sion was accidentally full of roe: the ovary was, therefore, at once taken out of it, stirred up, then pressed through a sieve, in which the fibres and skin remained behind, after which the spawn was slightly salted, and the caviare was ready.

In the Ural at the present time only the large social fisheries take place, in which all the Cossacks take part, the time and place of the fishing, the size of the nets and mode of action being most carefully settled and carried out with military precision. Order is preserved at the fisheries by a fishing ataman, who, selected from the oldest general officers, has the supreme control, settles any disputes that may occur, and claims passive obedience to his regulations and decisions. The first is the spring fishery, at which belugas and sturgeon are rarely captured, but chiefly sewrügas and salmon. The second is the autumn fishery, which begins in October, about two hundred versts from Uralsk, and terminates at the Caspian Sea. In both a certain range of water is daily chosen for fishing, whose borders no one is allowed to pass. When the day's toil is ended the signal is given, and all proceed to the bivouac on the bank, where the horses and carts are standing, and the cooking is performed: here, too, many Russian traders are waiting for the purpose of buying the fish, salting them, and sending them off. The next morning a further range of water is fished, and so on. At these fisheries it is a pleasure to see how the whole river for a long distance is covered with human beings, and the active Cossacks in their light boats, in which, as a rule, only one man is seated, shoot with lightning speed across the stream, and avoid collision by remarkable rapid and bold turns. The determination, activity, and adaptability of the Cossacks for anything that displays danger or requires an enterprising spirit, are revealed on such occasions in their greatest brilliancy. These men, here amphibious, would become first-rate sailors if the Caspian Sea were not a mere lake. The third, and most interesting fishery of all, is the winter one on the ice with poles eight or ten fathoms in length-the most remarkable passage in the life of the Cossacks of the Ural. So soon as in autumn the Ural begins to be covered with a thin crust of ice, which is generally the case at the end of November, the fish seek deeper spots in the water, where they hybernate, as it were, in dense masses. As the bottom of the river is, however, annually altered by the currents, so that the deep holes cannot be always known, so soon as the river is going to be frozen the Cossacks mark the spots where the fish come to the surface to play, or else, so soon as the river is just frozen, they lie down on the thin transparent ice, cover their heads with a dark-coloured cloth, and are thus enabled to see the large fish quietly reposing on the bed of the river. This information they seek to learn to use it in the general winter fishery. The first and smaller fishery generally takes place early in December, when the ice is still very weak, and lasts rarely above a day. Only a certain number of Cossacks fish, for the chief object is, after an old and primitive custom, to send off the finest fish and best caviare as a present-so the Cossacks call it as speedily as possible to the Imperial Court. For this purpose an officer and nine three-horse carts are waiting in readiness on the bank. The fish and caviare are loaded, and away the train dashes day and night with post-horses to Petersburg, whence the deliverers always return with a handsome reward.

The second general fishery, or the little Bagrénie, always takes place before Christmas, only lasts eight days, and ends eighty versts below Uralsk. The third fishery, or great Bagrénie, begins eighty versts from the town, and terminates at a distance of one hundred and eighty or two hundred. Every Cossack fishes on his own account, as each receives a permit, though the officers and officials have several, according to their rank. The latter can hire men if they do not wish to enjoy the sport themselves; in addition, several Cossacks are allowed to form a company, and share the captured fish among themselves. As fishing instruments, every Cossack has the above-described long fish-poles, several small hooks fastened to short sticks, for the purpose of lifting the fish out of the water when captured, an iron crowbar to break the ice, and a shovel. In earlier times the winter fishery of the Ural was carried on in a very different way from the present. All the fishing-poles were laid on sledges, drawn by the handsomest and wildest horses. The thousands of sledges were drawn up in rows behind each other, and so soon as the signal was given, they raced to the spot where the fishing was to begin. The ice groaned under the pressure of this wild chase, in which one tried to get before the other, and the fish were scared from their resting-place. As, however, in this mode of fishing accidents were inevitable, and other unpleasantnesses took place, the wild race was abolished, and the fishing is now carried on in a different fashion.

So soon as the day arrives on which the fishing is to begin, and the ataman has been appointed, all are full of excitement and life. Many a Cossack cannot sleep during the previous night for joy, and long before daybreak they set to work eating and drinking. The first dawn is hardly visible on the horizon ere thousands of Cossacks are under way to the spot on the river where the fishing is to begin. They are followed by a number of Russians and Kirgises, who as hired labourers look after the horses, set up the tent or skin hut, make a fire of bushes, and generally perform all the jobs which are not immediately connected with fishing, for that is the Cossack's sole occupation. After the Russians come long trains of Russian traders from Uralsk and other places, with numerous carts and workmen, who buy the fish of the Cossacks directly they are taken out of the water, take out, salt, and pack the caviare in barrels, and either let the fish be frozen hard, or salt them after removing the isinglass, in order to send them off into the interior so soon as possible. A number of settlers or market people also follow the fishing, who put up their huts on the bank, and sell oats and hay, bread, biscuits, nuts, gingerbread, and other edibles, to be washed down by tea or vodki. When this great mass of men and animals has reached the river bank, the tents are temporarily erected, because their owners purpose to follow the fishermen down the stream. Everybody is busied, the banks swarm with people, and the whole scene resembles a great national emigration. At length all have found a place, the signal cannon is dragged up to the bank, and the artilleryman stands by it with his lighted match. The Cossacks now receive orders to form into long lines on both sides of the river, and wait for the signal for the beginning of the fishing. Each Cossack drags his fish-hook and crowbar after him, and takes up his post where he fancies he shall find a deep hole and any quantity of fish.

After all this has been arranged, and both banks of the river are lined

with Cossacks, the ataman of the fishery at length emerges from his tent and walks slowly to the river, on which no Cossack is allowed to go till the signal-shot has been fired. A perfect silence of death falls on the scene, all are full of expectation, and standing with bodies bent forward in readiness for the leap. It is really most interesting to see these ranks of powerful and hearty men, silent and yet in such a state of extreme excitement. It is almost impossible to describe the beauty of the scene. All faces are beaming with joy and hope, and their eyes are fixed either on a spot previously selected in the ice or on the ataman, who is about to give the signal to fire the cannon. He, however, is in no hurry; he walks quietly from one bank to the other, and makes all sorts of movements for the purpose of deceiving the Cossacks. If the chief ataman happens to be present, the fishing ataman takes off his cap and bows reverently in the direction where this supreme ruler of the Cossacks is standing on the bank. Then, after a good deal of teazing, he at last gives the private signal, which is only known to himself and the gunner.

The cannon belches forth a flame, the thick smoke has scarce issued from its mouth ere a truly demoniac noise breaks out, for the whole army of Cossacks rush with shouts and yells, and jostling each other on to the ice. Each strives at full speed to reach a previously chosen spot on the ice; or, if another get before him, he selects another spot. In a second, thousands of small holes, a couple of feet in diameter, are cut in the ice; at many spots, where a large body of fish is supposed to be collected, these holes are not more than three paces from each other, and then there rises a perfect wood of long fishing-poles, which are let down through the holes to within a couple of feet from the bottom, and held by the Cossack, so that he may at once feel when a fish passes over the hook and runs against the pole. When this is the case, the Cossack pulls the pole up with a quick jerk, the sharp hook runs into the belly of the fish, and it is captured. The hole in the ice is then enlarged, the fish secured with the small hooks and dragged on the ice by its captor, or by several Cossacks. Through the running about and shouting of the many men, the breaking of the ice-holes, and the thousands of long poles which form a regular labyrinth in the water, the fish are scared from their beds, dash restlessly backwards and forwards, and continually get among the fish-hooks. The whole of the ice is soon covered with blood: it is a thorough butchery, and mountains of fish are piled up on the banks, for so soon as a fish is hooked, traders make their appearance on the ice, in order to bargain with the Cossack and purchase his fish. This frequently occurs, while the fish is still under water and its size is not yet known, in which case it is bought and sold on speculation.

At times, it happens that a shad, weighing from three to six pounds, is caught, and brought up by the hook under water. As the shad, however, is not much esteemed, and yields no caviare, the experienced fisherman, who knows what he has caught without seeing it, by the feeling of the softer flesh and the movement on his hook, does his best to sell the fish on spec, and displays great eloquence in doing so. If there be a novice among the traders, he is allowed to feel the large fish quivering on the hook and shaking the pole, and the wilder the shad becomes, the greater grows the desire to purchase, and the conviction that a large beluga or a splendid sturgeon must be hooked.

Many a Cossack will stand for hours and not a single fish touch his pole. He at length pulls his hook out of the water, in order to select another spot, and perhaps has scarce gone away, ere his place is taken by another Cossack, who, favoured by fortune, pulls out a magnificent fish at the very first trial. If the Cossack has caught nothing for a long time, he cautiously gropes with his pole in the water to try and touch some passing fish, which he tries to hook by a powerful jerk. If the fish is large and makes a disturbance down below while trying to liberate itself, in which it often succeeds, especially when merely hooked by the tail, the Cossack summons his nearest neighbour to his assistance. Another hook is then let down, and the fish is landed on the ice by their united efforts.

The largest belugas, weighing from fifteen to twenty pouds, are the most cautious and difficult to capture. If such a mighty fish is startled by the uproar on the ice, it frequently comes to the surface to see what is going on up there, or swims in shallow water. If one of these big fellows runs against a pole, the hook of which is four or five fathoms below it, it requires great rapidity and skill to pull up the hook so as to drive it into the fish's belly. Such a fish will often break the pole, dash on to the next hook, break that, and attempt to escape, but rarely succeeds. As the hooks are let down into the water in all directions and close together, there is a general excitement when a large fish passes through; every one watches for a pole to shake, and the fugitive is generally captured, dragged on the ice amid shouts of delight, and sold to the traders. A large beluga, which yields from one hundred to one hundred and thirty pounds of caviare, is considered by the Cossacks excessively crafty.

This most peculiar fishing life possesses such a charm for the foreign observer that he cannot see enough of it, or cease admiring the bold, clever behaviour of the Cossacks. If, for instance, even during a sharp frost, a crowbar falls through the hole in the ice into the stream, it is not thought of any great consequence. The nearest Cossack strips, a rope is fastened round his waist, he dives, finds the crowbar, and is dragged on to the ice again by his comrades, where he dresses, crosses himself, takes a pull at the spirit-bottle, and returns to his own fishing.

The fishing was extremely interesting in December, 1857. It was high time to send off the present to the Imperial Court, but the Ural was not quite frozen over, and in the middle there were large patches of open water. Attempts were certainly made at fishing, but nothing was caught. At length a Cossack noticed that a great number of fish, scared by the noise, were visible in the open water, but how were they to be got at? Without any long reflection, a flake of ice was cut off from the edge, an active Cossack seated himself on it, and floated to the middle, when he cautiously groped about with his pole till he succeeded in hooking a very large fish. It was then that the scene became really interesting. The Cossack could not master the enormous creature, it pulled him backwards and forwards, and at length dragged him off the lump of ice. The Cossack, however, stuck to his pole, paddled about in the water as well as he could, and when he drew nearer to the edge of the ice, a long hook was carefully inserted in his clothes, and man and fish were dragged on to the ice amid an unparalleled rejoicing. As this experiment had been Jan.-VOL. CXXX. NO. DXVII.

I

so perfectly successful, a large lump of ice was cut away, and several Cossacks leaped upon it for the purpose of attacking the fish in the middle of the river. This capture was certainly laborious and unusual, but it caused the Cossacks universal delight, for the present could be sent off at the appointed time.

When the day's fishing is ended, the Cossacks proceed to the bivouac, where all are soon busied in eating and drinking, buying and selling, salting fish, and preparing caviare. The events of the day are then fully discussed, they laugh and shout, and the banks of the Ural often echo the national songs till all fall asleep wearied with the day's exertions. But day has scarce dawned ere all set out again down the river to a new station, where the fishing is opened by firing a cannon as on the first day. In this way they continue to advance till the whole allotted region has been fished, and then all the Cossacks return home. The captured fish are chiefly sent into the interior, but the caviare and isinglass go to all parts of Europe. The winter fishery is at an end, and the merry life does not recommence till spring, when new bodies of fish come up the river from the Caspian Sea, and all the waters once again swarm with life.

I REMEMBER long, long ago, when sitting with my friend Pickles (whose lucubrations I had the privilege some years since of presenting to the public), a sad story told by a fellow-visitor, a clergyman, which, though it bore the old moral that has been worn threadbare by temperance lecturers, and done to rags by well-meaning but rampant orators, had some peculiarly melancholy features of its own that made a strong impression on me at the time. Perhaps there was something in the way of telling it no doubt a great deal in the earnestness of the speaker that affected me and my good friend, for I remember that poor Pickles took off his spectacles repeatedly and wiped them during the progress of the narration-and I fear that it will appear trifling when reduced to paper, but I will venture to report it as nearly as I can remember in the words of the sincere and benevolent man, who, alas! like our worthy friend Pickles himself, is now no more. When I recal the pure domestic happiness that once reigned at Turtledove Villa, the blameless life of my good old friend, the atmosphere of love that he seemed to generate about him, it affords me a melancholy satisfaction to put to paper, for my little wards, his children, some reminiscences of those pleasant times. This is one of them; and I trust, if my readers are inclined to find fault with it for its triteness, they will excuse it for its brevity.

Travellers entering Barton for the first time were always startled