it has been found by experience in the three kingdoms, that the most certain course for increasing the stock is to let those who by their position are best enabled to protect the brood fish have an interest in preserving them. In effect, the upper waters form the nurseries of each fishery; and it rests mainly with the lords of the adjacent land whether these waters shall or shall not lie waste. If a river is to become a piscatorial cornucopia, a propitiatory offering must first be made to those who hold this horn of plenty in their hand. As matters now stand, the upper habitants on a river kill everything in it, because,' say they, 'it is of no use our letting anything go down, for it will never be allowed to come up again to us.' There is hardly a salmon fishery where there are not jealousies and antagonism between the owners of the freshwater fishing, or the angling party, and the proprietors of tidal engines, or the fixed-net faction; and this foolish hostility is hurtful to both interests, which are so interwoven that what hurts the one injures the other. The animal in dispute is more easily destroyed than any other wild one, because its instinct of returning to its native stream places it at man's mercy; and we can quite understand, though we deplore, the angry feeling of the upper people, who take revenge for the rapacity of the lower, not merely to the neglect, but often to the ruin of a river. The angler's grievance is, that as in the course of nature occasional floods drive whatever fish are let up during the season back again down stream to the sea, where they are taken, too few are let up, particularly in Scotland, and, if they cannot reach the upper waters until the fence time, the landowners have no interest in protecting them. For this, which also involves want of sufficient brood-fish, the remedies, short of restricting the lower takes to an extremely crippling degree, are, first, to enforce the 'Saturday slap.' At a meeting of proprietors of stake and bag-nets in Scotland in March last, one speaker was willing to agree to two whole days Saturday and Sunday-for fish to pass up, to satisfy the angler. This concession would be a satis factory step; for it should be recollected that, besides the effect of heavy, turbid floods, which expel salmon from a river until it clears, the open season is brief, and also that during its dry weeks, even if fish were let up on Sundays, they cannot pass the mill-dams, but must remain below until one of the light 'freshets' occur which are favourable to the ascent of the fish. The second remedy would be to enlarge the mesh of nets, so as to let the undersized fish pass, either to become the share of the angler or to breed. Close fishing with small-meshed nets has effected a notable loss on some rivers, even to the extinction of full-sized fish, and to the killing of the young before they have propagated their species. For instance, the Moy, formerly renowned for very large salmon, is now nothing but a grilse river. By allowing the fish to come up to the angling streams, where they would breed plentifully, the amount of human food in the estuaries would be increased, and the vicinities of these streams be considerably benefited by the additional inducement to visitors to come and spend their money for the sake of sport. For example, the attractions of Ambleside and other places would be much enhanced by salmonfishing. If a report that a fortypound fish had been made captive to rod and line in Windermere were spread and believed in town, the pleasant quarters of Bowness would soon fill with piscatory aspirants. Should the system of letting the right of angling become prevalent, it will tend so powerfully to the protection of the brood fish and fry as to redound immensely to the profit of the lower or commercially valuable fishings. On this ground, we concur in the Commissioners' wish to restrict the use of nets above the tideway in most rivers. No mode of fishing fresh-water would be more paying than letting the right of sport, for which a man would often give £50, 1861.] How English Salmon Rivers may be Restored. where the produce of netting would not net a quarter of this sum. Rents for angling have recently risen on the Wye, on account of the increased taste for one of the simplest yet most exciting of pastimes. Assuredly, to make any legislative measure popular, the season for rod-fishing should be extended, and every fair encouragement given to this delightful recreation. Some of the English rivers have great attractions for the lover of nature, who saunters along the banks of bright streams which flow through picturesque and variegated countries, where the tourist, naturalist, and sportsman find ample field for enjoyment; and did these beautiful haunts possess the additional attraction of good fishing, many a man, escaping from his general doom of city life, and yearning for the sight of green fields and the blue sky, would obtain more than 'a glorious nibble,' and, above all, such a stock of health as would invigorate him for after months of toil. The Commissioners do not doubt that, under judicious management, the salmon fisheries of England and Wales may be made to yield a large commercial value, and supply no inconsiderable amount of food for the consumption of the people. For ourselves, we regard salmon as unlikely ever to be more than an article of luxury either for sport or the table. For the latter, it must be taken in the largest quantity by nets; and we quite concur in the Commissioners' view, that the improvement of these fisheries is a matter which concerns the public at large far more than any individual proprietor, since to the latter the decrease of numbers may be compensated by increase of price, while to the former it implies a decrease of food. Of late years, in the face of a rise of price and largely extended market, there has been a great and general depreciation in the rental of fisheries. This fact proves the diminution of sup 6 761 ply. The Report declares, in conclusion, that, viewing the rivers in England and Wales as a whole, and setting aside those which have been poisoned by mines or greatly contaminated by the pollutions arising from manufactures, there remains still a vast area possessing great natural advantages for the production of salmon. These rivers exceed in extent those of either Scotland or Ireland, which yield a large revenue. They embrace an average proportion of water well suited for the breeding of salmon, with rapid streams and deep pools, and the upper parts contain good gravelly spawning - beds. "They therefore,' observe the Commissioners, possess every requisite for increasing the supply of a valuable commodity, were not the bounty of nature frustrated by the perverseness or negligence of man.' Certainly it is a strange instance of moral perverseness, that the only crop which sows itself, goes away to fatten, returns to be killed, and needs only to be spared during a certain season in order to increase the store, should be on the verge of extinction by our destructive treatment. The causes which have reduced the fisheries to their present state of exhaustion are clear and palpable, and they admit to a great extent of being remedied by legislation. Ireland having had the advantage of laws in this respect far in advance of those of either Scotland or England, is now reaping their good effects. With this example before us, we may anticipate from judicious legisla tive measures an important addition to the sum of public and private wealth, combined with the cheapening of an excellent article of food, which has been placed in abundance within our reach, but which, unless active measures are taken, will rapidly disappear even from the tables of the wealthy, as it has already passed beyond the command of persons of moderate means. WHERE FANCY IS BRED. Things divorced in Nature are married in Phancie.-FULLER. WH HENE'ER I take my walks abroad, I observe in myself a proclivity towards back streets, which, for the want of some better explanation, I am inclined to attribute to the existence, in a rudimentary form, of that thirst for adventure, for discovery, for knowledge, which has sent forth a Du Chaillu, a Burton, or a Livingstone, upon their more extended wanderings. It is not, as I am now well aware, to be ascribed to any desire to save time by making a short cut. I have long since got over that delusion. Nor, I take leave to state, is it owing to any possible embarrassment at meeting those with whom I may happen to be involved in commercial relations. It is the spirit of inquiry, pure and simple, though working under difficulties. One half the world knows not how the other lives. Herein lies the problem which lures us on; Dr. Livingstone, by the way of the Zambesi and the Victoria Falls, M. du Chaillu up the Gaboon river, me in my humble way down the back street. Thus we work, each of us in his own way, towards the solution of the mystery; and penetrate, each by his peculiar road, into the recesses of that other half. They in waggons or canoes, through jungles tenanted by gorillas, or up rivers haunted by hippopotami. I, in india-rubber over-shoes and with an umbrella, through entries guarded by posts polished by the corderoys of the youthful gymnast, or up flights of steps on which the children play in fine weather, and down which cascades of babies tumble during maternal absences. By these and similar approaches I push on into regions inhabited by tribes less picturesque, perhaps, than those described by my fellow-labourers, but not wholly uninteresting. They have not that quaint habit of eating one another which obtains among some of M. du Chaillu's friends, preferring, my observation leads me to believe, fried fish and ginger beer. Nor have they that inordinate love for scarlet beads, which Capt. Burton found so convenient on his journeys. I do not suppose you could get a pint of beer for a sackful; so completely have the politicoeconomical views of neighbouring States been adopted. Though not absolutely a peace-loving race, they do not carry on wars of extermination among themselves. Nevertheless, they are not without a certain admiration for warlike deeds from a theoretical and dramatic point of view, as is evidenced by the popularity of the portraits of Mr. Roper, in his character of Dando the Dauntless, with fat black leeches (the local type for blood) hanging from the point of his sword. They speak a language, not made up of clicks and grunts, certainly, but still far simpler in construction and more monosyllabic in charac ter than most members of the Indo-European family. Their form of government is not that combination of the patriarchal and despotic which seems to prevail in Central Africa. It approaches more nearly to an oligarchy, tempered by the policeman. Their politics are therefore necessarily of a simple character. Occasionally signs of what is elsewhere called & 'question,' are manifest in the appearance of small bills, calling on the ratepayers of St. Vitus to resist a purse-proud faction, and rally round Mr. Mudge and the sevenpence-three-farthings motion. Sometimes when the storm of parties is raging in adjacent realms, a ripple from the troubled waters beyond will roll in upon the tranquil coves, in the shape of a poster commanding all men to plump for Edwin James; or a cast-away cab, bearing an announcement of the last state of the poll, having failed to weather some neighbouring headland, will run aground opposite a public house. But the effect is transient, and in the main the natives care little who gets in or who does not; and feel much less 1861.] 'In the heart' of the Other Half. interest in the news that the ministry has fallen, than in the statement that bread is down to twopence again. But it is not of the people that I propose at present to treat. Admitting that the noblest study of mankind is man, I have nevertheless observed, as every conscientious explorer will do, the geology, botany, and zoology of the regions which it has been my fortune to traverse, in the hope of contributing, according to my lights, to the general stock of information. For the present, I shall confine myself to the last of these subjects, or rather to a branch of it. In the course of my travels through the Other Half I have, I may say without vanity, studied its zoology with considerable care, and noted the divergences from, and agreements with, the types recognised as characteristic of the animal life of better known regions. The more familiar quadrupeds are represented for the most part with but little variation in structure or habit. The horse, appearing rather as an exotic than a denizen, has been very slightly modified by surrounding influences. The ass, unquestionably a native, appears to be more pachydermatous than in other climes, and also to have the peculiarity of backing into doorways and refusing to come up. This, however, may be attributed to local causes and a cartful of vegetables; and at any rate is not sufficient to stamp it as a variety, much less a distinct species. The dog—that is, the canis familiaris of Goldsmith-is remarkable chiefly for a deficiency of ear, tail, and sociability. He is not the friend and companion of man in these parts. As he belongs to no one in particular Melancholy has marked him for her own, and he lives as best he can on cabbage stumps, old shoes, and the sense of his injuries. The cat is not that emblem of purring content and matronly neatness we are accustomed to consider her. She is a shrew in character, and a slattern in appearance, and furthermore is distinguished from other members of the cat-tribe by 763 ferruginous patches distributed irregularly over the body, and to be accounted for, according to local naturalists, by her strange habit of sleeping on a gridiron, to remedy a natural insufficiency of vital heat. The kitten, elsewhere proverbially playful, has here, it is to be feared, exchanged the tricks of youth for the vices of maturity, walking with an uncertain and staggering gait, suggestive of confirmed intemperance; and, if sportively pursued (in the native dialect chivied'), getting into a corner, and swearing with a precocity which makes one doubt the influence of city missions and ragged schools. Such slight differences as those I have here mentioned do not entitle a country to a separate classification of its fauna. The claims of these regions to the attention of the zoologist rest chiefly upon the existence of a distinct series of animals, allied, no doubt, with genera existing in other parts of the globe, but here united into a group by the possession of certain common characteristics. To any one who has studied the geographical distribution of animals, such a phenomenon will not appear strange. It presents itself in the animal life of America, of Australia, in fact of any portion of the earth's surface where natural barriers have produced an isolation more or less perfect. In the districts of the Other Half through which I have travelled, I have frequently noticed the existence of a class of animals quite as strongly marked as the marsupials of Australia or the pachyderms of the New World, and in my humble opinion quite as interesting. This class the inhabitants invariably designate by the native word 'Fancy;' but no scientific name, as far as I am aware, has ever been assigned to it. Indeed, I am unable to find any mention of it whatever in the works of any zoologist that I have consulted. The backward state of geographical discovery in Cuvier's time may perhaps explain his ignorance of animals whose habitat lies so much out of the route of the ordinary traveller; but that a naturalist of such research as Professor Owen should be silent respecting so interesting a group of creatures, is to me a matter of some surprise. Darwin, it is true, refers to certain members of it in one or two instances, but he does not appear to suspect its existence as a distinct class; or perhaps, entertaining such a suspicion, was deterred from penetrating into the regions where alone he could have reduced it to certainty by the difficulties and dangers which attended his preliminary investigations. My attention was first drawn to the subject in the following manner. In my walks to and from the establishment of a certain serious publisher with whom I have for some time had a literary connexion (and I may say with honest pride that my little tracts in assorted packets at thirteen-pence the gross, are considered by the trade to be as good an article as ever was offered at the price), I have been frequently obliged to take refreshment upon the way. After all it is dry work, composing or discussing the kind of literature I have mentioned, and it would cause me lasting remorse if I thought that any of the excellent young men engaged upon it were regarded with the eye of suspicion by their employers in consequence of these disclosures of mine. The establishment I refer to is situated in a great and fashionable thoroughfare, and within two doors of the gorgeous emporium for plate, jewellery, and articles of vertu known as Bright and Nickelson's. Beside this latter there opens a narrow flagged passage which would escape the notice of any one who had not a fine genius for exploration and discovery. And yet this obscure alley has contributed largely to the fortunes of the house of Bright and Nickelson, for in it is a door-not of course decorated with gilt balls or money lent,' they are above that-but an unpretending decorous door, through which, if report says true, far more of the wealth of Bright and Nickelson has entered than by the nobler portal round the corner. Following this passage, the roar of the chariots and omnibuses of the proud ones falling fainter and fainter upon the ear, you emerge upon the pleasant calm of Little Primrose-street. Here, I need scarcely say, you are within the boundaries of the Other Half. The costumes, scenery, natural productions, are all indicative of the fact that you have passed to another chapter in the book of life-a wellthumbed and dog-eared page, of a very different type from that of the smooth hot-pressed sheet you have been perusing. It is a country abounding in bell-buttons, and where curious trades and profes sions are carried on at great altitudes; a country of strange alliances, where coals and potatoes are always offered by the same purveyor, possibly because, being sold by the pound, the same weights and scales do for both; a country where things long since submerged by the tide of fashion in the one half, come up to the surface like old wrecks in the Maelstrom; where the furniture shops are crammed with bandy-legged tables, sturdy square-built chintz-covered sofas, and oval looking-glasses full of ghastly reflections; where clothiers exhibit whole ranges of trousers with permanent straps and every description of pocket worn forty years ago, and boot and shoe dealers hang out festoons of warped and knobby Wellingtons, hinting at that variety in human character and corns which a museum of old Wellington boots will always suggest to a reflective mind. But even if surrounding objects did not tell you where you were, the name of the street alone would be a sufficient intimation. It is eminently characteristic of the denizens of the Other Half. Poor nurslings of the city! whatever Falstaff may have done, they at least babble of green fields,' and in defiance of smoke and grime and brickaffect a rural nomenclature for their abodes: an artifice much derided by the scornful, but inspiring me with that sort of tender respect I have for Beau Tibbs and Captain Jackson and all great masters of the art of putting the best face on things. If names could do it, banks whereon the wild |