If we take a sheep or a bullock, and to his first cost add the rent of the land on which he has pastured, and something for insurance and interest on capital, the transaction is not a very profitable one in the long run. But in the case of the Salmon, we send a little fish down to the sea which is not worth a penny, and he remains there, paying neither rent nor taxes, neither gamekeepers' nor bailiffs' wages, costing nothing to anyone, until he returns to the river, worth ten or twenty shillings, as the case may be. Surely this is a branch of the public wealth that deserves sedulous cultivation. I think with you that the Calder can never become a Salmon river, so long as manufactories flourish on its banks, and it is not desirable that it ever should become so at their expense; but even in the Calder (and its tributaries) a little care would prevent immense mischief. Some people at Church, a few years ago, very carelessly pushed a quantity of poisonous matter into the Hyndburn brook, and the first thunderstorm that followed carried it down the Calder into the Ribble, and poisoned all the fish between Calder foot and Ribchester. Take another instance of carelessness in the Ribble, the emptying of the gas-holder tank at Settle, which when turned into the river killed nearly all the fish between that town and Mitton. Several other instances occur to me, but these two are sufficient to show the great mischief occasioned by avoidable neglect and carelessness. Such mischief should not be perpetrated with impunity.