Next to herrings, probably whiting and mackerel are the most numerous fish met with on our coasts; but large quantities of mackerel are now brought from Norway, as well as cod and salmon. Cod has an immense consumption, and during Lent many tons of salted cod may be seen in the fishmongers' shops. This, when not too salt, and served with plenty of egg sauce and parsnips, is not to be despised, and is still eaten by the orthodox on Ash Wednesday and Good Friday, as it used to be by our forefathers, although there is great laxity in our day, and we often find fresh cod or even salmon, substituted for the ancient Lenten dish. We do not often see now the dry salt cod, which used to be sold so cheaply tied up in bundles. It is probably still consumed by sailors and fishermen, and can be purchased at Billingsgate and other fish markets, but it has been quite superseded by the wet fish in the fishmongers' shops.

The red mullet, so greatly esteemed by the Romans, who gratified their aesthetic taste by having it brought alive to table that they might watch the lovely changing colours produced during the death struggle, and did not object to give from L15 to £60 apiece for them, according to size, is still considered a delicacy, and is too scarce ever to become food for the million. The same may be said of almost all flat fish, although plaice, brill, and flounders are usually tolerably cheap; but soles and turbot, which may be regarded as the kings of sea fish, remain scarce and dear. It is related that the Emperor Domitian called the Senate together to decide how a turbot of extraordinary size should be cooked, and the grave senators decided that it should be boiled, which our modern taste also approves as the best way of cooking it.

Aquariums have given us an opportunity of studying the graceful movements of fish, and especially of flat fish, which, from their burrowing propensities, are rarely seen in their natural state. It is most interesting to watch them in an aquarium rising to the surface with that beautiful undulatory motion, which reminds one of the flight of a bird, and then sinking to bury themselves in the sand, or to rest on the surface, when their colouring so exactly resembles the sand and pebbles upon which they lie that it is difficult to distinguish them. Once at the aquarium at Southport I was highly interested and amused by the curiosity exhibited by the soles. It was evening, and the electric light was exhibited for the first time, whereupon the soles sat up on their tails one behind the other, reminding one of Indian pictures of the cobra, evidently astonished at the light and the moving multitude. Their attitude was ludicrous, but it showed an amount of intelligence for which we are slow to give fish credit. Flat fish, from their burrowing habits, are rather difficult to procure, a trawl net being required for their capture; and the use of this trawl net is much resented by orthodox fishermen, for not only does it gather all sorts and sizes of fish, but it cuts through the herring and mackerel nets, and drives the shoals of herrings away.

We must not omit to mention the useful haddock, St Peter's fish, still retaining, it is said, the marks of the apostle's thumb, when he opened its mouth to take therefrom the piece of tribute money. 'Finnon haddies' are prime breakfast fish, but the majority of those sold in London are only surplus fresh haddocks, slightly salted and smoked, and do not possess the flavour of the Scotch-cured 'haddies.' Another very good breakfast fish is the gurnet, or gurnard, which, cut open and broiled, with a little pepper, salt, and butter added, makes a capital dish. The ugly John Dory, which shares with the haddock the honour of being St. Peter's fish, is seldom seen now, but is excellent eating. The imperial sturgeon, formerly reserved for royal personages, is sometimes seen in the modern fish-market, but it is not generally esteemed, the flesh resembling veal with a fishy flavour; nevertheless, the ancient Romans thought it such a delicacy, that the servants bringing it to table were crowned with wreaths of flowers. The Russian dainty, caviare, is prepared from the roe of the sturgeon.

The salmon, the king of fish, is caught in the chief rivers of Scotland and Ireland, and in some of those in England, that of the Severn being particularly delicate; but great quantities now come from Norway, where it is so plentiful that tourists get tired of seeing it brought to table at every meal. It seems formerly to have been equally abundant in England, as many of the indentures of apprentices contained a clause to the effect that they were not to be obliged to eat salmon more than three days a week: now they would be only too glad to be allowed it once a week. Next to the salmon the trout is the most delicate of river fish, but there is a species of trout called the char, found only in certain lakes in Westmoreland, which is considered by many superior to both salmon and trout; the flesh is of a lovely pink colour, and the flavour delicious. Tradition asserts that this fish was introduced into Britain by the Romans. It is, however, very scarce, and, being too delicate for transport, is only eaten in perfection near the lakes in which it is found, although it is sometimes to be bought potted. Let me advise all who may visit Windermere to taste this very delicious fish. There is a species of trout much esteemed, and which probably resembles the char, found in the lakes of the Tyrol. Travelling in this region, en route to Ober-Ammergau, and arriving at a little village inn about the time of mittag's essen (i.e., dinner at 12.30 p.m.), we ordered a dish of these trout (fore/ten), which we saw others eating, and a dish of cutlets; but it happened to be a fast-day, and mine host was a good Catholic, so, although there was a dispensation for travellers to Ober-Ammergau, we were told we might have either fish or flesh, but not both, a difficulty which was overcome by ordering fish for half our party and cutlets for the others, and then dividing the spoils. One of the most picturesque sights I remember to have seen was that of a Tyrolese peasant spearing fish on a very lonely lake among the Dolomite Mountains. He stood in a very small boat, holding aloft a trident, which he darted into the fish, and, drawing it out of the water still writhing on the trident, offered it to us for a small coin.