CHAPTER III. 



THE THAMES. 



" From his oozy bed 

 Old Father Thames advanced his rev'rend head, 

 His tresses drooped with dews, and o'er the stream 

 His shining horns diffused a golden gleam ; 

 Graved on his urn appeared the moon, that guides 

 His swelling waters and alternate tides : 

 The figured streams in waves of silver roU'd, 

 And on his banks Augusta, robed in gold ; 

 Around his throne the sea-born brothers stood. 

 Who swell with tributary urns his flood : 

 First, the famed authors of his ancient name. 

 The winding Isis andjthe fruitful Thame." 



Can or will the queenly Thames be ever made a salmon 

 river ? That is the^question askedlyear after year, to remain 

 year after year unanswered. At times we are startled by 

 reports from Thames-side' of a salmon seen and nearly cap- 

 tured. During a whole season two or three years ago artful 

 and exciting rumours .reached town respecting a veritable 

 salmo salar said to be creating a sensation at a certain 

 station on the river. He was seen feeding every morning ; 

 Jack Rowlocks had obtained a full view of him as he 

 leaped a yard out of the water in the summer twilight. So 

 ran the story, and in various^ways diat fish has ever since 

 been employed to] point^fishing morals and adorn waterside 

 tales. He was evidently made to rise again in the following 



