Part 5

_Edible Snails._—None but those who have made special inquiry into the subject are aware of the great dimensions which the continental snail-trade has of late assumed. Many tons of these vine-fed delicacies reach Paris every year during the snail season, which lasts from September to about April, during some part of which period under natural circumstances the animals would be asleep. In this country there would be a universal shudder, if it were proposed to add the common garden-snail to the national commissariat, no matter how attractive might be the shape assumed by the _Escargot de Bourgogne_, or other snail of the orchard or vineyard; yet we eat countless quantities of whelks and periwinkles, which are not such clean-feeding animals as the snails of the garden. A recent authority states that enormous quantities of snails are forwarded annually from Marseilles and Genoa to Paris, and that tens of thousands of these creatures find their way to the markets of Bordeaux, Lyons, Vienna, and Munich. Such is the demand, that many persons now ‘cultivate’ snails for the markets, and find the business a remunerative one. As many as twenty or thirty thousand can be bred in a very small space.

_The Conger Eel._—This fish has of late attracted a good deal of attention, from its having been asserted that it was frequently made into turtle-soup. Whether that be so or not, the conger eel is in reality one of our most valuable food-fishes. There is, unfortunately, a prejudice in the public mind against it. In all continental fish-markets—at least in those situated on seas which contain the fish—a plentiful supply of congers may always be had. The writer has seen hundreds of them in the markets at Dieppe, Boulogne, and Paris, and in the _cuisine_ of France the conger occupies a prominent place. It can be converted into excellent soup, and may be cooked in various other palatable ways: it may be roasted, stewed, or broiled, or made into a succulent pie. In Guernsey and Jersey, its flesh is highly esteemed, as being adaptable to the culinary art in an eminent degree. This fish ought to be much more plentifully exposed for sale than it is; and if our fishermen found a market for it, it would no doubt be so. It is a most prolific animal, yielding its eggs in literal millions. A specimen which weighed twenty-eight pounds possessed a roe of the weight of twenty-three ounces, which was computed to contain the almost incredible number of fifteen millions of eggs! Mr Buckland, in one of his fishery Reports, says: ‘What becomes of this enormous number of eggs, is unknown to man; they probably form the food of many small sea-creatures, especially crabs. They are exceedingly minute.’ How curious it seems that the common herring, which yields on the average about thirty thousand ova, should be so plentiful, and the conger, which contains many millions of eggs, should be comparatively so scarce.

SERENADE.

Sweet maiden, awake From the region of sleep, Alone for thy sake Here my vigil I keep; The moon rides on high, The stars shine above, Yet sleepless am I By the charm of thy love.

All nature reposes: The sun is at rest, Fast shut are the roses, Each bird in its nest; The air is unstirred By the drone of the bee, Safe penned is each herd— And my thoughts are of thee.

Oh, what is dull Time In true love’s estimation? Who measures each chime, In its rapt contemplation? Immortal in birth, It descends from above, And raises from earth The frail creatures who love.

Oh, spurn me not, maiden! Dismiss me not home, With misery laden Henceforward to roam; By the spell of thy power, Which has fettered the free, Creation’s sweet flower, Bend thy fragrance to me!

ALBERT E. STEMBRIDGE.

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