A HISTORY OF DURHAM 



One last instance may be quoted as showing 

 that the murderous instinct in the poaching 

 fraternity still smoulders in the county. It is 

 only eight years since Mr. Stobart of Witton 

 Tower was deliberately shot, and left for dead, 

 by a young man whom he found poaching in 



one of the coverts on the estate. In this case 

 also, the person charged with the crime was 

 tried and adjudged innocent by twelve of his 

 fellow-countrymen, and it is therefore perhaps 

 better to make no further reference to the 

 matter. 



ANGLING 



Of angling in the county of Durham one is 

 fain to cry Ichabod. In common with all the 

 northern counties, with their hilly configuration, 

 it is admirably adapted by nature for the con- 

 templative man's recreation ; it is bounded on 

 the north and south by two important and 

 prolific salmon rivers, a third though alas ! 

 a salmon river only in name almost bisects it, 

 and innumerable tributaries of these streams 

 have their course down every valley. But the 

 destroying hand of man has poisoned most of the 

 river system of the county to an extent that is 

 hardly credible ; and while it may justly be urged 

 that the great industrial interests of the shire 

 should not be subordinated to sentimental or 

 sporting considerations, it is undoubtedly the 

 case that much of this pollution is preventible, 

 and should be prevented, if only those in autho- 

 rity would exercise the powers that the legisla- 

 ture has given them. Nor, if its economic side 

 be taken into consideration, is the matter purely 

 one of sentiment, a point which was once so 

 admirably put by Charles Kingsley, that I cannot 

 forbear quoting his words : 



Of all Heaven's gifts of food, the one to be 

 protected most carefully is that worthy gentleman 

 salmon, who is generous enough to go down to the 

 sea weighing five ounces, and come back next year 

 weighing five pounds, without having cost the soil, 

 or the State, one farthing. 1 



It is pitiable to see a river like the Wear, once 

 famous for salmon, now only used of migratory 

 fish by worthless bull-trout, and though we can 

 never hope to see ' fresh-run fish as plentiful 

 under Durham towers as in Holly Hole at 

 Christchurch,' 2 something could surely be done 

 to attract the king of fresh-water fishes back to 

 its old haunts. It may be safely affirmed 

 that, from Bishop Auckland to Sunderland, 

 there is not a single influent of the Wear 

 which is not contaminated with noxious matter 

 of some description ; and the sight, and smell, of 

 such once charming trout-streams as the Cong 

 Burn at Chester le Street, which now rolls a 

 turbid gamboge-coloured flood ; of the Merring- 

 ton Beck at Spennymoor, which can be dis- 

 covered by the nose before it is apparent to the 

 eye ; of the Gaunless, the Browney, and a score 

 of other once pure brooks, is an object lesson in 

 twentieth-century industrial civilization. Yet, 

 even now, many of the less polluted of these 

 1 The Water Babies. ' Ibid. 



streams contain trout, and given a fair chance of 

 rehabilitating itself, the Wear might yet again 

 become what it once was, a fair salmon river, 

 and a first-class trout stream. 



As is the case with all rivers having lofty water- 

 sheds and comparatively short courses, the intro- 

 duction of land drainage during the past century 

 has done much to alter the character of Durham 

 streams. Formerly a heavy fall of snow or rain was 

 gradually filtered into the main artery or river 

 by means of its tributaries, taking days to get 

 into it, and equally long to get out, keeping up 

 a steady supply of fish food during the time, and 

 maintaining the water at fishing size for long 

 periods. Now the rainfall is at once caught up 

 by the open ' grips ' of the moorlands and the 

 pipe-drainage of the agricultural lands, and 

 promptly carried out to sea in one raging flood, 

 after which in a dry season the river subsides 

 into a mere succession of stagnant pools con- 

 nected by trickling streams, its bottom becomes 

 foul with green weed, and the fish grow languid, 

 and even diseased, for want of proper aeration 

 of the element in which they live. 3 



It has always been a moot point with the 

 writer whether these altered conditions have not 

 largely conduced to confine the main run of the 

 migratory salmonidae to the autumn, when a 

 fairly constant supply of fresh water is usually 

 forthcoming. 4 



The Tees, which forms the boundary between 

 Durham and the neighbouring counties of York 

 and Westmorland, is undoubtedly the most im- 

 portant of our rivers. 



The Tees rises on Cross Fell in Cumberland, 

 and for the first few miles of its course is a mere 

 moorland beck, until it widens out into the great 

 pool or ' dub ' locally known as the Week 



* During the dry summers of 1904-5 there were 

 many places on the Upper Wear, where an active 

 man could have picked his way across the river, 

 dryshod. 



4 There is abundant evidence that in the eigh- 

 teenth century salmon used to be taken in great 

 quantities in the East Coast rivers during the spring 

 and summer months. On 15 July, 1771, upwards 

 of 4,000 salmon were exposed for sale in New- 

 castle fish-market, which sold for about l^J. 

 per pound. One hundred and seven salmon were 

 caught that morning at one fishery above Tyne 

 Bridge ; Richardson, Local Historian's Table Book. 

 The Tyne is still a fairly prolific salmon river ; but 

 ' quantum mutatus ab illo.' 



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