PERILS OF SALMON. 113 



defence for taking of salmons from the nativity of Our 

 Lady unto Saint Martin's Day;" and the destruction 

 of "young salmons" is forbidden "from the midst of 

 April unto the Nativity of Saint John the Baptist" 

 that is, the 24th June. That the salmon should have 

 the worst of it in this long contest with human greed 

 and folly is quite intelligible, even if this were all that 

 we know of the adverse influences under which they 

 have contrived to perpetuate their species. But who 

 shall recount the perils which beset the life of a salmon? 

 Every river almost can boast of having within or along 

 its course some means of destruction peculiar to itself 

 for ensnaring the luckless salmon. The estuary of the 

 Severn has its fixed engines known as "putts," 

 " putchers," and " trumpets." The rivers running into 

 the northern side of the Bristol Channel have " coracles" 

 and " stop nets." The estuary of the Kibble is swept 

 by the " wing net," and that of the Parret by " butts." 



In the fresh water the salmon has to encounter a 

 new range of fixed engines, designated as " cages," 

 " coops," " slaughters," complained of from the days of 

 old, but more or less actively destructive in all English 

 rivers to this day, notwithstanding sundry Acts of Par- 

 liament directed against those owners of salmon-fisher- 

 ies, who, as one of Queen Anne's Acts declares, " re- 

 garding only their private and greedy profit, do destroy 

 the stock of the said fisheries by preventing the breed 

 of good fish to pass in season through their fishing 

 wires and fishing hatchways from the sea into the rivers 

 to spawn, whereby not only the increase of the said fish, 

 but also the growth thereof, is in great measure de- 

 stroyed." 



These causes of destruction to salmon originate in 

 malice prepense. There are many, besides, springing 

 up with advancing civilisation, and not designedly, yet 

 ruinously injurious to fishes. For instance, the " silver 

 Thames " of our oldest English poets is now the stink- 

 ing tidal sewer whose odours penetrate into the Houses 



