181. Carp.
This fish, not long after its introduction into England, found its way into the Thames "by the violent rage of sundry land floods, that brake open the heads and dams of divers gentlemen's ponds, by which means it became somewhat partaker of this commodity[1]."
I wish some such accident would stock our rivers with that beautiful creature the gold fish; or rather, let me wish that some reader of the Omniana, who may have taken half the pleasure that I have done in walking by the side of the New River in Hertfordshire, and watching the motion of its inhabitants (without a rod in my hand), may take the hint, and transfer some half dozen from a glass globe to one of the slow rivers of the midland counties.
It is well known how slowly the carp multiplies in ponds. Izaak Walton accuses the frogs of destroying them, but I cannot persuade myself to find a true bill against these poor persecuted Dutch nightingales, upon the evidence which he produces. The more certain solution is, that they devour their own spawn; and this may be accounted for by the little room they have to range in search of food. Besides, all creatures are, more or less, denaturalized by confinement. I once saw a hen at sea, eating the egg which she had just dropt. The sight of the poor sea-sick poultry, in their miserable coops, is at all times exceedingly unpleasant: but I am not ashamed to say, that this seemed to me something shocking. They who have ever thought upon the mystery of incubation will understand the feeling.