SALMONIA:
OR
DAYS OF FLY FISHING.
IN
A SERIES OF CONVERSATIONS.
WITH
SOME ACCOUNT OF THE HABITS OF FISHES BELONGING
TO THE GENUS SALMO.
BY AN ANGLER.
——“Equidem credo quia sit divinitus illis Ingenium.”
FIRST AMERICAN FROM THE SECOND LONDON EDITION.
PHILADELPHIA:
CAREY AND LEA—CHESNUT STREET.
........
1832.
E. MERRIAM AND CO. PRINTERS,
Brookfield, Mass.
TO
WILLIAM BABINGTON,
M.D. F.R.S.
THESE CONVERSATIONS ARE DEDICATED,
IN REMEMBRANCE
OF SOME DELIGHTFUL DAYS PASSED IN HIS
SOCIETY,
AND IN GRATITUDE
FOR AN UNINTERRUPTED FRIENDSHIP OF
A
QUARTER OF A CENTURY.
PREFACE.
These pages formed the occupation of the Author during some months of severe and dangerous illness, when he was wholly incapable of attending to more useful studies, or of following more serious pursuits. They constituted his amusement in many hours, which otherwise would have been unoccupied and tedious; and they are published in the hope, that they may possess an interest for those persons, who derive pleasure from the simplest and most attainable kind of rural sports, and who practice the art, or patronize the objects of contemplation, of the Philosophical Angler.
The conversational manner and discursive style were chosen as best suited to the state of health of the Author, who was incapable of considerable efforts and long-continued attention; and he could not but have in mind a model, which has fully proved the utility and popularity of this method of treating the subject—The Complete Angler, by Walton and Cotton.
The characters, chosen to support these Conversations, are—Halieus, who is supposed to be an accomplished fly fisher; Ornither, who is to be regarded as a gentleman generally fond of the sports of the field, though not a finished master of the art of angling; Poietes, who is to be considered as an enthusiastic lover of nature, and partially acquainted with the mysteries of fly fishing; and Physicus, who is described uninitiated as an angler, but as a person fond of inquiries in natural history and philosophy.
These personages are of course imaginary, though the sentiments attributed to them, the Author may sometimes have gained from recollections of real conversations with friends, from whose society much of the happiness of his early life has been derived; and in the portrait of the character of Halieus, given in the last dialogue, a likeness, he thinks, will not fail to be recognized to that of the character of a most estimable Physician, ardently beloved by his friends, and esteemed and venerated by the public.
He has limited his description of fish to the varieties of the Salmo most usual in the fresh waters of Europe, and which may be defined as a genus having eight fins, the one above the tail fleshy, and without spines.
It is to be hoped M. Cuvier’s new work on fishes will supply accurate information on this genus, which is still very imperfectly known.
Laybach, Illyria,
Sep. 30, 1828.
CONTENTS.
FIRST DAY.
Vindication of fly-fishing—Poem in praise of Walton—Distinguished anglers—Fishing, a natural, philosophical, and scientific pursuit—Scenery—Fish possessed of little sensibility—Praise of fly-fishing—Field-sports related to natural history—Proposed fishing excursion—Comparison of a river to human life
Page [13-29]
SECOND DAY.
Trout fishing—Flies—May-fly and gray drake—Alder fly—Object of fishing—Escape of a fish after being hooked—Sense of smelling in fish—Baits—The natural fly—Pricked trout—Local habits of animals—Trout of the Colne—Throwing the fly—Trout described—Spots on trout—Perch—Anecdote—Haunts of trout—Evening fishing—Management of a fish when hooked—Flies of different seasons—Fishing season—Difference of the gillaroo from trout—Diminution of flies in some rivers—Gillaroo trout found only in Ireland—Par or samlet—Other varieties of trout—Dr. Darwin—Experiment on trout by Mr. Tonkin of Polgaron—Cause of the varieties of trout—Mule fish—Crossing the breed—Impregnation of the ova of fish—Experiment of Mr. Jacobi on this point—Causes that hasten or retard the maturity of the ova—Why fish approach shallows to spawn—Admiration of the designs of Providence
THIRD DAY.
Morning fishing—Effect of shadows in fishing—Anecdotes illustrating the effect of sunshine—Swallows
FOURTH DAY.
Scenery—Loch Maree—Eagles—The inn—The river Ewe—Sea trout—Poaching highlander—Salmon—Cause of fish being drowned—Salmon—Death by suffocation—Nature of pain—Instances of death without pain—Sea trout—Crimping—The dinner—The double snipe—Value of temperance in eating and drinking—Wading in boots a bad practice—Salmon and trout compared—Varieties of salmon
FIFTH DAY.
Salmon fishing—Produce of a morning’s sport—Rivers of Norway and Sweden—English rivers—Salmon rivers—Scotch rivers—Irish rivers—The Sabbath day—Instincts—Instincts to animals what revelation is to man
SIXTH DAY.
Flies—Hooks—Salmon of the Ewe—Sense of smelling in animals—Salmon fishing with pars—Food of Salmon—Indications of rainy weather—Omens
SEVENTH DAY.
Grayling—Anatomy of the grayling—Grayling fishing—Scenery—Habits of the grayling—Grayling rivers—Baits for grayling—Generation of eels—Migration of eels—The conger eel
EIGHTH DAY.
Scenery—Natural history—Origin of the common house fly—Bees and ants—The libellula—Ephemeræ—Michaelmas daisy—Humble bee—Thoughts on death, suggested by this insect
NINTH DAY.
Fishing for hucho—Hereditary instinct—Causes of variety in trout—Salmo hucho—Taking a salmo hucho—Resemblance of the hucho to trout—Interior of the hucho examined—Habits of the hucho—Pleasure of angling—Cockney fishermen—Lame boy and his boats—Amusements—Sea serpent—Kraken—Mermaid—Austrian method of conveying fish—Education—The press—Effect of continuous fishing—Difference of rivers—Angling for frogs—Water ouzel—Umbla—Laveret—Organization of the hucho—Craniology—Fat and flesh of the hucho—Naturalization of fish—The Traun—Colour of water—Colour of the ocean—Waterfalls—Reflections—The late Mr. B. West
ADDITIONAL NOTES.
Estimable mention of Dr. Wollaston—On the supposed cross breed of the par—On the scolopax
SALMONIA:
OR,
DAYS OF FLY FISHING.
FIRST DAY.
HALIEUS—POIETES—PHYSICUS—ORNITHER.
INTRODUCTORY CONVERSATION—SYMPOSIAC.
Scene, London.
Phys.—Halieus, I dare say you know where this excellent trout was caught: I never ate a better fish of the kind.
Hal.—I ought to know, as it was this morning in the waters of the Wandle, not ten miles from the place where we sit, and it is through my means that you see it at table.
Phys.—Of your own catching?
Hal.—Yes, with the artificial fly.
Phys.—I admire the fish, but I cannot admire the art by which it was taken; and I wonder how a man of your active mind and enthusiastic character can enjoy what appears to me a stupid and melancholy occupation.
Hal.—I might as well wonder in my turn, that a man of your discursive imagination and disposition to contemplation should not admire this occupation, and that you should venture to call it either stupid or melancholy.
Phys.—I have at least the authority of a great moralist, Johnson, for its folly.
Hal.—I will allow no man, however great a philosopher, or moralist, to abuse an occupation he has not tried; and as well as I remember, this same illustrious person praised the book and the character of the great Patriarch of Anglers, Isaac Walton.
Phys.—There is another celebrated man, however, who has abused this your patriarch, Lord Byron, and that in terms not very qualified. He calls him, as well as I can recollect, “A quaint old cruel coxcomb.”[[1]] I must say, a practice of this great fisherman, where he recommends you to pass the hook through the body of a frog with care, as though you loved him, in order to keep him alive longer, cannot but be considered as cruel.
Hal.—I do not justify either the expression or the practice of Walton in this instance; but remember, I fish only with inanimate baits, or imitations of them, and I will not exhume or expose the ashes of the dead, nor vindicate the memory of Walton, at the expense of Byron, who, like Johnson, was no fisherman: but the moral and religious habits of Walton, his simplicity of manners, and his well-spent life, exonerate him from the charge of cruelty; and the book of a coxcomb would not have been so great a favourite with most persons of refined taste. A noble lady, long distinguished at court for pre-eminent beauty and grace, and whose mind possesses undying charms, has written some lines in my copy of Walton, which, if you will allow me, I will repeat to you.
Albeit, gentle Angler, I
Delight not in thy trade,
Yet in thy pages there doth lie
So much of quaint simplicity,
So much of mind,
Of such good kind,
That none need be afraid,
Caught by thy cunning bait, this book,
To be ensnared on thy hook.
Gladly from thee, I’m lured to bear
With things that seem’d most vile before,
For thou didst on poor subjects rear
Matter the wisest sage might hear.
And with a grace,
That doth efface
More labour’d works, thy simple lore
Can teach us that thy skilful lines,
More than the scaly brood confines.
Our hearts and senses, too, we see,
Rise quickly at thy master hand,
And, ready to be caught by thee,
Are lured to virtue willingly.
Content and peace,
With health and ease,
Walk by thy side. At thy command
We bid adieu to worldly care,
And joy in gifts that all may share.
Gladly, with thee, I pace along,
And of sweet fancies dream;
Waiting till some inspired song,
Within my memory cherish’d long,
Comes fairer forth,
With more of worth;
Because that time upon its stream
Feathers and chaff will bear away,
But give to gems a brighter ray.
C. C. 1812.
And though the charming and intellectual author of this poem is not an angler herself, yet I can quote the example of her lovely daughters to vindicate fly fishing from the charge of cruelty, and to prove that the most delicate and refined minds can take pleasure in this innocent amusement. One of these young ladies, I am told, is a most accomplished and skilful salmon fisher. And if you require a poetical authority against that of Lord Byron, I mention the philosophical and powerful poet of the lakes, and the author of
“An Orphic tale indeed,
A tale divine, of high and passionate thoughts,
To their own music chanted;”[[2]]
who is a lover both of fly fishing and fly fishermen. Gay’s poem you know, and his passionate fondness for the amusement, which was his principal occupation in the summer at Amesbury; and the late excellent John Tobin, author of the Honey Moon, was an ardent angler.
Phys.—I am satisfied with your poetical authorities.
Hal.—Nay, I can find authorities of all kinds, statesmen, heroes, and philosophers; I can go back to Trajan, who was fond of angling. Nelson was[[3]] a good fly fisher, and as a proof of his passion for it, continued the pursuit even with his left hand. Dr. Paley was ardently attached to this amusement; so much so, that when the Bishop of Durham inquired of him, when one of his most important works would be finished, he said, with great simplicity and good humour, “My Lord, I shall work steadily at it when the fly fishing season is over,” as if this were a business of his life. And I am rather reserved in introducing living characters, or I could give a list of the highest names of Britain, belonging to modern times, in science, letters, arts, and arms, who are ornaments of this fraternity, to use the expression borrowed from the freemasonry of our forefathers.
Phys.—I do not find much difficulty in understanding why warriors, and even statesmen, fishers of men, many of whom I have known particularly fond of hunting and shooting, should likewise be attached to angling; but I own, I am at a loss to find reasons for a love of this pursuit amongst philosophers and poets.
Hal.—The search after food is an instinct belonging to our nature; and from the savage in his rudest and most primitive state, who destroys a piece of game, or a fish, with a club or spear, to man in the most cultivated state of society, who employs artifice, machinery, and the resources of various other animals, to secure his object, the origin of the pleasure is similar, and its object the same: but that kind of it requiring most art may be said to characterize man in his highest or intellectual state; and the fisher for salmon and trout with the fly employs not only machinery to assist his physical powers, but applies sagacity to conquer difficulties; and the pleasure derived from ingenious resources and devices, as well as from active pursuit, belongs to this amusement. Then as to its philosophical tendency, it is a pursuit of moral discipline, requiring patience, forbearance, and command of temper. As connected with natural science, it may be vaunted as demanding a knowledge of the habits of a considerable tribe of created beings—fishes, and the animals that they prey upon, and an acquaintance with the signs and tokens of the weather and its changes, the nature of waters, and of the atmosphere. As to its poetical relations, it carries us into the most wild and beautiful scenery of nature; amongst the mountain lakes, and the clear and lovely streams that gush from the higher ranges of elevated hills, or that make their way through the cavities of calcareous strata. How delightful in the early spring, after the dull and tedious time of winter, when the frosts disappear and the sunshine warms the earth and waters, to wander forth by some clear stream, to see the leaf bursting from the purple bud, to scent the odours of the bank perfumed by the violet, and enamelled, as it were, with the primrose and the daisy; to wander upon the fresh turf below the shade of trees, whose bright blossoms are filled with the music of the bee; and on the surface of the waters to view the gaudy flies sparkling like animated gems in the sunbeams, whilst the bright and beautiful trout is watching them from below; to hear the twittering of the water-birds, who, alarmed at your approach, rapidly hide themselves beneath the flowers and leaves of the water-lily; and as the season advances, to find all these objects changed for others of the same kind, but better and brighter, till the swallow and the trout contend as it were for the gaudy May fly, and till in pursuing your amusement in the calm and balmy evening, you are serenaded by the songs of the cheerful thrush and melodious nightingale, performing the offices of paternal love, in thickets ornamented with the rose and woodbine.
Phys.—All these enjoyments might be obtained without the necessity of torturing and destroying an unfortunate animal, that the true lover of nature would wish to see happy in a scene of loveliness.
Hal.—If all men were Pythagoreans and professed the Brahmin’s creed, it would undoubtedly be cruel to destroy any form of animated life; but if fish are to be eaten, I see no more harm in capturing them by skill and ingenuity with an artificial fly, than in pulling them out of the water by main force with the net; and in general, when taken by the common fishermen, fish are permitted to die slowly, and to suffer in the air, from the want of their natural element; whereas, every good angler, as soon as his fish is landed, either destroys his life immediately, if he is wanted for food, or returns him into the water.
Phys.—But do you think nothing of the torture of the hook, and the fear of capture, and the misery of struggling against the powerful rod?
Hal.—I have already admitted the danger of analysing, too closely, the moral character of any of our field sports; yet I think it cannot be doubted that the nervous system of fish, and cold-blooded animals in general, is less sensitive than that of warm-blooded animals. The hook usually is fixed in the cartilaginous part of the mouth, where there are no nerves; and a proof that the sufferings of a hooked fish cannot be great is found in the circumstance, that though a trout has been hooked and played for some minutes, he will often, after his escape with the artificial fly in his mouth, take the natural fly, and feed as if nothing had happened; having apparently learnt only from the experiment, that the artificial fly is not proper food. And I have caught pikes with four or five hooks in their mouths, and tackle which they had broken only a few minutes before; and the hooks seemed to have had no other effect than that of serving as a sort of sauce piquante, urging them to seize another morsel of the same kind.
Phys.—Fishes are mute, and cannot plead, even in the way that birds and quadrupeds do, their own cause; yet the instances you quote only prove the intense character of their appetites, which seem not so moderate as Whiston imagined, in his strange philosophical romance on the Deluge; in which he supposes, that in the antediluvian world the heat was much greater than in this, and that all terrestrial and aerial animals had their passions so exalted by this high temperature, that they were lost in sin, and destroyed for their crimes; but that fish, living in a cooler element, were more correct in their lives, and were therefore spared from the destruction of the primitive world. You have proved, by your examples, the intensity of the appetite of hunger in fishes; Spalanzani has given us another proof of the violence of a different appetite, or instinct, in a cold-blooded animal, that has most of the habits of the genus—the frog; which, in the breeding season, remains attached to the female, though a limb, or even his head, is removed from the body.
Hal.—This is likewise in favour of my argument, that the sensibility of this class of animals to physical pain is comparatively small.
Phys.—The advocates for a favourite pursuit never want sophisms to defend it. I have even heard it asserted, that a hare enjoys being hunted. Yet I will allow that fly-fishing, after your vindication, appears amongst the least cruel of field-sports;—I can go no farther; as I have never thought of trying it, I can say nothing of its agreeableness as an amusement, compared with hunting and shooting.
Hal.—I wish that you would allow me to convince you, that for a contemplative man, as you are, and a lover of nature, it is far superior, more tranquil, more philosophical, and, after the period of early youth, more fitted for a moderately active body and mind, requiring less violent exertion; and, pursued with discretion, affording an exercise conducive to health. There is a river, only a few miles off, where I am sure I could obtain permission for you, and our friend Poietes, to fish.
Phys.—I am open to conviction on all subjects, and have no objection to spend one May-day with you in this idle occupation; premising, that you take at least one other companion, who really loves fishing.
Hal.—You, who are so fond of natural history, even should you not be amused by fishing, will, I am sure, find objects of interest on the banks of the river.
Phys.—I fear I am not entomologist enough to follow the life of the May-fly, but I shall willingly have my attention directed to its habits. Indeed, I have often regretted that sportsmen were not fonder of zoology; they have so many opportunities, which other persons do not possess, of illustrating the origin and qualities of some of the most curious forms of animated nature; the causes and character of the migrations of animals; their relations to each other, and their place and order in the general scheme of the universe. It has always appeared to me, that the two great sources of change of place of animals, was the providing of food for themselves, and resting-places and food for their young. The great supposed migrations of herrings from the poles to the temperate zone have appeared to me to be only the approach of successive shoals from deep to shallow water, for the purpose of spawning. The migrations of salmon and trout are evidently for the purpose of depositing their ova, or of finding food after they have spawned. Swallows, and bee-eaters, decidedly pursue flies over half the globe; the scolopax or snipe tribe, in like manner, search for worms and larvæ,—flying from those countries where either frost or dryness prevents them from boring,—making generally small flights at a time, and resting on their travels where they find food. And a journey from England to Africa is no more for an animal that can fly, with the wind, one hundred miles in an hour, than a journey for a Londoner to his seat in a distant province. And the migrations of smaller fishes or birds always occasion the migration of larger ones, that prey on them. Thus, the seal follows the salmon, in summer, to the mouths of rivers; the hake follows the herring and pilchard; hawks are seen in great quantities, in the month of May, coming into the east of Europe, after quails and land-rails; and locusts are followed by numerous birds, that, fortunately for the agriculturist, make them their prey.
Hal.—It is not possible to follow the amusement of angling, without having your attention often directed to the modes of life of fishes, insects, and birds, and many curious and interesting facts, as it were, forced upon your observation. I consider you (Physicus), as pledged to make one of our fishing party; and I hope, in a few days, to give you an invitation to meet a few worthy friends on the banks of the Colne. And you (Poietes), who, I know, are an initiated disciple of Walton’s school, will, I trust, join us. We will endeavour to secure a fine day; two hours, in a light carriage with good horses, will carry us to our ground; and I think I can promise you green meadows, shady trees, the song of the nightingale, and a full and clear river.
Poiet.—This last is, in my opinion, the most poetical object in nature. I will not fail to obey your summons. Pliny has, as well as I recollect, compared a river to human life. I have never read the passage in his works, but I have been a hundred times struck with the analogy, particularly amidst mountain scenery. The river, small and clear in its origin, gushes forth from rocks, falls into deep glens, and wantons and meanders through a wild and picturesque country, nourishing only the uncultivated tree or flower by its dew or spray. In this, its state of infancy and youth, it may be compared to the human mind in which fancy and strength of imagination are predominant—it is more beautiful than useful. When the different rills or torrents join, and descend into the plain, it becomes slow and stately in its motions; it is applied to move machinery, to irrigate meadows, and to bear upon its bosom the stately barge;—in this mature state, it is deep, strong, and useful. As it flows on towards the sea, it loses its force and its motion, and at last, as it were, becomes lost, and mingled with the mighty abyss of waters.
Hal.—One might pursue the metaphor still further, and say, that in its origin—its thundering and foam, when it carries down clay from the bank, and becomes impure, it resembles the youthful mind, affected by dangerous passions. And the influence of a lake, in calming and clearing the turbid water, may be compared to the effect of reason in more mature life, when the tranquil, deep, cool and unimpassioned mind is freed from its fever, its troubles, bubbles, noise and foam. And, above all, the sources of a river—which may be considered as belonging to the atmosphere—and its termination in the ocean, may be regarded as imaging the divine origin of the human mind, and its being ultimately returned to, and lost in, the Infinite and Eternal Intelligence from which it originally sprung.
SECOND DAY.
HALIEUS—POIETES—ORNITHER—PHYSICUS.
TROUT FISHING, DENHAM.—MAY, 1810.
Morning.
Hal.—I am delighted to see you, my worthy friends, on the banks of the Colne; and am happy to be able to say, that my excellent host has not only made you free of the river for this day’s angling, but insists upon your dining with him,—wishes you to try the evening fishing, and the fishing to-morrow morning,—and proposes to you, in short, to give up twenty-four hours to the delights of an angler’s May-day.
Poiet.—We are deeply indebted to him; and I hardly know how we can accept his offer, without laying ourselves under too great an obligation.
Hal.—Fear not: he is as noble minded a man as ever delighted in good offices; and so benevolent, that I am sure he will be almost as happy in knowing you are amused, as you can be in your sport; and he hopes for an additional satisfaction in the pleasure of your conversation.
Poiet.—So let it be.
Hal.—I will take you to the house; you shall make your bow, and then you will be all free to follow your own fancies. Remember, the dinner hour is five; the dressing bell rings at half-past four; be punctual to this engagement, from which you will be free at seven.
Poiet.—This is really a very charming villa scene, I may almost say, a pastoral scene. The meadows have the verdure which even the Londoners enjoy as a peculiar feature of the English landscape. The river is clear, and has all the beauties of a trout stream, of the larger size,—there rapid, and here still, and there tumbling in foam and fury over abrupt dams upon clean gravel, as if pursuing a natural course. And that island with its poplars and willows, and the flies making it their summer paradise, and its little fishing-house, are all in character; and if not extremely picturesque, it is at least a very pleasant scene, from its verdure and pure waters, for the lovers of our innocent amusement.
Hal.-It is ten o’clock: you may put up your rods, or take rods from the hall, for so hospitable is the master of this mansion, that every thing is supplied to our hands. And Physicus, as you are the only one of our party ignorant of the art of fly fishing, I will fit you with a rod and flies; and let me advise you to begin with a line shorter than your rod, and throw at first slowly and without effort, and imitate us as well as you can. As for precepts, they are of little value; practice and imitation will make you an angler.
Poiet.—I shall put together my rod, and fish with my own flies. It may be fancy, but I always think I do best with tackle with which I am used to fish.
Hal.—You are right; for fancy is always something: and when we believe that we can do things better in a particular way, we really do, by the influence of imagination, perform them both better and with less effort. I agree with moralists, that the standard of virtue should be placed higher than any one can reach; for in trying to rise, man will attain a more excellent state of being than if no effort were made. But to our business. As far as the perfection of the material for the angler is concerned, the flies you find on this table are as good as can be made, and for this season of the year, there is no great variety on this river. We have had lately some warm days, and though it is but the 18th of May, yet I know the May-fly has been out for three or four days, and this is the best period of this destructive season for the fisherman. There are, I observe, many male flies on the high trees, and some females on the alders.
Phys.—But I see flies already on the water, which seem of various colors,—brown and gray, and some very pale,—and the trout appear to rise at them eagerly.
Hal.—The fly you see is called by fishermen the alder fly, and appears generally in large quantities before the May-fly. Imitations of this fly, and of the green and the gray drake of different shades, are the only ones you will need this morning, though I doubt if the last can be much used, as the gray drake is not yet on the water in any quantity.
Phys.—Pray can you give us any account of these curious little animals?
Hal.—We ought to draw upon your stores of science for information on these subjects.
Phys.—I really know nothing of Entomology, but I am desirous of acquiring knowledge.
Hal.—I have made few observations on flies as a philosophical naturalist. What I know I will state at another time. But see, the green drake is descending upon the water, and some are leaving the alders to sport in the sunshine, and to enjoy the pleasures of their brilliant, though short existence; and their life, naturally ephemeral, is made one of scarcely a moment, by the fishes and birds: that which the swallow or the duck spares is caught by the fish. The fly is new, and in the imitation, I recommend the olive tint, or what the Irish call the green monkey. That is, an artificial fly, with a wing of dyed yellow drake’s feather, a body of yellow monkey’s fur, and a small quantity of olive mohair for legs. For myself, I shall fish for some time with a large red alder fly, and I dare say, with as much success. That is, with a fly with a dark peacock’s harle for body, a red hackle for legs, and wings of the land-rail below, and starling above.
Poiet.—The water is quite in motion, what noble fish I see on the feed! I never beheld a finer sight, though I have often seen the May-fly on well-stocked waters.
Hal.—This river is most strictly preserved; not a fish has been killed here since last August, and this is the moment when the large fish come to the surface, and leave their cad bait search and minnow hunting. But I have hardly time to talk; I have hold of a good fish: they take either alder or May-fly, and having never been fished for this year, they make no distinction, and greedily seize any small object in motion on the water. You see the alder-fly is quite as successful as the May-fly; but there is a fish which has refused it, and because he has been feeding, glutton-like, on the May-fly: that is the fifth he has swallowed in a minute. Now I shall throw the drake a foot above him. It floats down, and he has taken it. A fine fish; I think at least 4lbs. This is the largest fish we have yet seen, but in the deep water still lower down, there are still greater fish. One of 5lbs. I have known taken here, and once a fish a little short only of 6lbs.
Poiet.—I have just landed a fish which I suppose you will consider as a small one; yet I am tempted to kill him.
Hal.—He is not a fish to kill, throw him back, he is much under 2lbs., and, as I ought to have told you before, we are not allowed to kill any fish of less size; and I am sure we shall all have more than we ought to carry away even of this size. Pray put him into the well, or rather give him to the fisherman to turn back into the water.
Poiet.—I cannot say I approve of this manner of fishing: I lose my labour.
Hal.—As the object of your fishing, I hope, is innocent amusement, you can enjoy this, and show your skill in catching the animal; and if every fish that took the May-fly were to be killed, there would be an end to the sport in the river, for none would remain for next year.
Phys.—The number of flies seems to increase as the day advances, and I never saw a more animated water scene: all nature seems alive; even the water-wagtails have joined the attack upon these helpless and lovely creations from the waters.
Hal.—It is now one o’clock; and between twelve and three is the time when the May-fly rises with most vigour. It is a very warm day, and with such a quantity of fly, every fish in the river will probably be soon feeding. See, below the wear, there are two or three large trout lately come out; and from the quiet way in which they swallow their prey, and from the size of the tranquil undulation that follows their rise, I suspect they are the giants of this river. Try if you cannot reach them: one is near the bank in a convenient place for a throw, for the water is sufficiently rough to hide the deception, and these large fish do not take the fly well in calm water, though with natural flies on the hook they might all be raised.
Poiet.—I have him! Alas! he has broken me, and carried away half my bottom line. He must have been a fish of 7 or 8lbs. What a dash he made! He carried off my fly by main force.
Hal.—You should have allowed your reel to play and your line to run: you held him too tight.
Poiet.—He was too powerful a fish for my tackle; and even if I had done so, would probably have broken me by running amongst the weeds.
Hal.—Let me tell you, my friend, you should never allow a fish to run to the weeds, or to strike across the stream; you should carry him always down stream, keeping his head high, and in the current. If in a weedy river you allow a large fish to run up stream, you are almost sure to lose him. There, I have hooked the companion of your lost fish on the other side of the stream,—a powerful creature: he tries, you see, to make way to the weeds, but I hold him tight.
Poiet.—I see you are obliged to run with him, and have carried him safely through the weeds.
Hal.—I have him now in the rapids on the shallow, and I have no fear of losing him, unless he strikes the hook out of his mouth.
Poiet.—He springs again and again.
Hal.—He is off; in one of these somersets he detached the steel, and he now leaps to celebrate his escape. We will leave this place, where there are more great fish, and return to it after a while, when the alarm produced by our operations has subsided.
Phys.—That fish take the artificial fly at all is rather surprising to me, for in its most perfect form it is but a rude imitation of nature; and from the greedy manner in which it is seized, fish, I think, cannot possess a refined sense of smell, or any nervous system corresponding to the nasal one in animals that breathe air: no scent can be given to water by an artificial fly, or, at least, none like that of the natural fly.
Hal.—The principal use of the nostrils in fishes, I believe, is to assist in the propulsion of water through the gills for performing the office of respiration, but I think there are some nerves in these organs which give fishes a sense of the qualities of the water, or of substances dissolved in, or diffused through it, similar to our sense of smell, or, perhaps, rather our sense of taste, for there can be no doubt that fishes are attracted by scented pastes and scented worms, which are sometimes used by anglers that employ ground-baits; and in old angling-books there are usually receipts for attracting fish in this manner, and though the absurdity of many of these prescriptions is manifest, yet I do not think this proves that they are entirely useless, for, upon such principles, all the remedies for diseases in the old pharmacopœias would be null.
With respect to the fly, as it usually touches the stream by a very small surface, that of the air-bubbles on the fringes on its legs, it can scarcely affect the water so as to give it any power of communicating smell. And as you have seen a ripple or motion on the water is necessary to deceive fishes; and as they look at the fly from below, they see distinctly only the legs and body, which, when the colours are like those of the natural fly, may easily deceive them; the wings, which are the worst imitated parts of the artificial fly, seldom appear to them, except through the different refractive power of the moving water and the atmosphere, and when immersed, they form masses not unlike the wings of a drowned fly, or one wetted in rising.
It is now a quarter of an hour since we left the large pool: let us return to it; I see the fish are again rising.
Poiet.—I am astonished! It appears to me that the very same fish are again feeding. There are two fish rising nearly in the same spot where they rose before: can they be the same fish?
Hal.—It is very possible. It is not likely that three other fish of that size should occupy the same haunts.
Poiet.—But I thought after a fish had been hooked, he remained sick and sulky for some time, feeling his wounds uncomfortable.
Hal.—The fish that I hooked is not rising in the same place, and therefore, probably, was hurt by the hook; but one of these fish seems to be the same that carried off your fly, and it is probable that the hook only struck him in a part of the mouth where there are no nerves; and that he suffered little at the moment, and does not now feel his annoyance.
Poiet.—I have seen him take four or five flies: I shall throw over him. There, he rose, but refused the fly. He has at least learnt, from the experiment he has made, to distinguish the natural from the artificial fly.
Hal.—This, I think, always happens after a fish has been hooked with an artificial fly. He becomes cautious, and is seldom caught that year, at least with the same means in the same pool: but I dare say that fish might be taken with a natural fly; or, what is better, two upon the hook.
Poiet.—Pray try him.
Hal.—I am no artist at this kind of angling, but Ornither I know has fished in June with the clubs at Stockbridge, where this method of fishing is usual. Pray let him try his fortune, though it is hardly fair play; and it is rather to endeavour to recover your tackle, than for the sake of the fish, that I encourage him to make the essay.
Poiet.—Pray make no apologies for the trial. Such a fish—certainly a monster for this river—should be caught by fair means, if possible, but caught by any means.
Orn.—You lost that fish, and you overrate his size, as you will see, if I have good luck. I put my live flies on the hook with some regret and some disgust. I will not employ another person to be my minister of cruelty, as I remember a lady of fashion once did, who was very fond of fishing for perch, and who employed her daughter, a little girl of nine years of age, to pass the hook through the body of the worm! Now there is a good wind, and the fish has just taken a natural fly. I shall drop the flies, if possible, within a few inches of his nose. He has risen. He is caught! I must carry him down stream to avoid the bed of weeds above. I now have him on fair ground, and he fights with vigour. Fortunately, my silk worm gut is very strong, for he is not a fish to be trifled with. He begins to be tired; prepare the net. We have him safe, and see your link hangs to his lower jaw: the hook had struck the cartilage on the outside of the bone, and the fly, probably, was scarcely felt by him.
Phys.—I am surprised! That fish evidently had discovered that the artificial fly was a dangerous bait, yet he took the natural fly which was on a hook, and when the silk-worm gut must have been visible.
Hal.—I do not think he saw either the gut or the hook. In very bright weather and water, I have known very shy fish refuse even a hook baited with the natural fly, scared probably by some appearance of hook or gut. The vision of fishes when the surface is not ruffled is sufficiently keen. I have seen them rise at gnats so small as to be scarcely visible to my eye.
Phys.—You just now said, that a fish pricked by the hook of an artificial fly would not usually take it again that season.
Hal.—I cannot be exact on that point: I have known a fish that I have pricked retain his station in the river, and refuse the artificial fly, day after day, for weeks together; but his memory may have been kept awake by this practice, and the recollection seems local and associated with surrounding objects; and if a pricked trout is chased into another pool, he will, I believe, soon again take the artificial fly. Or if the objects around him are changed, as in Autumn, by the decay of weeds, or by their being cut, the same thing happens; and a flood, or a rough wind, I believe, assists the fly-fisher, not merely by obscuring the vision of the fish, but, in a river much fished, by changing the appearance of their haunts: large trouts almost always occupy particular stations, under, or close to, a large stone or tree; and, probably, most of their recollected sensations are connected with this dwelling.
Phys.—I think I understand you, that the memory of the danger and pain does not last long, unless there is a permanent sensation with which it can remain associated,—such as the station of the trout; and that the recollection of the mere form of the artificial fly, without this association, is evanescent.
Orn.—You are diving into metaphysics; yet I think, in fowling, I have observed that the memory of birds is local. A woodcock, that has been much shot at and scared in a particular wood, runs to the side where he has usually escaped, the moment he hears the dogs; but if driven into a new wood, he seems to lose his acquired habits of caution, and becomes stupid.
Poiet.—This great fish, that Ornither has just caught, must be nearly of the weight I assigned to him.
Hal.—O no! he is, I think, above 5lbs., but not 6lbs.; but we can form a more correct opinion by measuring him, which I can easily do, the but of my rod being a measure. He measures, from nose to fork, a very little less than twenty-four inches, and, consequently, upon the scale which is appropriate to well-fed trouts, should weigh 5lbs. 10oz.—which, within an ounce, I doubt not, is his weight.
Phys.—O! I see you take the mathematical law, that similar solids are to each other in the triplicate ratio of one of their dimensions.
Hal.—You are right.
Phys.—But I think you are below the mark, for this appears to me an extraordinarily thick fish.
Hal.—He is a well-fed fish, but, in proportion, not so thick as my model, which was a fish of 17 inches by 9 inches, and weighed 2lbs.; this is my standard solid. We will try him. Ho! Mrs. B.!—bring your scales, and weigh this fish. There, you see, he weighs 5lbs. 10½oz.
Phys.—Well, I am pleased to see this fish, and amused with your sport; but though I have been imitating you in throwing the fly, as well as I can, yet not a trout has taken notice of my fly, and they seem scared by my appearance.
Hal.—Let me see you perform. There are two good trout taking flies opposite that bank, which you can reach. You threw too much line into the water, and scared them both; but I will take you to the rapid of the Tumbling Bay, where the river falls; there the quickness of the stream will prevent your line from falling deep, and the foam will conceal your person from the view of the fish. And let me advise you to fish only in the rapids till you have gained some experience in throwing the fly. There are several fish rising in that stream.
Phys.—I have raised one, but he refused my fly.
Hal.—Now you have a fish.
Phys.—I am delighted;—but he is a small one.
Hal.—Unluckily it is a dace.
Phys.—I have now a larger fish, which has pulled my line out.
Hal.—Give him time. That is a good trout. Now wind up; he is tired, and your own. I will land him. He is a fish to keep, being above 2lbs.
Phys.—I am well pleased.
Hal.—There are many larger trouts here: go on fishing and you will hook some of them. And when you are tired of this rapid, you will find another a quarter of a mile below. And continue to fish with a short line, and drop your fly, or let it be carried by the wind on the water, as lightly as possible. Well, Poietes, what success?
Poiet.—I have been fishing in the stream above; but the flies are so abundant, that the large fish will not take my artificial fly, and I have caught only three fish, all of which the fisherman has thrown into the water, though I am sure one of them was more than 2lbs.
Hal.—You may trust his knowledge: with a new angler, our keeper would be apt rather to favour the fisherman than the fish. But we will have all fish you wish to be killed, and above 2lbs., put into the well of the boat, where they can be examined, and, if you desire, weighed and measured, and such kept as are worth keeping. No good angler should kill a fish, if possible, till he is needed to be crimped; for the sooner he is dressed after this operation the better;—and I assure you, a well-fed trout of the Colne, crimped and cooled ten minutes before he is wanted for the kettle or the gridiron, is a fish little inferior to the best salmon of the best rivers. It is now nearly two o’clock, and there is a cloud over the sun; the fly is becoming less abundant; you are now likely, Poietes, to have better sport. Try in that deep pool, below the Tumbling Bay; I see two or three good fish rising there, and there is a lively breeze. The largest fish refuses your fly again and again; try the others. There, you have hooked him; now carry him down stream, and keep his head high, out of the weeds. He plunges and fights with great force;—he is the best-fed fish I have yet seen at the end of the line, and will weigh more in proportion to his length. I will land him for you. There he is,—and measures 19 inches; and I dare say his weight is not much short of 3lbs. We will preserve him in the well.
Poiet.—He has hardly any spots, and is silvery all over; and the whole of the lower part of his body is beautifully clean.
Hal.—He is likewise broad-backed; and you may observe his few spots are black, and these are very small. I have always remarked, in this river, that the nearer the fish approach to perfection, the colour of the body becomes more uniform,—pale olive above, and bright silver below; and these qualities are always connected with a small head,—or rather, an oval body, and deep-red flesh.
Poiet.—May not the red spots be marks of disease—a hectic kind of beauty? For I observed in a very thin and poor fish, and great-headed, that I caught an hour ago, which had leeches sticking to it, a number of red spots, and a long black back, and black or bluish marks even on the belly.
Hal.—I do not think red spots a symptom of disease; for I have seen fish in other rivers, and even small fish in this river, in perfectly good season, with red spots; but the colours of fish are very capricious, and depend upon causes which cannot be easily defined. The colouring matter is not in the scales, but in the surface of the skin immediately beneath them, and is probably a secretion easily affected by the health of the animal. I have known fish, from some lakes in Ireland, mottled in a most singular way,—their colour being like that of the tortoise: the nature of the water, exposure to the light, and probably the kind of food, produce these effects. I think it possible, when trout feed much on hard substances, such as larvæ and their cases, and the ova of other fish, they have more red spots, and redder fins. This is the case with the gillaroo and the char, who feed on analogous substances: and the trout, that have similar habits, might be expected to resemble them. When trout feed most on small fish, as minnows, and on flies, they have more tendency to become spotted with small black spots, and are generally more silvery. The Colne trout are, in their advanced state, of this kind; and so are the trout called in Ireland buddocks and dolochans, found in Loch Neah. Particular character becomes hereditary, and the effects of a peculiar food influence the appearance of the next generation. I hope, Ornither, you have had good sport.
Orn.—Excellent! Since you left me, below the wear, I have hooked at least fifteen or twenty good fish, and landed and saved eight above 2lbs.; but I have taken no fish like the great one which I caught by poaching with the natural flies. The trout rose wonderfully well within the last quarter of an hour, but they are now all still; and the river, which was in such active motion, is now perfectly quiet, and seems asleep and almost dead.
Hal.—It is past four o’clock, and some dark, heavy clouds are come on,—the fly is off. It is almost the hour for the signal of the dressing bell; and there is nothing more to be done now till evening. But see! our host is come to examine our fish in the well, and to enquire about our sport; and, I dare say, will order some of our fish to be dressed for the table.
Host.—I hope, gentlemen, you have been amused?
Hal.—Most highly, sir. As a proof of it, there are in the fish-well eighteen good trout,—and one not much short of 6lbs.; three above 4lbs., and four above 3lbs. in weight. I hope you will order that great fish for your dinner.
Host.—We will see. He is a fine fish, and fit for a present, even for a prince—and you shall take him to a prince. Here is a fish, and there another, of the two next sizes, which I am sure will cut red. Prepare them, fisherman. And, Halieus, you shall catch two or three perch, for another dish; I know there are some good ones below the piles of the wear; I saw them hunting small fish there yesterday morning. Some minnows, ho!—and the perch rods!
Hal.—I am tired, sir, and would willingly avoid minnow fishing after such a morning’s sport.
Host.—Come, then, I will be a fisher for the table. I have one—and another, that will weigh nearly a pound apiece. Now, there is a cunning perch that has stolen my minnow; I know he is a large one. He has robbed me again and again; and if I fish on in this way, with the hook through the upper lip, will, I dare say, carry away all the minnows in the kettle. I shall put on a strong small hook, on a stout, though fine, gut, with slender wire round the top, and pass the hook through the back fin of the minnow, and try my sagacity against his. Lo! I have him!—and a very strong fish he is, and gone to the bottom; but even though the greatest perch in the river, he cannot bite the gut,—he will soon be tired and taken. He now comes up, and is landed. He must be above 3lbs.—a magnificent perch! Kill him and crimp him, fisherman; take our two trout, and the three perch, to the kitchen, and let them be dressed as usual. You shall have a good dish of fish, worthy of such determined anglers. But I see one of your party coming up by the side of the river, who seems tired and out of spirits.
Hal.—It is Physicus, who has this day commenced his career as a fly fisher; and who, I dare say, has been as successful as the uninitiated generally are. I hope you have followed my advice, and been fortunate?
Phys.—I caught two trout in the rapid where you left me; but they were small, and the fisherman threw them in. Below the wear, in the quick stream, I caught two dace, and what astonished me very much, a perch, which you see here, and which I thought never took the fly.
Hal.—O yes, sometimes; and particularly when it is below the surface: and what more?
Phys.—By creeping on my knees, and dropping my fly over the bank, I hooked a very large fish which I saw rising, and which was like a salmon; but he was too strong for my tackle, ran out all my line, and at last broke off by entangling my link in a post in the river. I have been very unlucky! I am sure that fish was larger than the great one Ornither took with the natural fly.
Hal.—Come, you have been initiated, and I see begin to take an interest in the sport, and I do not despair of your becoming a distinguished angler.
Phys.—With time and some patience: but I am sorry I tortured that enormous fish without taking him.
Hal.—I dare say he was a large fish; but I have known very correct, and even cool, reasoners in error on a point of this kind. You are acquainted with Chemicus; he is not an ardent fisherman, and certainly not addicted to romance; I will tell you an anecdote respecting him. He accompanied me to this very spot last year, on a visit to our host, and preferred angling for pike to fly fishing. After the amusement of a morning, he brought back with him to the house one pike, and with some degree of disappointment complained that he had hooked another of an enormous size, which carried off his tackle by main force, and which he was sure must have been above 10lbs. At dinner, on the table, there were two pikes; one the fish that Chemicus had caught, and another a little larger, somewhat more than 3lbs. We put some questions as to who had caught this second pike, which we found had been taken by our host, who smiling, and with some kind of mystery, asked Chemicus if he thought it weighed 10lbs. Chemicus refused to acknowledge an identity between such a fish and the monster he had hooked; when my friend took out of his pocket a paper containing some hooks and tackle carefully wrapped up, and asked Chemicus if he had ever seen such an apparatus. Chemicus owned they were the hooks and tackle the great fish had carried away. “And I found them,” said our friend, “in the mouth of that very little fish which you see on the table, and which I caught half an hour ago.”
Host.—I answer for the correctness of this anecdote, but I do not sanction its application to the case of our novitiate in angling. I have seen a fish under that bank where he was so unfortunate, which I am sure was above four pounds, and which I dare say was the subject of his unsuccessful experiment.
Poiet.—From what our host has just said, I conclude, Halieus, that fish do not usually change their stations.
Hal.—Large trouts unquestionably do not;—they always hide themselves under the same bank, stone, stock, or weed, as I said this morning before, and come out from their permanent habitations to feed; and when they have fled to their haunt, they may be taken there by the hand; and on this circumstance the practice of tickling trout is founded. A favourite place for a large trout in rivers is an eddy behind a rock or stone, where flies and small fishes are carried by the force of the current: and such haunts are rarely unoccupied; for if a fish is taken out of one of them, his place is soon supplied by another, who quits for it a less convenient situation.
Phys.—So much knowledge and practice is required to become a proficient, that I am afraid it is too late in life for me to begin to learn a new art.
Hal.—Do not despair. There was—alas! that I must say there was—an illustrious philosopher, who was nearly of the age of fifty before he made angling a pursuit, yet he became a distinguished fly-fisher, and the amusement occupied many of his leisure hours during the last twelve years of his life. He, indeed, applied his pre-eminent acuteness, his science, and his philosophy to aid the resources, and exalt the pleasures of this amusement. I remember to have seen Dr. Wollaston, a few days after he had become a fly-fisher, carrying at his buttonhole a piece of caoutchouc, or Indian rubber, when, by passing his silk-worm link through a fissure in the middle, he rendered it straight and fit for immediate use. Many other anglers will remember other ingenious devices of my admirable and ever-to-be lamented friend.
(They go to dinner.)
(They return from the house.)
EVENING.
Hal.—You have, I am sure, gentlemen, dined well; no one ever dined otherwise in this house. It is a beautiful calm evening, and many fish might be caught where we fished in the morning; but I will take you to another part of the river; you shall each catch a fish, and then we will give over; for the evening’s sport should be kept till a late season,—July or August,—when there is little fly on in the day-time: and it would be spoiling the diversion of our host, to catch or prick all the fish in the upper water; and with a gentleman so truly liberal, and so profuse of his means of giving pleasure to others, no improper liberties should be taken. I shall not fish myself, but shall have my pleasure in witnessing your sport. It must be in a boat, and you must steal slowly up the calm water, and glide like aerial beings on the surface, making no motion in the water, and showing no shadow. Your fly must be an orange or brown palmer with a yellow body; for the gray drake is not yet on the water. The fish here are large, and the river weedy, so you must take care of your fish and your tackle.
Poiet.—We have at least passed over half-a-mile of water, and have seen no fish rise; yet there is a yellowish or reddish fly in the air, which moves like a drake; and there are clouds of pale brown flies encircling the alders. Now I think I see a large trout rise below that alder.
Hal.—That is not a trout, for he rises in a different place now, and is probably a large roach or chub; do not waste your time upon him. You may always know a large trout when feeding in the evening. He rises continuously, or at small intervals,—in a still water almost always in the same place,—and makes little noise,—barely elevating his mouth to suck in the fly, and sometimes showing his back-fin and tail. A large circle spreads around him, but there are seldom many bubbles when he breaks the water, which usually indicate the coarser fish: we will wait a few minutes; I know there must be trout here, and the sun is setting, and the yellow fly, or dun cut, coming on the water. See, beneath that alder is a trout rising, and now there is another thirty yards higher up. Take care, get your line out in another part of the water, and in order, for reaching the fish, and do not throw till you are sure you can reach the spot, and throw at least half-a-yard above the fish.
Orn.—He rose, I suppose, at a natural fly, the moment before my fly touched the water.
Hal.—Try again. You have hooked him, and you have done well not to strike when he rose. Now hold him tight, wind up your line, and carry him down the stream. Push the boat down stream, fisherman. Keep your fish’s head up. He begins to tire,—and there is landed. A fine well-fed fish, not much less than 4lbs. Throw him into the well. Now, Poietes, try that fish rising above,—and there are two more.
Poiet.—I have him!
Hal.—Take care. He has turned you, and you have suffered him to run out your line, and he is gone into the weeds under the willow: let him fall down stream.
Poiet.—I cannot get him out.
Hal.—Then wind up. I fear he is lost, yet we will try to recover him by taking the boat up. The line is loose: he has left the link entangled in the weeds, and carried your fly with him. He must have been a large fish, or he could not have disentangled himself from so strong a gut. Try again, there are fish now rising above and below; where the water is in motion, opposite that willow, there are two fish rising.
Poiet.—I have one of them.
Hal.—Now you are doing well. Down with the boat, and drag your fish downwards. Continue to do so, as there are weeds all round you. You can master him now; keep him high, and he is your own. Put the net under him, and bring him into the boat; he is a well-fed fish, but not of the proper size for a victim: about 2lbs. Now, Physicus, try your fortune with the fish above that rises so merrily still. You have him! Now use him as Poietes did the last. Very well; I see he is a large fish,—take your time. He is landed; a fish nearly of 3lbs., and in excellent season.
Phys.—Anche Io son Pescatore—I am too a fisherman—a triumph.
Hal.—Now we have finished our fishing, and must return to the light supper of our host. It would be easy now, and between this hour and ten, to take half-a-dozen large fish in this part of the water; but for the reason I have already stated, it would be improper.
Poiet.—Pray would not this be a good part of the water for day-fishing?
Hal.—Undoubtedly, a skilful angler might take fish here in the day; but the bank is shaded by trees, there is seldom any sensible wind on the water, and the apparatus and the boat in motion are easily perceived in the daylight; and the water is so deep, that a great quantity of fly is necessary to call up the fish; and in general there is a larger quantity of fly in hot summer evenings, than even in the brightest sunshine.
Phys.—The fly appears to me like a moth that is now on the water.
Hal.—It is.
Poiet.—What flies come on late in the season here?
Hal.—Flies of the same species; some darker, and some with a deeper shade of red; and there are likewise the true moths, the brown and white, which, in June and July, are seized with avidity by the fish; and being large flies, take large fish.
Orn.—Surely the May-fly season is not the only season for day-fishing in this river?
Hal.—Certainly not. There are as many fish to be taken perhaps in the Spring fishing; but in this deep river they are seldom in good season till the May-fly has been on, and a fortnight hence they will be still better than even now. In September there may be good fish taken here; but the autumnal flies are less plentiful in this river than the spring flies.
Phys.—Pray tell me what are the species of fly which take in these two seasons.
Hal.—You know that trout spawn or deposit their ova and seminal fluid in the end of the autumn or beginning of winter, from the middle of November till the beginning of January, their maturity depending upon the temperature of the season, their quantity of food, &c. For some time (a month or six weeks) before they are prepared for the sexual function, or that of re-production, they become less fat, particularly the females; the large quantity of eggs and their size probably affecting the health of the animal, and compressing generally the vital organs in the abdomen. They are at least six weeks or two months after they have spawned before they recover their flesh: and the time when these fish are at the worst is likewise the worst time for fly-fishing, both on account of the cold weather and because there are fewer flies on the water than at any other season. Even in December and January there are a few small gnats or water-flies on the water in the middle of the day, in bright days, or when there is sunshine. These are generally black, and they escape the influence of the frost by the effects of light on their black bodies, and probably by the extreme rapidity of the motions of their fluids, and generally of their organs. They are found only at the surface of the water, where the temperature must be above the freezing point. In February a few double-winged water-flies which swim down the stream are usually found in the middle of the day,—such as the willow-fly; and the cow-dung-fly is sometimes carried on the water by winds. In March there are several flies found on most rivers. The grannam or green-tail-fly, with a wing like a moth, comes on generally morning and evening, from five till eight o’clock, A. M. in mild weather in the end of March and through April. Then there are the blue and the brown, both Ephemeræ, which come on, the first in dark days, the second in bright days; these flies, when well imitated, are very destructive to fish. The first is a small fly with a palish-yellow body, and slender beautiful wings, which rest on the back as it floats down the water. The second, called the cob in Wales, is three or four times as large, and has brown wings, which likewise protrude from the back, and its wings are shaded like those of a partridge, brown and yellow brown. These three kinds of flies lay their eggs in the water, which produce larvæ that remain in the state of worms, feeding and breathing in the water till they are prepared for their metamorphosis and quit the bottoms of the rivers, and the mud and stones, for the surface, and the light and air. The brown fly usually disappears before the end of April, likewise the grannam; but of the blue dun, there is a succession of different tints, or species, or varieties, which appear in the middle of the day all the summer and autumn long. These are the principal flies on the Wandle—the best and clearest stream near London. In early spring these flies have dark olive bodies; in the end of April and the beginning of May they are found yellow; and in the summer they become cinnamon-coloured; and again, as the winter approaches, gain a darker hue. I do not, however, mean to say that they are the same flies, but more probably successive generations of Ephemeræ of the same species.
The excess of heat seems equally unfavourable, as the excess of cold, to the existence of the smaller species of water-insects, which, during the intensity of sunshine, seldom appear in summer, but rise morning and evening only. The blue dun has in June and July a yellow body, and there is a water-fly which in the evening is generally found before the moths appear, called the red-spinner. Towards the end of August, the Ephemeræ appear again in the middle of the day: a very pale small Ephemera, which is of the same colour as that which is seen in some rivers in the beginning of July. In September and October this kind of fly is found with an olive body, and it becomes darker in October, and paler in November. There are two other flies which appear in the end of September, and continue during October if the weather be mild: a large yellow fly with a fleshy body and wings like a moth; and a small fly with four wings, with a dark or claret-coloured body, that when it falls on the water has its wings like the great yellow fly, flat on its back. This, or a claret-bodied fly, very similar in character, may be likewise found in March or April, on some waters. In this river I have often caught many large trout in April and the beginning of May, with the blue dun, having the yellow body; and in the upper part of the stream below St. Albans, and between that and Watford, I have sometimes, even as early as April, caught fish in good condition: but the true season for the Colne is the season of the May-fly. The same may be said of most of the large English rivers containing large trouts, and abounding in May-fly;—such as the Test and the Kennet; the one running by Stockbridge, the other by Hungerford. But in the Wandle at Carshalton and Beddington, the May-fly is not found; and the little blues are the constant, and when well imitated, killing flies on this water; to which may be joined a dark alder-fly, and a red evening fly. In the Avon, at Ringwood and Fordingbridge, the May-fly is likewise a killing fly; but as this is a grayling river, the other flies, particularly the grannam and blue and brown, are good in spring, and the alder-fly or pale blue later, and the blue dun in September and October, and even November. In the streams in the mountainous parts of Britain, the spring and autumnal flies are by far the most killing. The Usk was formerly a very productive trout stream, and the fish being well-fed by the worms washed down by the winter floods, were often in good season, cutting red, in March, and the beginning of April: and at this season the blues and browns, particularly when the water was a little stained after a small flood, afforded the angler good sport. In Herefordshire and Derbyshire, where trout and grayling are often found together, the same periods are generally best for angling; but in the Dove, Lathkill, and Wye, with the natural May-fly, many fish may be taken; and in old times, in peculiarly windy days, or high and troubled water, even the artificial May-fly, according to Cotton, was very killing.
Poiet.—I have heard various accounts of the excellent fishing in some of the great lakes in Ireland. Can you tell us any thing on the subject, and if the same flies may be used in that island?
Hal.—I have been several times in Ireland, but never at this season, which is considered as best for lake-fishing. I have heard that in some of the lakes in Westmeath, very large trout, and great quantities may be taken in the beginning of June, with the very flies we have been using this day. Wind is necessary; and a good angler sometimes takes in a day, or rather formerly took, from ten to twelve fish, which weighed from 3 to 10lbs., and which occasionally were even larger. In the summer after June, and in the autumn, the only seasons when I have fished in Ireland, I have seldom taken any large trout; but in the river Boyle, late in October, after a flood, I once had some sport with these fish, that were running up the river from Lock Key to spawn. I caught one day two above 3lbs. that took a large reddish-brown fly of the same kind as a salmon fly; and I saw some taken that weighed 5lbs., and heard of one that equalled 9lbs. These fish were in good season, even at this late period, and had no spots, but were coloured red and brown—mottled like tortoise-shell, only with smaller bars. I have in July, likewise, fished in Loch Con, near Ballina, and Loch Melvin, near Ballyshannon. In Loch Con, the party caught many small good trout, that cut red; and in the other I caught a very few trout only, but as many of them were gillaroo or gizzard trout as common trout.
Poiet.—This must have been an interesting kind of fishing. In what does the gillaroo differ from the trout?
Hal.—In appearance very little, except that they have more red spots, and a yellow or golden-coloured belly and fins, and are generally a broader and thicker fish; but internally they have a different organization, possessing a large thick muscular stomach, which has been improperly compared to a fowl’s, and which generally contains a quantity of small shell-fish of three or four kinds: and though in those I caught the stomachs were full of these shell-fish, yet they rose greedily at the fly.
Poiet.—Are they not common trout which have gained the habit of feeding on shell-fish?
Hal.—If so, they have been altered in a succession of generations. The common trouts of this lake have stomachs like other trouts, which never, as far as my experience has gone, contain shell-fish; but of the gillaroo trout, I have caught with a fly some not longer than my finger, which have had as perfect a hard stomach as the larger ones, with the coats as thick in proportion, and the same shells within; so that this animal is at least now a distinct species, and is a sort of link between the trout and char, which has a stomach of the same kind with the gillaroo, but not quite so thick, and which feeds at the bottom in the same way. I have often looked in the lakes abroad for gillaroo trout, and never found one. In a small lake at the foot of the Crest of the Brenner, above 4000 feet above the level of the sea, I once caught some trout, which, from their thickness and red spots, I suspected were gillaroo, but on opening the stomach I found I was mistaken; it had no particular thickness, and was filled with grasshoppers: but there were char, which fed on shell-fish, in the same lake.
Poiet.—Are water-flies found on all rivers?
Hal.—This is a question which I find it impossible to answer; yet from my own experience I should suppose, that in all the habitable parts of the globe certain water-flies exist wherever there is running water. Even in the most ardent temperature, gnats and musquitoes are found, which lay their congeries of eggs on the water, which, when hatched, become first worms, afterwards small shrimp-like aurelia, and lastly flies. There are a great number of the largest species of these flies on stagnant waters and lakes, which form a part of the food of various fishes, principally of the carp kind: but the true fisherman’s flies,—those which are imitated in our art, principally belong to the northern, or at least temperate part of Europe, and I believe are nowhere more abundant than in England. It appears to me, that since I have been a fisherman, which is now the best part of half a century, I have observed in some rivers where I have been accustomed to fish habitually, a diminution of the numbers of flies. There were always some seasons in which the temperature was favourable to a quantity of fly; for instance, fine warm days in spring for the grannam, or brown fly; and like days in May and June for the alder-fly, May-fly, and stone-fly; but I should say that within these last twenty years I have observed a general diminution of the spring and autumnal flies, except in those rivers which are fed from sources that run from chalk, and which are perennial—such as the Wandle, and the Hampshire and Buckinghamshire rivers; in these streams the temperature is more uniform, and the quantity of water does not vary much. I attribute the change of the quantity of flies in the rivers to the cultivation of the country. Most of the bogs or marshes which fed many considerable streams are drained; and the consequence is, that they are more likely to be affected by severe droughts and great floods—the first killing, and the second washing away the larvæ and aurelias. May-flies thirty years ago were abundant in the upper part of the Teme river in Herefordshire, where it receives the Clun: they are now rarely seen. Most of the rivers of that part of England, as well as of the west, with the exception of those that rise in the still uncultivated parts of Dartmoor and Exmoor, are rapid and unfordable torrents after rain, and in dry summers little more than scanty rills; and Exmoor and Dartmoor, almost the only considerable remains of those moist, spongy, or peaty soils, which once covered the greatest part of the high lands of England, are becoming cultivated, and their sources will gradually gain the same character as those of our midland and highly-improved counties. I cannot give you an idea of the effects of peat mosses and grassy marshes on the water thrown down from the atmosphere, better, than by comparing their effects to those of roofs of houses of thatched straw, as contrasted with roofs of slate, on a shower of rain. The slate begins to drop immediately, and sends down what it receives in a rapid torrent, and is dry soon after the shower is over. From the sponge-like roof of thatch, on the contrary, it is long before the water drops; but it continues dropping and wet for hours after the shower is over and the slate dry.
Poiet.—You spoke just now of the gillaroo trout, as belonging only to Ireland. I can, however, hardly bring myself to believe, that such a fish is not to be found elsewhere. For lakes with shell-fish and char are common in various parts of Europe, and as the gillaroo trout is congenerous, it ought to exist both in Scotland and the Alpine countries.
Hal.—It is not possible from analogies of this kind to draw certain inferences. Subterraneous cavities and subterranean waters are common in various countries, yet the Proteus Anguinus is only found in two places in Carniola—at Adelsburg and Sittich. As I mentioned before, I have never yet met with a gillaroo trout except in Ireland. It is true, it is only lately that I have had my attention directed to this subject, and other fishermen or naturalists may be more fortunate.
Poiet.—Have you ever observed any other varieties of the trout kind, which may be considered as, like the gillaroo, forming a distinct species?
Hal.—I think the par, samlet, or brandling, common to most of our rivers, which communicate with the sea, has a claim to be considered a distinct species; yet the history of this fish is so obscure, and so little understood, that, perhaps, I ought not to venture to give an account of it. But in doing so, you will consider me as rather asking for new information, than as attempting a satisfactory view of this little animal.
Orn.—I have seen this fish in the rivers of Wales and Herefordshire, and have heard it asserted, on what appeared to me good authority, that it was a mule,—the offspring of a trout and a salmon.
Hal.—This opinion, I know, has been supported by the fact, that it is found only in streams, which are occasionally visited by salmon; yet I know no direct evidence in favour of the opinion, and I should think it much more probable, if it be a mixed race, that it is produced by the sea trout and common trout. In a small river, which runs into the Moy, near Ballina in Ireland, I once caught in October a great number of small sea trout, which were generally about half-a-pound in weight, and were all males; and unless it be supposed, that the females were in the river likewise, and would not take the fly, these fish, in which the spermatic system was fully developed, could only have impregnated the ova of the common river trout. The sea trout and river trout are, indeed, so like each other in character, that such a mixture seems exceedingly probable; but I know no reason why such mules should always continue small, except that it may be a mark of imperfection. The only difference between the par and common small trout is in the colours, and its possessing one or two spines more in the pectoral fin. The par has large blue or olive bluish marks on the sides, as if they had been made by the impression of the fingers of a hand; and hence the fish is called in some places fingerling. The river and sea trout seem capable of changing permanently their places of residence; and sea trout appear often to become river trout. In this case they lose their silvery colour, and gain more spots; and in their offspring these changes are more distinct. Fish, likewise, which are ill-fed remain small; and pars are exceedingly numerous in those rivers where they are found, which are never separated from the sea by impassable falls; from which I think it possible that they are produced by a cross between sea and river trout. The varieties of the common trout are almost infinite; from the great lake trout, which weighs above 60 or 70lbs., to the trouts of the little mountain brook or small mountain lake, or tarn, which is scarcely larger than the finger. The smallest trout spawn nearly at the same time with the larger ones, and their ova are of the same size; but in the large trout there are tens of thousands, and in the small one rarely as many as forty,—often from ten to forty. So that in the physical constitution of these animals, their production is diminished as their food is small in quantity; and it is remarkable, that the ova of the large and beautiful species which exist in certain lakes, and which seem always to associate together, appear to produce offspring, which, in colour, form, and power of growth and reproduction, resemble the parent fishes; and they generally choose the same river for their spawning. Thus, in the lake of Guarda, the Benacus of the ancients, the magnificent trout, or Salmo fario, which in colour and appearance is like a fresh run salmon, spawns in the river at Riva, beginning to run up for that purpose in June, and continuing to do so all the summer; and this river is fed by streams from snow and glaciers in the Tyrol, and is generally foul: whilst the small spotted common trouts, which are likewise found in this lake, go into the small brooks, which have their sources not far off, and in which, it is probable, they were originally bred. I have seen taken in the same net small fish of both these varieties which were as marked as possible in their characters:—one silvery, like a young salmon, blue on the back, and with small black spots only; the other, with yellow belly and red spots, and an olive-coloured back. I have made similar observations in other lakes, particularly in that of the Tarun near Gmunden, and likewise at Loch Neah in Ireland. Indeed, considering the sea trout as the type of the species trout, I think all the other true trouts may not improperly be considered as varieties, where the differences of food and of habits have occasioned, in a long course of ages, differences of shape and colours, transmitted to offspring in the same manner as in the variety of dogs, which may all be referred to one primitive type.[[4]]
Phys.—I am somewhat amused at your idea of the change produced in the species of trout by the formation of particular characters by particular accidents, and their hereditary transmission. It reminds me of the ingenious but somewhat unsound views of Darwin on the same subject.
Hal.—I will not allow you to assimilate my views to those of an author, who, however ingenious, is far too speculative; whose poetry has always appeared to me weak philosophy, and his philosophy indifferent poetry: and to whom I have been often accustomed to apply Blumenbach’s saying, that there were many things new and many things true in his doctrines; but that what was new was not true, and what was true was not new.
Poiet.—I think Halieus is quite in the right to be a little angry at your observation, Physicus, in making him a disciple of a writer, who, as well as I can recollect, has deduced the genesis of the human being, by a succession of changes dependant upon irritabilities, sensibilities, and appetencies, from the fish; blending the wild fancies of Buffon with the profound ideas of Hartly, and thus endeavouring to give currency to an absurd romance, by mixing with it some philosophical truths. I hope your parallel will induce him to do us the favour to state his own notions more at large.
Hal.—Physicus has mistaken me; and I will explain. What I mentioned of the varieties of dogs as sprung from one type, he will, I am sure, allow me to apply, with some modifications, to all our cultivated breeds of animals, whether horses, oxen, sheep, hogs, geese, ducks, turkies, or pigeons; and he will allow, that certain characters gained by accidents, either from peculiar food, air, water, or domestic treatment, are transmitted to, and often strengthened in the next generation; the qualities being, as it were, doubled when belonging to both parents, and retained in spite of counteracting causes. It will be sufficient for me to mention only a few cases. The blood-horse of Arabia, is become the favourite of the north of Europe, and the colts possess all the superior qualities of their parents, even in the polar circle. The offspring of the Merino sheep retain the fineness of their wool in England and Saxony. Poultry, bantams, tumbling and carrier pigeons, geese, ducks, turkies, &c., all afford instances of the same kind; and in the goose and duck, not only is the colour of the feathers changed, but the form of the muscles of the legs and wings; those of the wings, being little employed, become weak and slender; those of the legs, on the contrary, being much used, are strong and fleshy; and it is well to know this, as, in the young birds, the muscles of the legs and thighs are the best parts for the epicure, a large quantity of flesh being developed there, but not yet hardened or rendered tough by exercise. These facts are of the same kind and depend on the same principles, as the peculiarity of the breeds or races in trouts. Fish in a clear cool river, that feed much on larvæ, and that swallow their hard cases, become yellower, and the red spots increase so as to outnumber the black ones; and these qualities become fixed in the young fishes, and establish a particular variety. If trout from a lake, or another river of a different variety, were introduced into this river, they would not at once change their characters; but the change would take place gradually. Thus I have known trout from a lake in Scotland, remarkable for their deep red flesh, introduced into another lake, where the trout had only white flesh, and they retained the peculiar redness of their flesh for many years. At first they all associated together in spawning in the brook which fed the lake, but those newly introduced were easily known from their darker backs and brighter sides. By degrees, however, from the influence of food and other causes, they became changed; the young trout of the introduced variety had flesh less red than their parents; and in about twenty years the variety was entirely lost, and all the fish were in their original white state. A very speculative reasoner might certainly defend the hypothesis, of the change of species in a long course of ages, from the establishment of particular characters as hereditary. It might be said, that trout, after having thickened their stomachs by feeding on larvæ with hard cases, gained the power of eating shell-fish, and were gradually changed to gillaroos and to char; their red spots and the yellow colour of their belly and fins increasing. In the same manner it might be said, that the large trout which feed almost entirely on small fishes, gained more spines in the pectoral fins, and became a new species; but I shall not go so far, and I know no facts of this kind. The gillaroo and the char appear always with the same characters: and I have never seen any fish that seemed in a state of transition from a trout to gillaroo or a char; which I think, must have been the case if such changes took place. I hope, after this explanation, Physicus will not find any analogy between my ideas and those of a school, to which I am not ambitious of being thought to belong; and that he will allow my views to be sound, or at least founded upon correct analogies.
Poiet.—Do you know any facts of a similar kind in confirmation of your idea that the par is a mule?
Hal.—I have heard of similar instances, but I cannot say I have myself witnessed them. The common carp and the cruscian are said to produce a mixed race, and likewise the rud and the roach; but I have never paid much attention to varieties of the carp kind. A friend of mine informed me, that in a branch of the Test, into which graylings had recently been introduced, his fisherman caught a fish, which appeared to be from a cross between the trout and grayling, having the high back fin of the grayling, and the head and spots of the trout: this is the more remarkable, if correct, as the grayling spawns in the late spring, and the trout in the late autumn or winter: yet I do recollect that I once took a grayling in the end of November, in which the ova were so large, as nearly to be ready for protrusion. The fisherman of the Gründtl See, in Styria, informed me, that he had seen a fish which he believed to be a mule between the trout and char, the fins of which resembled those of a trout, though the body was in other respects like that of a char. The seasons at which these two species spawn approach nearer to each other; but the char spawns in still and the trout in running water. In general the trout are mature before the char, yet I have seen in the Leopoldstein See, in Styria, a female char, of which the eggs were almost fully developed as early as June: the fisherman of the Gründtl See said, that these peculiar fish were very rare, and that he caught only one in about 500 char. It is not, I think, impossible, that it may be an umbla, a fish that might be expected to be found in that deep, cold, Alpine lake, a peculiar species and not a mixed variety. It is a fertile and very curious subject for new experiments, that of crossing the breeds of fishes, and offers a very interesting and untouched field of investigation, which I hope will soon be taken up by some enlightened country gentleman, who in this way might make not only curious but useful discoveries.
Poiet.—So much science would be required to make these experiments with success, and there would be so many difficulties in the way of preserving fishes at the time they are proper for reproduction, that I fear very few country gentlemen would be capable of prosecuting the inquiry.
Hal.—The science required for this object is easily attained, and the difficulties are quite imaginary. The impregnation of the ova of fishes is performed out of the body, and it is only necessary to pour the seminal liquor from the melt upon the ova in water. Mr. Jacobi, a German gentleman, who made many years ago experiments on the increase of trout and salmon, informs us, that the ova and melt of mature fish, recently dead, will produce living offspring. His plan of raising trout from the egg was a very simple one. He had a box made with a small wire grating at one end in the cover, for admitting water from a fresh source or stream, and at the other end of the side of the box there were a number of holes to permit the exit of the water: the bottom of the box was filled with pebbles and gravel of different sizes, which were kept covered with water that was always in motion. In November or the beginning of December, when the trout were in full maturity for spawning, and collected in the rivers for this purpose upon beds of gravel, he caught males and females in a net, and by the pressure of his hands, received the ova in a basin of water, and suffered the melt or seminal fluid to pass into the basin; and after they had remained a few minutes together, he introduced them upon the gravel in the box, which was placed under a source of fresh, cool, and pure water. In a few weeks the eggs burst, and the box was filled with an immense number of young trout, which had a small bag attached to the lower part of their body containing a part of the yolk of the egg, which was still their nourishment. In this state they were easily carried from place to place in confined portions of fresh water for some days, requiring apparently no food; but, after about a week, the nourishment in their bag being exhausted, they began to seek their food in the water, and rapidly increased in size. As I have said before, Mr. Jacobi assures us, that the experiment succeeded as well with mature fish, that had been killed for the purpose of procuring the roe and melt, these having been mixed together in cold water immediately after they were taken out of the body. I have had this experiment tried twice, and with perfect success, and it offers a very good mode of increasing to any extent the quantity of trout in rivers or lakes, for the young ones are preserved from the attacks of fishes, and other voracious animals or insects, at the time when they are most easily destroyed, and perfectly helpless. The same plan, I have no doubt, would answer equally well with grayling or other varieties of the salmo genus. But in all experiments of this kind, the great principle is, to have a constant current of fresh and aerated water running over the eggs. The uniform supply of air to the fœtus in the egg is essential for its life and growth, and such eggs as are not supplied with water saturated with air are unproductive. The experimenter must be guided exactly by the instinct of the parent fishes, who take care to deposit the impregnated eggs, that are to produce their offspring, only in sources continually abounding in fresh and aerated water.
Phys.—But as every species of fish has a particular and usually different time for spawning, I do not see how it could be contrived to cross their breeds, or how the ova of a trout, which spawns in December, could be impregnated by the seminal fluid of the grayling, which spawns in May; for I conclude it would be impossible to preserve the eggs of a fish out of the body in a state in which they could retain or recover their vitality.
Hal.—I believe I mentioned before, that I had found instances, in which the ova of fish were developed at a different period from their natural one; and I have no doubt, that a little inquiry respecting the habits of fishes would enable us to acquire a knowledge of the circumstances, which either hasten or retard their maturity. Plenty of food and a genial season hasten the period of their reproduction, which is delayed by want of proper nourishment, and by unfavourable weather. Males and females likewise, confined from each other, have their generative powers impeded; and trout, grayling, and salmon, will not deposit their ova except in running water; so that by keeping them in tanks, the period of their maturity might be considerably altered. I have seen char even, which had been kept in confined water from September till July; and so slow had been the progress of the ova, that they appeared to be about this time fit for exclusion, though, in the natural course of things, they would have been ripe in the end of October of the year before. By attending to and controlling all these circumstances, I have no doubt many interesting experiments might be made, as to the possibility of modifying the varieties of the salmo, by impregnating the ova of one species with the seminal fluid of another. With fishes of other genera the task would be still more easy. Carp, perch, and pike, deposit their ova in still water in spring and summer, when it is supplied with air by the growth of vegetables: and it is to the leaves of plants, which afford a continual supply of oxygen to the water, that the impregnated eggs usually adhere; so that researches of this kind might be conducted within doors in close vessels, filled with plants, exposed to the sun. I have myself kept minnows and sticklebacks alive for many months in the same confined quantity of water, containing a few confervæ; and their ova and melt increased in the same manner, as if they had been in their natural situation.
Orn.—I conclude from your statements, Halieus, that nothing more is required for the production of fishes from impregnated eggs, than a constant supply of water of a certain temperature furnished with air; and of course the same principles will apply to fishes of the sea.
Hal.—There can be no doubt of it: and fishes in spawning time always approach great shallows, or shores covered with weeds, that, in the process of their growth, under the influence of the sunshine, constantly supply pure air to the water in contact with them.
Poiet.—In every thing belonging to the economy of nature, I find new reasons for wondering at the designs of Providence,—at the infinite intelligence by which so many complicated effects are produced by the most simple causes. The precipitation of water from the atmosphere, its rapid motion in rivers, and its falls in cataracts, not only preserve this element pure, but give it its vitality, and render it subservient even to the embryo life of the fish; and the storms which agitate the ocean, and mingle it with the atmosphere, supply at once food to marine plants, and afford a principle of life to the fishes which inhabit its depths. So that the perturbation and motion of the winds and waves possess a use, and ought to impress us with a beauty higher and more delightful even than that of the peaceful and glorious calm.
THIRD DAY.
HALIEUS—POIETES—ORNITHER—PHYSICUS.
SCENE—DENHAM.
Morning.
Hal.—You will soon take your leave, gentlemen, of this agreeable villa, but we must catch at least two brace of trout, to carry with us to London as a present for two worthy patrons of the angle. For though I know our liberal host will have a basket of fish packed up for each of our party, yet fish taken this morning will be imagined a more acceptable present than those caught yesterday. The May-fly is already upon the water, though not in great quantity, and it will consequently be more easy to catch the fish, which I see are rising with great activity. I advise you to go to the deep water below, where you will find the largest fish, and I will soon follow you.
Poiet.—I hope I shall catch a large fish,—a companion to that which Ornither took yesterday with a natural fly.
[Halieus leaves them fishing, and returns to the house; but soon comes back and joins his companions, whom he finds fishing below in the river.]
Hal.—Well, gentlemen, what sport?
Poiet.—The fish are rising every where; but though we have been throwing over them with all our skill for a quarter of an hour, yet not a single one will take, and I am afraid we shall return to breakfast without our prey.
Hal.—I will try; but I shall go to the other side, where I see a very large fish rising. There!—I have him at the very first throw. Land this fish, and put him into the well. Now I have another; and I have no doubt I could take half a dozen in this very place, where you have been so long fishing without success.
Phys.—You must have a different fly; or have you some unguent or charm to tempt the fish?