towards the end of October." Gottlieb Boccius,
says his Quarterly Reviewer "has a friend in
Saxony who rejoices in a domain comprising
nearly eight thousand acres, of which nearly
one half is forest." On that estate are twenty-
two ponds, the largest being about twenty-
seven acres in extent; and the stock above
recommended was calculated by this
comfortable Saxon after forty years' experience of
practical results. Out of this large pond,
Gottlieb—we can fancy how he devoured
them with his eyes—saw, in 1822, the two
largest breeding carp placed in the scale, and
their united weight amounted to nearly one
hundred pounds; the male drawing forty-three
pounds, and the female forty-eight pounds,
Saxon: noble fish, even taken at our own
rate of weight—but Saxon weight is above
seven per cent, heavier than English. In
1833 this goodly pair had increased, the male
to fifty-two pounds Saxon, and the female
to fifty-five pounds. In the same year he
was present at the draught of his friend's
second largest pond, covering seventeen acres.
The produce exceeded four thousand pounds
weight of carp, besides tench and jack. In
this pond the proprietor had left several carp
for breeding, five of which weighed one
hundred and three pounds Saxon; the largest of
the five, a Spiegel carp, aged sixteen years,
drew in the scale thirty-one and a half pounds
English. The age of the two taken from the
largest pond could not be correctly stated, as
they were on the estate when he purchased it
some fifty years ago. "These fish," says our
author, "they treat as prize fish, and consider
them infinitely better for spawn than younger
ones." They who desire to have more of
the advice of Mr. Boccius must refer to his
"Treatise on the Management of Fresh-water
Fish, with a view to making them a Source of
Profit to Landed Proprietors," 8vo., London,
1841. We should much like to see this
subject rising into importance. Here is a fine
cry, looking for a crier. Does any party in
the House of Commons want something to
take a stand upon? Here is a stool to rise
by. Here is a vast constituency to be
represented. Sons of the Sea claim to be heard
before Britannia, whose March is on the
Mountain Wave, and so on.—Justice to Fish!
We say nothing here about mismanaged
fisheries; but we say to the landsmen, we
cannot count the hungry mouths agape
for food in this grand country. Let fish
descend from the mahogany of the epicure to
the labourer's board. Farm fish, provide
cheap food, and fatten some of us. You dear,
good folks, who dine so ill, examine yourselves
concerning the nature of your dislike to fish,
if you have any. If you find that prejudice to
be a mere idle, unfounded impression, off with
it, and you may be an epicure. Eat fish oftener
—create demand, and call for a supply. Be
just to fish, for they belong to a great family
that has long been honoured. We said that
a book might be written about ways of getting
fish; and surely one might fill another book
with stories of the homage paid, in all ages, to
their good qualities. That ugly fellow the
John Dory, for example, was respected so
highly by the ancients that they gave him the
name of their chief god, called him Zeus. Our
name for him is derived perhaps from his
colour, jaune dorée, a golden yellow; but, says
legend, no. He was first called a Dory from
adorée, worshipped, because when Saint
Christopher was wading through the sea with his
master on his arms (and so he got his name
Christophorus) he laid hold of a Dory, and
left the marks of his finger and thumb to be
adored upon the fish for ever. Quite a
mistake, sir, says another legendary; those
thumb marks were left by Saint Peter when
he forced open the fish's mouth to take from
it the piece of tribute money. So John Dory
is Saint Peter's fish, and is called by the
fishermen of the Adriatic il janitore (whence
Johnny Dory), because Peter is the janitor of
heaven. Wrong again, says legend number
three; Quin it was who christened the fish,
and called it John, in imitation of King
Charles, who knighted the loin of beef into
Sir Loin, when he found out how very good it
was. Quin re-discovered in this country, more
than a century ago, the gastronomic merits of
John Dory.

There is a story about Quin, to wit, that
one day he set off to Plymouth to eat John
Dory in perfection, cooked in sea-water, and
left word with the innkeeper at Ivybridge that
he was to provide Dory against his return on
a certain day. The day arrived, and Quin set
out on his return, but knowing Ivybridge to
be remote from sea, expecting that they would
have much fish, and have forgotten the sea-water
to boil it in, he set forth with a large cask of
sea-water, tied on the footboard of his carriage.
The weather had been stormy, and when Quin
arrived at Ivybridge, he found almost
anything else was to be had for dinner, but no
fish; this was too bad, and so he would not
eat at all. There are many in England who
can get almost nothing else for dinner; but
they can have fish, and that they will not eat
at all. So they reverse the case of Quin.

Now we have gossipped out our gossip; but
we have another hint to drop. Might not our
water companies farm fish in their great
reservoirs, to the improvement of their water?
Might not the Board of Health animate their
projected "gathering grounds" with spawn,
and supply the Metropolis, not only with pure
water; but with wholesome fish? Throw
little fishes into the great pool, and they
become big fishes gradually. What then do
they grow big upon? Not upon water only,
but upon things—some of them very
impure things—in the water, obviously. They
themselves can add to the water nothing
that they have not taken out. By as much,
therefore, as the fishes have increased in
bulk, deducting the increase due to water
merely, by so much will the reservoir have