SCROPE ON SALMON FISHING.

_Days and Nights of Salmon Fishing in the Tweed_. By WILLIAM

SCROPE, Esq., F.L.S. 1 vol. royal 8vo. London, 1843.

We have here a work of great beauty in a pictorial and typographical

point of view, and one which abounds with practical information

regarding the bolder branches of the "gentle art." Mr Scrope conveys to

us, in an agreeable and lively manner, the results of his more than

twenty years' experience as an angler in our great border river; and

having now successfully illustrated, both with pen and pencil, two of

the most exciting of all sporting recreations--deer-stalking and

salmon-fishing--he may henceforward repose himself upon the

mountain-side, or by the murmuring waters, with the happy consciousness

of having not only followed the bent of his own inclinations, but

contributed to the amusement and instruction of a numerous class of his

fellow creatures. The present volume consists of no dry didactic

dissertations on an art unteachable by written rules, and in which,

without long and often dear-bought experience, neither precept nor

example will avail; but it contains a sufficiency of sagacious practical

advice, and is enlivened by the narration of numerous angling

adventures, which bring out, with force and spirit, the essential

character of the sport in question.

Great advances have been recently made in our knowledge of the sea-going

_Salmonidæ_. Indeed, all the leading facts of primary importance in the

history of their first development and final growth are now distinctly

known, and have lately been laid before the public in the form both of

original memoirs in our scientific journals, and the transactions of

learned societies, and of more popular abstracts in various literary

works. We ourselves discussed the subject in this Magazine, with our

accustomed clearness, a couple of months ago; and we shall therefore not

here enter into the now no longer vexed question of the nature of parr

and smolts,--all doubt and disputation regarding the actual origin and

family alliance of these fry, their descent from and eventual conversion

into grilse and salmon, being finally set at rest to the satisfaction of

every reasonable and properly instructed mind. We consider it, however,

as a good proof of the natural sagacity and observant disposition of our

present author, that he should have come to the same conclusion several

years ago, regarding the habits and history of salmon-fry, as that so

successfully demonstrated by Mr Shaw. Mr Scrope dwells with no

unbecoming pertinacity on this point; but he shows historically, while

fully admitting the importance and originality of that ingenious

observer's experimental proceedings, that he had, in the course of his

own private correspondence and conversation, called the attention of Mr

Kennedy of Dunure as a legislator, and of Sir David Brewster as a

skilled interpreter of natural phenomena, to various facts corresponding

to those which have been since so skilfully detailed by Mr Shaw.

Our author, though well acquainted with the sporting capabilities of all

parts of Scotland, here confines himself to the lower portions of the

Tweed, more than twelve miles of which he has rented at different times.

We in some measure regret that one so able to inform us, from his

extensive experiences regarding the nature and localities of the

first-rate though rather precarious angling for salmon which may be

obtained in the northern parts of Scotland, should not have contrived to

include an account of the more uproarious Highland streams and placid

lakes frequented by this princely species. With all our admiration for

the flowing Tweed, of which we have fondly traced the early feeble

voice--

"a fitful sound

Wafted o'er sullen moss and craggy mound,

Unfruitful solitudes, that seem'd t' upbraid

The sun in heaven!"--

until, through many an intermediate scene of infinitely varied beauty,

the expanded waters--

"Gliding in silence with unfetter'd sweep,

Beneath an ampler sky, a region wide

Is open'd round them:--hamlets, towers, and towns,

And blue-topp'd hills, behold them from afar:"--

we should still have rejoiced to find a twin volume devoted to

those wilder and more desolate scenes by which the northern

angler is encompassed. Meanwhile we accept with pleasure our

author's "Days and Nights" upon the Tweed.

Salmon ascend from the sea, and enter this fine river, in

greater or less abundance, during every period of the year,

becoming more plentiful as the summer advances, provided there

is a sufficiency of rain both to enlarge and discolour the

waters, and thus enable the fish to pass more securely over

those rippling shallows which so frequently occur between the

deeper streams.

"The salmon," says Mr Scrope "travels rapidly, so that those

which leave the sea, and go up the Tweed on the Saturday night

at twelve o'clock, after which time no nets are worked till the

Sabbath is past, are found and taken on the following Monday

near St Boswell's--a distance, as the river winds, of about

forty miles. This I have frequently ascertained by experience.

When the strength of the current in a spate is considered, and

also the sinuous course a salmon must take in order to avoid

the strong rapids, their power of swimming must be considered

as extraordinary."--P. 10.

We do not clearly see, and should have been glad had the author stated,

in what manner he ascertained that his St Boswell's fish had not escaped

the sweeping semicircles of the lower nets some days previous. We admit

that there is a great deal of Sabbath desecration committed by salmon,

but we also know that they travel upwards, though in smaller number and

with greater risk, during all the other days of the week; and we are

curious to understand how any angler, however accomplished, can carry

his skill in physiognomy to such perfection, as to be able to look a

fish in the face on Monday morning, and decide that it had not left the

sea till the clock struck twelve on the Saturday night preceding.

"As salmon" our author continues, "are supposed to enter a

river merely for the purposes of spawning, and as that process

does not take place till September, one cannot well account for

their appearing in the Tweed and elsewhere so early as February

and March, seeing that they lose in weight and condition during

their continuance in fresh water. Some think it is to get rid

of the sea-louse; but this supposition must be set aside, when

it is known that this insect adheres only to a portion of the

newly-run fish which are in best condition. I think it more

probable that they are driven from the coasts near the river by

the numerous enemies they encounter there, such as porpoises

and seals, which devour them in great quantities. However this

may be, they remain in the fresh water till the spawning months

commence."--P. 10.

We cannot think that a great instinctive movement which seems, although

with a widely extended range in respect to tine, to pervade the entire

mass of salmon along our universal shores, should in any way depend upon

so casual an occurrence as an onslaught by seals and porpoises, or that

fear rather than love should force them to seek the "pastoral

melancholy" of the upper streams and tributaries. That seals are

destructive to salmon, and all other fishes which frequent our shores or

enter our estuaries, is undoubted; but we have no proof beyond the

general allegation, that porpoises pursue a corresponding prey. Our own

researches certainly lead to an opposite conclusion. The ordinary food

of the _cetacea_, notwithstanding their enormous bulk, is minute in

size; and we have never been informed, on good authority--that is, on

direct testimony--that even herrings have ever been detected in the

stomach of a porpoise. Yet we have careful notes of the dissection of

these creatures, taken from specimens slaughtered in the midst of

millions of herrings; and these notes show that the minute food with

which the sea was swarming, and which formed the sustenance for the time

of the smaller fishes, also constituted the food of the _cetacea_, which

were merely gamboling through the herring shoals.

It is certainly, however, difficult to explain the motives by which the

early spring salmon are actuated in ascending rivers, seeing that they

never spawn till autumn at the soonest. We must remember, at the same

time, that they are fresh-water fishes, born and bred in our own

translucent streams, and that they have an undoubted right to endeavour

to return there when it suits their own inclination. It may be, that

although the ocean forms their favourite feeding-ground, and their

increase of size and continuance in high condition depend upon certain

marine attributes, which, of course, they can find only in the sea, yet

the healthy development of the spawn requires a long-continued residence

in _running_ waters. We have ascertained, by experiment, that the ova of

salmon, after being deposited, will make no progress in still water; and

we cannot illustrate this portion of the subject better than by

transcribing a paragraph from a letter, addressed to us in spring, (11th

April 1843,) by Mr Andrew Young of Invershin, the manager of the Duke of

Sutherland's extensive salmon fisheries in the north of Scotland:--"You

are aware that it has been asserted by some of our wisest doctors, that

salmon spawn in the sea and in lochs, as well as in rivers. However, as

doctors are proverbially allowed to differ, I have this winter been

trying to test the fact in the following manner: At the same time that I

deposited the spawn from which I made my other experiments, I also

placed a basket of the same spawn, with equal care, in a pool of pure

still water from the river Shin; and I soon found that, while that which

was placed in the running pools was regularly progressing, every

particle put into the still water was as visibly degenerating, so that,

by the time the spawn in the running pools was alive, that in the still

water was a rotten mass. I must therefore say, from the above

experiment, that rivers and running streams are the places fixed by

nature for salmon to hatch their young." "I would also," says our

correspondent in a subsequent portion of his letter, "mention an

additional experiment on another point. It has been very generally

asserted that intense frost injured the spawn of salmon; and in this

opinion I was myself, in some measure, a believer. But as nothing but

truth will stand a proper test, I turned my attention to this subject

also. During the time of our severest frost, I took a basket of spawn,

and placed it in a stream, where for three days it continued a frozen

mass among the ice. I then placed the basket again in the running pond

from whence it had been taken, and carefully watched the effect. I found

that, although exposure to extreme cold had somewhat retarded the

progressive growth, it had not in the slightest degree destroyed

vitality. I am therefore satisfied, that unless frost goes the length of

drying up the spawning beds altogether, it does not harm the spawn,

further than by retarding its growth during the actual continuance of

excessive cold. Thus fry are longer of hatching in a severe winter, than

during an open one with little frost."

When salmon first ascend the Tweed, they are brown upon the back, fat,

and in high condition. During the prevalence of cold weather they lie in

deep and easy water, but as the season advances, they draw into the

great rough streams, taking up their stations where they are likely to

be least observed. But there the wily wand of the practiced angler casts

its gaudy lure, and "Kinmont Willie," "Michael Scott," or "The Lady of

Mertoun," (three killing flies,) darting deceitfully within their view,

a sudden lounge is made--sometimes scarcely visible by outward signs--as

often accompanied by a watery heave, and a flash like that of an aurora

borealis,--and downwards, upwards, onwards, a twenty-pounder darts away

with lightning speed, while the rapid reel gives out that heart-stirring

sound so musical to an angler's ear, and than which none accords so well

with the hoarser murmur of the brawling stream; till at last, after many

an alternate hope and fear, the glittering prize turns up his silvery

unresisting broadside, in meek submission to the merciless gaff.

Many otherwise well-principled persons believe that little more is

required in angling than the exercise of patience. Place a merely

patient man, acquainted only with pedestrian movements, upon a

strong-headed horse determined to win, and give him the start at a

steeple-chase, with Lord Waterford not far behind, and it will be seen

before he has crossed much country, where patience is always as useful

as it is praiseworthy. Place the same patient man, if he happens to have

been picked up alive, and eventually recovers, in the midst of a roaring

rock-bound river, and suppose him (a thing we confess, in his case, not

quite conceivable) to have hooked a twenty-pound salmon at the tail of

the stream, just where it subsides into some vast, almost fathomless,

and far-extended pool, and that the said salmon, being rather of a

restless disposition, and moreover somewhat disquieted by feeling an

unaccustomed barb in his cheek or tongue, takes his 300 yards down the

deep water at a single run, and then goes helter-skelter over a

cataract, which had occupied him most of the preceding Sunday to ascend,

after many a sinewy but unsuccessful spring! Will patience avail a man

any thing in such a predicament, when he ought rather to run like an

Arab, or dive like a dolphin, "splash, splash, towards the sea,"

notwithstanding the chance of his breaking his neck among the rocks, or

being drowned while trying to round a crag which he cannot clamber over?

Let us hear Mr Scrope's account of his third cast, one fine morning,

when he came to Kingswell Lees.

"Now every one knows that Kingswell Lees, in fishermen's

phrase, fishes off land; so there I stood on _terra dura_,

amongst the rocks that dip down to the water's edge. Having

executed one or two throws, there comes me a voracious fish,

and makes a startling dash at 'Meg with the muckle mouth.'[10]

Sharply did I strike the caitiff; whereat he rolled round

disdainful, making a whirl in the water of prodigious

circumference; it was not exactly Charybdis, or the Maelstrom,

but rather more like the wave occasioned by the sudden turning

of a man-of-war's boat. Being hooked, and having by this time

set his nose peremptorily down the stream, he flashed and

whizzed away like a rocket. My situation partook of the nature

of a surprise. Being on a rocky shore, and having had a bad

start, I lost ground at first considerably; but the reel sang

out joyously, and yielded a liberal length of line, that saved

me from the disgrace of being broke. I got on the best pace I

was able, and was on good ground just as my line was nearly all

run out. As the powerful animal darted through _Meg's Hole_, I

was just able to step back and wind up a few yards of line; but

he still went at a killing pace, and when he came near to

Melrose bridge, he evinced a distressing preference for passing

through the further arch, in which case my line would have been

cut by the pier. My heart sunk with apprehension, for he was

near the opposite bank. Purdie, seeing this, with great

presence of mind, took up some stones from the channel, and

through them one by one between the fish and the said opposite

bank. This naturally brought Master Salmo somewhat nearer, but

still, for a few moments, we had a doubtful struggle for it. At

length, by lowering the head of the rod, and thus not having so

much of the ponderous weight of the fish to encounter, I towed

him a little sideways; and so, advancing towards me with

propitious fin, he shot through the arch nearest me.

"Deeply immersed, I dashed after him as best I might; and

arriving on the other side of the bridge, I floundered out upon

dry land, and continued the chase. The salmon, 'right orgillous

and presumptive,' still kept the strength of the stream, and

abating nothing of its vigour, went swiftly down the _whirls_;

then through the _Boat shiel_, and over the shallows, till he

came to the throat of the _Elm Wheel_, down which he darted

amain. Owing to the bad ground, the pace here became

exceedingly distressing. I contrived to keep company with my

fish, still doubtful of the result, till I came to the bottom

of the long cast in question, when he still showed fight, and

sought the shallow below. Unhappily the alders prevented my

following by land, and I was compelled to take water again,

which slackened my speed. But the stream soon expanding, and

the current diminishing, my fish likewise travelled more

slowly; so I gave a few sobs and recovered my wind a little,

gathered up my line, and tried to bring him to terms. But he

derided my efforts, and dashed off for another burst,

triumphant. Not far below lay the rapids of the

_Slaughterford_: he would soon gain them at the pace he was

going: that was certain--see, he is there already! But I back

out again upon dry land, nothing loth, and have a fair race

with him. Sore work it is. I am a pretty fair runner, as has

often been testified; but his velocity is surprising. On, on,

still he goes, ploughing up the water like a steamer. 'Away

with you, Charlie! quick, quick, man--quick for your life!

Loosen the boat at the Cauld Pool, where we shall soon be,' and

so indeed we were, when I jumped into the said craft, still

having good hold of my fish.

"The Tweed is here broad and deep, and the salmon at length had

become somewhat exhausted; he still kept in the strength of the

stream, however, with his nose seawards, and hung, heavily. At

last he comes near the surface of the water. See how he shakes

his tail and digs downwards, seeking the deep profound that he

will never gain. His motions become more short and feeble: he

is evidently doomed, and his race wellnigh finished. Drawn into

the bare water, and not approving of the extended cleek, he

makes another swift rush, and repeats this effort each time

that he is towed to the shallows. At length he is cleeked in

earnest, and hauled to shore; he proves one of the grey-skull

newly run, and weighs somewhat above twenty pounds. The hook is

not in his mouth, but in the outside of it: in which case a

fish being able to respire freely, always shows extraordinary

vigour, and generally sets his head down the stream.

"During the whole period of my experience in fishing, though I

have had some sharp encounters, yet I never knew any sport

equal to this. I am out of breath even now, whenever I think of

it. I will trouble any surveyor to measure the distance from

the Kingswell Lees, the starting spot, above Melrose bridge, to

the end of the Cauld Pool, the death place, by Melrose church,

and tell me how much less it is than a mile and three

quarters,--I say, I will trouble him to do so; and let him be a

lover of the angle, that he may rather increase than diminish

the distance, as in good feeling and respect for the craft it

behoves him to do."--P. 174.

[Footnote 10: A successful salmon-fly so named.]

On the subject of salmon leaps, most of us have both heard and seen much

that was neither new nor true. Mr Yarrell, a cautious unimaginative man,

accustomed to quote Shakspeare as if the bard of Avon had been some

quiet country clergyman who had taken his share in compiling the

statistical account of Scotland, confines their saltatorial powers only

within ten or twelve perpendicular feet. We hold, with Mr Scrope, that

even this is probably much beyond the mark. He thinks he never _saw_ a

salmon spring out of the water above five feet perpendicular.

"There is a cauld at the mouth of the Leader water where it

falls into the Tweed, which salmon never could spring over;

this cauld I have lately had measured by a mason most

carefully, and its height varies from five and a half to six

feet from the level above to the level below it, according as

the Tweed, into which the Leader falls, is more or less

affected by the rains. Hundreds of salmon formerly attempted to

spring over this low cauld, but none could ever achieve the

leap; so that a salmon in the Leader water was formerly a thing

unheard of. The proprietors of the upper water have made an

opening in this cauld of late years, giving the owner of the

mill some recompense, so that salmon now ascend freely. Large

fish can spring much higher than small ones; but their powers

are limited or augmented according to the depth of water they

spring from. They rise rapidly from the very bottom to the

surface of the water, by rowing and sculling as it were with

fins and tail, and this powerful impetus bears them upwards in

the air. It is probably owing to a want of sufficient depth in

the pool below the Leader water cauld, that prevented the fish

from clearing it; because I know an instance where salmon have

cleared a cauld of six feet belonging to Lord Sudely, who

lately caused it to be measured for my satisfaction, though

they were but few out of the numerous fish that attempted it

that were able to do so. I conceive, however, that very large

fish could leap much higher."--P. 12.

We believe that a good deal of the contrariety of opinion which prevails

on this subject, arises from anglers and other men confounding an

inclined plane with a perpendicular height. Salmon will assuredly

overcome a prodigious force of descending water,--a roaring turmoil,

which presents from below the aspect of a fall, but consists in reality

of separate ledges massed together into one, when "floods lift up their

voices." We are sorry to say, however, that the entire practice of

angling is pervaded by a system of inaccuracy, exaggeration, and

self-deceit, which is truly humiliating. There is consequently no period

in the life of a young person which ought to be more sedulously

superintended by parents and guardians, than that in which he is first

allowed to plant himself by the rivers of waters. The most wonderful

feature, however, in the leaping of salmon is not so much the height to

which they spring, as the ease, elegance, and _certainty,_ with which,

while ascending small cataracts, they make their upward movements. For

example, near Oykel bridge in Sutherland, there is a rocky interruption

to the more ordinary current of the river, where the water is contained,

as it were, in stages of pots or little caldrons, over the lower edge of

each of which it dances downwards in the form of a short perpendicular

fall. From a neighbouring bank by the river side, the movements of the

aspiring fish may be distinctly seen. When a grilse has made his way to

the foot of one of these falls, (which he never could have ascended

before, although he must have descended it in childhood on his seaward

way,) without a moment's doubt or hesitation he darts into the air, and

throws himself head-foremost into the little basin above, to the bottom

of which he instantly descends. Nothing can be more curious than the air

of _nonchalance_ with which they drop into these watery chambers, as if

they knew their dimensions to an inch, and had been in the habit of

sleeping in them every night. Now, from what has been ascertained of the

natural history of the species, although the adult salmon of the Oykel

must have previously made the leap at least once before, no fresh-run

grilse could have ever done so; and yet, during suitable weather in the

summer season, they are sometimes seen springing along with all the

grace and agility of a troop of voltigeurs. Their object of course is to

rest themselves for a short time, before leaping into the second range

from the ground floor. But this innocent intention is too often

interfered with; for a sharp-sighted Highlander, stationed on the bank

above, immediately descends with landing-net in hand, and scoops them

out of their natural caldron, with a view to their being speedily

transferred to another of more artificial structure--the chief

difference, however, consisting in the higher temperature of the water.

"Salmon," says Mr Scrope, "are led by instinct to select such places for

depositing their spawn as are the least likely to be affected by the

floods. These are the broad parts of the river, where the water runs

swift and shallow, and has a free passage over an even bed. There they

either select an old spawning place, a sort of trough left in the

channel, or form a fresh one. They are not fond of working in new loose

channels, which would be liable to be removed by a slight flood, to the

destruction of their spawn. The spawning bed is made by the female. Some

have fancied that the elongation of the lower jaw in the male, which is

somewhat in the form of a crook, is designed by nature to enable him to

excavate the spawning trough. Certainly it is difficult to divine what

may be the use of this very ugly excrescence; but observation has proved

that this idea is a fallacy, and that the male never assists in making

the spawning place: and, indeed, if he did so he could not possibly make

use of the elongation in question for that purpose, which springs from

the lower jaw, and bends inwards towards the throat. When the female

commences making her spawning bed, she generally comes after sunset, and

goes off in the morning; she works up the gravel with her snout, her

head pointing against the stream, as my fisherman has clearly and

unequivocally witnessed, and she arranges the position of the loose

gravel with her tail. When this is done, the male makes his appearance

in the evenings, according to the usage of the female. He then remains

close by her, on the side on which the water is deepest."--P. 15.

During this crisis trout collect below to devour such portions of the

spawn as float down the river, and parr are frequently seen hovering in

and around the trough. All these parr are salmon fry of the male sex, in

a state of maturity; and if the old gentleman chances to be killed, or

driven away, without having provided an assistant or successor, the

"two-year-olds" perform the functions of paternity. This circumstance,

though overlooked by modern naturalists till the days of Shaw, (not the

old compiling doctor of the British Museum, but the more practical

"keeper" of Drumlanrig,) was known and described by Willoughby in the

seventeenth century. "To demonstrate the fact," says the more recent

observer, "in January 1837, I took a female salmon, weighing fourteen

pounds, from the spawning bed, from whence I also took a male parr,

weighing one ounce and a half, with the milt of which I impregnated a

quantity of her ova, and placed the whole in a private pond, where, to

my great astonishment, the process succeeded in every respect as it had

done with the ova which had been impregnated by the adult male salmon,

and exhibited, from the first visible appearance of the embryo fish, up

to their assuming their migratory dress, the utmost health and vigour."

So serious is the destruction of the spawn and fry of salmon, both by

sea and fresh-water trout, that the Duke of Sutherland's manager would

willingly, were it possible, extirpate the entire breed of these fish.

"They commence," he informs us, in a letter of 15th May 1843, "the

moment the salmon begin to deposit their spawn, and in the course of the

spawning season they devour an immense quantity of ova. Indeed, at all

other times of the year, they feed on the fry of salmon, and continue

their destruction till the day the smolts leave the rivers. I have often

cut up trout, and got smolts in their stomach; and last week a trout was

opened in Mr Buist's fish-yard with four full-grown smolts in its belly.

From these and other similar occurrences, you may judge to what extent

this destruction is carried on, in the course of a single year, in such

a river as our Oykel, where I have killed seven hundred trout at a

single hawl." We understand that, some years ago, when Mr Trap, (a most

appropriate name,) the fishmonger in Perth, had the Dupplin cruives, he

got about 400 whitlings (or sea-trout) in one day, all of them gorged to

the throat with salmon fry. The sea-trout of Sutherlandshire, like those

of the Nith and the Annan, almost all belong to the species named _Salmo

trutta_ by naturalists. They scarcely ever exceed, indeed rarely attain

to, a weight of five pounds; and such as go beyond that weight, and

range upwards from eight to twelve pounds, are generally found to

pertain to _Salmo eriox_, the noted _bull-trout_ of the Tweed. The great

grey sea-trout of the river Ness, which sometimes reaches the weight of

eighteen pounds, we doubt not, also belongs to the species last named.

It is rare in the waters of the Tay.

In regard to the seaward migration of salmon fry, Mr Scrope is of

opinion that some are continually going down to the salt water in every

month of the year, not with their silver scales on, but in the parr

state.

"I say, not with their silver scales, because no clear smolt is

ever seen in the Tweed during the summer and autumnal months.

As the spawning season in the Tweed extends over a period of

six months, some of the fry must be necessarily some months

older than the others, a circumstance which favours my

supposition that they are constantly descending to the sea, and

it is only a supposition, as I have no proof of the fact, and

have never heard it suggested by any one. But if I should be

right, it will clear up some things that cannot well be

accounted for in any other mode. For instance, in the month of

_March_ 1841, Mr Yarrell informs me that he found a young

salmon in the London market, and which he has preserved in

spirits, measuring only fifteen inches long, and weighing only

fifteen ounces. And again another, the following _April_,

sixteen and a half inches long, weighing twenty-four ounces.

Now, one of these appeared two months, and the other a month,

before the usual time when the fry congregate. According to the

received doctrine, therefore, these animals were two of the

migration of the preceding year; and thus it must necessarily

follow that they remained in salt water, one ten, and the other

eleven months, with an increase of growth so small as to be

irreconcilable with the proof we have of the growth of the

grilse and salmon during their residence in salt water."--P.

36.

We are not entirely of Mr Scrope's opinion, that some salmon fry are

descending to the sea during every month of the year; at least, we do

not conceive that this forms a part of their regular rotation. But the

nature of the somewhat anomalous individuals alluded to by Mr Yarrell,

may be better understood from the following considerations. Although it

is an undoubted fact that the great portion of parr descend together to

the sea, as smolts, in May, by which time they have entered into their

third year, yet it is also certain that a few, owing to some peculiarity

in their natural constitution, do not migrate at that time, but continue

in the rivers all summer. As these have not obeyed the normal or

ordinary law which regulates the movements of their kind, they make

irregular migrations to the sea during the winter floods, and ascend the

rivers during the spring months, some time before the descent of the

two-year-olds. We have killed parr of this description, measuring eight

and nine inches, in the rivers in October, and we doubt not these form

eventually the small, thin, rather ill-conditioned grilse which are

occasionally taken in our rivers during early spring. But it is

midsummer before the regularly migrating smolts reappear as grilse.

However, certain points in relation to this branch of our subject may

still be regarded as "open questions," on which the Cabinet has not made

up its mind, and may agree to differ. Mr Scrope is certainly right in

his belief, that, whatever be the range of time occupied by the descent

of smolts towards the sea, they are not usually seen descending with

their silvery coating on except in spring; although our Sutherland

correspondent, to whom we have so frequently referred, is not of that

opinion. It may be, that those which do not join the general throng,

migrate in a more sneaking sort of way during summer. They are

non-intrusionists, who have at first refused to sign the terms of the

Convocation; but finding themselves eventually rather out of their

element, on the wrong side of the cruive dyke, and not wishing to fall

as fry into the cook's hands, have sea-ceded some time after the

disruption of their General Assembly.

Even those smolts which descend together in April and May, (the chief

periods of migration,) do not agree in size. Many are not half the

length of others, although all have assumed the silvery coat. "I had,

last April," Mr Young informs us in a letter of 3d June 1843, "upwards

of fifty of them in a large bucket of water, for the purpose of careful

and minute examination of size, &c., when I found a difference of from

three and a half to six inches--the smallest having the same silvery

coat as the largest. We cannot at all wonder at this difference, as it

is a fact that the spawn even of the same fish exhibits a disparity in

its fry as soon as hatched, which continues in all the after stages.

Although the _throng_ of our smolts descend in April and May, we have

smolts descending in March, and as late in the season as August, which

lapse of time agrees with the continuance of our spawning season. But in

all these months we have an equal proportion (that is, a corresponding

mixture) of large and small smolts. I have earnestly searched for smolts

in the winter months, year after year, and I can only say that I have

never seen one, although I have certainly tried every possible means to

find them. I have seen fish spawning through the course of six months,

and I have seen smolts descending through the same length of time. Our

return of grilses, too, exactly corresponds with this statement. Thus a

few descending March smolts give a few ascending May grilses; while our

April and May swarms of smolts yield our hordes of grilse in June and

July. After July, grilses decrease in numbers till October, in

proportion to the falling off of smolts from May to August. At least

these are my observations in our northern streams." They are

observations of great value, and it is only by gathering together

similar collections of facts from various quarters, that we can

ultimately attain to a clear and comprehensive knowledge of the whole

subject.

We gather from our most recent correspondence with Mr Shaw, (Letter of

8th June 1843,) that he does not regard the range in the spawning period

to be followed by a corresponding range in the departure of smolts

towards the sea, and in their return from it as grilse. He has found a

considerable diversity of time in the assumption of the silvery coating

even among individuals of the very same family. "I do not," he observes,

"recollect an instance where there were not individuals of each brood

reared in my ponds, which assumed the migratory coating several weeks

before the brood in general had done so; and these individuals would

have migrated accordingly, and reappeared as grilse all the sooner." As

the hatching and growth of salmon smolts and other fish, is regulated in

a great measure by the temperature of the water in which they dwell, it

is very probable that ova deposited late in the season, (say the month

of March,) may, in consequence of the great increase of temperature, be

hatched much more rapidly than those spawned in mid-winter, and so, by

the end of a couple of years, no great difference will exist between

them. We remember that, in one of Mr Shaw's earlier experiments, it is

stated that he took occasion to convey a few ova in a tumbler within

doors, where the temperature ranged from 45° to 47°. They were hatched

in thirty-six hours, while such as were left in the stream of the pond,

in a temperature of 41°, did not hatch until the termination of seven

subsequent days. The whole had been previously one hundred and six days

in the water, under a considerably lower temperature.

Mr Shaw has frequently detected individual smolts, both of salmon and

sea-trout, (though of the latter more particularly,) descending in some

seasons as early as the end of March, and as late as the middle of June,

and he has little doubt that some may make their way still earlier to

the sea. These, of course, will be found in our tideways as small

grilse, weighing one or two pounds, in April and May. The large parr, to

which we have already alluded as occasionally met with in rivers, and

which we regard as young salmon remaining (and in this forming

exceptions to the normal rule) in fresh water throughout their third

year, Mr Shaw, whose opinion we requested on the subject, coincides with

us in thinking, "would, in all probability, be the first to quit the

river after so long a residence there, when the season of migration

approached. These, however, are not the only individuals of their kind

which leave the river for the sea long before the month of May." A

difference in the period of deposition will assuredly cause a difference

in the period of hatching, and in this we agree with Mr Scrope; but we

think that a late spawning, having the advantage of a higher temperature

as the result of a more genial season, will be followed by a more rapid

development, and so the difference will not be so great, nor expanded

over so many months, as that gentlemen supposes. Finally, the vagrant

summer smolts, to which we have before alluded, may consist of that

small number of anomalous fry, which we know to assume the migratory

dress and instinct soon after the completion of their first year.

Although the excellence of a salmon's condition is derived from the sea,

and all its increase of weight is gained there, yet few of these fish

remain for any considerable length of time in marine waters. By a

wonderful, and to us most beneficial instinct, they are propelled to

revisit their ancestral streams, with an increase of size corresponding

to the length of their sojourn in the sea. Such as observe their

accustomed seasons, (and of these are the great mass of smolts,) return

at certain anticipated times. Their periods are known, and their

revolutions calculated. Such as migrate at irregular or unobserved

intervals, return unexpectedly at different times. Their motions seem

eccentric, because their periods have not been ascertained.

But it is obvious that Mr Yarrell's diminutive examples already alluded

to, could not have gone down to the sea with the great majority of their

kind, during the spring preceding that in which they were captured;

because, in that case, having remained a much longer time than usual in

salt water, they would have returned as very large grilse instead of

extremely small ones.

Mr Scrope informs us that the most plentiful season in the Tweed for

grilse, if there has been a flood, is about the time of St Boswell's

fair, namely, the 18th of July, at which period they weigh from four to

six pounds. Those which don't leave the salt for the fresh water till

the end of September and the course of October, sometimes come up from

the sea for the first time weighing ten or eleven pounds, or even more.

"Some of them are much larger than small salmon; but by the

term grilse I mean young salmon that have only been once to

sea. They are easily distinguished from salmon by their

countenance, and less plump appearance, and particularly by the

diminished size of the part of the body next the tail, which

also is more forked than that of the salmon. They remain in

fresh water all the autumn and winter, and spawn at the same

time with the salmon. They return also to sea in spring with

the salmon. It seems worthy of remark, that salmon are

oftentimes smaller than moderate-sized grilse; but, although

such grilse have been only once to sea, yet the period they

have remained there must have exceeded the two short visits

made by the _small_ salmon, and hence their superiority of

size. When these fish return to the river from their _second_

visit to the sea, they are called _salmon_, and are greatly

altered in their shape and appearance; the body is more full,

and the tail less forked, and their countenance assumes a

different aspect."--P. 37.

We are glad to observe that in these opinions regarding the

growth of grilse and salmon, our author conforms with, and

consequently confirms, the ingenious and accurate experimental

observations recently completed by Mr Young of Invershin.[11]

Of all those natural causes which counteract the increase of

salmon fry, and consequently of grown grilse and adult salmon,

Mr Scrope considers that the "furious spates" which so

frequently occur in Tweed, are the most destructive. These not

only put the channel in motion, but often sweep away the

spawning beds entirely. Prior to the improvements in

agriculture, and the amelioration of the hill pastures by

drainage, the floods were much less sudden, because the

morasses and swampy grounds gave out water gradually, and thus

the river took longer to rise, and continued fuller for a

greater length of time than in these degenerate days, to the

increased delight of every acre-less angler.

"But now every hill is scored with little rills which fall into

the rivers, which suddenly become rapid torrents and swell the

main river, which dashes down to the ocean with tumultuous

violence. Amidst the great din you may hear the rattling of the

channel stones as they are borne downwards. Banks are torn

away; new deeps are hollowed out, and old ones filled up; so

that great changes continually take place in the bed of the

river either for the better or the worse. When we contemplate

these things, we must at once acknowledge the vast importance

of Mr Shaw's experiments; for if ponds were constructed upon

the Tweed at the general expense, after the model of those made

by him, all these evils would be avoided. The fry might be

produced in any quantities by artificial impregnation, be

preserved, and turned into the great river at the proper period

of migration. There might at first be some difficulty in

procuring food for them; but this would be easily got over at a

very small expense, and with a few adult salmon more fry may be

sent to sea annually than the whole produce of the river at

present amounts to, after having encountered the sweeping

perils I have mentioned."--P. 43.

[Footnote 11: See _Transactions of the Royal Society of Edinburgh_. Vol.

XV. Part iii. p. 343.]

Our author then proposes that proprietors should call meetings for the

purpose, and that parr, hitherto so named, should now, in their capacity

of young salmon, be protected by law. He advises all who have an

interest in the river, to consider the wisdom of mutual accommodation;

the owners of the more seaward banks being dependent on the upper

heritors for the protection of the spawning fish and fry, while they, on

the other hand, are equally dependent on the former for an honest

adherence to the weekly close-time.

But a thoughtful consideration of this portion of our subject would lead

us into a somewhat interminable maze, including the policy of our

ancient Acts of Parliament, and the nature of estuaries,--those

mysteriously commingled "watteris quhar the sea ebbis and flowis,"--"ubi

salmunculi vel smolti, seu fria alterius generis piscium maris vel aquæ

dulcis, (nunquam) descendunt et ascendunt,"--and then the stake-net

question stretches far before us, and dim visions of the "Sutors of

Cromarty" rise upon our inward eye, and the wild moaning of the "Gizzin

Brigs" salutes our ear, and defenders are converted into appellants, and

suspenders into respondents, and the whole habitable earth assumes for a

time the aspect of a Scotch Jury Court, which suddenly blazes into the

House of Lords.[12]

[Footnote 12: Certain river mouths and estuaries in the north of

Scotland "within flude-marke of the sea," have lately given rise to

various questions of disputed rights regarding the erection of

stake-nets, and the privilege of catching salmon with the same. These

questions involve the determination of several curious though somewhat

contradictory points in physical geography, geology, and the natural

history of fishes and marine vegetation.]

That salmon return with great regularity to the river in which they were

originally bred, is now well known. Mr Scrope, however, thinks that they

do not invariably do so, but will ascend other rivers during spawning

time, if they find their own deficient in bulk of water. Thus many Tweed

salmon are caught in the Forth, (a deep and sluggish stream,) and a

successful fishing there is usually accompanied by a scarce one in the

Tweed. Yet we know that they will linger long, during periods of great

drought, in those mingled waters where the sea "comes and gangs,"--as

was well seen in the hot and almost rainless summer of 1842, when the

Berwick fishings were abundant, but those of Kelso and the upper streams

extremely unproductive. The established fact, however, that grilse and

salmon, under ordinary natural circumstances, do certainly return to

their native beds, is one of great practical importance, because it

permits the plan of peopling barren rivers by the deposition of

impregnated spawn carried from more fruitful waters. It ought to be

borne in mind, however, in relation to this latter point, that these

waters must possess, in a considerable measure, the same natural

attributes which characterize the voluntary haunts of salmon. If they do

not do so, although the fry bred there will in all probability return

thither from the sea as grilse, yet the breeding process will be carried

on at first feebly, and then inefficiently, till the species finally

becomes extinct. The same observations, of course, apply to trout. It

has been proposed, we believe by Sir W.F. Mackenzie of Gairloch, to

apply the principle of one set of Mr Shaw's experiments to the

improvement of moorland lochs, or others, in which the breed of trout

may be inferior, by carrying the ova of a better and richer flavoured

variety from another locality. Now, in this well-intentioned scheme, we

think there is some confusion of cause and effect. It is the natural

difference in food, and other physical features and attributes, between

the two kinds of lochs in question, which causes or is intimately

connected with the difference in the fleshly condition of their finny

inhabitants; and unless we can also change the characters of the

surrounding country, and the bed of the watery basin, we shall seek in

vain to people "the margins of our moorish floods" with delicate trout,

lustrous without any red of hue within, in room of those inky-coated,

muddy-tasted tribes, "indigenæ an advectæ," which now dwell within our

upland pools.

It has been asserted by some that salmon will dwell continuously, and

even breed, in fresh water, although debarred all access to the sea.

"Near Kattrineberg," says Mr Lloyd, in his work on the field-sports of

the north of Europe, "there is a valuable fishery for salmon, ten or

twelve thousand of these fish being taken annually. These salmon are

bred in a lake, and, in consequence of cataracts, cannot have access to

the sea. They are small in size, and inferior in flavour. The year 1820

furnished 21,817." We confess we cannot credit this account of fresh

water (sea-debarred) salmon, but suppose there must be some mistake

regarding the species. Every thing that we know of the habits and

history, the growth and migrations, of these fish in Britain, is opposed

to its probability. Mr Young has conclusively ascertained that, at least

in Scotland, not only does their growth, after the assumption of the

silvery state, take place solely in the sea, but that they actually

decrease in weight from the period of their entering the rivers; and Mr

Scrope himself, (see pp. 27, 30,) although he quotes the passage without

protest, seems of the same opinion. Besides, with their irrepressible

instinctive inclination to descend the rivers during spring when young,

we don't believe that the cataract in question would prevent their doing

so, although it might assuredly hinder their return in summer, in which

case the Kattrineberg breed would soon become extinct, even supposing

that they had ever had existence. The alleged fact, however, is well

worthy of more accurate observance and explicit explanation than have

yet been bestowed upon it by the Scandinavian naturalists.

We are informed that Mr George Dormer of Stone Mills, in the parish of

Bridport, put a female salmon, which measured twenty inches, and was

caught in the mill-dam, into a small well, where it remained twelve

years, and at length died in the year 1842. "The well measured only five

feet by two feet four inches, and there was only fifteen inches depth of

water." We should have been well pleased to have been told of the size

of the fish when it died, in addition to that of the prison in which it

dwelt, for otherwise the fact itself is of less consequence.[13] We

presume its rate of growth would be extremely slow, although we do not

agree with Mr Young in the opinion already quoted, that salmon actually

decrease in _dimensions_ on entering the fresh water. We doubt not they

decrease in _weight_, and probably also in circumference; but their

bones and organic structure are assuredly enlarged, and themselves

lengthened, in such a way as to fit their general form for a rapidly

increased development, so soon as they again rejoice in the fattening

influences of the salubrious sea.

[Footnote 13: The following curious particulars regarding the

above-mentioned salmon are taken from a Devonshire newspaper:--"She

would come to the top of the water and take meat off a plate, and would

devour a quarter of a pound of lean meat in less time than a man could

eat it; she would also allow Mr Dormer to take her out of the water, and

when put into it again she would immediately take meat from his hands,

or would even bite the finger if presented to her. Some time since a

little girl teased her by presenting the finger and then withdrawing it,

till at last she leaped a considerable height above the water, and

caught her by the said finger, which made it bleed profusely: by this

leap she threw herself completely out of the water into the court. At

one time a young duckling got into the well, to solace himself in his

favourite element, when she immediately seized him by the leg, and took

him under water; but the timely interference of Mr Dormer prevented any

further mischief than making a cripple of the young duck. At another

time a full-grown drake approached the well, when Mrs Fish, seeing a

trespasser on her premises, immediately seized the intruder by the bill,

and a desperate struggle ensued, which at last ended in the release of

Mr Drake from the grasp of Mrs Fish, and no sooner freed, than Mr Drake

flew off in the greatest consternation and affright; since which time,

to this day, he has not been seen to approach the well, and it is with

great difficulty he can be brought within sight of it. This fish lay in

a dormant state for five months in the year, during which time she would

eat nothing, and was likewise very shy."]

Our author next refers to a rather singular subject, which has not yet

sufficiently attracted the notice of naturalists, and the phenomena of

which (at least their final causes) have not been explained by

physiological enquirers. That fishes assume, in a great degree, the

colour of the channel over which they lie, is known to many practical

observers. We have ourselves frequently frightened small flounders from

their propriety with our shoe-points, while angling near the mouths of

rivers, and so exactly did their colour accord with the shingle beneath

our feet, that we could not detect their presence but by their own

betraying movements. Such, however, as happened to glide towards, and

settle on, a portion of the bed of different colour from the rest,

continued perceptible for a short time; but they too seemed speedily to

disappear, although we afterwards discovered that they had not stirred

an inch, but had merely changed their tint to that of the particular

portion of the basin of the stream to which they had removed. Every

angler knows, that there is not only a difference in the colour of

trouts in different streams, but that different though almost adjoining

portions of the same river, if distinguished by some diversity of

character in respect to depth, current, or clearness, will yield him

fish of varying hue. Very rapid and irregular changes are also

observable in their colours after death; and large alternate blotches of

darker and lighter hues may be produced upon their sides and general

surface, by the mode of their disposal in the creel. Dr Stark showed

many years ago, that the colour of sticklebacks, and other small fishes,

was influenced by the colour of the earthenware, or other vessels in

which they were confined, as well as modified by the quantity of light

to which they were exposed; and Mr Shaw has very recently informed us,

regarding this mutability of the outer aspect of fishes, that if the

head alone is placed upon a particular colour, (whether lighter or

darker,) the whole body will immediately assume a corresponding shade,

quite independent of the particular tint upon which the body itself may

chance to rest. We know not to what extent these, and similar phenomena,

are familiar to Sir David Brewster; but we willingly admit, that in

order to attain to their clearer comprehension, the facts themselves

must be investigated by one who, like that accomplished philosopher, is

conversant with those branches of physical science to which they are

related. They unfortunately lie beyond the range of our own optics, but

Mr Scrope's practical improvement of the subject is as follows:--

"I would recommend any one who wishes to show his day's sport

in the pink of perfection, to keep his trouts in a wet cloth,

so that, on his return home, he may exhibit them to his

admiring friends, and extract from them the most approved of

epithets and exclamations, taking the praise bestowed upon the

fish as a particular compliment to himself."--P. 56.

British legislators ought certainly to consider the recent completion of

our knowledge both of salmon and sea-trout; and if they can make

themselves masters of their more detailed local history, so much the

better. Mr Home Drummond's is still the regulating Act of Parliament,

and seems to have kept its ground firmly, notwithstanding many attempted

alterations, if not amendments. In accordance with that Act, all our

rivers north of the Tweed close on the 14th of September, and do not

re-open till the 1st of February.[14] This bears hardly upon some of our

northern streams. In the Ness, for example, before the application of

the existing laws, more fish were wont to be killed in December and

January than during most other periods of the year.[15] It appears to

have been clearly ascertained that the season of a river (in respect to

its being early or late) depends mainly upon the temperature of its

waters. The Ness, which is the earliest river in Scotland, scarcely ever

freezes. It flows from the longest and deepest loch in Britain; and

thus, when the thermometer, as it did in the winter of 1807, stands at

20, 30, or even 40 deg. below the freezing point at Inverness, it makes

little or no impression upon either lake or river. The course of the

latter is extremely short. The Shin is also an early river, flowing from

a smaller loch, though with a more extended course before it enters the

Kyle of Sutherland, where it becomes confluent with the Oykel waters. It

may so happen, that in these and other localities, a colder stream,

drawing its shallow and divided sources from the frozen sides of barren

mountains, may adjoin the lake-born river, and

"On that flood,

Indurated and fix'd, the snowy weight

Lies undissolved, while silently beneath,

And unperceived, the current steals away."

Now salmon don't like either snowy water, bridges of ice, or stealthy

streams, but a bold, bright, expansive, unimpeded, and accommodating

kind of highway to our inland vales. They instinctively regard a

modified temperature, and a flowing movement, as great inducements to

leave the sea in early winter, instead of waiting until spring; and, in

like manner, they avoid "imprisoned rivers" until icy gales have ceased

to blow. The consequences are, we may have an extremely early river and

a very late one within a few hundred yards of each other, and both

debouching from the same line of coast into the sea. Now, in the autumn

of 1836, a bill was proposed and brought in by Mr Patrick Stewart and Mr

Loch, to amend the preceding Act (9th Geo. IV.) which had repealed that

of James I., (1424.) It proceeded on the preamble, that "whereas the

sand acts have been found inadequate to the purposes for which they were

passed, inasmuch as it is found that our close-time is not suitable for

all the salmon fishings and rivers throughout Scotland, and it is

expedient that the same should therefore, and in other respects, be

altered, modified, and amended." It therefore enacted that different

close-times shall be observed in different divisions of Scotland, the

whole of which is partitioned into twelve districts, as specified in

schedule A referred to in the bill. We do not know how or from whom the

necessary information was obtained; but we doubt not it was sedulously

sought for, and digested in due form. For example, the boundaries as to

time and space of the second district, are as follows:--"From Tarbet

Ness aforesaid, to Fort George Point, in the county of Nairn, including

the Beaulie Frith and the rivers connected therewith, _except the river

Ness_, from the 20th day of August to the 6th day of January, both days

inclusive; and for the said river Ness, from the 14th day of July, to

the 1st day of December, both days inclusive." This is so far well. But

in the ninth district, the definition and directions are:--"From the

confines of the Solway Frith to the northern boundary of the county of

Ayr, from the 30th day of September to the 16th day of February, both

days inclusive." Now most anglers know that the district thus defined,

includes streams which vary considerably in their character, and cannot

be correctly classed together. Thus the Doon, which draws its chief

sources from numerous lakes among the hills, is one of the earliest

rivers in the south-west of Scotland, clean fresh-run fish occurring in

it by Christmas; while the neighbouring river Ayr, although existing

under the same general climatic influence, produces few good salmon till

the month of June. It is fed by tributaries of the common kind. The

Stinchar, in the same district, is also a late river, being seldom

worked by the tacksmen till towards the end of April, and even then few

of the fish are worth keeping. Of course, it requires to be closed in

September, although the fish are then in good case. These, and many

other facts which might be mentioned, show the difficulty of legislating

even upon the improved localizing principle which it has been attempted

to introduce. However, the bill referred to, though printed, was never

passed.

[Footnote 14: The net fishings in the Tweed do not close till the 16th

of October, and the lovers of the angle are allowed an additional

fortnight. These fishings do not open (either for net or rod) till the

15th of February.]

[Footnote 15: It was proved in evidence before the select committee of

the House of Commons in 1825, that the amount of salmon killed in the

Ness during eight years, (from 1811-12 to 1818-19,) made a total for the

months

Of December, of 2405

Of January, 3554

Of February, 3239

Of March, 3029

Of April, 2147

Of May, 1127

Of June, 170

Of July, 253

Of August, 2192

Of September, 430

------

18,542

It further appears, from the evidence referred to, that during these

years no _grilse_ ran up the Ness till after the month of May. The

months

Of June produced 277

Of July, 1358

Of August, 4229

Of September, 1493

----

7357

]

Since we have entered, inadvertently, into what may be called the

legislative branch of our subject, we may refer for a moment to the

still more recent bill, prepared and brought into Parliament by Mr

Edward Ellice and Mr Thomas Mackenzie, and ordered to be printed, 11th

May 1842. It is entitled, "a bill for the better regulation of the

close-time in salmon fisheries in Scotland;" and with a view to

accommodate and reconcile the interests of all parties, it throws the

arrangement and the decision of the whole affair into the hands of the

commissioners of the _herring_ fishery. It enacts that it shall be

lawful for these commissioners, upon due application by any proprietor

(or guardian, judicial factor, or trustee) of salmon fishings, of the

value of not less than twenty pounds yearly, in any of the rivers,

streams, lochs, &c., or by any three or more of such proprietors

possessing salmon fishings of the yearly value of ten pounds each, or of

any proprietor of salmon fishings which extend one mile in length on one

side, or one half mile on both sides of any river or stream, calling

upon the said commissioners to alter the close-time of any river,

stream, &c., to enquire into the expediency of such alteration. With

that view, the are empowered to call before them, and examine upon oath

or affirmation, all necessary witnesses, and to take all requisite

evidence for and against the proposed alteration of the close-time; and

upon due consideration of all the circumstances of the case, to

determine that the close-time in such river, stream, &c., shall be

altered, and to alter the same accordingly, and fix such other

close-time as they shall deem expedient. Provided always that the

close-time to be fixed by said commissioners, shall not in any case

consist of less than one hundred and thirty-nine free consecutive days.

Provision is also made for an alteration, on application and evidence as

before, of any such legalized close-time, after the expiration of three

years; all expenses incurred by the commissioners in taking evidence, or

in other matters connected with the subject, to be defrayed by the

proprietors. Permission may also be granted in favour of angling with

the single rod, for fourteen days after the close. This bill, which we

suspect it would have been difficult to work conveniently, was likewise

laid upon the shelf.

Although, as we have said, salmon soonest ascend the warmest rivers,

they are alleged to spawn earliest in the colder ones. Thus Mr Scrope

informs us, that in the shallow mountain streams which pour into the

Tay, near its source, the fish spawn much earlier than those in the main

bed of that magnificent river, and he quotes the following sentiments of

the late John Crerar, head fisherman and forester to the Duke of Athole,

on the subject:--

"There are," said John, "two kinds of creatures that I am well

acquainted with--the one a land animal, the other a water

one--the red-deer and the salmon. In October the deer ruts, and

the salmon spawns. The deer begins soonest, high up among the

hills, particularly in frosty weather; so does the salmon begin

to spawn earlier in frosty weather than in soft. The master

hart would keep all the other harts from the hind, if he could;

and the male salmon would keep all the other males from the

female, if he was able."--P. 60.

We do not think, however, that Mr Scrope's comparative reference to the

upper and lower portions of the Tay affords a satisfactory or conclusive

test. The higher parts of almost all rivers (including, their

tributaries) constitute the favourite spawning places, from other causes

than "by reason of the cold;" and the question should be tried, not by

comparing two different districts of the same river, but all the

portions of one river, with the entire course of another of dissimilar

character. The exceptive clause in Mr Loch's proposed act in flavour of

the river Ness, certainly stood upon the supposition of that river being

an early one for the breeding salmon, as well as the new-run winter

fish; for it enacts not only that the Ness should open more than a month

earlier than its neighbours, but also that it shall close more than a

month before them. This latter restriction would of course be useless

and impolitic, if the parent fish were not conceived to be about to

spawn. But it should also be borne in mind, that the same causes (such

as the extent and depth of feeding lakes) which produce a higher

temperature in winter, cause a lower one in summer and the earlier part

of autumn, and that shallow upland streams are warmer during the latter

periods than those which flow from deeper and more affluent sources. We

believe that the fish of all rivers spawn soonest on the higher portions

of their water courses, whether these be comparatively warm or cold. The

earliest individuals are in general such as have escaped the nets and

other accidents below, and have made their watery way in good time to

proper spawning places. In several rivers with which we are acquainted,

a great majority of the breeding fish ascend in August and September.

But many of those which make their appearance in July, would be early

spawners if they were allowed to escape the various dangers which beset

their path in life--almost all the salmon of that month being captured

by one means or another. Mr Young, in our MS. notes already quoted,

states, in regard to the range of the breeding season, that he has seen

salmon perfectly full of spawn, ascending the rivers in October,

November, December, January, and February. Now the fish of the

last-named month may have spawned as late as March, although our

correspondent adds that he has never _seen_ fish on the spawning beds

later than February, nor earlier than September. He has seen them in the

act of spawning in these and all the intermediate months.

As we have said above, the greater part of these breeders ascend in

August and September, and the _throng_ of the spawning process takes

place in November and December. The earlier spawning begins in September

with only a few pairs, generally grilse; and from that period the

numbers increase till the first week of December, when the operation has

attained its height. It then gradually decreases until February, when

perhaps only a few pairs are seen at work. Mr Young informs us that

sea-trout are seen spawning a week earlier than grilse, and grilse a

week earlier than salmon. He does not mean that all grilse spawn before

salmon begin, but that they are observed working a week before the

latter have commenced.

Mr Shaw informs us, (in his last letter,) that it is an exceedingly rare

occurrence to find an unspawned fish in the rivers of Dumfriesshire in

the month of March. On one occasion, however, about twenty years ago, he

observed a female salmon spawning in the Nith about the 10th or 12th of

March, but unaccompanied by any male. He can also call to mind a pair of

salmon having been observed spawning in the Ettrick so late as Selkirk

March fair, which is held during the first week of April. This, however,

we believe to be a very rare occurrence, notwithstanding Mr Scrope's

statement, that he has in the Tweed "caught full roaners as late as

May." These seem to be anomalous or accidental instances, and we are not

aware that any evidence has been brought forward to prove that they

still seek the spawning beds in pairs at that period, or produce what

may be called autumnal fry.

The usual spawning period in the south-west of Scotland extends from

about the middle of November till the middle of February; but the

busiest months of that period are December and January, when the salmon

spawn in great numbers in the Nith, about Drumlanrig. From the

circumstances of the largest salmon visiting the rivers at that season,

Mr Shaw is induced to think that they are likewise the oldest; and that,

as they increase in years, they desire to remain the longer in the sea,

visiting the fresh waters only during the breeding season. The spawning

period of sea-trout, he informs us, is from about the middle of October

until the middle of December, the principal period being the whole of

November, when the various streams and tributaries are taken possession

of both by sea-trout and herling, spawning in deep or shallow water,

according to their individual size.

But in reference to the point in question, that cold accelerates the

spawning process, let us take for a moment the general basin of the

Oykel waters into view. We know that for several seasons back, the

earliest spawning in that quarter has occurred in the Carron, in

September. Now, it is certain, that during that month the Carron waters

are warmer than those of the Shin. So also the Oykel (properly so

called) is itself two degrees warmer in October than the Shin, and yet

the latter is the later of the two. It thus appears that warmth may be

advantageous both as inducing early spawning in autumn, and an early

entrance of fresh-run fish in winter; although a single river may not

possess both attributes for the reason hinted at--the deepest waters,

though protected from winter's cold, being also screened from summer's

heat. Mr Scrope may therefore be regarded as right in his facts as to

the earlier season of the upland streams, although his theoretical

explanation of them is not conclusive.

The lateness of the spawning season in the Shin may, in some measure, be

owing to the early breeding fish going up into the loch, from whence,

after a time, they fall back upon the spawning places in the fords of

the river. The same thing happens in the lower regions of the Tay--the

fish fall back from the loch, and the ford between Taymouth Castle and

Kenmore is by far the latest in that river. Salmon have been seen to

spawn there in February. In regard to the general influence of the

atmosphere, we may here remark that frosty weather is good for spawning;

because the fish go then into the deeper or central portions of the

fords, by which procedure the spawning beds are never dry,--whereas, in

time of spates, salmon are apt to deposit their spawn along the margins,

and thus the roe is frequently destroyed by the subsiding of the waters.

However, the real importance of an early river has little or no

connexion with the periods of the spawning process; because it is not so

much the breeding fish that are of individual value in winter, as those

which, having no intention or requirement to spawn until the following

autumn, enter the fresh waters because they have already completed the

days of their purification in the sea. Although, when viewed in the

relation of time, they may seem to form the continuous succession of

spawning fish which have come up _gravid_ from the ocean during the

later months of autumn, they are in truth rather the _avant-couriers_ of

the newer and more highly-conditioned shoals which show themselves in

early spring. We believe that fresh-run fish may be found in all our

larger rivers during every month throughout the year, though we cannot

clear up their somewhat anomalous history, nor explain why the breeding

season, as among land creatures of identical natures, should not take

place more uniformly about the same time. It is by no means improbable,

however, that, as grilse seek our fresh waters at different periods from

adult salmon, so salmon of a certain standing may observe different

periods of migration from those of dissimilar age.

If, as many suppose, the earliest fish are those which have soonest

spawned during the preceding autumn, and have since descended towards

and recovered in the sea,--then a precocious spawning would necessarily

lead to the speediest supply of clean fish in mid-winter; but the fact

referred to has not been ascertained, and it may therefore still be as

reasonably alleged that the winter fish (an opinion supported by the

fact of their unusually large size) have continued in the sea since

spring. At least a majority of them, (for they differ somewhat in their

aspect and condition,) instead of having spawned soonest in autumn, have

probably rather spawned last of all during the preceding spring, and so

required for their recovery a corresponding retardation of their sojourn

in the sea. The reasons why grilse seldom show themselves till the

summer is well advanced, are very obvious, now that we have become

conversant with their true history. They were only smolts in the

immediately preceding spring, and are becoming grilse from week to week,

and of various sizes, according to the length of their continuance in

the sea. But they require at least a couple of months to intervene

between their departure from the rivers in April or May, and their

return thither;--which return consequently commences, though sparingly,

in June, and preponderates in July and August.

But we are making slow progress with our intended exposition of Mr

Scrope's beautiful and instructive volume. Although salmon and salmon

streams form the subject and "main region of his song," he yet touches

truthfully, albeit with brevity, upon the kindred nature of sea-trout,

which are of two species--the salmon-trout and the bull-trout. The fry

of the former, called orange fins, (which, like the genuine parr, remain

two continuous years in the river,) greatly resemble the young of the

common fresh-water trout. "Like the grilse, it returns to the river the

summer of its spring migration, weighing about a pound and a half upon

an average."--P. 63. We think our author rather over-estimates their

weight at this early period. Herlings (for so they are also named on

their first ascent from the sea) rarely weigh one pound, unless they

remain for a longer time than usual in salt water. In this state they

bear the same relation to adult sea-trout as grilse do to salmon, and

they spawn while herlings. They afterwards increase about a pound and a

half annually, and in the summer of their sixth year (from the ovum)

have been found to weigh six pounds.[16] Whether this is their ordinary

ultimate term of increase, or whether, having every year to pass up and

down the dangerous, because clear and shallow waters, exposed to many

mischances, and, it may be, the "imminent deadly breach" of the

cruive-dyke, and thus perish in their prime, we cannot say: but this we

know, that they are rarely ever met with above the weight of six or

seven pounds.

[Footnote 16: See Mr Shaw's paper "On the Growth and Migration of the

Sea-trout of the Solway."--_Transactions of the Royal Society of

Edinburgh_. Vol. XV. Part iii. p. 369.]

Of the generation and growth of the other and greater sea-trout (_Salmo

eriox_,) we have not yet acquired the same precise knowledge, but its

history may fairly be inferred to be extremely similar.

"These fish," says Mr Scrope, "are found in many salmon rivers,

but not in all. It is very abundant in the Tweed, which it

visits principally at two seasons; in the spring about the

month of May, and again in the month of October, when the males

are very plentiful; but the females are scarce till about the

beginning or middle of November. With salmon it is the reverse,

as their females leave the sea before the males. The bull trout

is also more regular in his habits than the salmon; for the

fisherman can calculate almost to a day when the large black

male trout will leave the sea. The foul fish rise eagerly at

the fly, but the clean ones by no means so. They weigh from two

to twenty-four pounds, and occasionally, I presume, but very

rarely indeed, more. The largest I ever heard of was taken in

the Hallowstell fishing water, at the mouth of the Tweed, in

April 1840, and weighed twenty-three pounds and a half. The

heaviest bull trout I ever encountered myself weighed sixteen

pounds, and I had a long and severe contest with his majesty.

He was a clean fish, and I hooked him in a cast in Mertoun

water called the _Willow Bush_, not in the mouth but in the

dorsal fin. Brethren of the craft, guess what sore work I had

with him! He went here and there with apparent comfort and ease

to his own person, but not to mine. I really did not know what

to make of him. There never was such a Hector. I cannot say

exactly how long I had him on the hook; it seemed a week at

least. At length John Halliburton, who was then my fisherman,

waded into the river up to his middle, and cleeked him whilst

he was hanging in the stream, and before he was half beat."--P.

66.

Many simple-minded people, with something of a sentimental turn, (they

are almost always fond of raw oysters, and gloat over a roasted turkey,

although they know that it was bled to to death by cutting the roots of

its tongue,) look upon angling as a "cruel sport." Let us see, with Mr

Scrope, how this matter really stands.

"I take a little wool and feather, and tying it in a particular

manner upon a hook, make an imitation of a fly; then I throw it

across the river, and let it sweep round the stream with a

lively motion. This I have an undoubted right to do, for the

river belongs to me or my friend; but mark what follows. Up

starts a monster fish with his murderous jaws, and makes a dash

at my little Andromeda. Thus he is the aggressor, not I; his

intention is evidently to commit murder. He is caught in the

act of putting that intention into execution. Having wantonly

intruded himself on my hook, which I contend he had no right to

do, he darts about in various directions, evidently surprised

to find that the fly, which he hoped to make an easy conquest

of, is much stronger than himself. I naturally attempt to

regain this fly, unjustly withheld from me. The fish gets tired

and weak in his lawless endeavours to deprive me of it. I take

advantage of his weakness, I own, and drag him, somewhat loth,

to the shore, when one rap on the back of the head ends him in

an instant. If he is a trout, I find his stomach distended with

flies. That beautiful one called the May fly, who is by nature

almost ephemeral--who rises up from the bottom of the the

shallows, spreads its light wings, and flits in the sunbeam in

enjoyment of its new existence--no sooner descends to the

surface of the water to deposit its eggs, than the unfeeling

fish, at one fell spring, numbers him prematurely with the

dead. You see, then, what a wretch a fish is; no ogre is more

bloodthirsty, for he will devour his nephews, nieces, and even

his own children, when he can catch them; and I take some

credit for having shown him up. Talk of a wolf, indeed a lion,

or a tiger! Why, these, are all mild and saintly in comparison

with a fish! What a bitter fright must the smaller fry live in!

They crowd to the shallows, lie hid among the weeds, and dare

not say the river is their own. I relieve them of their

apprehensions, and thus become popular with the small shoals.

When we see a fish quivering upon dry land, he looks so

helpless without arms or legs, and so demure in expression,

adding hypocrisy to his other sins, that we naturally pity him;

then kill and eat him, with Harvey sauce, perhaps. Our pity is

misplaced,--the fish is not. There is an immense trout in Loch

Awe in Scotland, which is so voracious, and swallows his own

species with such avidity, that he has obtained the name of

_Salmo ferox._ I pull about this unnatural monster till he is

tired, land him, and give him the _coup-de-grace_. Is this

cruel? Cruelty should be made of sterner stuff."--P. 83.

Mr Scrope is known as an accomplished artist as well as an experienced

angler, and we need not now to tell our readers that he is also a

skilful author. It does not fall to the lot of all men to handle with

equal dexterity the brush, the pen, and the rod--to say nothing of the

rifle--still less of the leister, under cloud of night. There is much in

the present volume to interest even those who are so unfortunate as to

have never seen either, grilse or salmon, except as pupils or

practitioners in the silver-fork school. His reminiscences of his own

early life and manlier years, under the soubriquet of Harry Otter, are

pleasantly told, and his adventurous meetings with poachers and painters

are amusing in themselves, as well as instructive in their tendency to

illustrate, not only the deeper mysteries of piscatorial art, but the

life and conversation of the amphibious people who dwell by the sides of

rivers. His first arrival in "fair Melrose," the moonlight lustre of

which was then unsung, is thus described--

"It was late, and I looked forth on the tranquil scene from my

window. The moonbeams played upon the distant hilltops, but the

lower masses slept as yet in shadow; again the pale light

caught the waters of the Tweed, the lapse of whose streams fell

faintly on the ear, like the murmuring of a sea-shell. In front

rose up the mouldering abbey, deep in shadow; its pinnacles,

and buttresses, and light tracery, but dimly seen in the solemn

mass. A faint light twinkled for a space among the tomb-stones,

soon it was extinct, and two figures passed off in the shadow,

who had been digging a grave even at that late hour. As the

night advanced, a change began to take place. Clouds heaved up

over the horizon; the wind was heard in murmurs; the rack

hurried athwart the moon; and utter darkness fell upon river,

mountain, and haugh. Then the gust swelled louder, and the

storm struck fierce and sudden against the casement. But as the

morrow dawned, though rain-drops still hung upon the leaf, the

clouds sailed away, the sun broke forth, and all was fair and

tranquil."--P. 97.

The fisherman was sent for express, and his general garb and

fly-bedizened hat, are soon portrayed; while the "waxing" of the Tweed,

and how the Eildon Hills were of old cloven by the art of grammarye,

conclude the fourth chapter, and bring us only to the hundredth page.

The ensuing section of the work opens with some general observations on

the scenery of that now noted district of the south of Scotland, blended

with the graceful expression of those melancholy remembrances, we doubt

not deeply felt, which must ever cast a dark shadow over the minds of

the surviving associates of the Great Minstrel. Alas! where can we turn

ourselves without being reminded of the transitory nature of this our

low estate, of its dissevered ties, its buried hopes, and lost

affections! How many bitter endurances, reflected from the bosom of the

past, are ever mingling with all those ongoings of human life and action

which we call enjoyments! How mixed in their effects are even the

natural glories of this our fair creation! What golden sunset casts not

its far-beaming splendour, not only on the great mountains and the

glittering sea, but also breaks, as if in mockery, into ghastly chambers

where the desolation of death, "the wages of sin," is miserably

brooding! And yet how solemnizing, how elevating in their influences,

are all the highest beauties both of art and nature, notwithstanding the

awe, approaching to fearfulness, with which they not seldom affect our

spirits. The veneration with which we gaze even on insensate walls which

once formed the loved abode of genius and virtue, is a natural tribute

to a noble nature, and flows from one of the purest and most sustaining

sources of emotion by which our humanity is distinguished. It almost

looks as if, in accordance with the Platonic philosophy, there remained

to man, from an original and more lofty state of existence, some dim

remembrance of perfection.

"This inborn and implanted recollection of the godlike," says Schlegel,

"remains ever dark and mysterious; for man is surrounded by the sensible

world, which being in itself changeable and imperfect, encircles him

with images of imperfection, changeableness, corruption, and error, and

thus casts perpetual obscurity over that light which is within him.

Wherever, in the sensible and natural world, he perceives any thing

which bears a resemblance to the attributes of the God-head, which can

serve as a symbol of a high perfection, the old recollections of his

soul are awakened and refreshed. The love of the beautiful fills and

animates the soul of the beholder with an awe and reverence which belong

not to the beautiful itself--at least not to any sensible manifestation

of it--but to that unseen original of which material beauty is the type.

From this admiration, this new-awakened recollection, and this

instantaneous inspiration, spring all higher knowledge and truth. These

are not the product of cold, leisurely, and voluntary reflection, but

occupy at once a station far superior to what either thought, or art, or

speculation, can attain; and enter into our inmost souls with the power

and presence of a gift from the divinity."

Mr Scrope's first visit to the Tweed was made before the "Ariosto of the

North" had sung those undying strains which have since added so much

associated interest to the finely varied courses of that fair river. But

many fond lovers of nature, then as now,

"Though wanting the accomplishment of verse,"

were well acquainted with all its unrecorded beauties.

"What stranger," asks our author, "just emerging from the

angular enclosures of the south, scored and subdued by tillage,

would not feel his heart expand at the first sight of the

heathy mountains, swelling out into vast proportions, over

which man had no dominion? At the dawn of day he sees, perhaps,

the mist ascending slowly up the dusky river, taking its

departure to some distant undefined region; below the mountain

range his sight rests upon a deep and narrow glen, gloomy with

woods, shelving down to its centre. What is hid in that

mysterious mass the eye may not visit; but a sound comes down

from afar, as of the rushing and din of waters. It is the voice

of the Tweed, as it bursts from the melancholy hills, and comes

rejoicing down the sunny vale, taking its free course through

the haugh, and glittering amongst sylvan bowers--swelling out

at times fair and ample, and again contracted into gorges and

sounding cataracts--lost for a space in its mazes behind a

jutting brae, and re-appearing in dashes of light through bolls

of trees opposed to it in shadow.

"Thus it holds its fitful course. The stranger might wander in

the quiet vale, and far below the blue summits he might see the

shaggy flock grouped upon some sunny knoll, or struggling among

the scattered birch-trees, and lower down on the haugh, his eye

perchance might rest awhile on some cattle standing on a tongue

of land by the margin of the river, with their dark and rich

brown forms opposed to the brightness of the waters. All these

outward pictures he might see and feel; but he would see no

farther: the lore had not spread its witchery over the

scene--the legends slept in oblivion. The stark moss-trooper,

and the clanking stride of the warrior, had not again started

into life; nor had the light blazed gloriously in the sepulchre

of the wizard with the mighty book. The slogan swelled not anew

upon the gale, sounding, through the glens and over the misty

mountains; nor had the minstrel's harp made music in the

stately halls of Newark, or beside the lonely braes of Yarrow.

"Since that time I have seen the Cottage of Abbotsford, with

the rustic porch, lying peacefully on the haugh between the

lone hills, and have listened to the wild rush of the Tweed as

it hurried beneath it. As time progressed, and as hopes arose,

I have seen that cottage converted into a picturesque mansion,

with every luxury and comfort attached to it, and have partaken

of its hospitality; the unproductive hills I have viewed

covered with thriving plantations, and the whole aspect of the

country civilized, without losing its romantic character. But,

amidst all these revolutions, I have never perceived any change

in the mind of him who made them,--'the choice and master

spirit of the age.' There he dwelt in the hearts of the people,

diffusing life and happiness around him; he made a home beside

the border river, in a country and a nation that have derived

benefit from his presence, and consequence from his genius.

From his chamber he looked out upon the grey ruins of the

Abbey, and the sun which set in splendour beneath the Eildon

Hills. Like that sun, his course has been run; and, though

disastrous clouds came across him in his career, he went down

in unfading glory.

"These golden hours, alas! have long passed away; but often

have I visions of the sylvan valley, and its glittering waters,

with dreams of social intercourse. Abbotsford, Mertoun,

Chiefswood, Huntly-Burn, Allerley--when shall I forget ye?"--P.

102.

How many share these sad and vain regrets! The very voice of the living

waters, which once glittered so rejoicingly through the green pastures,

or reflected in their still expanse the lichen-covered crag or varied

woodland, seems now to utter an "_illoetabile murmur_," while

"A trouble not of clouds or weeping rain,

Nor of the setting sun's pathetic light,

Engender'd, hangs o'er Eildon's triple height."

On the 21st of September 1832, Sir Walter Scott breathed his last, in

the presence of all his children. "It was a beautiful day," we have been

elsewhere told, "so warm that every window was wide open, and so

perfectly still, that the sound of all others most delicious to his ear,

the gentle ripple of the Tweed over its pebbles, was distinctly audible

as we knelt around the bed, and his eldest son kissed and closed his

eyes. No sculptor ever modelled a more majestic image of repose."[17]

[Footnote 17: The Life of Sir Walter Scott, Bart., by his literary

executor.]

We must here unwillingly conclude our account of Mr Scrope's volume,

although we have scarcely even entered on many of its most important

portions. Bait fishing for salmon, and the darker, though

torch-illumined, mysteries of the leister, occupy the terminal chapters.

A careful study of the whole will amply repay the angler, the

naturalist, the artist, and the general admirer of the inexhaustible

beauties of rural scenery--nowhere witnessed or enjoyed to such

advantage as by the side of a first-rate river.

* * * * *