THE MODERN THAMES. 117 



which enclosed Londinium, that fort in the woods 

 and marshes — marshes which to this day, though 

 drained and built over, enwrap the nineteenth century 

 city in thick mists. The red deer are gone, the boar 

 is gone, the wolf necessarily destroyed — the red deer 

 can never again drink at the Thames in the dusk 

 of the evening while our civilization endures. The 

 otter alone remains — the wildest, the most thoroughly 

 self-supporting of all living things left — a living link 

 going back to the days of Cassivelaunus. London 

 ought to take the greatest interest in the otters of its 

 river. The shameless way in which every otter that 

 dares to show itself is shot, trapped, beaten to death, 

 and literally battered out of existence, should rouse 

 the indignation of every sportsman and every lover 

 of nature. The late Eev. John Kussell, who, it will 

 be admitted, was a true sportsman, walked three 

 thousand miles to see an otter. That was a different 

 spirit, was it not ? 



That is the spirit in which the otter in the Thames 

 should be regarded. Those who offer money rewards 

 for killing Thames otters ought to be looked on as 

 those who would offer rewards for poisoning foxes in 

 Leicestershire. I suppose we shall not see the ospreys 

 again ; but I should like to. Again, on the other side 

 of the boundary, in the tidal waters, the same sort of 

 ravenous destruction is carried on against everything 

 that ventures up. A short time ago a porpoise 

 came up to Mortlake ; now, just think, a porpoise up 

 from the great sea — that sea to which Londoners 

 rush with such joy — past Gravesend, past Green- 

 wich, past the Tower, under London Bridge, past 



