i8o EELS. 



urging their way up the moist rock by the side of the fall." "Thousands," he adds, "died, 

 but their bodies, remaining moist, served as a ladder for others to make their way ; and I 

 saw some ascending even perpendicular stones, making their road through wet moss, or ad- 

 hering to some Eels that had died in the attempt. Such is the energy of these little animals 

 that they continue to find their way in immense numbers to Loch Erne. The same thing 

 happens at the fall of the Bann, and Loch Neagh is thus peopled by them. Even the mighty 

 fall of Schaffhausen does not prevent them from making their way to the Lake of Constance, 

 where I have seen many very large Eels." 



That young Eels do ascend waterfalls in the manner described by so close an observer 

 and philosopher as Dr. John Davy cannot be doubted : it is probable, however, that their 

 ordinary method of climbing perpendicular obstructions is by iwrviing themselves up through 

 the overhanging dripping moss that covers the rocks. There would be no very great difficulty 

 in "such a getting up stairs." Mr. Couch, who has repeatedly watched the ascent up a fall 

 of four or five feet in a stream near his own house at Polperro, has never seen a young Eel 

 successful in its efforts to climb a moderately dry rock: "if they advance on a dry portion, 

 their course is arrested ; and after many endeavours and frequent restings they were compelled 

 to retreat and seek a moister spot." 



After the little Eels have gained the summit of the fall, they rest for a while with their 

 heads protruded into the stream. They then urge themselves forward, taking advantage of 

 every projecting stone or slack water, and never get carried back by the current. Falls 

 twenty feet high are not insuperable barriers to these persevering little creatures. Although, 

 as we have already seen, this migration of young Eels continues throughout the greater 

 portion of the year, yet it would appear that the spring and early summer are the seasons 

 when they ascend in the greatest numbers. In some rivers, as in the Thames and Severn, 

 this migration is termed Eel-fare, of which the word elver is, perhaps, a corruption. They 

 often associate in the form of long ropes in their upward migration : at other times they 

 proceed in a promiscuous manner; every now and then diving under the sand, or resting 

 under the shelter of a stone; always, I have observed, keeping near the sides where the 

 stream presents fewer difficulties of ascent. Young Eels have been observed at sea four or 

 five leagues from the land : of the myriads that ascend our rivers, few, comparatively speaking, 

 ever arrive at Eelhood : the young tender morsels are devoured by numerous enemies, the 

 adult Eels being amongst the number. In some Salmon rivers, Mr. Francis states that he has 

 seen the lower pools in a perfect boil with the constant rising of the fish as the small 

 Eels wriggle along the top of the water; so that the Salmon, if the larger Eels be des- 

 tructive to their fry, exact summary vengeance. But man, as usual, is their greatest enemy. 

 Mr. Couch told me that one of the Cornish fishermen, when at Exeter some years ago, saw 

 "four carts loaded with little Eels, not larger than a knitting-needle, for sale, and on making 

 inquiry was informed that the people fried them into cakes!" Elver-cakes consist of a 

 number of these young Eels, which, after being scoured and boiled, are pressed into flat 

 masses : they are said to present a peculiar appearance, from the number of little black 

 eyes that bespangle them, and to be delicious food. In France these little Eels are given 

 to the ducks and poultry, and even share the same fate as Sticklebacks do on some parts 

 of our coast, being carted away for manure. 



Mr. Frank Buckland writes as follows in the Field newspaper of June 6th., 1863: — "Some 

 time since I received, through the kindness of a friend, four cakes composed entirely of 

 young Eels. These Eels, or Eelvers, came to Langport (on the river Parrett) with the first 

 flood-tide in March. They are about three or four inches long, and came in a continued 

 shoal about eighteen inches wide, without cessation for some days, always against the stream, 

 and close to the left bank. The women catch them at night by means of a canvass bag, 

 attached to a hoop at the end of a long stick, to which a lantern is fixed. Occasionally a 



