194 THE SALMON 



cares, the silvery sea rover that shot up beneath the 

 bridges at Perth or Berwick ; that faced the swift rush 

 of the Spey or surmounted the raging cataracts of 

 Findhorn, losing spirit, subsides into a moping kelt, 

 with scales as ruddy as a fox's fur, and becomes alto- 

 gether unfit for human food. 



England has good rivers as well as Scotland ; and 

 Ireland would have another undeniable grievance if 

 the salmon of the Erne, the Shannon, and the Black- 

 water were ranked beneath the fish from the sister 

 islands. There are connoisseurs and salesmen who 

 profess to discriminate ; but we greatly question a 

 subtlety of palate which reminds one of the rival 

 wine-tasters in ' Don Quixote.' We understand 

 drawing the broad and easy distinctions between fish 

 from the rapid rivers of the North and the clear waters 

 of West Ireland, and those caught in the streams that 

 meander through muddy lowlands. But we doubt 

 whether the finest expert can discriminate between 

 the salmon of the Severn and that taken in the Avon 

 at Christchurch. The question is complicated by con- 

 siderations of season, condition, packing, and keeping. 

 What we do know is that in England, and even in the 

 ; Tay and Tweed, industry and. commercial activity have 

 been injurious or fatal to salmon breeding for the 

 table. The fish that clings to hereditarv haunts must 



