Most of the salmon sent from Berwick to London are caught between the mouth of the Tweed and Norham, which is about eight miles up the river, and the highest point to which the tide flows. In 1799, the yearly rental of the fisheries within this distance, on both sides of the river, was estimated at £10,000; and in 1817 it was nearly double that sum. In consequence of the decline of the salmon fishery since 1820, it does not at the present time exceed £9,000. Various causes have been assigned for the decline of the salmon fishery in the Tweed; such as the building of the New Pier at the north side of the harbour; with the draining of lands and the destruction of fish in close time towards the upper parts of the river. How the building of the New Pier, and the draining of lands in Selkirk and Roxburghshire affect the breed of salmon, has not been clearly shown; and poaching in close time has not prevailed to a greater extent during the last twenty years than in the twenty years previous to 1816. The unremitting manner in which the river was _legally_ fished between the mouth of the Tweed and Norham, from 1800 to 1817, is more likely to have been one great cause of the decline; but the proprietors of the fisheries seem unwilling to admit that a river may be over-fished, as well as land exhausted by over-cropping. It can scarcely be said that there is a public market for salmon in Berwick, almost all that are caught being engrossed by factors or fish-curers, and sent to London; and salmon is generally as dear there as in the metropolis. The fish, as soon as caught, are packed in large boxes, between layers of pounded ice, and in this manner conveyed to the metropolis. [Illustration: THE MERSEY AT LIVERPOOL.] THE MERSEY. FROM LIVERPOOL. "A thousand keels the subject wave divide,-- Float with the flow, or stem the ebbing tide,-- Winged messengers that haste, with sails unfurl'd, To barter produce with some distant world!-- With oar and paddle, sail and thundering steam, They row--they cleave--they plough the Mersey's stream; That stream, which, fretted by a thousand prows, No silent rest, no liquid slumber knows; Whate'er the hour, whatever wind prevail, Behold the outward and the homeward sail!"