portions of the lions from the
arms of England. Spelman tells us, that
"at the first they built painted tents and
huts against the inclement air; but by the
King's (Edward the Confessor's) permission,
soon more comely habitations, and shortly
after superb ones."

This point of our history brings out the
fact that Yarmouth had a government before
it had a fixed foundation. The moral essentials
of a town preceded the material ones.
"Order is heaven's first law;" it was
Yarmouth's fundamental principle. No Socialism,
or Red Republicanism here. "To repress
and prevent disorders arising among the
multitude upon the sale and delivery of the
herrings brought ashore there," observes Jeakes
in his Charters of the Cinque Ports, "for want
of a settled government in that town, or as
hereafter noted, for want of a town built; the
(Cinque) ports used to send thither yearly
certain men as their bailiffs, that during the time
of the herring fair they might abide there,
and govern all that fishing season."
Disturbances do arise, but are soon put down. "One
of the port bailiffs doing his office there was
killed;" for which the offender "as deservedly
was hanged." Even the newly risen land
is not free for whoever will to take possession
of; for, quoth Swinden—"The original of
Great Yarmouth was a sand in the sea; and
as then none but the King had any right or
title thereto, hence 'tis called in the book of
Domesday terra regis, i.e., the King's
Demesne."

Of the herring—the rich ore dug from a
watery mine—of the little fish which could
thus lay the foundation of a prosperous
community, very marvellous tales have been told,
and credited. Jeakes speaks of the "herrings,
which, by a wonderful and rare providence,
having their constant course once a year
round this island, about the autumnal equinox
begin to keep their quarters on these coasts."
Pennant, however, established the general
currency of this erroneous piece of natural
history. His idea that their grand army,
starting from the Arctic Circle, is split by the
Shetland Islands into two divisions, one of
which traverses the east, and the other the
west coast, of Great Britain, has been quietly
met by the statement of Mr. Yarrell, that the
herring does not abound in the Arctic Ocean.
It is true that herrings are catchable and
eatable later and later in the season, (with several
exceptions, however,) as we run our eye southwards
down the map; but the theory thence
deduced by Pennant only shows the danger of
forming too hasty conclusions from a regular
consecutiveness of any set of events; or indeed
from any series, whether of forms or actions.
Fishermen have long, and well known, that
the herrings taken off the north of Scotland
late in spring, off Yorkshire in summer, and
on the Norfolk coast in autumn, are quite
different fish; permanently different as varieties
of the species, and not portions of the
same, or similar shoals. They do migrate, it
is true, but it is from the deep to the shallow
waters of their respective stations, on each of
which the catch is peculiar, and also
unchangeable in its characteristics.

The Yarmouth fishermen's numeration-table
is founded on a different principle to the
decimal arithmetic commonly in use. The fishermen's
tale is reckoned by fours, instead of by
fives or tens, both for green fish and for cured.
The fish are counted by taking two in each
hand, and throwing the four together in the
heap. Thus:

Four herrings make a warp,

Thirty-three warp make a hundred—one
hundred and thirty-two fish according to the
Arabic notation.

A "last" of herring is defined by measurement
instead of by counting, but is estimated
to contain about ten thousand Yarmouth
herrings; so that a last of Baltic herring would
contain more, and a last of Loch Fine herring
fewer fish. At Yarmouth, the last is thus
measured:—the fish are landed in certain
convenient and quaintly-shaped baskets,
called "swills," of definite capacity. Twenty
swills make a last; therefore the duty of
each swill is to hold five hundred herrings,
and we may believe that it does not much fall
short of, or exceed what is required of it.
This is the established practice at Yarmouth,
the metropolis of herrings. At other points
of the coast, as at Sheringham, baskets used
for the same purpose are called swills, but
are different in size and shape.

The Yarmouth herring-boats, too, are of
excellent contrivance. There are three different
descriptions fitted out for this fishery;
the smallest are open boats, or yawls. But
the famous Yarmouth yawls are used rather
for purposes of salvage, for giving aid to
vessels in distress, and for rescuing life at the
last extremity. Their crews are composed of
men who are an honour, not merely to the
town and to the county they belong to, but
to the entire British nation. I have no room
here to make any further allusion to their
courage, generosity, and self-denial. The
performance of the yawls is first-rate. One
of them, the Reindeer, challenged the invincible
yacht, the America, and it is believed
would beat her. The America got out of it
by refusing to sail for less than five thousand
pounds—a sum which she knows Yarmouth