our existing system in England, it is too
ridiculous and humiliating, and too notoriously
attended by a host of monstrous evils, to
need a word of further notice here than we
have, in this number, bestowed upon it.

TITTLEBAT TACTICS.

MOST people know that every pool of fresh
water, however small, is inhabited by a tribe
of small fishes, called Sticklebacks by the
vulgar, though they may not know that they
are called Gasterostia by the learned. So
numerous are these little fish in some localities,
that they are caught in large quantities
for use as manure; and we must not overlook
their importance in affording sport to the
younger branches of our ragged population; a
class to whom the tittlebat fishery—a strictly
British interest—appears more worthy of
protection than the search for foreign cod. It is
not, however, either as farmers or fishermen,
that we may concern ourselves just now with
these little creatures. The study of tittlebats
has revealed some facts that are well worth
relating; we propose, therefore, to relate
them briefly.

Fishes, as far as our limited knowledge of
their habits will enable us to say so, generally
deposit their eggs, or spawn, in some place of
greater or less security, choosing a spot far
enough out of the way of the enemies of the
young fry, but rarely taking any further
trouble. In this respect they afford a striking
contrast to birds, whose ingenuity in the
construction of their nests, unwearied
assiduity in the bringing up of their young, and
courage in their defence, call for so much of
the observer's admiration. Poets must not
add, however, to their doves and robins,
tittlebats as apt illustrations of maternal
love. Among these fishes it is the male
that takes all the parental cares upon himself;
he builds the nest, watches the hatching of
the eggs, trains up the young ones in the way
they should go, and defends them in the hour
of peril.

At the approach of the breeding season,
which commences in May, the male stickleback
—which then acquires great brilliancy
of colour—takes possession of some particular
spot which seems fit for his purpose;
and chivalrously defends it against all
comers. Any other fish that approaches the
defended spot is instantly attacked with
vigour; battles result of the most desperate
description. Having secured possession of
the chosen place by these repeated contests,
the little fish begins the business of nest-building.
He collects together every little fibre he
can find which appears likely to suit his
purpose; and in so doing he makes careful
selection. The fitness of every piece he, in the
first place, carefully tries by dropping it from
his mouth and watching it as it sinks in the
water; if it fall rapidly, that is to say, if it be
heavy enough to lie still at the bottom of the
water, it is immediately carried off and added
to the materials already collected; but, if it
fall too slowly, it is tried a second time in the
same way; and if proved too light, it is
abandoned altogether. If the tittlebat should
chance to meet with any piece peculiarly well
fitted for some special purpose, he carries it
off immediately to his nest, where an extensive
re-arrangement of his materials takes place,
apparently in order to dispose of the new
prize in the most favourable manner; and it
is only by dint of great labour that he
succeeds at last in getting every piece fitted
in the best way to his perfect satisfaction.
The fibres are pressed strongly into the mass
of materials with the nose of the fish; any
refractory piece is kept in the desired position
by means of a small stone, or a few particles
of sand brought in the mouth, and neatly
dropped upon it; if, however, this method
should not succeed, the offending fibre is
rejected altogether.

After a short time the tittlebat makes
a round hole in the middle of the mass that
he has built, by pressing upon it with his
snout; he then continues his previous operations,
building up the walls of the nest by the
constant addition of fresh fibres, pressing
them in, and interlacing them continually with
his nose. These operations, however, do not
proceed without interruption, Any other
male fish that may chance to make his appearance
in the neighbourhood of the nest is
promptly attacked; whilst, by way of a more
agreeable distraction, the artificer sometimes
dashes off in pursuit of the female, seizing her
by the fins, and testifying the extremely
lively nature of his love. Sometimes the
materials collected are gently shaken up, or
tugged asunder in various directions, then
again compressed; sometimes the fish hangs
head downwards immediately over the nest,
with his body and fins in a curious state of
vibratory motion, by which means a strong
current of water is impelled over the structure,
apparently for the purpose of testing its
firmness, and for the washing out any light
loose matter which might make the fabric of
the nest unsafe. Sometimes he draws his
body slowly over the surface of his work,
apparently at the same time emitting some
glutinous fluid, which, perhaps, assists in
keeping the materials together, or which,
perhaps, may be the milt, the same operation
being performed after the deposition of eggs
by the female fish.

The nest, when complete, is of an irregularly
round form, measuring more than an
inch across: the central hole is roofed in, and
a small opening being constructed at each
side of the nest, a direct passage is formed
throughout. The nest is then carefully
examined on every side; any loose ends
are pushed in and loaded with additional
sand. The whole arrangements having been
thus carefully brought to perfection, the
female approaches the nest for the purpose