National Republican., 1875-12-02
The Fishwivss Of Nswnavsn.

Charles Warren Stoddard writes: The nshwlves
OF Newhsven, sunburnt, brawny AmaEOns, with
short skirts and broad shoulders-these hshwiyes
troop into Edinburgh every morning, each having
q huge basket strapped on her shoulders, the
contents Of which impregnates the air for half q
block to leevard. You can run down TO the sea
ct Newhaven In half an hour. There long row
Of squat stone houses lines the beach fora mile or
two. The place looks windy and weatherworn.
Two long piers reach out into the Firth Of Forth;
two piers hung with grass, at the end OF which
rise those welcome beacons, the lighthouses. Up
and down these piers all day pace tho children Of
the village, yet are only useful as the recip
ents Of O fair proportion OF vietpals and all the
outRrovn clothing in the neighborhood. The
very air Is redolent Of fish and dried weeds; every
where there are boats drawn o. CUT OF the water and
ing after battle with the waves.
There is q hospital where the MANNED are cared
piers crowded with boats that rock at anchor and
tug ut their chains as II impatient to be on again
sporting with the big waves of the breezy Firth.
The men are mostly of at sea; their sais drift up
and down the horizon, and the fishwiyes come
out and look at them under the palms OF their
Tpr ns sspt sssr Il
lovers away at the gray dawn, and were waiting
TO welcome the toilers on their return and 70
reckon the sum Of their spoils. The wives pre-
pare the fsh for market, 90 up to Edinburgh by
train in droves Of lfty or hundred, sell their
merchandise and return with the profits, which
they are careful to keep IN their own hands. No
doubt good husband gets his drink. money and q
suit Of clothes now and again, but the husbands
seem to know little Of the world beyond that part
OF It which smells Of Newhaven and the broad
Firth that Rlowers or glasses itself abreast Of
their humble homes. The children paddle about
at low tide with their skirts tucked up under their
aIms, bunting seaweed and limpets IN the shallow
pools where their images are reversed. These
sea-bred babies are hardy lot; they speak 9
lingo that Is quite unntellIgiole 70 any but Scotch
care. and they chew seaweed like little animals,
and evidently relish II.
There are rare fish dinners to be had at Tho
Peacock" There is nothing else In the place
worth noting save the industry OF the people and
the very practical way that their lives are spent
from the day they they first enter the salt water
till they are laid at last under the short crisp
grass IN the desolate cemetery on the hilltop. A
buIom lass, in thick shoes and coarse blue home
spun stockings, of uncommon plumpness; In
skirts that must be numberless, judging from
their circumference, and having shoulders
broader than most men, meets and loves one Of
the supple jointed lads who hang about the boats
when they are drawn to shore as II they were the
darlings Of their lives. Probably this aid takes
this man In her net Just as If he were some de-
lightful marine creature, and be accepts his fate
as the fsh do, with faint struggle that Is is
hopeless II Is brief Then they settle In one Of
the cottages, hang their nets out Of the window
In the sun, cover the sidewalk with ish scales,
and enjoy life. When the warm weather comes
and the men go down to the pier and leap on into
the sea like brown sayages, the women follow
them and applaud the best swimmers. It Ii q
very simple existence, and they seem happy, but
the odor Of It 10 o tribe loud.