delicate one; besides which, it is now generally known that there are two distinct species of Opioσa, which are equally common, frequent the same streams at nearly the same period of the year, and are only to be distinguished at market (at table they are easily distinguished), by a difference of size, and by the presence or want of some rows of very small delicate teeth. There can be little doubt, therefore, that both in ancient and more recent times the two have been frequently confounded, and that the report would be favourable or the reverse, according to the kind intended: most persons being agreed as to the excellence of the larger or alice shad; and no one yet having been found an advocate for the smaller or finta shad. Both species occur in the Severn, where a corresponding difference of price marks the different estimation in which they are severally held. Many rivers on the continent have been said to fatten during the season remarkably fine alose; amongst which the Garonne, Rhine, Elbe, and Volga, are generally cited; to these we would add the Loire and the Tyber, particularly the first, whence about Tours, Amboise, and Blois, we have eaten as plump, palatable specimens, as any elsewhere met with, scarcely inferior in flavour to salmon itself. The alose, or thrissa (for we know not by which name it was designated at the time), forms one of an elaborately finished group of mosaic fish, found in a house at Pompeii. It was therefore known to the Balbi and their contemporaries; but whether they appreciated it as it was appreciated by the bon-vivants of ancient Greece, or disparaged it as it was afterwards disparaged by Ausonius as a mere solatium pauperis- The pauper's alose from the sputtering stall,'-is more than we can quite undertake to settle; but, as it occupied the skilful fingers of the ancient mosaicista, and is still considered, and is,

a fine fish at Naples, we are inclined to think that it was held in like estimation by the connoisseurs of the same regno under ancient régime.

A love for music and dancing have been imputed to this fresh-water herring' from the times of the Professor of Philosophy at Stagyra, to those of the Professor of Medicine at Montpelier: Aristotle affirming that he no sooner catches the sound of music or sees dancing, than, like Crabbe's Sailor, who hears a fiddle and who sees a lass,' he is irresistibly led to join the sport, and begins instantly to cut capers and throw summersaults out of the water, ἀναπηδάν εκ της θαλασσης. Ælian, following up this hint, declares, like a sophist as he is, that the sprightly conduct imputed to the shad by Aristotle is well known to fishermen, who, taking advantage of it, fasten little bells to their nets, by the tinkling of which above the surface, all the alose within hearing are first attracted to the spot, and then netted without any difficulty: another famous romancer of much later date than Elian, Rondolet, repeating this story with slight variations, is not afraid to corroborate the accuracy of it by relating a little Orphean adventure of his own, which is so sprightly that if it be not true it ought to be. Whilst staying at Vichy, and probably after some occasion in which he had suspended the use of its sodaic waters at table for champagne, he took a walk, partly pour promener ses ennuis, and partly in quest of alose, along the banks of the Allier. He had a kit in his hand ready for a serenade, and some friends to assist him in his designs. The air was still, the moon and stars blinked propitiously over head, and when the party had come to a favourable spot for their operations, the retiary apparatus was carefully drawn across the stream by the friends, whilst the violinist put the instrument to his chin, and struck

up a lively waltz. Wonderful were the effects which ensued. Scarcely, he tells us, had he drawn his bow (a very long one we may presume) across its bridge of sighs, when the sleeping surface of the waters began to move. Alose backs soon appeared rippling the silvery expanse, and after a few strokes a large party of fish might be seen, all rising rhythmically on their tails, and all leaping out of the river together. The ball was kept up with spirit so long as there were any fish within hearing left to dance to the kit.

Long as he scraped the fascinating string, Rapt into air the silvery alose spring;

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And jovial friends with net to break their fall,

Joined in the dance, and hailed the heavy haul.

A curious and better ascertained trait of this fish than the last, is the great love they have for salt water, which lasts during the whole of their forced sojourn in a river, and is so strong as to induce them to follow a barge laden with their favourite commodity, merely for the sake of any briny droppings which may escape from it en route; thus the Seine salt boats in spring are followed by these fish all the way from the sea to Paris.

THIS species was to the ancient world what the herring has become to the modern, compensating in some degree for its inferiority to the last while fresh, by surpassing, when cured, the very herring itself, as a relish, and in furnishing the materials for the finest fish-sauce either on record or in use. The ancient anchovy was known under a variety of names, some definite and specific, others more general and vague; the same author employing indiscriminately sometimes one alias, sometimes another. Elian introduces it to notice under three different designations-first, that of Auxoorouа, or wolf-mouth,' (under which name Gillius affirms it is still asked for in Greece;) secondly, that of εγχρασίχολος felliceps, the 'gall-i'th-head;' and thirdly and lastly, that of εγγραυλις, a word which some etymologists suppose to be a mere cutting down of the last, either for the sake of euphony, as in French Aulus Gellius becomes Aule Gelle, Rinaldo, Renaud, &c.; or else, to save time, and for greater glibness of speech, as with a certain class of our English community, who therefore prefer to call an omnibus by its last syllable, to pervert gentlemen into gemmen or gents, and to cut down the solemn prolixity of an

affidavit into the more colloquial dissyllable davy. Oppian, in one of his Halienties, mentions the anchovy under Elian's second appellative εγγραυλις, and a few lines further on under that of Apua (ἄφυης ἄδινου γενος), which phrase might be freely translated the 'numerous race of bastards,' the word apun being intended to express all such fish as were abnormally conceived and clandestinely born.* Elian's account of the anchovy is brief, but, as far as it goes, correct; they are, he says, a diminutive, prolific, and very white little fish.†

They swim in immense banks, called by the Greeks Boλo; each Bolos containing individuals enough, ὡς φησι οἱ θαλαττούργοι, on the credit of seafaring men, to fill fifty fishing-smacks (axiada); the mass is moreover so dense and serried, that ships plough through without permanently breaking or dispersing them. The injuries sustained by the whole shoal from this close packing of its members are very great, so that on inspecting a sample, it will be found that there are often as many heads without tails, tails without heads, and bodies without either, as perfect fish.' The fresh anchovy was not esteemed a luxury by either Greeks or Romans.

VOL. XLVIII. NO. CCLXXXVI.

II

Cui portat gaudens ancilla paropside rubrâ

Alecem, sed quam illa vorat,

says Martial of some half-starved girl who was glad in her straits to devour anything, even down to an anchovy. Columella also mentions them as little good-for-nothings, fit only as bait for stock-ponds. This species is not confined to the Mediterranean. John Collins, in his treatise upon salt and salted fish,' says it is often taken off the coast of Wales, and is scarcely inferior to the Italian, which is meagre praise, as we opine, in its favour. Like all the tribe, it is very strong-scented, requiring after eating it a wellventilated room, with open doors and windows. In Italy, such escape is frequently debarred the consumer of anchovies, and the odour is yet worse out of doors than in. Here at every step the nose is assailed from open tubs, round which flies buzz their pleasure, and an origanized anchovy atmosphere proceeds, always offensive, but in hot weather worse (though that be bad enough) than the potent garlic which poisons the rising incense, and fills every church with its fumes. The ancient Greeks, whose palate was certainly depraved, had some perception of odours left, and did not approve of the one in question. A comic poet cited by Athenæus, speaking of a favourite fish-cry in his day, which might be rendered, "Chovies! 'chovies! sweet honey 'chovies!' sarcastically recommends the hawkers of Hybla and Hymettus confectionary to try their success

EVEN

with the public in a rival mellifluous ditty, Honey! sweet honey! come, out with your money. And buy my sweet 'chovy, sweet 'chovey honey.'

The Sardina, so called from the island of Sardinia, (which has given a name to more than one famous alumnus of its coast), was a salt luxury in high repute long before men had found out the art of saturating it with fine oil, and preserving it in a bath of the same, in hermetically sealed boxes. It is mentioned by Epicharmus' muse as among the friandise served at Hebe's wedding breakfast; and as Galen has pronounced Sardica Salsamenta to be the pleasantest of relishes, and Apicius has entered it in his famous book of recipes as a fit subject for farcie; it was doubtless in one of these forms always a favourite 'mets' at most opsophogist's tables.

As no fish can be relished after sardines and anchovies, we shall not here introduce any new species to the reader. If he be not, however, quite weary by this time of the diet to which he has been so long confined, it is our purpose, before Fraser has finally done with us, to give him pen-and-ink sketches of two very interesting families hitherto untouched upon-viz., the gadean or cod tribe, and the turbot and his tribe; and we trust that Nereus and Neptune will assist us, as they did Aristotle, to do justice to them in succession, whether fresh or dried, in shrimp or in oyster-sauce.

religious and feudal; their old marts of commerce, once so busy, and now happily becoming so again; their original and unsurpassed school of painting, so true to life, so unpretending, and yet so powerful. All these seemed familiar to me. But there was one thing that I had never seen, neither had the oldest dweller in the land-the marriage of a native Belgian Prince. There was also another a young daughter of the House of Hapsburg was about to stand beside the Belgian throne, with the probability of one day ascending it. Away, then, with

1853.]

these old records of the past,' as Faust said in his study, and out into actual life.' Let the Belgian lion and the double-headed eagle of Austria rest upon the painted glass and sculptured marble; they are meeting again in reality.' In this mood of mind I resolved not only to see this royal marriage, but to note it well. Let the cosmopolitan laugh at such ceremonies if he please; history is still something more than an old almanac, and even the future may not be exactly a carte blanche for him and his new ideas.

The morning of the 22nd of August broke over the good city of Bruxelles with doubtful aspect. There was rain enough to damage a new bonnet, and cloud enough to hide the sun; but this was about all that

had the appearance of being either sad or sombre, and this did not last long. Never (I use that word as no hyperbole), never, either in peace or war, were there here seen such a throng of people. Noble and peasant, clergy and laymen, Liège, Bruges, Ghent! the blood of the little kingdom seemed to have rushed to its heart for this one day. From the railroad to the saddle horse, all means of conveyance were in demand, and many on this morning even walked into town who were not accustomed to that manner of travelling. Then what flags, what devices, what festoons of ever-greens and flowers! If a single house was undecorated, it was probably a tenantless one. The national emblems of Belgium and Austria were of course the prevailing ones: but here and there the old flag of England showed itself amongst them. It is true that flags are more common on the Continent than with us, and perhaps the majority of those Belgian tri-colors were not now_unfurled for the first time; but those standards of Austria, those armorial devices of the Hapsburg family, must have been new for the occasion. If embroidered by fair hands at home, they must have cost time and trouble; if purchased, they must have cost money; hence their great numbers were the silent witnesses of the popularity of this high connexion.

The striking of the eleventh hour by old St. Gudule's clock was the appointed signal, and the procession left

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the Palace for the Church. Of that mere procession I shall not stay to speak; such things are much the same in all countries-highly amusing to children, but very little so to men at all accustomed to the world. The chief distinction in such cases lies among them who take no active part-the spectators. By going one way and returning another, about an English mile of ground was passed over, and here other witnesses than silent ones were always present. Some sympathy is always due to those, be they high or low, who play this deepest stake for human happiness, who are just about to sign, or have just signed, that contract, in comparison with which all others seem light and trivial; but even this has its bounds, and by so far as those bounds are exceeded may popularity be measured and defined.

Of the ceremony inside St. Gu dule's I will also be brief. Leave alone the Catholic hierarchy on such an occasion (especially when in accordance with their own secret wishes) for all that pomp and pageantry, art and music, can do to embellish it. Such at least is a part of their system; such even philosophers have deemed a part of their' power. From the white robe and the gilded crozier, even from the elegance and grace of the young bride, I turn to two memorials of other times, which the more eager crowd may have hardly noticed. On those richly painted vitraux, ranking among the first in Europe, and which threw their soft and mellowed light over the interesting scene below, what foreign emblems were the most prominent? Those of Austria. Again, hard by to where Marie Henriette knelt in prayer, there was one elevated tomb, on which rested the marble effigy of a soldier prince. No death's head or weeping angels decorate his last resting place, but he reclines, with his head resting upon his left hand, in the full military dress of his day, with his sword lying by his side, and his helmet and military gloves at his feet. The antiquarian may at once see what he was without reading the inscription beneath. More singular still, his face was turned towards the bridal party, as if he also would be a witness to that holy rite. Why

should he not? He was an Archduke of Austria: the first of that family who governed these Provinces, and he also bore the title of Duc de Brabant. What shadows we are, and what shadows we pursue!' was the melancholy expression of a great genius; but still there is something in these shadows of the past that is very solemn and very touching, and not without their power over the minds of men. Those silken banners may have been fashioned for the hour, but that old marble, and still older glass, have not been so.

Between the palace and the park there is a large space of open ground, capable of containing several thousand persons, and here, upon the return of the royal party, those thousands were collected. Having marked this as the best spot for observing the popular feeling, I made one among that miscellaneous mass; and when King Leopold led his daughter-in-law, in her bridal robe, upon the balcony, I never saw a demonstration more warm or more general than that which welcomed her. Neither is this a point on which I am very likely to be deceived, for circumstances have made me familiar with all kinds of popular demonstration, from that which hailed the descendant of a long line of kings, to the wild frenzy for some revolutionary puppet of the hour. Such scenes have left me somewhat cynical-for a mere mob and a mere shout words can hardly express my scorn. On one day they welcome some new piece of political patchwork, and on another the hand that tears it to pieces. They may be easily won by a little trickery, or bought by a little money, even as bales of merchandize are bought. But of such elements as these the immense population of Bruxelles on this day was not composed. Vive la Duchesse de Brabant was the cry, and that cry was sincere.

With night came the old and general custom of an illumination ; and here, also, something may be gleaned by those who examine well. I allude not to the splendid lighting up of the old Gothic Hôtel de Ville, but to the unanimity of such displays. I quitted the wide streets, I passed through the barriers into the Faubourg, but the intent

seemed still the same; and be it remembered that, though, as we recede from the centre in such cases, the brilliancy recedes also, we perhaps draw nearer to correct con clusions. Festooned and variegated lamps may be very pretty, and a tallow candle a very homely article, but the latter stuck in the poor man's window is perhaps the strongest indicator of the two.

The fête did not terminate with the marriage; but I will pass by the cavalcade, jeu d'artifice, processions, &c., of the following days. They would not have much amused an English crowd, but were probably well suited to their audience. There was one kind of amusement, however, of so novel a character in this part of the world, that it requires a moment's notice. We had, in a manner, some Spanish bull-fighting. During the summer at Bayonne, St. Esprit, and other places near the Spanish frontier, this has been quite the rage. It may be that the public mind of those French provinces, shut out from the excitement of political agitation, has taken it up as a kind of equivalent: certain it is that this old Spanish sport has crossed the frontier, and for the time, at least, taken root in the south of France. Now, considering the nature of that amusement, and how closely through less enlightened ages it has been confined to Spain alone, this is somewhat surprising; but it is still more surprising to see an attempt made to introduce it into quiet, commercial Belgium, at a distance of some six or seven hundred English miles from the land of its birth. Such, however, has been the case; and, in anticipation of these marriage fêtes, some thirty or forty Spanish bulls, and a good number of toreadores, pecadores, horses, &c., arrived in Brussels; and in large pictorial handbills the coming entertainment was duly announced. But this at once raised opposition. Burgomasters took the lead in denouncing it, and crowds of worthy citizens followed in their wake. There was at once a sharp and fiery paper war. I cannot say that I read much of this: men whose minds are made up seldom do; but the two great battle-cries of its opponents were its cruelty and its uncongeniality to