the water, and which forms almost hills along the banks, must be
poisonous to the fish, by sometimes choking their gills, and interfering
with their respiration. I have never fished for salmon in Germany. The
Elbe and the Weser, when I have seen them, were too foul for fly
fishing; and in the Rhine, in Switzerland, and its tributary streams, I
have never seen a salmon rise. I once hooked a fish, under the fall at
Schaffausen, which in my youthful ardour I thought was a salmon, but it
turned out to be an immense chub—a villanous and provoking substitute.
And our islands, as far as I know, may claim the superiority over all
other lands for this species of amusement. In England it is, however, a
little difficult to get a day’s salmon fishing. The best river I know of
is the Derwent, that flows from the beautiful lake of Keswick; and I
caught once, in October, a very large salmon there, and raised another;
but it is only late in the autumn, that there is any chance of sport,
though I have heard the spring salmon fishing boasted of. At Whitwell,
in the Hodder, I have heard of salmon and sea trout being taken—but I
have never fished in that river. The late Lord Bolinbroke caught many
salmon at Christchurch; but a fish a week is as much as can be expected
in that beautiful, but scantily stocked, river. Small salmon and sea
trout, or sewens, as they are called in the country, may be caught,
after the autumnal floods, I believe, in most of the considerable Welsh,
Devonshire, and Cornish streams; but I have fished in many of them
without success. The Conway I may except: this river, in the end of
October, will sometimes, after a great flood, furnish a good day’s
sport, and, if the net fishers could be set aside, several days’ sport.
I have known two salmon, one above 20lbs., taken here in a day; and I
have taken myself fine sea trout, or _sewens_,—which, in an autumnal
flood in Wales, are found in most of the streams near the sea.
POIET.—I have heard a Northumberland man boast of the rivers of that
county, as affording good salmon fishing.
HAL.—I have no doubt that salmon are sometimes caught in the Tyne, the
Coquet, and the Till; but, in the present state of these rivers, this is
a rare occurrence. I was once, for a week, on a good run of the North
Tyne; I fished sometimes, but I never saw a salmon rise; and the only
place in this river, where, from my own knowledge, I can assert salmon
have been caught with the artificial fly, was at Mounsey, very high up
the river. There, in 1820, two grilses were caught, in the end of
August. I have recorded this as a sort of historical occurrence; and I
dare say most of the counties of England, in which there are salmon
rivers, would, upon a minute inquiry, furnish such instances, if they
contained salmon fishers. Yorkshire, Devonshire, and Cornwall, with the
sea on both sides, ought to furnish a greater number.
PHYS.—Give us some little account of the Scotch and Irish rivers.
HAL.—I fear I shall tire you by attempting any details on this subject,
for they are so many, that I ought to take a map in my hands; but I will
say a few words on those in which I have had good sport. First, the
Tweed:—of this, as you will understand from what I mentioned before, I
fear I must now say “_fuit_.” Yet still, for spring salmon fishing, it
must be a good river. The last great sport I had in that river was in
1817, in the beginning of April. I caught, in two or three hours, at
Merton, four or five large salmon, and as many in the evening at
Kelso—and one of them weighed 25lbs. But this kind of fishing cannot be
compared to the summer fishing: the fish play with much less energy, and
in general are in bad season; and the fly used for fishing is almost
like a bird—four or five times larger than the summer fly, and the
coarsest tackle may be employed. I have heard, that Lord Home has
sometimes taken thirty fish in a day, in spring fishing. About, and
above Melrose, I have taken, in a morning in July, two or three grilses;
and in September the same number. I have known eighteen taken earlier,
by an excellent salmon fisher, at Merton; and the late Lord Somerville
often took six or seven fish in a day’s angling. The same “_fuit_” I
must apply to most of the Scotch rivers. Of the Tay I have already
spoken. In the Dee I have never caught salmon, though I have fished in
two parts of it, but it was in bad seasons. In the Don I have seen
salmon rise, and hooked one, but never killed a fish. In the Spey I
enjoyed one of the best days’ sport (perhaps the very best) I ever had
in my life: it was in the beginning of September, in close time; the
water was low, and as net fishing had been given over for some days, the
lower pools were full of fish. By a privilege, which I owed to the late
Duke of Gordon, I fished at this forbidden time, and hooked twelve or
thirteen fish in one day. One was above 30lbs., but it broke me by the
derangement of my reel. I landed seven or eight,—one above 20lbs., which
gave me great play in the rapids above the bridge. I returned to this
same spot in 1813, the year after: the river was in excellent order, and
it was the same time of the year, but just after a flood,—I caught
nothing; the fish had all run up the river; the pools, where I had such
sport the year before, were empty. I have fished there since, with a
like result,—but this was before the 12th of August, the close day. In
the Sutherland and Caithness rivers, many salmon, I have no doubt, may
still be caught. The Brora, Sutherland, in 1813 and 1814, was an
admirable river: I have often rode from the mansion of the princely and
hospitable lord and lady of that county, after breakfast, and returned
at two or three o’clock, having taken from three to eight salmon—several
times eight. There were five pools below the wears of the Brora, which
always contained fish; and at the top of one pool, which from its size
was almost inexhaustible, I have taken three or four salmon the same
day. Another pool, nearer the sea, was almost equal to it; and at that
time I should have placed the Brora above the Ewe for certainty of
sport. When I fished there last, in 1817, the case was altered, and I
caught only two or three fish in the very places where I had six years
before been so successful. In the Helmsdale there are some good pools,
and I have caught fine fish there when the river has been high. I have
fished in the river at Thurso, but without success—it was always foul
when I made my attempt. I have heard of a good salmon river in Lord
Reay’s county, the Laxford; its name, of Norwegian origin, would seem to
be characteristic.[6] Along the coast of Scotland, most of the streams,
if taken at the right time, afford sport. In this county the Beauly is a
good river, and I have caught salmon in that very beautiful spot below
the falls of Kilmarnock. The Ness, at Inverness, and the Awe and Lochy,
I have fished in, but without success. I may say the same of the Ayr,
and of the rivers which empty themselves into the Solway Frith. A little
preserved stream, at Ardgowan, was formerly excellent, after a flood in
September, for sea trout, and later for salmon: I have had good sport
there, and some of my friends have had better.
In Ireland there are some excellent rivers; and, what you will hardly
believe possible, comparing the characters of the two nations, some of
them are taken better care of than the Scotch river; which arises a good
deal from the influence of the Catholic priests, when they are concerned
in the interests of the proprietors, on the Catholic peasantry. I should
place the Erne, at Ballyshannon, as now the first river, for salmon
fishing from the banks with a rod, in the British dominions; and the
excellent proprietor of it, Dr. Shiel, is liberal and courteous to all
gentlemen fly fishers. The Moy, at Ballina, is likewise an admirable
salmon river; and sport, I believe, may almost always be secured there
in every state of the waters; but the best fishing can only be commanded
by the use of a boat. I have taken in the Erne two or three large salmon
in the morning; and in the Moy, three or four grilses, or, as they are
called in Ireland, _grauls_; and this was in a very bad season for
salmon fishing. The Bann, near Coleraine, abounds in salmon: but, in
this river, except in close time, when it is unlawful to fish there,
there are few good casts. In the Bush, a small river about seven miles
to the east of the Bann, there is admirable salmon fishing, always after
great floods; but in fine and dry weather it is of little use to try. I
have hooked twenty fish in a day, after the first August floods, in this
river; and, should sport fail, the celebrated Giant’s Causeway is within
a mile of its mouth, and furnishes to the lovers of natural beauty, or
of geological research, almost inexhaustible sources of interest. The
Blackwater, at Lismore, is a very good salmon river: and the Shannon,
above Limerick and at Castle Connel, whenever the water is tolerably
high, offers many good casts to the fly fisher; but they can only be
commanded by boats. But there is no considerable river along the
northern or western coast,—with the exception of the Avoca, which has
been spoiled by the copper mines,—that does not afford salmon, and if
taken at the proper time, offer sport to the salmon fisher.—But it is
time for us to return to our inn.
THE INN.
POIET.—Should it be a fine day to-morrow, I think we shall have good
sport: the high tide will bring up fish, and the rain and wind of
yesterday will have enlarged the river.
HAL.—To-morrow we must not fish: it is the Lord’s day, and a day of
rest. It ought likewise to be a day of worship and thanksgiving to the
Great Cause of all the benefits and blessings we enjoy in this life, for
which we can never sufficiently express our gratitude.
POIET.—I cannot see what harm there can be in pursuing an amusement on a
Sunday, which you yourself have called innocent, and which is apostolic:
nor do I know a more appropriate way of returning thanks to the Almighty
Cause of all being, than in examining and wondering at his works in that
great temple of nature, whose canopy is the sky; and where all the
beings and elements around us are as it were proclaiming the power and
wisdom of Deity.
HAL.—I cannot see how the exercise of fishing can add to your devotional
feelings; but, independent of this, you employ a servant to carry your
net and gaff, and he, at least, has a right to rest on this one day. But
even if you could perfectly satisfy yourself as to the abstracted
correctness of the practice, the habits of the country in which we now
are, form an insurmountable obstacle to the pursuit of the amusement: by
indulging in it, you would excite the indignation of the Highland
peasants, and might perhaps expiate the offence by a compulsory ablution
in the river.
POIET.—I give up the point: I make it a rule never to shock the
prejudices of any person, even when they appear to me ridiculous; and I
shall still less do so in a case where your authority is against me; and
I have no taste for undergoing persecution, when the cause is a better
one. I now remember, that I have often heard of the extreme severity
with which the sabbath discipline is kept in Scotland. Can you give us
the reason of this?
HAL.—I am not sufficiently read in the Church History of Scotland to
give the cause historically; but I think it can hardly be doubted, that
it is connected with the intense feelings of the early Covenanters, and
their hatred with respect to all the forms and institutes of the church
of Rome, the ritual of which makes the Sunday more a day of innocent
recreation than severe discipline.
PHYS.—Yet the disciples of Calvin, at Geneva, who, I suppose, must have
hated the pope as much as their brethren of Scotland, do not so rigidly
observe the Sunday; and I remember having been invited by a very
religious and respectable Genevese to a shooting party on that day.
HAL.—I think climate and the imitative nature of man modify this cause
abroad. Geneva is a little state, in a brighter climate than Scotland,
almost surrounded by Catholics, and the habits of the French and
Savoyards must influence the people. The Scotch, with more severity and
simplicity of manners, have no such examples of bad neighbours, for the
people of the north of England keep the Sunday much in the same way.
POIET.—Nay, Halieus, call them not bad neighbours; recollect my creed,
and respect at least, what, if error, was the error of the western
Christian world for 1000 years. The rigid observance of the seventh day
appears to me rather a part of the Mosaic, than of the Christian
dispensation. The Protestants of this country consider the Catholics
bigots, because they enjoin to themselves and perform certain penances
for their sins; and surely the Catholics may see a little still more
resembling that spirit, in the interference of the Scotch in innocent
amusements, on a day celebrated as a festive day, that on which our
Saviour rose to immortal life, and secured the everlasting hopes of the
Christian. I see no reason why this day should not be celebrated with
singing, dancing, and triumphal processions, and all innocent signs of
gladness and joy. I see no reason why it should be given up to severe
and solitary prayers, or to solemn and dull walks; or why, as in
Scotland, whistling even should be considered as a crime on Sunday, and
humming a tune, however sacred, out of doors, as a reason for violent
anger and persecution.
ORN.—I agree with Poietes, in his views of the subject. I have suffered
from the peculiar habits of the Scotch church, and therefore may
complain. Once in the north of Ireland, when a very young man, I
ventured after the time of divine service to put together my rods, as I
had been used to do in the Catholic districts of Ireland, and fish for
sea trout in the river at Rathmelton, in pure innocence of heart,
unconscious of wrong, when I found a crowd collect round me—at first I
thought from mere curiosity, but I soon discovered I was mistaken; anger
was their motive, and vengeance their object. A man soon came up,
exceedingly drunk, and began to abuse me by various indecent terms: such
as a Sabbath breaking papist, &c. It was in vain I assured him I was no
papist, and no intentional Sabbath breaker; he seized my rod and carried
it off with imprecations; and it was only with great difficulty, and in
exciting by my eloquence the pity of some women who were present, and
who thought I was an ill-used stranger, that I recovered my property.
Another time I was walking on Arthur’s Seat, with some of the most
distinguished professors of Edinburgh attached to the geological
opinions of the late Dr. Hutton; a discussion took place upon the
phenomena presented by the rocks under our feet, and, to exemplify a
principle, Professor Playfair broke some stones, in which I assisted the
venerable and amiable philosopher. We had hardly examined the fragments,
when a man from a crowd, who had been assisting at a field preaching,
came up to us and warned us off, saying, “Ye think ye are only stane
breakers; but I ken ye are Sabbath breakers, and ye deserve to be staned
with your ain stanes!”
HAL.—Zeal of every kind is sometimes troublesome, yet I generally
suspect the persons, who are _very_ tolerant, of scepticism. Those who
firmly believe, that a particular plan of conduct is essential to the
eternal welfare of man, may be pardoned if they show even _anger_, when
this conduct is not pursued. The severe observance of the Sabbath is
connected with the vital creed of these rigid presbyterians; it is not
therefore extraordinary, that they should enforce it even with a
perseverance that goes beyond the bounds of good manners and courtesy.
They may quote the example of our Saviour, who expelled the traders from
the temple even by violence.
PHYS.—I envy no quality of the mind or intellect in others; be it
genius, power, wit, or fancy: but if I could choose what would be most
delightful, and I believe most useful to me, I should prefer a firm
religious belief to every other blessing; for it makes life a discipline
of goodness; creates new hopes, when all earthly hopes vanish; and
throws over the decay, the destruction of existence, the most gorgeous
of all lights; awakens life even in death, and from corruption and decay
calls up beauty and divinity; makes an instrument of torture and of
shame the ladder of ascent to paradise: and, far above all combinations
of earthly hopes, calls up the most delightful visions of palms and
amaranths, the gardens of the blest, the security of everlasting joys,
where the sensualist and the sceptic view only gloom, decay,
annihilation, and despair!
POIET.—You transiently referred, Halieus, yesterday, to that instinct of
salmons which induces them to run up rivers from the sea on the approach
of rain. You have had so many opportunities of attending to the
instincts of the inferior animals, that I should be very glad to hear
your opinion on that very curious subject, the nature and developement
of instincts in general.
HAL.—You must remember, that, in the conversation to which you allude, I
avoided even to pretend to define the nature of instinct; but I shall
willingly discuss the subject; and I expect from yourself, Ornither and
Physicus, more light thrown upon it than I can hope to bestow.
ORN.—I believe we have each a peculiar view on this matter. In
discussion we may enlighten and correct each other. For myself, I
consider instincts merely as results of organization, a part of the
machinery of organized forms. Man is so constituted, that his muscles
acquire their power by habit; their motions are at first automatic, and
become voluntary by associations, so that a child must learn to walk as
he learns to swim or write; but in the colt or chicken, the limbs are
formed with the powers of motion; and these animals walk as soon as they
have quitted the womb or the egg.
PHYS.—I believe it possible, that they may have acquired these powers of
motion in the embryo state; and I think I have observed, that birds
learn to fly, and acquire the use of their wings, by continued efforts,
in the same manner as a child does that of his limbs.
ORN.—I cannot agree with you: the legs of the fœtus are folded up in the
womb of the mare; and neither the colt nor the chicken can ever have
performed, in the embryo state, any motions of their legs similar to
those which they have perfectly at their command when born. Young birds
cannot fly as soon as they are hatched, because they have no wing
feathers; but as soon as these are developed, and even before they are
perfectly strong, they use their wings, fly, and quit their nests
without any education from their parents. Compare a young quail, when a
few days old, with a child of as many months: he flies, runs, seeks his
food, avoids danger, and obeys the call of his mother; whilst a child is
perfectly helpless, and can perform few voluntary motions: has barely
learnt to grasp, and can neither stand nor walk. But to see the most
perfect instance of instinct, as contrasted with acquired knowledge,
look at common domestic poultry, as soon as they are excluded from the
egg: they run round their mother, nestle in her feathers, and obey her
call, without education: she leads them to some spot where there is soft
earth or dung, and instantly begins scratching with her feet; the
chickens watch her motions with the utmost attention; if an earthworm or
larva is turned up, they instantly seize and devour it, but they avoid
eating sticks, grass, or straws; and though the hen shows them the
example of picking up grain, they do not imitate her in this respect,
but for some days prefer ants, or the larvæ of ants, to a barley corn.
They may have heard the cluck of their mother in the egg, and having
felt the warmth of her feathers agreeable, you may consider, Physicus,
their collecting under her wings, and obeying her call, as an acquired
habit. But I will mention another circumstance where habit or education
is entirely out of the question. Does the mother see the shadow of a
kite on the ground, or hear his scream in the air, she instantly utters
a shrill suppressed cry; the chickens, though born that day, and
searching round her with glee and animation for the food which her feet
were providing for them, instantly appear as if thunder struck; those
close to her crouch down and hide themselves in the straw; those further
off, without moving from the place, remain prostrate; the hen looks
upward with a watchful eye; nor do they resume their feeding till they
have been called again by the cluck of their mother, and warned that the
danger is over.
PHYS.—I certainly cannot explain the acquaintance of the little animals
with the note of alarm of the mother, except upon the principle you have
adopted; and I fairly own, that their selection of animal food appears
likewise instinctive: yet it is possible, that this selection may depend
upon some analogy between the smell of these animal matters and the
yolk, which was for a long time their food in the egg.
ORN.—I find I must multiply examples. Examine young ducks which have
been hatched under a hen; they no sooner quit the shell, than they fly
to their natural element, the water, in spite of the great anxiety and
terror of their foster-parent, who in vain repeats that sound to which
her natural children are so obedient. Being in the water, they seize
insects of every kind, which they can only know from their instincts to
be good for food; and when they are hatched in the May-fly season, they
pursue these large ephemeræ with the greatest avidity, and make them
their favourite food. It is impossible, I think, to explain these facts,
except by supposing, that they depend upon feelings or desires in the
animals developed with their organs, which are not acquired, and which
are absolutely instinctive. I will mention another instance. A friend of
mine was travelling in the interior of Ceylon; on the banks of a lake he
saw some fragments of shells of the eggs of the alligator, and heard a
subterraneous sound: his curiosity was excited, and he was induced to
search beneath the surface of the sand: besides two or three young
animals lately come from the shell, he found several eggs which were
still entire: he broke the shell of one of them, when a young alligator
came forth, apparently perfect in all its functions and motions; and
when my friend touched it with a stick, it assumed a threatning aspect,
and bit the stick with violence. It made towards the water, which
(though born by the influence of the sunbeams on the burning sand) it
seemed to know was its natural and hereditary domain. Here is an animal
which, deserted by its parents, and entirely submitted to the mercy of
nature and the elements, must die if it had to acquire its knowledge;
but all its powers are given, all its wants supplied; and even its means
of offence and defence implanted by strong and perfect instincts. I will
mention one fact more. Swallows, quails, and many other birds, migrate
in large flocks when their usual food becomes scarce; and in these cases
it may be said (I anticipate a remark of Physicus), that the phenomenon
depends upon imitation, and that the young birds follow the old ones who
have before made the same flight. But I will select the young cuckoo for
an unexceptionable example of the instinctive nature of this quality. He
is produced from an egg deposited by his mother in the nest of another
bird, generally the hedge sparrow. He destroys all the other young ones
hatched in the same nest, and is supplied with food by his
foster-parent, after he has deprived her of all her natural offspring.
Quite solitary, he is no sooner able to fly than he quits the country of
his birth, and finds his way, with no other guide than his instinct, to
a land where his parents had gone many weeks before him; and he is not
pressed to make this migration by want of food, for the insects and
grains on which he feeds are still abundant. The whole history of the
origin, education, and migration of this singular animal, is a history
of a succession of instincts, the more remarkable, because in many
respects contrary to the usual order of nature.