the prisoner, that I pelted the great whiskered robber away, and rescuing the little fish from its forced retreat, took it out to deep water and security. It is not often one has the good fortune to witness a striking piece of sagacity on the part of a fish.
Flounders often come a long way up our rivers, and I have seen them taken in mill-ponds. Some years ago I saw some taken at Reading in the eel-pots, and I once caught two with a red worm when fishing for gudgeon (for live-bait to be used in jack-fishing) at Henley-on-Thames.
Holland, a remarkably good country for most sorts of fish, abounds in the small mud-flounder, which is a pretty little fish, rather more oval in shape than the dab or plaice, and with a clear white belly and a dark mottled back.
It is curious how easily both flounders and eels will accommodate themselves to either salt or fresh water, and still more so that the flounder, like the salmon, will find his way to the sea, and after a while return to the same river from which he came. Instances of this are so well authenticated as to be beyond dispute. Fish mostly seem to affect particular localities, and I have known river perch (where two or three rivers joined) taken from some favourite haunt, still persist when restored to the water in returning to the especial river in which they were bred. This was proved by cutting a small piece off the tail, or one fin, and after some time netting the ground from which the fish had originally been taken, when twelve out of seventeen so marked were found to have come back to their old haunts, and this notwithstanding the perch is by nature a roving fish. These perch were of course much grown, but there was the mark.
Flounders are often brought many miles overland to market without any manifest annoyance or injury to them, and I have known them to remain in dry natural ponds in the rocks until the returning tide once more brought them a supply of salt water. With the exception of the eel, the most tenacious of life of all fish, the plaice, flounder, carp, and perch live longest out of their native element, whilst the whiting, mackerel, herring, and dace die soonest, the mackerel and herring expiring immediately they quit the water.
Although not able, under the heading of “flatfish,” to find space to enter in detail into the varied peculiarities of the Skate family, I can hardly pass them over altogether. The best known variety of this species is the great black skate of our sea-coasts, a hideous fish sometimes growing to a great size. This skate is caught both in trawl-nets and on long lines, and is a favourite dish with some people “crimped” and boiled. The black skate, though stupid-looking, is a crafty, spiteful fish, and great caution is necessary in handling it, as it is capable, with a single “nip” of its sharp teeth, of biting a man’s finger to the bone. I have known amputation of the finger imperative, owing to a wound caused by a skate of this species.
The second variety of the skate is of much less size, and is spotted and marbled on the back in rather a handsome way. This variety is known as the “roker,” and is caught frequently on cod-lines as well as in the sole net. I have myself taken many skates on the “long line” with a herring bait.
There are other varieties, such as the “thorn-back,” “maid,” sand-ray, &c., but I have only space to mention a monstrous variety called the sting-ray, which grows to a great size, and is of no use whatever either for sport or food. I have sometimes caught them on the hand-line, and once hooked one of a size so enormous, that I own I was afraid to handle it, and cut it adrift from the line—but I have said enough of a variety of flatfish not particularly interesting.
I must not close this paper without alluding to a bastard kind of sole known as the “Mary-sole,” or sole-dab, which partakes of the nature of both dab and sole, but rather resembles the latter than the former. It is considered exceedingly choice eating; but I know little of its history or habits, as it is a shy fish and comparatively scarce. I will conclude with a hope that this paper may be found to possess some interest for both the ichthyologist and the general reader.
THE VIKING’S SERF.
I.
“Sing me a song that will make me young,”
Cried the Dane to the captive boy,
“A song that will stir my blood like wine.”
So he sang of peace, and homely joy,
But every Dane, with a frown of scorn,
Clash’d on his target and blew his horn.
II.
Then, to soothe those hard and wolfish hearts,
He sang them a lullaby,
A rocking tune that mothers sing
To the children upon their knee;
Still they would not listen, the thievish horde,
But beat their knives on the oaken board.
III.
“Sing us a song of youth and love.”
Then he struck his harp with might,
And sang of the eyes that had shot their fire
Into his breast that night.
Then the old king kiss’d the ring he wore,
And cried, “My kingdom for me once more.”
IV.
They said, “Sing now of the Saxon shore.”
So he sang of those long white walls,
Where the broad surf seethes and the breakers leap,
And the galley rises and falls.
Then they roar’d, “Launch out,” and their axes rose
And beat together the wild tune’s close.
V.
“Give us a seaman’s song!” cried they.
So he sang of the steady gale,
That fills with a full and constant breath
The straining galley’s sail,
And drives, come daylight or come dark,
To the Saxon shore, the Danish bark.
