374 
L 
Sept. 18, 1875. 
FiSH 
FISH I> MARKET. 
Owing to the September gales prevailing the past few 
days, fish have not been plenty. 
Spanish mackerel are outward bound, and in a few 
days will disappear from our waters; selling at present 
for 40c. Striped bass, 2oc. ; sea bass, 18c. ; black, loc. ; 
very small fresh mackerel, 8c. ; bluefish, 10c.; cod, 10c.; 
halibut, 18e. ; kingfish, 25c. ; large weak, 10c. ; brook 
trout, ^1 25 per pound, imtil Wednesday, the 15th, 
when they will be taken out of market until March 15, 
when the law will permit the sale to be resumed. Green 
turtle, 15c.; frog legs, 50c.; soft crabs, f;l 50 per doz. ; 
scollops, 15c. per gallon. 
Pouts ! 
Did 3 'ou ever “ pout?” That is to say, did you ever 
go pouting? Rob said he had been up to Foster Pond 
the da}’ before, and caught more than two hundred fat 
ones. Rob Taisey is the boss fisherman of the country, 
and when he goes out fishing there is somebody around. 
It rained like perdition next day, but Ike and Cyrus said 
it was the right kind of weather for pouts, and away 
they started for Peacham, leaving Scott and myself to 
bring up the rear after supper. Did it rain ? The clouds 
sprang a leak all over, and down it came in torrents; 
but rain or shine, it makes no difference to the wonder- 
ful machinery of the restless little Spike, and he whirled 
us over the stones and through the storm, wet to the 
skin, away up to Riker’s, in the Hollow of Peacham. 
It was after dark, and still it was just the time to go 
pouting. Curious fish, that pout. Rain or storm, day 
or night, it is always just the time to catch him. It was a 
style of fish that I never had handled, except on a fork; 
and, by the way, between you and I, that is the best place 
to handle anj- of these fish — and I was out for informa- 
tion. Am. and Charley soon came down from the Cor- 
ner with Dr. Parker’s big boat; Rob got the weapons 
together, harnessed up the express wagon, and all aboard 
with overcoats, oil cloths, hooks, baits, traps and lan- 
terns, all seven of us put out for Mud Pond for pouts; 
Rob said it was full of them — and that was what we 
were after. 
Mud Pond lies just as you rise the hill above Ewell’s 
Alills — a deep, dark sheet of water, with no boating 
accommodations that you don’t fetch. Most of these 
ponds round about have boats on them that you can 
borrow, rent or steal; not so the Muddy; hut we were 
well prepared, and by the time the Danville clock struck 
nine we were afloat among the pouts, prepared with 
six suits of hooks to thin ’em out. These pouts are a 
sort of man-of-war — a floating arsenal filled with war- 
like implements of defence, which don’t make things 
so pleasant. On either side, just below the gills, and 
concealed in the side fins, as also on the main dorsal 
fin, are spears or horns about the size of a common 
cloth needle, and just exactly as sharp, which they han- 
dle with the utmost facility,and woe to the fisherman who 
carelessly, or in the greenness of ignorance, takes t^em 
by the wrong grip. He has hold of an aqueous bum- 
ble-bee, armed with a whole battery of stings, and the 
best thing you can do is to let him alone until you 
get used to seeing him handled by experts. ^Moreover, 
they are a sort of owl fish — can be always 
banked away in the mud and fast asleep in the 
open sunlight, and comes forth in the 
night or dark cloudy days for its prey. 
Vfe were prepared for them. It is no use to tell a lie 
about it,* or to say how long we fished, or how many we 
caught, or how we got our fingers pricked with their 
triple set horns, or how Am. screamed the dark air full 
of inhuman noises — it is about as well to leave it alone 
by saying that we got to ‘Wills and to bed by midnight, 
and left the counting and weighing out of the game uif 
til morning. This was unfortunate, iierhaps, for at that 
hour there was not enough of them visible to make any 
fuss about. Rob routed us all out at four in the morn- 
ing, and after a cold snack with hot coffee, put us off 
to Foster pond for pickerel. Am. and Charley would 
follow us with their boat, and while they were making 
the four miles, the rest could catch a mess of picks. But 
they didn't, unless three and two trout can be consid- 
ered such a quantity. It was only a bit of a pond with 
more fishermen than pickerel, but we presume, if the 
full truth were known, it would be that the boys that 
went out in the old leaky boats, with bits of spruce 
boards for paddles, caught their full share on that dull 
cloudy morning. Cy got disgusted at the fun and took 
to the brook for trout — fished a mile or two, got a miser- 
able little trout or two ; by which time the big boat had 
come, and then for the pouts. They bit handsomely, but 
what a country ? The day that had promi.sed so much 
rain and dark clouds all at once cleared up ; the pouts 
went off to their mud bed, and the boys were left to 
their wits. Scott declared for Harvy’s pond and perch. 
It was three miles away and full of them, and there we 
went. 
Disappointment and fishermen are very often next door 
neighbors, and when dinner was cooked and eaten out 
in the open air, and after a splendid swim on the 
smooth, gravelly bottomed beach, the sun was red hot 
in the heavens — earth and water seemed to be washing 
away with a slow fever ; it was found that no fish alive 
could he tempted with the daintiest worm in the pot, so 
we gave it up. "W e spoke of it several times, but we 
never counted the fish that we took home. The Judge’s 
folks didn’t believe we had been fishing, but the best of 
people will sometimes be uncharitable and misjudge the 
most worthy. This much I am willing to admit : That 
if that party had relied solely upon phosphorent fish 
food for its brain power, it would have rejoiced in being 
the most thorough combination of idiots in Caledonia 
county. I have got through with fishing for the season. 
If my best friend should declare that there were a mil- 
lion of them in an acre pond within forty rods, I 
wouldn’t go a step. I have fishedjin mountain brooks 
and mountain lakes imtil I am tired of it, and am_ going 
home. I am no exception. Cyrus has returned to the 
heart of the pathless wilderness that surrounds Pea- 
body’s station. Himself and Orange Buchanan have 
taken the hermit’s oath to live in seclusion and let their 
beards grow, and aU the rest have returned to their daily 
toil, content to taste fish no more, whether their hrains 
go to seed or not. — D. X. R. in Davenport Democrat. 
OcR friends report takes: 
Os Thursday, Sept. 9, at Bergen Point, 2,. 500 feet 
from the Draw, 18 bass, from 4 lb. to 2 lbs. 
Ox Friday, Sept. 10, in an eddy that makes at the 
dock at Barren Island, 30 king fish, about 14 lbs. 
P*ERCH fishing in the Delaware is now reported in fu 1 
season, with good success. One party took 1,200 pounds 
in one day. 
The rivers and creeks that fall into boundary rivers 
between States, are generally held to be “no man’s 
land,” and are fished with impunity. Xew Jersey Fish 
Commissioners are waking up to this little irregularity, 
and will stop it if possible. Here comes in the use of 
association between States. 
Clovis Chapix caught an immense sturgeon, six feet 
long, a foot thick, and weighing 118 pounds, in the river 
at Holyoke, the other day. He saw it in shallow water, 
dropped a small rock on its head, stunning it, after 
which he waded in, caught it by the gills, and drew it 
ashore. 
[From Fraok BnckUnd> Log Book.] 
THE BRIGHTON AQUARIUM. 
Just one hundred and twenty years ago a veiy' small, 
but ver}' remarkable book was published. The title of 
it was “A Dissertation on the Use of Sea "Water in the 
Diseases of the Glands, Particularly the Scurvy, Jaun- 
dice, King’s Evil, Leprosy, and the Glandular Consump- 
tion; translated from the Latin of Richard Russell, 
M. D., by an Eminent Physician. ‘The sea washes 
away aU the evUs of mankind.’ — Earip., Iphig. in Taur., 
V. 1193. London: Printed at Homer’s Head, Temple 
Bar; and R. Goadby, at Sherborne, 17.52.” 
This little book caused quite a revolution in the habits 
of the Londoners of that date. Previously to its publi- 
cation, invalids were accustomed to seek restoration to 
health by visiting Bath, Cheltenham, and other inland 
places, in order, as the phrase then was, “to be re- 
moved from the noxious fumes of the sea.” As I have 
heard the story. Dr. Russell established himself at Brigh- 
ton. He — or rather the fine sea air — cured the patients 
that were sent down to him, and this, according to the 
story I have heard, was the first beginning of Brighton, 
then simply a fishing village called Brighthelmstone. 
Brighton has now a new and most interesting attrac- 
tion in the Aquarium. The visitor who walks into this 
palatial edifice, which does Mr. Birch, the architect, the 
highest credit, can have no idea of the vast amount of 
labor, thought and money which have been expended 
on it. An Aquarium on such a large scale as this has 
never been built before ; it is, in fact, a Solomon’s tem- 
ple among aquaria. 
Up to the present time we air-breathing people have 
had but little dealings with the fishes of the sea; the 
only occasions on which we have had the opportunity 
of “ interviewing” them have been either when strug- 
gling for their lives with a sharp barbed hook through 
their jaws, or else as netted fish, jumping about in wild 
confusion as the seine is hauled up on the shore, or the 
purse of the trawl-net is emptied out on to the deck of 
the vessel. How different dj these wondrous fish look 
now that they are tamed and made pels of! 
The first idea that struck me was that fish are lazy 
creatures; as long as they get their food rpgularly, and 
have nothing particular' to do hut to lounge 'about, 
they are perfectly happy. I know several people that 
are very fish-like in this respect. 
These aquarium fish have nothing whatever to do 
except to stare at the visitors, who stare at them, a 
plate glass alone intervening between the two represen- 
tatives of the “ vertebrate kingdom,” as Peter Parley 
would have it. “A cat may look at a king”— by the 
same rule, why mav not a “ Cod make eyes at a Brigh- 
ton belle?” 
I doubt ver}' much whether any Brighton lassie could 
find a prettier object to put in her hat than a live her- 
ring. The herrings at the Brighton Aquarium are per- 
fectly beautiful. As they swim about, their lovely 
scales glisten and glitter with gold, silver and ruby 
colors, all intermixed. I think it would puzzle even 
Rolfe — the Landseer of fishes— with all his talent, to 
paint a live herring. These herrings, too, seem to me 
to have artful-looking faces. They always swim togeth- 
er, and it appears to me they have a leader, who shows 
them the road. They swim up to the glass, halt like 
cavalry, then “ threes about,” and away they go again. 
They are rather re.stless; they want to go somewhere. 
tVhere do you want to go,' my dear fish? Far, far 
away, no doubt, into the deep ocean’s sea-weed forests. 
But we have got you now, and we intend to make you 
tell us some of your family secrets. 
Then, again, there are the mackerel — “the same old 
mackerel” that have been there ever since the aquarium 
opened. They have grown. "Why not? They have 
nothing to do but eat, sleep and grow; and the late Mr. 
J. K. Lord used to say he was certain they do sleep. 
All day long they are going round and round their tanks, 
ever restless. 'VUhen one comes noiselessly at night, and 
turns on the light of one's hull’s-eye upon them, one 
sees them poised in the water perfectly motionless, not 
a fin moving. This is discovery No. 1, made at the Brigh- 
ton Aquarium. 
The cod in the big tank are splendid to behold. (Quan- 
tum mutatus ab itto. How unlike — how very unlike — is 
a live cod to the flabby, big-headed creature one sees on 
the fishmonger’s slab! The live cod is an intelligent- 
looking creature. Truly he has an immense mouth and 
great rolling eyes, but can’t he swim ! He goes as easi- 
ly and as swiftly as an express train. A slight move of 
his tail, and away he goes, darting like an arrow. There 
is a big cod in the tank — such a fine fellow! I never 
saw such a big cod alive in captivity before. It is 
worth going all the way to Brighton to have a look at 
him. The other cod, smaller fellows, follow this big 
cod about the tank. I suppose they must imagine he 
must know where he is, and “all about it,” so they 
keep in his wake. I have seen the same on land; little 
fish following big fish because they are big fish. So we 
see that size and swagger go down as much among the 
fish as they do among our noble selves. 
In another tank can be seen five gigantic cod, as large 
as the largest cod generally seen on the fishmongers’ 
slabs. These magnificent fish seem to be very sociably 
inclined; they swim about not separately, but in a group. 
For the most part, they keep to a certain place, where 
two rocks form a sort of cavern, and they keep on swim- 
ming round and round their home in a quiet, listless 
sort of manner, from which I conclude that they have 
nothing on their minds — no bills, no Christmas boxes, 
no midnight waits, no coal accounts, etc., to pay. Hap- 
py cod! no thought of oyster sauce in the distance! 
They seem to take their turns in swimming under a cer- 
tain ledge of rock, and swimming out again, with their 
great eyes rolling about, and their features looking as 
jolly and as expressive as is possible for fish. I fancied 
sometimes I saw a smile steal across the face of the 
largest cod. How do we know these fish have not a 
language? They don’t speak, certainly, but they may 
converse by the eye. AVe have all heard of “the lan- 
guage of the eye.” 
AVhat can be more lovely than the Sapphirine Gur- 
nards? These pretty, like-cat-faced, fish, sit in a happy 
party all together at the bottom of the tank; shrimps 
suddenly arrive from above (it’s dinner time); in an in- 
stant they are all “alive oh!” they spread out their lovely 
fins and hunt the shrimps. Each fin has a margin of the 
most resplendent colors. Reader, you can’t imagine 
how resplendent the colors are till you see them, and, 
as the fish in numbers are swimming about, the appear- 
ance is that of many gorgeous butterflies dancing a 
merry dance in a noon day tropical sun. AVell might 
this fish be called a “butterfly fish.” He is very like a 
butterfly, flrst because he sits almost motionless for 
hours together, like a butterfly on a flower, and when 
disturbed he spreads his lovely wings and soars away, 
not into mid-air, but into mid-water. Come, come, my 
"Winchester friends, some of you do give us a few pretty 
Latin verses, or some neatly turned Greek lambics, 
about the butterfly flsh. 
As the very opposite to the butterfly fish, commend 
me to the turtle. Deep down under many feet of water 
the poor old turtle is taking a deep sleep. He has a 
ridiculous look about him. He is dreaming, I am sure 
he is, or why did he just open one eye slowly and give 
a kind of a yavrn. Poor old turtle; “Wake up, my boy. 
♦ 
4 
I 
