purpose of preserving life and increasing happiness. Pain seems in all
cases to precede the mutilation or destruction of those organs which are
essential to vitality, and for _the end_ of preserving them; but the
mere process of dying seems to be the falling into a deep slumber; and
in animals, who have no fear of death dependent upon imagination, it can
hardly be accompanied by very intense suffering. In the human being,
moral and intellectual motives constantly operate in enhancing the fear
of death, which, without these motives in a reasoning being, would
probably become null, and the love of life be lost upon every slight
occasion of pain or disgust; but imagination is creative with respect to
both these passions, which, if they exist in animals, exist independent
of reason, or as instincts. Pain seems intended by an all-wise
Providence to prevent the _dissolution_ of organs, and cannot follow
their _destruction_. I know several instances in which the process of
death has been observed, even to its termination, by good philosophers;
and the instances are worth repeating: Dr. Cullen, when dying, is said
to have faintly articulated to one of his intimates, “I wish I had the
power of writing or speaking, for then I would describe to you how
pleasant a thing it is to die.” Dr. Black, worn out by age and a
disposition to pulmonary hemorrhage, which obliged him to live very low,
whilst eating his customary meal of bread and milk, fell asleep, and
died in so tranquil a manner, that he had not even spilt the contents of
the spoon which he held in his hand. And the late Sir Charles Blagden,
whilst at a social meal with his friends, Mons. and Mad. Berthollet and
Gay-Lussac, died in his chair so quietly, that not a drop of the coffee
in the cup which he held in his hand was spilt.
POIET.—Give us no more such instances, for I do not think it wise to
diminish the love of life, or to destroy the fear of death.
HAL.—There is no danger of this. These passions are founded on immutable
laws of our nature, which philosophy cannot change; and it would be good
if we could give the same security of duration to the love of virtue and
the fear of vice or shame, which are connected with immutable interests,
and which ought to occupy far more the consideration of beings destined
for immortality.—But to our business.
Now we have fish for dinner, my task is finished: Physicus and Poietes,
try your skill. I have not fished over the best parts of this pool: you
may catch a brace of fish here before dinner is ready.
PHYS.—It is too late, and I shall go and see that all is right.
POIET.—I will take one or two casts; but give me your fly: I like always
to be sure that the tackle is taking.
HAL.—Try at first the very top of the pool,—though I fear you will get
nothing there; but here is a cast which I think the Highlander can
hardly have commanded from the other side, and which is rarely without a
good fish. There, he rose: a large trout of 10lbs., or a salmon. Now
wait a few minutes. When a fish has missed the fly, he will not rise
again till after a pause—particularly if he has been for some time in
the fresh water. Now try him again. He has risen, but he is a dark fish
that has been some time in the water, and he tries to drown the fly with
a blow of his tail. I fear you will not hook him except foul, when most
likely he would break you. Try the bottom of the pool, below where I
caught my fish.
POIET.—I have tried all the casts, and nothing rises.
HAL.—Come, we will change the fly for that which I used.
POIET.—Now I have one: he has taken the fly under water, and I cannot
see him.
HAL.—Straighten your line, and we shall soon see him. He is a sea trout,
but not a large one.
POIET.—But he fights like a salmon, and must be near 5lbs.
HAL.—Under 3lbs.; but these fish are always strong and active, and
sometimes give more sport than larger fish. Shorten your line, or he
will carry you over the stones and cut the link gut. He is there
already: you have allowed him to carry out too much line; wind up as
quick as you can, and keep a tight hand upon him. He is now back to a
good place, and in a few minutes more will be spent. I have the net.
There, he is a sea trout of nearly 3lbs. This will be a good addition to
our dinner: I will crimp him, that you may compare boiled sea trout with
broiled, and with salmon. Now, if you please, we will cool this fish at
the spring, and then go to our inn.
POIET.—If you like. I am endeavouring to find a reason for the effect of
crimping and cold in preserving the curd of fish. Have you ever thought
on this subject?
HAL.—Yes: I conclude that the fat of salmon between the flakes of the
muscles is mixed with much albumen and gelatine, and is extremely liable
to decompose, and by keeping it cool, the decomposition is retarded; and
by the boiling salt and water, which is of a higher temperature than
that of common boiling water, the albumen is coagulated, and the
curdiness preserved. The crimping, by preventing the irritability of the
fibre from being gradually exhausted, seems to preserve it so hard and
crisp, that it breaks under the teeth; and a fresh fish not crimped is
generally tough. A friend of mine, an excellent angler, has made some
experiments on the fat of fish; and he considers the red colour of
trout, salmon, and char, as owing to a peculiar coloured oil, which may
be extracted by alcohol; and this accounts for the want of it in fish
that have fed ill, and after spawning. In general, the depth of the red
colour and the quantity of curd are proportional.
POIET.—Would not the fish be still better, or at least possess more
curd, if caught in a net and killed immediately? In the operation of
tiring by the reel there must be considerable muscular exertion, and I
should suppose expenditure of oily matter.
HAL.—There can be no doubt but the fish would be in a more perfect state
for the table from the nets; yet a fish in high season does not lose so
much fat during the short time he is on the hook, as to make much
difference; and I am not sure, that the action of crimping after does
not give a better sort of crispness to the fibre. This, however, may be
fancy; we will discuss the matter again at table. See! our companion on
the lake, the eagle, is coming down the river, and has pounced upon a
fish in the pool near the sea.
PHYS.—I fear he will interfere with our sport: let us request Ornither
to shoot him. I wish to see him nearer, and to preserve him as a
specimen for the Zoological Society.
HAL.—O! no. He will not spoil our sport; and I think it would be a pity
to deprive this spot of one of its poetical ornaments. Besides, the pool
where he is now fishing contains scarcely any thing but trout; it is too
shallow for salmon, who run into the cruives.
POIET.—I am of your opinion, and shall use my eloquence to prevent
Ornither from attempting the life of so beautiful a bird; so majestic in
its form, so well suited to the scenery, and so picturesque in all its
habits.
THE INNKEEPER.—Gentlemen, dinner is ready.
THE DINNER.
HAL.—Now take your places. What think you of our fish?
PHYS.—I never ate better; but I want the Harvey or Reading sauce.
HAL.—Pray let me intreat you to use no other sauce than the water in
which he was boiled. I assure you this is the true Epicurean way of
eating fresh salmon: and for the trout, use only a little vinegar and
mustard,—a sauce _à la Tartare_, without the onions.
POIET.—Well, nothing can be better; and I do not think fresh net-caught
fish can be superior to these.
HAL.—And these snipes are excellent. Either my journey has given me an
appetite, or I think they are the best I ever tasted.
ORN.—They are good, but I have tasted better.
HAL.—Where?
ORN.—On the continent; where the common snipe, that rests during its
migration from the north to the south in the marshes of Italy and
Carniola, and the double or solitary snipe, become so fat, as to
resemble that bird, which was formerly fattened in Lincolnshire, the
ruff; and they have, I think, a better flavour from being fed on their
natural food.
HAL.—At what time have you eaten them?
ORN.—I have eaten them both in spring and autumn; but the autumnal birds
are the best, and are like the ortolan of Italy.
HAL.—Where does the double snipe winter?
ORN.—I believe in Africa and Asia Minor. They are rarely seen in
England, except driven by an east wind in the spring, or a strong north
wind in the autumn. Their natural progress is to and from Finland and
Siberia, through the continent of Europe, to and from the east and
south.[5] In autumn they pass more east, both because they are aided by
west winds, and because the marshes in the east of Europe are wetter in
that season; and in spring they return, but the larger proportion
through Italy, where they are carried by the _Sirocco_, and which at
that time is _extremely wet_. Come, let us have another bottle of
claret: a pint per man is not too much after such a day’s fatigue.
HAL.—You have made me president for these four days, and I forbid it. A
half pint of wine for young men in perfect health is enough, and you
will be able to take your exercise better, and feel better for this
abstinence. How few people calculate upon the effects of constantly
renewed fever, in our luxurious system of living in England! The heart
is made to act too powerfully, the blood is thrown upon the nobler
parts, and, with the system of wading adopted by some sportsmen, whether
in shooting or fishing, is delivered either to the hemorrhoidal veins,
or, what is worse, to the head. I have known several free livers, who
have terminated their lives by apoplexy, or have been rendered miserable
by palsy, in consequence of the joint effects of cold feet and too
stimulating a diet; that is to say, as much animal food as they could
eat, with a pint or perhaps a bottle of wine per day. Be guided by me,
my friends, and neither drink nor wade. I know there are old men who
have done both, and have enjoyed perfect health; but these are _devil’s
decoys_ to the unwary, and ten suffer for one that escapes. I could
quote to you an instance from this very county, in one of the strongest
men I have ever known. He was not intemperate, but he lived luxuriously,
and waded as a salmon fisher for many years in this very river; but
before he was fifty, palsy deprived him of the use of his limbs, and he
is still a living example of the danger of the system which you are
ambitious of adopting.
ORN.—Well, I give up the wine, but I intend to wade in Hancock’s boots
to-morrow.
HAL.—Wear them, but do not wade in them. The feet must become cold in a
stream of water constantly passing over the caoutchouc and leather,
notwithstanding the thick stockings. They are good for keeping the feet
warm, and I think where there is exercise, as in snipe shooting, they
may be used without any bad effects. But I advise no one to stand still
(which an angler must do sometimes) in the water, even with these
ingenious water-proof inventions. All anglers should remember old
Boerhaave’s maxims of health, and act upon them: “Keep the feet warm,
the head cool, and the body open.”
PHYS.—I am sorry we did not examine more minutely the weight and size of
the fish we caught, and compare the anatomy of the salmon and the sea
trout; but we were in too great a hurry to see them on the table, and
our philosophy yielded to our hunger.
HAL.—We shall have plenty of opportunities for this examination; and we
can now walk down to the fishing-house and see probably half a hundred
fish of different sizes, that have been taken in the cruives, this
evening, and examine them at our leisure.
ALL.—Let us go!
PHYS.—I never saw so many fish of this kind before; and I conclude that
heap of smaller fish is composed of trout.
HAL.—Certainly. Let us compare one of the largest trout with a salmon. I
have selected two fresh run fish, which, from their curved lower jaws,
are, I conclude, both males. The salmon you see is broader, has a tail
rather more forked, and the teeth in proportion are rather smaller. The
trout, likewise, has larger and more black brown spots on the body; and
the head of the trout is a little larger in proportion. The salmon has
14 spines in the pectoral fins, 10 in each of the ventral, 13 in the
anal, 21 in the caudal, and 15 in the dorsal. The salmon measures 38½
inches in length and 21 inches in girth, and his weight, as you see, is
22¼lbs. The trout has one spine less in the pectoral, and two less in
the anal fin, and measures 30¼ inches in length, and 16 inches in girth,
and his weight is 11lbs. We will now open them. The stomach of the
salmon, you perceive, contains nothing but a little yellow fluid, and,
though the salmon is twice as large, does not exceed much in size that
of the trout. The stomach of the trout, unlike that of the salmon, will
be found full of food: we will open it. See, there are half digested
sand eels which come out of it.
PHYS.—But surely the stomachs of salmon must sometimes, when opened,
contain food?
HAL.—I have opened ten or twelve, and never found any thing in their
stomachs but tape-worms, bred there, and some yellow fluid; but, I
believe, this is generally owing to their being caught at the time of
migration, when they are travelling from the sea upwards, and do not
willingly load themselves with food. Their digestion appears to be very
quick, and their habits seem to show, that after having taken a bait in
the river they do not usually seek another, till the work of digestion
is nearly performed: but when they are taken at sea, and in rivers in
the winter, food, I am told, is sometimes found in their stomachs. The
sea trout is a much more voracious fish, and, like the land trout, is
not willingly found with an empty stomach.
PHYS.—I presume the sea trout is the fish called by Linnæus, in his
Fauna, _Salmo Eriox_?
HAL.—I know not: but I should rather think that fish a variety of the
common salmon.
PHYS.—But there are surely other species of salmon, that live in the sea
and come into our rivers: I have heard of fish called _grays_, _bull
trout_, _scurfs_, _morts_, _peales_, and _whitlings_.
HAL.—I have never been able to identify more than the _salmo salar_, or
salmon, and _salmo trutta_, or sea trout, in the rivers of Britain and
Ireland. The whitlings I believe to be the young of the sea trout. A sea
trout which I saw in Ireland, called a bull trout, was of the same kind
as these you see here, but fresh water trout are sometimes carried in
floods to the sea, and come back larger and altered in colour and form,
and are then mistaken for new species: and as each river possesses a
peculiar variety belonging to it, this, with differences depending upon
food and size, will, I think, account for the peculiarities of
particular fish, without the necessity of supposing them distinct
species. I remember many years ago, the first time I ever fished for
salmon in spring in the Tweed, I caught with the fly, one fine morning
in March, two fish nearly of the same length: one was a male of the last
season, that had lost its melt; the other a female fresh from the sea.
They were so unlike, that they did not appear of the same species: the
spent or kipper salmon was long and lean, showing an immense head,
spotted all over with black and brown spots, and the belly almost black;
the other bright and silvery, without spots, and the head small. Even
the pectoral and anal fins had more spines in the newly run fish, some
of the smaller ones having been probably rubbed off in spawning by the
other. I would not for some time, till assured by an experienced
fisherman, believe, that the spent fish was a salmon; and when their
flesh was compared on the table, one was white, flabby, and bad, and
without curd; the other of the brightest pink, and full of dense curd.
Then, though of the same length, one weighed only 4lbs., the other
9½lbs. When it is recollected, that different salmon and sea trout spawn
at different times in the same river, and that fish of the same year,
being born at different seasons, from Christmas to Lady-day,—and having
migrated to the sea in spring—run up the rivers of all sizes in summer
and autumn—the young salmon from 2 to 10lbs. in weight, the young sea
trout from ½ to 3lbs. in weight—it is not difficult to account for the
variety of names given by casual observers to individuals of these two
species. But I must not forget my promise of sending a fish to the
Highlander, with whose sport we have interfered. There is a good salmon,
which shall be taken to him immediately, and for which I shall pay the
taxman his usual price of 5_d._ per pound.
FIFTH DAY.
HALIEUS—POIETES—ORNITHER—PHYSICUS.
MORNING.
HAL.—WELL, is your tackle all ready? It is a fine fresh and cloudy
morning, with a gentle breeze—a day made for salmon fishing.
[_They proceed to the river_.]
HAL.—Now, my friends, I give up the two best pools to you till one
o’clock; and I shall amuse myself above and below—probably with trout
fishing. As there is a promise of a mixed day, with—what is rare in this
country—a good deal of sunshine, I will examine your flies a little, and
point out those I think likely to be useful; or rather, I will show you
my flies, and, as you all have duplicates of them, you can each select
the fly which I point out, and place in it a part of the book where it
may easily be found. First: when the cloud is on, I advise the use of
one of these three golden twisted flies, with silk bodies, orange, red
and pale blue, with red, orange, and gray hackle, golden pheasant’s
hackle for tail, and kingfisher’s blue and golden pheasant’s brown
hackle under the wing; beginning with the brightest fly, and changing to
the darker one. Should the clouds disappear, and it become bright,
change your flies for darker ones, of which I will point out three:—a
fly with a brown body and a red cock’s hackle, one with a dun body and
black hackle and light wing, and one with a black body, a hackle of the
same colour, and a brown mallard’s wing. All these flies have, you see,
silver twist round their bodies, and all kingfisher’s feather under the
wing, and golden pheasant’s feather for the tail. For the size of your
flies, I recommend the medium size, as the water is small to-day; but
trying all sizes, from the butterfly size of a hook of half an inch in
width, to one of a quarter. Now, Physicus, cast your orange fly into
that rapid at the top of the pool; I saw a large fish run there this
moment. You fish well, were common trout your object; but, in salmon
fishing, you must alter your manner of moving the fly. It must not float
quietly down the water; you must allow it to sink a little, and then
pull it back by a gentle jerk—not raising it out of the water,—and then
let it sink again, till it has been shown in motion, a little below the
surface, in every part of your cast. That is right,—he has risen.
PHYS.—I hold him. He is a noble fish!
HAL.—He is a large grilse, I see by his play; or a young salmon, of the
earliest born this spring. Hold him tight; he will fight hard.
PHYS.—There! he springs out of the water! Once, twice, thrice, four
times! He is a merry one!
HAL.—He runs against the stream, and will soon be tired,—but do not
hurry him. Pull hard now, to prevent him from running round that stone.
He comes in. I will gaff him for you. I have him! A goodly fish of this
tide. But see, Poietes has a larger fish at the bottom of the great
pool, and is carried down by him almost to the sea.
POIET.—I cannot hold him! He has run out all my line.
HAL.—I see him: he is hooked foul, and I fear we shall never recover
him, for he is going out to sea. Give me the rod,—I will try and turn
him; and do you run down to the entrance of the pool, and throw stones,
to make him, if possible, run back. Ay! that stone has done good
service; he is now running up into the pool again. Now call the
fisherman, and tell him to bring a long pole, to keep him if possible
from the sea. You have a good assistant, and I will leave you, for
tiring this fish will be at least a work of two hours. He is not much
less than 20lbs. and is hooked under the gills, so that you cannot
suffocate him by a straight line. I wish you good fortune; but should he
turn sulky, you must not allow him to rest, but make the fisherman move
him with the pole again; your chance of killing him depends upon his
being kept incessantly in action, so that he may exhaust himself by
exercise. I shall go and catch you some river trout for your dinner;—but
I am glad to see, before I take my leave of you, that Ornither has
likewise hold of a fish,—and, from his activity, a lusty sea trout.
[_He goes, and returns in the afternoon_.]
HAL.—Well, Poietes, I hope to see your fish of 20lbs.
POIET.—Alas! he broke me,—turned sulky, and went to the bottom; and when
he was roused again, my line came back without the fly; so that I
conclude he had cut my links by rubbing them against some sharp stone.
But I have caught two grilses and a sea trout since, and lost two
others, salmons or grilses, that fairly got the hooks out of their
mouths.
HAL.—And, Ornither, what have you done? Well, I see,—a salmon, a grilse,
and a sea trout. And Physicus?
PHYS.—I have lost three fish; one of which broke me, at the top of the
pool, by running amongst the rocks; and I have only one small sea trout.
HAL.—Your fortune will come another day. Why, you have not a single
crimped fish for dinner, and it is now nearly two o’clock; and you have
been catching for the picklers, for those fish may all go to the
boiling-house. I must again be your purveyor. Can you point out to me
any part of this pool where you have not fished?
ALL.—No.
HAL.—Then I have little chance.
PHYS.—O yes! you have a charm for catching fish.
HAL.—Let me know what flies you have tried, and I may perhaps tell you
if I have a chance. With my small bright humming bird, as you call it, I
will make an essay.
POIET.—But this fishery is really very limited; and two pools for four
persons a small allowance.
HAL.—If you could have seen this river twenty years ago, when the
cruives were a mile higher up, then you might have enjoyed fishing.
There were eight or ten pools, of the finest character possible for
angling, where a fisherman of my acquaintance has hooked thirty fish in
a morning. The river was then perfect, and it might easily be brought
again into the same state; but even as it is now, with this single good
pool and this second tolerable one, I know no place where I could, in
the summer months, be so secure of sport as here—certainly no where in
Great Britain.
POIET.—I have often heard the Tay and the Tweed vaunted as salmon
rivers.
HAL.—They were good salmon rivers, and are still very good, as far as
the profit of the proprietor is concerned; but, for angling, they are
very much deteriorated. The net fishing, which is constantly going on,
except on Sundays and in close time, suffers very few fish to escape;
and a Sunday’s flood offers the sole chance of a good day’s sport, and
this only in particular parts of these rivers. I remember the Tweed and
the Tay in a far better state. The Tweed, in the late Lord Somerville’s
time, always contained taking-fish after every flood in the summer. In
the Tay, only ten years ago, at Mickleure, I was myself one of two
anglers who took eight fine fish,—three of them large salmon,—in a short
morning’s fishing: but now, except in spring fishing, when the fish are
little worth taking, there is no certainty of sport in these rivers; and
one, two, or three fish (which last is of rare occurrence,) are all even
an experienced angler can hope to take in a day’s skilful and constant
angling.
POIET.—You have fished in most of the salmon rivers of the north of
Europe,—give us some idea of the kind of sport they afford.
HAL.—I have fished in some, but perhaps not in the best; for this it is
necessary to go into barbarous countries—Lapland, or the extreme north
of Norway; and I have generally loved too much the comforts of life to
make any greater sacrifices than such as are made in our present
expedition. I have heard the river at Drontheim boasted of as an
excellent salmon river,—and I know two worthy anglers who have tried it;
but I do not think they took more fish in a day than I have sometimes
taken in Scotland and Ireland. All the Norwegian rivers that I tried
(and they were in the south of Norway) contained salmon. I fished in the
Glommen, one of the largest rivers in Europe; in the Mandals, which
appeared to me the best fitted for taking salmon; the Arendal and the
Torrisdale;—but, though I saw salmon rise in all these rivers, I never
took a fish larger than a sea trout; of these I always caught many—and
even in the _fiords_, or small inland salt-water bays; but I think never
any one more than a pound in weight. It is true, I was in Norway in the
beginning of July, in exceedingly bright weather, and when there was no
night; for even at twelve o’clock the sky was so bright, that I read the
smallest print in the columns of a newspaper. I was in Sweden later—in
August: I fished in the magnificent Gotha, below that grand fall
Trolhetta, which to see is worth a voyage from England: but I never
raised there any fish worth taking: yet a gentleman from Gothenburg told
me he had formerly taken large trout there. I caught, in this noble
stream, a little trout about as long as my hand; and the only fish I got
to eat at Trolhetta was bream. The Falkenstein, a darker water, very
like a second-rate Scotch river—say the Don—abounds in salmon; and there
I had a very good day’s fishing. I took six fish, which gave me great
sport; they were grilses, under 6lbs; but I lost a salmon, which I think
was above 10lbs. This river, I conceive, must be, generally, excellent;
it is not covered with saw-mills, like most of the Norwegian rivers; its
colour is good, and it is not so clear as the rivers of the south of
Norway.
PHYS.—Do you think the saw-mills hurt the fishing?