344 THE LAMPERN. 



in that case is only in good condition during part of its sojourn. Practically, there- 

 fore, the Lamprey is less persecuted than most of the finny tribe who are unfortunate 

 enough to possess well-flavored flesh, and whose excellences are publicly known. 



It has already been mentioned, that in many places there is a strong prejudice against 

 the eel, and it is remarkable that a fish like the Lamprey, which is even better flavored 

 than the eel itself, should share a similar opprobrium. Many a hardy and hard-living 

 fisherman flings out of his net, in disgust, a Lamprey which would hold a high place at 

 a nobleman's table, and for which many a bon vivant would liberally open his purse. 

 But it is always found that tastes vary with the locality, and that even nationalities 

 have much to do with the great question of food. 



A mere strip of water, over which a man can pass in less time than he occupies in 

 strolling for his morning's walk or ride, marks out a radical difference in the food of 

 two great nations ; and even the veteran cosmopolite, well versed as he is in the customs 

 of various lands, can seldom divest himself so fully of his nationality that he can bring 

 himself to eat the objects which his childhood was taught to detest. Logic, for 

 example, proves that snails ought to be equal or superior to oysters, as they are cleaner 

 feeders, and live ever among green leaves ; and philosophy reminds us that we ought to 

 take advantage of any addition to the food of man. Forcible, however, as the one may be, 

 and irrefragable the argument of the other, their combined influence will be insufficient 

 to eradicate the early ideas which connect snails and loathsomeness by a link, wholly 

 illogical, but not the less binding. 



When the Lamprey deposits its spawn, it is obliged to form a hollow in the bed of 

 the river, in which it can leave the eggs in tolerable safety, and performs this operation 

 with great speed and no small skill. The fish is not gifted with any great power of fin, 

 and cannot make much head against a sharp current, needing to rest at intervals, and 

 for that purpose fastening on to some large stone over which the stream has no control. 



But when it sets to work upon its nursery, it takes advantage of the current to help 

 it in its labors, and, by the mingled force of the stream and its own muscular action, 

 soon contrives to carry away the pebbles that would interfere with the well-being of its 

 future young. 



The process is simple enough. When the Lamprey has fixed upon the convenient 

 spot to which it is urged by its unfailing instinct, it surveys the locality for a short time 

 and then sets vigorously to work. Fastening itself to one of the obnoxious pebbles, 

 and disposing its body so as to gain the strongest hold upon the rushing stream, it 

 " backs water " with wonderful energy, and fish and stone are soon seen tumbling 

 together down the current. In this way, the Lamprey will remove stones of such a 

 magnitude that a fish of three times its dimensions would appear unable even to stir 

 them. As soon as the stone has been moved a yard or two away, the Lamprey wriggles 

 its way back again, and takes possession of another stone. By a repetition of this pro- 

 cess, the hollow is soon made, and the industrious fish is able to deposit its eggs 

 therein. 



The respiration of the Lamprey is effected after a very curious manner, the chief 

 internal organs being bathed with water by means of seven round holes at each side of 

 the neck. The movements of this fish are very graceful, and although it is not powerful 

 of fin, it can ascend very rapid currents by making little dashes upward, fastening itself 

 to some fixed object, resting for a while, and then repeating the same manoeuvre. 



The color of the Lamprey is olive-brown, spotted and mottled with dark brown and 

 deep greenish olive. Its ordinary length is from sixteen to twenty inches. 



THE lesser figure represents the LAMPERN, called in some counties the LAMPREEN, 

 with that curious faculty of transposition which induces the rustic to speak of thurst- 

 ing instead of thrusting, and to call birds' nests, brids' neesuns. 



The Lampern is plentiful in many of the English rivers, and if the generality of 

 residents near the water were only aware of its excellence for the table, would soon be 

 thinned in numbers. The prejudice that exists against the eel and the lamprey is 

 absolutely mild when compared with the horror with which the Lampern is contemplated 

 in many parts of England. Not only do the ignorant people refuse to eat it, but they 



