ypfcNRLF 
 
 *B 571 645 
 
BERKELEY 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF 
 CALIFORNIA 
 
The Complete Angler of 
 
 Walton and Cotton: 
 Edited, with an Introduction, 
 BY Charles Hill Dick. 
 
 LONDON: WALTER SCOTT, LTD. 
 PATERNOSTER SQUARE. 
 
 \S 
 
 
Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 
 in 2007 with funding from 
 
 IVIicrosoft Corporation 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/completeanglerofOOwaltrich 
 

 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 While recognising the diversity of men, every one from 
 his fellow, we cannot but notice certain characteristics 
 prevailing among a number, of sufficient importance to 
 warrant our grouping such as exemplify them into distinct 
 classes. Among these there is an ambitionless sort who, 
 holding that it all comes to the skull and cross-bones in 
 the end, choose to live in the fashion that is most con- 
 venient to a peaceable temperament, regarding in a moral- 
 ising attitude of mind such as like to raise a dust in the 
 world, and thereby unconsciously admitting a certain 
 inferiority of character due to the absence of the more 
 heartful and courageous qualities. By them, indeed, the 
 feverish dice-throwing with death is avoided, and the 
 bewildering confusion that besets men of affairs; yet there 
 will also be found to be amissing the keen zest in life, the 
 swelling spirit of the strong man rejoicing to run a race. 
 But of the two ways of life, though one is the more 
 philosophic, we must allow that the other is more human; 
 and the tale of those who follow the latter will perhaps 
 make a more curious book for the '* lover of strange souls." 
 Meanwhile he who reads in the other volume, having the 
 love of gentle souls in his heart, will be enlightened as to 
 some of the quieter ways of humanity where more slowly 
 measured music is sung on a lower key to a less brilliant 
 
 299 
 
vi INTRODUCTION. 
 
 accompaniment. Such as are wayfarers on this plane, 
 whether fate or freewill be the reason, when they have 
 arrived at the journey's end will find that if there be some 
 things that have not been gained, they may balance against 
 them the much that has not been lost. Indeed, if life be 
 an inevitable . failure, as some of them may be supposed to 
 uphold, one might argue that the fewer and simpler the 
 transactions, the less will be the discrepancy when the 
 whole is summed up. 
 
 The other manner of life, no doubt, is the nobler; and 
 to those who reach an appreciable success in it will be the 
 greater glory. But to those who make the peaceable mind 
 and the quiet life their aim a more notable attainment may 
 be vouchsafed in virtue of the easier circumstances of their 
 course; and it may be that to them also shall be the meed 
 of renown. 
 
 Now there is a sunny and a sombre kind in these latter 
 natures, the one uncompromisingly reticent, the other un- 
 averse to society. With the isolating tendency there is 
 the eremite, living perhaps in the midst of men, whose 
 endeavour is to contrive the effacement of the adventitious 
 and inessential, to withdraw continually into himself and 
 dwell apart. But to be freed from the trite and trivial 
 embarrassments of our existence is surely to lose in 
 addition the true and wholesome essence of it, to effect 
 an unworthy, though seemingly dignified, retiral, and become 
 less considerable than the trifles one escapes. For though 
 the sequestered nature in his reclusion may believe that he 
 is sufficient unto himself, he must remain inefficient as a 
 man in virtue of his forfeited humanity. 
 
 As presenting a complete and pleasing contrast to such, 
 one could find no better instance than the author of The 
 Compleat Angler^ or the Contemplative Mart's Recreation, 
 
INTRODUCTION. vii 
 
 A pleasant, hale old man, of a taking personality that won 
 him friends among the learned and cultured of his time, 
 of a kindly disposition that sought no quarrel with any, 
 careful, no doubt, in business, yet counting the business of 
 living of greater import than the acquiring of gold, he was 
 further possessed of the healthy vigour and manliness that 
 always belong to the true sportsman. He could, in addition, 
 app recia te qualities which are of more account on the high- 
 ways ofj ^ife^qualities awanting in himself while conspicuous 
 in_certain of his friends; and by a complemental disposition 
 of the guiding principles of friendship these men, seeking 
 distmction as authors, statesmen, or theologians^ and even 
 the preferment that brings worldly gain, genial-hearted men 
 beneath their conventional formalities, were attracted by 
 the lovable qualities of the aforetime vendor of linens and 
 the all-time master of anglers. The pleasant urbanity of 
 mind and manner with which he had been gifted continued 
 to characterise him in spite of the experiences which must 
 have been gained in many years of troublous history and 
 vicissitude of things, and a like placidity of thought per- 
 vades all his writings, as if he had made a long journey 
 and finally come to a calm anchorage. The impression 
 that one always receives is that of a man well advanced in 
 years: such, indeed, was his condition when he commenced 
 author, and so he always appears in the portraits. 
 
 Yet, doubtless, Izaak Walton was not yet arrived at his 
 teens when he learned the rudiments of the angler's art. 
 Ainang the streams about Stafford he would serve his angling 
 apprenticjgship ; for it is to that town that the distinction of 
 his birth belongs. He was son to a certain Jervis Walton 
 who lived for less than three years after the birth of Izaak 
 (1593 is the date of this event), and by all accounts the 
 mother seems to have died still earlier. The status of 
 
viii INTRODUCTION. 
 
 Walton's father is unknown, and not even the name of his 
 mother has come down to us; but Walton's first wife, 
 Rachel Floud, descended from Edmund Cranmer, Arch- 
 deacon of Canterbury, and his second, Anne Ken, was half- 
 sister to Thomas Ken, Bishop of Bath and Wells ; we find 
 his children, too, such of them as lived to maturity, in good 
 positions in life, the son, who took holy orders, eventually 
 ' becoming a canon of Salisbury Cathedral, and the daughter 
 being married to Dr. Hawkins, a Prebendary of Winchester: 
 whence one may conclude that his descent was more than 
 worthy of the occupation in which he engaged. What the 
 actual circumstances of his youth were, whether he went regu- 
 larly to school and to church, and whether he was as diligent 
 a scholar as an angler, we have no knowledge. There is 
 reason to believe that he was not without friends of his own 
 name ; but our information as to the whole course of his 
 life is slight. We learn as much of it, indeed, as of the life 
 of Shakespeare — namely, the place of his birth, that he 
 received more or less of an education, that he went to the 
 capital and engaged in some employment, that he fell in 
 love, was married, and formed friendships, and that he 
 finally made a good ending. 
 
 After his birth we do not hear anything more of Walton 
 till the year 1618. By that time he has come to London, 
 and his name appears on the roll of the Ironmongers' 
 Company. But, as has been pointed out, it does not 
 necessarily follow that Walton was an ironmonger to trade. 
 The old tradition, handed down by his early biographers, 
 that he was a linen-draper, would seem preferable to this 
 suggestion, and we are at liberty to suppose that it was so, 
 where nothing definite is known to the contrary. Again, in 
 the licence for his marriage with Rachel Floud in 1626, 
 he is mentioned as being of the "Cittie of London, Iron- 
 
INTRODUCTION. ix 
 
 monger." But this does not make against our argument 
 one whit; for it is but natural that he should describe him- 
 self by a term which would, without doubt, give him greater 
 distinction than if he had named his actual trade and means 
 of obtaining daily bread. And even if so peaceable, plain, 
 and unpretentious a man as Izaak Walton cared little for 
 such trifles, it is just possible that they may have figured 
 larger in Mistress Rachel Floud's mind. Whatever his 
 b usiriess_Ams_w^e^re jcred^^^ 
 
 p ro fi tab leja -enable him Jo retire when the Civil War broke 
 o ut; a nd so in 1644 he composes his affairs and settles 
 d own_ to a^ TIe^f l eisure and enjoyment. The pity was that 
 he had not been so prosperous in his home-life, clouded as 
 it had been by the loss of his children, seven in number, 
 and of his wife who died in 1640. It is during the remain- 
 ing years of his long Hfe that he has time to become the 
 Izaak Walton of English literature, to write TAe Lives and 
 The Compleat Angler^ or the Contemplative ,Man^s Recrea- 
 tion. 
 
 Now, none but the most arrogant of those of Philistia 
 could bring himself to quarrel with Walton for those forty 
 years of seeming idleness. He used them to a very excel- 
 lent, if not always to a material purpose. F^ on many a 
 fine, fresh May morning he would stretch his legs iip Tot- 
 tenham Hill with his honest angling comrades, Nat. and 
 R. R oe, bent on some fishing expedition ; or he would be 
 visiting some of his friends, making them happier with his 
 gentle presence and his kindly words; and in the long 
 winter evenings he would be penning one of those bio- 
 graphies in which he did honour to the memory of those 
 who were dead. Nor_was he an inactive citizen during this 
 period, for he held city offices in more_than_onfiL capacity, 
 as Warden of the Yeoma.nry no less than as juryman and over- 
 
X INTRODUCTION. 
 
 seer of the poor. And it is to his credit that he should have 
 bBeT'content with such things as, at the age of fifty, he had 
 gained (his competence was not large), and that he should 
 have used his leisure in so fine a way. He found himself 
 at liberty to live gradually, to take his days one by one and 
 get all that was to be gained from them \/ithout putting a 
 violence on his inclinations, and he was not so foolish as to 
 forego the opportunity. In a moderate use of his energies, 
 bodily and mental, he lived forty years of quiet strength and 
 pacific enjoyment. There was no effeteness either of body 
 or of mind as the years passed by, no falling away of 
 that healthy interest in men and their manners, no som- 
 nolent ineptitude, no weariness of living ; for he was nearly 
 fifty when he made his first essay in letters, and although 
 the last of The Lives was wTitten in his eighty-fifth year, all 
 are equally pleasing ; and so we may well believe that the 
 eye and the intelligence were still clear, and his natural 
 strength but little abated w^hen he was carried away by the 
 great frost in the ninety-first year of his age. During all his 
 life we remark no itch of writing, no eagerness to behold his 
 writings in print, or by means of them to make himself 
 famous : he was slow to write, and when he took up his pen 
 he wrote without haste and to please himself. 
 
 From the time when he gave up business he seems to 
 have changed his place of abode at frequent intervals during 
 the six or seven years that followed, at one time staying at 
 his birthplace, at another in London, often, too, living in 
 the families of those " eminent clergymen of England," of 
 whom we are told "he was much beloved." Indeed, the 
 greater number, though not all, of Walton's friends belonged 
 to the Church, and they prove an interesting study when we 
 see how they variously correspond, the more intimate of 
 them, to characteristics and sympathies of Walton's own. 
 
INTRODUCTION. xi 
 
 w /> 
 
 " Sir Henry Wotton, the scholar and statesman ; Charles /I 
 Cotton, the witty man of the world ; Fuller, the historian ; ^^^^v^ 
 Hales, then styled the *ever memorable,' though now 
 almost forgotten; the benevolent and learned Dr. Hammond; 
 Donne, the first English satirist; Chillingworth, the acute 
 logician and Propiignator invictissimus of the .English 
 Church ; the Bishops Morley, King, Ward, Sanderson, 
 Morton, and Ken ; and the Archbishops Usher and Shel- 
 don ; such were the intimate associates of Izaak Walton." 
 
 It is of co nsiderable moment in Walton's life that he 
 s hould j iaye been the friend of Donne. From first to 
 last_it_i s he w ho holds the chiej" place in "theTiTbt^^of 
 friends. Walton became acquainted with him as Vicar of 
 the parish in which he lived, St Dunstan's in the West, and 
 before long their friendship had deepened into an intimacy 
 to which a difference of twenty years in their ages had 
 proved no hindrance. Donne had spent many years of his 
 life before entering holy orders, and when at last he did so, 
 he was a man of varied experiences, experiences which had 
 fostered a restrained and even an ascetic mood of mind, 
 rather than a wider and more tolerant. In the austere 
 spirit of his later years he regarded with contrition certain 
 poems of a decidedly licentious character which he had 
 written as a boy, expressing the wish that " they had been 
 abortive, or so short-lived that his own eyes had witnessed 
 their funerals." ^aymg^gtjthe better of his. youthful pro- 
 pensities, as it would seem, and learned how to restrain the 
 passionate nature with which he had been endowed, Jie 
 became as notable for the severe rectitude of his behaviour 
 andjhe ^ religio us devotion of his character, as in his early 
 ye ars he had been conspicuous for opposite qualities. The 
 morality, too, which was taught in his sermons and other 
 writings of his later years was not less strict thnn in his 
 
xii ^ INTRODUCTION. 
 
 youthful effusions it had been lax. Yet he did not therefore 
 banish poetry from his sympathies ; he turned his gift into a 
 purer channel, and listened to the meditative muse. This 
 was he who, after many scruples and delays, was finally 
 ordained priest, and became, in 1623, the Vicar of St. 
 Dunstan's in the West, who, having written verses of a sys- 
 tematic and insistent dissoluteness, was in later life filled 
 with so strong a desire for the saving of souls that he wished 
 he might either die in his pulpit or take his death in the 
 discharge of his duty. It is not difficult to understand how 
 such a one would be attracted by such another as Izaak 
 Walton, and how Walton, admiring the experience of one 
 who, after being educated at both universities, had been 
 engaged in the business of the State, and had travelled in 
 foreign lands and acquired their tongues, would have no less 
 regard for the mature character, the culture and learning of 
 Dr. Donne. 
 
 Walton's intimacy with Donne made him acquainted 
 also with Donne's friends, and among them Sir Henry 
 Wotton. He too, after studying at Oxford, had lived in 
 France, Italy, and Germany, and had been employed as an 
 ambassador by James the First. Later in life, when nearly 
 threescore years of age, he had become Provost of Eton 
 College, " a dignity well suited to a mind like his, that had 
 withdrawn itself from the world for the purpose of religious 
 contemplation." He_\va& a connoisseur in painting, sculp- 
 turej_and architecture,, and is desc ribed as the most perfect 
 gentleman of his tinie : to the variety of his accomplishments 
 the art of angling was not awanting, and here at least 
 Walton was in touch with him. 
 * It was after the publication of The Co^npleat A?ig/er that 
 Charles Cotton became the friend of Walton, that is, after 
 1653, and in this instance, also, we must look upon com- 
 
INTRODUCTION. xiii 
 
 munity of sport as the first link in the chain that bound the 
 two. Having read the book, as was merely right in a 
 cavalier and sportsman, Cotton became desirous of knowing 
 its author. He was but a young man at the time (the year 
 1630 was that of his birth), and had, as a matter of course, 
 spent some time at one of the universities, though apparently 
 without taking a degree. We have no details as to that 
 period of his life save that one account of it contains the 
 variously interpretable statement that *'he improved his know- 
 ledge of the Greek and Roman classics;" as a matter of fact, 
 he can hardly be congratulated on the improvement, when it 
 resulted in burlesques such as he afterwards wrote. Yet there 
 can be no doubt that during this time he gained an accurate 
 knowledge of the French language, when we remember 
 that he became the author of a more praiseworthy production, 
 the famous translation of Montaigne's Essays; while another 
 statement, that he also acquired a knowledge of Italian, is 
 sufficiently credible, as his poetical works contain transla- 
 tions from at least one of the countrymen of Petrarca. Jn 
 pecuniary affairs Cotton was characterised by a royal care- 
 lessness — it_ap2ears to have been a family trait, for His 
 father's extravagance had heavily burdened the property 
 witH~"Ia\vsuits and encumbrances— and so we find him, a 
 young man of twenty-six, with nothing but prospects to call 
 his' own — and these none of the brightest, — precipitating 
 himself into the estate of marriage. It was not, indeed, a 
 mesalliatice^ for she whom he married was Isabella, daughter 
 of Sir Thomas Hutchinson, knight; but Cotton's im- 
 prudence was treated with undeserved leniency, for his father 
 died in 1658, leaving him in possession of the family 
 estate of Beresford *'in the Peak." In the neighbourhood 
 was the river Dove, a tempting stream in those days to the 
 brotherhood of the angle. It was here that Cottorrfbllowed 
 
xiv INTRODUCTION. 
 
 hisJ^aLYQUrite sport, acquiring proficiency in t he art of fly- 
 fishing, and so came to write the Second Part of Tke 
 Com^eat Angler, 
 
 Tn the year 1663 Cotton published The Moral Philosophy 
 of the Stoics, a translation from the French of M. de Vaix, 
 President of the Parliament of Provence, and in the next 
 year, presumably as an antidote to the foregoing work, came 
 the Scarronides, or Virgil Travestie. Of this work I am 
 scarcely qualified to speak, not having had time to peruse it, 
 but I shall give the reader one generally received opinion and 
 two indubitable facts: it is said to be characterised by " low 
 buffoonery, forced wit, and coarseness,'^ it is commended by 
 Sir John Suckling, and has passed at least fourteen editions. 
 Other burlesques and translations came from his hand at 
 intervals, including, under the former head, A Voyage to 
 Irelatid^ a humorous account of his journey when sent 
 thither with a captain's commission in 1670. The year of 
 Walton and Cotton's first acquaintance is unknown, but 
 before 1676 they had been taken by the pleasing fancy of 
 calling each other father and son respectively, and it is 
 likely that their friendship was at that time one of twenty 
 years' standing. 
 
 It was in 1646 that Walton, being not less than fifty-three 
 years of age, married his second wife. He was the kind 
 of man who almost inevitably marries, and our wonder- 
 ment as to how he comported himself in love is almost 
 as great as Queen Elizabeth's traditional curiosity to see 
 Falstaff in the same predicament. The course of true 
 ■ love, indeed, is like to have run as smooth with the 
 author of The Contemplative Man's Recreation as ever it did 
 with any. A sentence in one of 2he Lives, though we 
 should be sorry if it afforded a parallel, may yet give some 
 indication: "During which time," he says of Dr. Donne, 
 
INTRODUCTION. xv 
 
 "he — I dare not say unhappily — fell into such a liking- 
 as — with her approbation — increased into a love, with a 
 young gentlewoman " that dwelt in a certain family. But 
 we should, of course, remember that it is the late Dr. 
 Donne, Dean of St. Paul's and Vicar of St. Dunstan's in 
 the West, of whom he is writing, and that had Charles 
 Cotton been in the question there might have been a 
 different account of the episode. 
 
 Walton's first work was The Life of Dr. John Donne; 
 and in an Introduction he tells us the occasion of it. After 
 the death of Donne, in 1631, a collection of his Sermons 
 was to be published, and Sir Henry Wotton had undertaken 
 to write an account of his life to be included in the volume; 
 but Sir Henry was prevented by death, and Walton, who 
 had collected materials to assist his friend in his purpose, 
 being, as he says, unwilling that the Sermons should appear 
 without a Life^ resolved that "the world should see the 
 best plain picture of the Author's life, that his artless pencil, 
 guided by the hand of truth, could present to it." The 
 book was published in 1640, and in 1651, eleven years 
 later, llie Life of Sir Henry Wotton appeared. ** Having 
 writ these two Lives," says he, '' I lay quiet twenty years, 
 without a thought of either troubling myself or others, by 
 any new engagement in this kind; for I thought I knew my 
 unfitness." In 1650 he took up his abode at Clerkenwell, 
 and appears to have lived there till 1661. 
 
 The somewhat unstirring course of Walton's Hfe passing 
 at this period through the disorders of the Civil War, with 
 the severe legislation of Cromwell, followed by the excitement 
 of the Restoration and happy return of his Sacred Majesty 
 Charles the Second, with the loose morality, the proverbial 
 licentiousness in life and Hterature that succeeded that 
 event, is in this same year (1651) broken in upon by a 
 
xvi INTRODUCTION. 
 
 dangerous service to the Prince Charles, who had just been 
 defeated at the battle of Worcester. Among the losses of 
 the prince was a jewel, the " lesser George," a badge of the 
 Order of the Garter, which was, however, preserved by one 
 Colonel Blague and passed by him to a Mr. Barlow, and 
 after another transference it came to Mr. Izaak Walton, who 
 succeeded with considerable risk in placing the jewel. in 
 certain hands, whence it came safely to its owner. Now for 
 a Royalist to communicate between two Royalist prisoners 
 at that time — and this is what Walton did — was a hazardous 
 adventure, and that he should have come well out of it 
 means that he possessed a practical shrewdness, and it may 
 also imply a steady nerve and a strong arm. 
 
 About this time he may have been engaged in a leisurely 
 fashion upon the writing of The Compleai Angler^ or the 
 Contemplative MatCs Recreation (it was published in 1653), 
 and no doubt the events of the period would suggest many 
 a moral set forth in the book. It is curious that books like 
 The Compleat Angler and The Lives of Donne ^ Wot ton ^ 
 Hooker, Herbert, and Sanderson should have been written 
 when they were; that the former should belong to the 
 decade when grim Puritanism reigned in the land, and that 
 certain of the latter should be contemporaneous with the 
 profligate literature of the Restoration. The reason is not 
 that Walton kept clear of the turmoil of the century and 
 was unaffected by its events, but rather that he was at all 
 times an indulger in the contemplative man's recreation, 
 "which has a calmness of spirit, and a world of other 
 blessings attending upon it." It is not unnatural that the 
 book should have speedily become a favourite among a 
 section of Englishmen with whom Walton was already 
 popular; for in these evil times, when there was no court 
 in England, every Royalist gentleman must needs fall back 
 
INTRODUCTION. xvii 
 
 upon sport to fill the empty days. When a second edition 
 was found desirable in 1665, about one-third was added 
 to the original size of the book — Walton appears to have 
 been given to the practice of re-writing. The later editions 
 which appeared during his lifetime were published in the 
 years 166 1, 1668, and 1676 respectively, and the last of 
 these is distinguished by the addition of the Second Part, 
 written by Charles Cotton, dealing with the art of fishing 
 for trout or grayling in a clear stream. 
 
 The Life of Booker was pu Wished in 1652. It is possible 
 that Walton derived some of his materials for this work 
 from Rachel Floud's uncle, George Cranmer, who had 
 been a friend of the great English prose-writer and defender 
 of the Church. In 1670 the biographies of Donne, 
 Wotton, and Hooker were collected and The Life of George 
 Llerberi added. The last of the Lives was that of Bishop 
 Sanderson, published in 1678; and the latest piece of 
 writing attributed to Walton appeared in the year of his 
 death. His second wife had died in the year 1662. Dr. 
 Zouch tells us that after the Restoration Walton and his 
 daughter had apartments constantly reserved for them in 
 the houses of Dr. Morley, Bishop of Winchester, and 
 Dr. Ward, Bishop of Salisbury. Izaak Walton died at 
 
 WmcjiesteiyirUiie, house of his son-irvTaw^X^rrSawkins, in 
 Decern ber ji 6 8 3,_arT[d^ was burjed^^mjhg cathedral^ there. 
 
 The writings of Walton belong to that class of literature, 
 one or^'hose~pnmary qualities is charm— whose first means 
 of attraction is the delightful individuality of its style or 
 manner, of its imagination or fancy, whether serious or 
 hulnorous. To please us in this particular way cannot be 
 the £nvilege of the poet who "almost requires a solemn 
 service of music to be played before you enter upon him;" 
 and no one has been charmed by any paragraph or period 
 
xviii INTRODUCTION. 
 
 that Dr. Johnson, the Delphic-oracular, ever fulminated. 
 But one of the principal delights afforded by a few writers, 
 b}rCharles Lamb and Robert Louis Stevenson among the 
 number, is the revelation of the writer's personality, of 
 bis particular likings and opinions apart from what the 
 generality of men may hold, of private or national pre- 
 judices, of little bits of autobiographical experience. 'Chus 
 th~e~man who writes^ comes to be more or less completely 
 represented by his ^yritings. The Co7npIeat AngJer is one of 
 thjs representative kind of books, indicative of the author's 
 habitual thoughts and of his character, a picture, indeed, of 
 his own disposition, as he himself calls it. 
 
 There are certain writers, not a great many, whom we 
 can read at all times and in any place, and that they should 
 be of the greatest magnitude is not a postulate: Homer in 
 the Odyssey, Shakespeare in the Plays, Stevenson, again, in 
 the Essays, and some others, might be mentioned. But 
 although The Co7npleat Angler is a book for which we have 
 an affection as well as admiration, it cannot be sure to 
 charm us in all circumstances, for it is necessary that one's 
 mood and surroundings should be d propos, I have tried 
 to read it beside a large river nearing the sea, and the book 
 and its thoughts were dwarfed; I have tried it also on one 
 of the bare islands of the Hebrides, and there seemed to 
 be something incongruous in the situation — it was as though 
 all the beauty had departed; and I have heard of similar 
 misfortunes among the hill-streams of upper Tweed. ^It^is 
 in the wooded inland valleys, where the waters run quietly, 
 where the sunshine falls upon leaf and grass, and where 
 there is a willow tree under which we may sit and read, 
 that it pleases us most. 
 
 Now it would ill become any one to say that Walton's 
 book is complete where the science of fishing is concerned. 
 
INTRODUCTION. xix 
 
 Cotton in this respect excels him. But though, as the 
 author declares on the original title-page, it is " not un- 
 worthy the perusal of most anglers ; " in what constitute the 
 technique of angling, in questions of baits and flies in their 
 seasons, and in the dissertations upon the natural history of 
 fish, it is inaccurate, and we often wonder at the author's 
 credulity. But in the literary and philosophic parts of 
 the craft it is supremely excellent. It is a book for all 
 persons of literary understanding to read with delight; and 
 as for the angler who has not read it, he always seems to 
 me like some being born without a soul. 
 
 Study to be qu iet. He writes the words as a tail-piece to 
 his book as if they were the sum of the whole matter. In 
 his life he sought quietude and composure, and the good 
 nature and the good humour that these make possible. 
 The very spirit of kindliness and good-will to God and men 
 is present in the book, as being part of his own disposition, 
 and yet more notably in the Lives. With what commend- 
 able caution he treats those passages in the lives of his 
 heroes which he feels he cannot hold up to the admiration 
 of posterity; as, when "Jack" Donne arranges secret meet- 
 ings with his ladylove, he. "forbears to tell the manner 
 how." It is this trait, seriously considered, that makes 
 the Lives incomplete as biographies, while so perfect as 
 eulogies. Walton strove to do full justice to the characters 
 of his friends, that is, to whatever was excellent and of good 
 report therein; and this he did with a sympathetic taste 
 and a discriminating understanding; while he disregarded 
 that which might be of evil reputation, probably having 
 the benefit of posterity in view. And humour is no 
 more absent from the book than from tTie man, innocent, 
 harmless_bumour,__3Dld^lightfur^^ 
 more of it. One could easily believe the incident of 
 
XX INTRODUCTION. 
 
 the_glQsies _and the begg ars to be tak en from some com edy 
 of^hakespeace, sp.yivid is the scene, so life like the situation; 
 a nd the occasional humour of the dialogue is always irL.fine 
 taste . Walton's liumour is that of the man Avho, to use 
 M^ Scherer's words, " does not sever himself from humanity, 
 b ut who ta kes his owii shortcomings and those of his_fellow- 
 creatures cheerfully." Walton, too, loved poetry, English 
 ballMs" and songs, " old-fashioned poetry, but choicely 
 good, I think much better than the strong Hues that a re now 
 in fashion in this critical age;" and one of the attractions 
 oi^he Conipleat Angler is in those angling songs, those rare 
 melodious verses that come as interludes in th£^ prose 
 dialogue. 
 
 Walton wrote good prose, spontaneous and strong, though 
 it is probable that he paid more attention to the excellence of 
 his matter. Tjie-^entence is^o ften lo ng, and sometimes he 
 loaesjthe tiller^for a jnoment. He doeslioFThen^oTiack m 
 order to leave an even track, being content to have arrived 
 where he is; but the paragraph, on the other hand, usually 
 comes roundly and satisfactorily to an end, and in the use 
 of words and in the construction of phrases he is now and 
 then delightful. Whether he is talking of fish and the way 
 to catch them, or indulging in a Httle moral homily, or 
 reflecting some river-side scene upon his pages, he is always 
 singularly pleasant to read, and we cannot but agree with 
 Venator that " his discourse seemsjojbejnusic, and charms 
 one to an attention." 
 ^' CHARLES FULL DICK. 
 
 Kelvinside, Glasgow, 
 1895. 
 
,THE COMPLETE ANGLER. 
 
TABLE OF CONTENTS. 
 
 PART I. 
 THE FIRST DAY. 
 
 CHAP. PAGE 
 
 I. Conference betwixt an Angler, a Hunter, and a 
 
 Falconer; each commending his recreation . '13 
 
 THE SECOND DAY. 
 II. Observations of the Otter and Chub . . . .44 
 
 THE THIRD DAY. 
 
 III. How to fish for, and to dress, the Chavender or 
 
 Chub 51 
 
 I\^. Observations of the nature and breeding of the 
 Trout, and how to fish for him ; and the Milk- 
 maid's Song 56 
 
 V. More directions how to fish for, and how to make 
 for the Trout an Artificial Minnow and Flies; 
 witl^ some merriment . . . . . .66 
 
4 TABLE OF CONTENTS. 
 
 THE FOURTH DAY. 
 
 CHAP. PAOE 
 
 V. Confmued 73 
 
 VI. Observations of the Umber or Grayling ; Direc- 
 tions how to fish for him 99 
 
 VII. Observations of the Sahiion ; Directions how to 
 
 fish for him „ . loi 
 
 VIII. Observations of the Luce, or Pike; Directions how 
 
 to fish for him . io6 
 
 IX. Observations of the Carp; Directions how to fish 
 
 for him Ii6 
 
 X. Observations of the Bream ; and Directions to 
 
 catch him 123 
 
 XI. Observations of the Tjnch; Advice how to angle 
 
 for him . . . . . . . .128 
 
 XII. Observations of the Pearch ; Directions how to fish 
 
 for him . . . . . . . .130 
 
 XIII. Observations of the Eel, and other Fish that want 
 
 Scales; and how to fish for them . . .133 
 
 XIV. Observations of the Barbel; and Directions how to 
 
 fish for him . . . . . . -139 
 
 XV. Observations of the Gudgeon, the Ruffe, and the 
 
 Bleak; and how to fish for them . . . 143 
 
 XVI. Is of Nothing, or that which is Nothing worth . 145 
 
 THE FIFTH DAY. 
 
 XVII. Of Roach and Dace, and how to fish for them; 
 
 and of Cadis 152 
 
 XVIII. Of the Minnow or Penk, of the Loach, and of the 
 
 Bull-Head or Miller's Thumb . . .160 
 
TABLE OF CONTENTS. 5 
 
 CHAP. PAGE 
 
 XIX. Of several Rivers ; and some Observations of Fish . 163 
 
 XX. Of Fish-Ponds, and how to order them . . .166 
 
 XXI. Directions for making of a Line, and for the 
 
 colouring of both Rod and Line . . .169 
 
 PART II. 
 
 Instructions how to Angle for a Trout or Grayling 
 in a clear Stream, by Charles Cotton . . .181 
 
 THE FIRST DAY. 
 
 I. Conference betwixt a country Gentleman proficient 
 in the Art of Fly fishing and a Traveller who 
 becomes his Pupil 185 
 
 IL Observations of the principal Rivers in Derbyshire; 
 
 Viator lodges at Piscator Junior's House . . 191 
 
 THE SECOND DAY. 
 
 in. Conference containing an account of Mr. Cotton's 
 
 fishing-house 200 
 
 IV. Of Angling for Trout or Grayling at the "Top," 
 
 at the " Middle," and at the " Bottom" . . 203 
 
 V. Of Fly-fishing and Fly-making 204 
 
 VI. A practical Lesson in Fly-fishing for Trout and 
 
 Grayling 210 
 
6 TABLE OF CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAP. PAGE 
 
 VII. Of artificial Flies for the months of January, 
 February, March, April, and May; showing 
 also how to dib or dape with the Green-Drake 
 or May- Fly, and how to make that famous 
 Fly artificially 216 
 
 VIII. Of the Stone-Fly; also a list of Flies for June, 
 July, August, September, October, November, 
 and December; with some remarks on the 
 Green-Drake and Stone-Fly, and on Poach- 
 ing 227 
 
 THE THIRD DAY. 
 
 IX. A Short Dialogue; Viator fishes by himself . . 234 
 
 X. Directions how to dress a Trout or Grayling . . 235 
 
 XL Of Anghng at the Bottom for Trout or Grayling . 237 
 
 XII. Of Angling at the Middle for Trout or Graylmg: 
 
 Farewell of Viator with Piscator Junior . . 242 
 
THE EPISTLE DEDICATORY. 
 
 TO THE RIGHT WORSHIPFUL 
 
 JOHN OFFLEY, Esq., 
 OF MADELEY MANOR, IN THE COUNTY OF STAFFORD. 
 
 My most HONOURED FRIEND, 
 
 Sir, — I have made so ill use of your former favours, as by 
 them to be encouraged to entreat, that they may be enlarged to 
 the patronage and protection of this book: and I have put on a 
 modest confidence, that I shall not be denied, because it is a 
 discourse of fish and fishing, which you know so well, and both 
 love and practise so much. 
 
 You are assured, though there be ignorant men of another 
 belief, that angling is an art : and you know that art better than 
 others ; and that this truth is demonstrated by the fruits of that 
 pleasant labour which you enjoy, when you purpose to give 
 rest to your mind, and divest yourself of your more serious 
 business, and (which is often) dedicate a day or two to this 
 recreation. 
 
 At which time, if common Anglers should attend you, and be 
 eye-witnesses of the success, not of your fortune but your skill. 
 
8 THE EPISTLE DEDICATORY. 
 
 it would doubtless beget in them an emulation to be like you, 
 and that emulation might beget an industrious diligence to be 
 so ; but I know it is not attainable by common capacities. And 
 there be now many men of great wisdom, learning, and ex- 
 perience, which love and practise this art, that know I speak 
 the truth. 
 
 Sir, this pleasant curiosity of fish and fishing, of which you 
 are so great a master, has been thought worthy the pens and 
 practices of divers in other nations, that have been reputed men 
 of great learning and wisdom : and amongst those of this nation, 
 I remember Sir Henry Wotton (a dear lover of this art) has told 
 me, that his intentions were to write a discourse of the art, and 
 in praise of angling ; and doubtless he had done so, if death had 
 not prevented him ; the remembrance of which hath often made 
 me sorry ; for if he had lived to do it, then the unlearned angler 
 had seen some better treatise of this art, a treatise that might 
 have proved worthy his perusal, which, though some have under- 
 taken, I could never yet see in English. 
 
 But mine may be thought as weak, and as unworthy of common 
 view ; and I do here freely confess, that I should rather excuse 
 myself, than censure others, my own discourse being liable to 
 so many exceptions ; against which you, sir, might make this 
 one, that it can contribute nothing to your knowledge. And 
 lest a longer epistle may diminish your pleasure, I shall make 
 this no longer than to add this following truth, that I am really. 
 
 Sir, 
 Your most affectionate friend, 
 
 And most humble servant, 
 
 Iz. Wa. 
 
TO THE READER OF THIS DISCOURSE, 
 
 BUT ESPECIALLY 
 
 TO THE HONfeST ANGLER. 
 
 I THINK fit to tell thee these following truths, that I did 
 neither undertake, nor write, nor publish, and much less own, 
 this Discourse to please myself; ant;!^ hp^ying been too ea sily (^A^us 
 drawn jo do all to p lea se other s, as I propose not the gaining ^vU-^wu 
 of credit by this undertaking, so I would not willingly lose any ^^ 
 part of that to which I had a just title before I began it, and do ^r" 
 therefore desire and hope, if I deserve not commendations, yet 
 I may obtain pardon. 
 
 And though this Discourse may be liable to some exceptions, 
 yet I cannot doubt but that most readers may receive so much 
 pleasure or profit by it, as may make it worthy the time of 
 their perusal, if they be not too grave or too busy men. And 
 this is all the confidence that I can put on, concerning the 
 merit of what is here offered to their consideration and censure ; 
 and if the last prove too severe, as I have a liberty, so I am 
 resolved to use it, and neglect all sour censures. 
 
 And I wish the reader also to take notice, that in writing of 
 it I have made myself a recreation of a recreation ; and Jhat it 
 might_prQye-scu4xu4Hi%^~arLd^jiojt_read_^^^ and tediously, I i 
 
 have Jbi„ s^iveral places mixed, not any scurrility, nDur'sonie /VOv-' 
 innocent^ harmless mirth, of which,, if thou be a severe, sour- ^ V^ 
 complexioned man, then I here disallow thee to be a competent 
 judge ; for divines say, there are offences given, and offences not 
 given but taken. 
 
lo TO THE READER. 
 
 And I am the willinger to justify the pleasant part of it, 
 because, though it is known, I can be serious at seasonable 
 times, yet the whole Discourse is, or rather was, ^ picture o f my 
 o wn dispositi on, especially in such days and times as I Kave 
 laid aside business, and gone a-fishing with honest Nat. and 
 R. Roe; but they are gone, and with them most of my pleasant 
 hours, even as a shadow that passeth away and returns 
 not. 
 
 And next, let me add this, that he that likes not the book, 
 should like the excellent picture of the trout, and some of the 
 other fish ; which I may take a liberty to commend, because they 
 concern not myself. 
 
 Next, let me tell the reader, that in that which is the more 
 useful part of this Discourse, that is to say, the observations of 
 the nature, and the breeding, and seasons, and catching of fish, 
 I am not so simple as not to know that a captious reader may 
 find exceptions against something said of some of these ; and 
 therefore, I must entreat him- to consider that experience 
 teaches us to know that several countries alter the time, and I 
 think almost the manner of fishes' breeding, but doubtless of 
 their being in season ; as may appear by three rivers in 
 Monmouthshire, namely, Severn, Wye, and Usk, where 
 Camden {British Fishes^ 633) observes, that in the river Wye, 
 salmon are in season from September to April; and we are 
 certain that in Thames and Trent, and in most other rivers, 
 they be in season the six hotter months. 
 
 Now for the art of catching Jish^ that is to say, how to make a 
 man — that was none — to be an angler by a book ; he that under- 
 takes it shall undertake a harder task than Mr. Hales, a most 
 valiant and excellent fencer, who, in a printed book called A 
 Private School of Defence^ undertook to teach that art or 
 science, and was laughed at for his labour — not but that many 
 useful things might be learnt by that book, but he was laughed 
 at because that art was not to be taught by words, but practice ; 
 and so must angling. And note also, that in this discourse, I do 
 not undertake to say all that is known, or may be said of it, but 
 I undertake to acquaint the reader with many things that are 
 
TO THE READER. ii 
 
 not usually known to every angler; and I shall leave gleanings 
 and observations enough to be made out of the experience of all 
 that love and practise this recreation, to which I shall encourage 
 them. For angling may be said to be so like the mathematics, 
 that jt can^iever be fully learnt ; at least not so fully, but that 
 there wiTTstiinbe' more new experiments left for the trial of 
 other men that succeed us. 
 
 Bui^jhiiik_aJljJiaLlQve this game may here learn something 
 that may be worth their money, if they be not poor and needy 
 men; and in case they be, I then wish them to forbear to buy 
 it, for I write, not to get money, but for pleasure, and this Dis- 
 course boasts of no more; for LJiatfi to promise much and 
 deceive the reader. 
 
 And however it proves to him, yet I am sure I have found a 
 high content in the search and conference of what is here 
 offered to the reader's view and censure ; I wish him as much in 
 the perusal of it, and so I might here take my leave ; but will 
 stay a little and tell him, that whereas it is said by many that in 
 fly-fishing for a trout the angler must observe his twelve several 
 flies for the twelve months of the year: I say, he that follows 
 t hat rule s hall be as sure to catch fish, and be as wise, as he 
 that makes hay by the fair days in an almanac, and no surer; 
 for those very flies that use to appear about and on the water 
 in one month of the year, may the following year come almost a 
 month sooner or later, as the same year proves colder or hotter ; 
 and yet, in the following Discourse, I have set down the twelve 
 flies that are in reputation with many anglers, and they may 
 serve to give him some observations concerning them. And he 
 may note, that there are in Wales and other countries, peculiar 
 flies, proper to the particular place or country ; and doubtless 
 unless a man makes a fly to counterfeit that very fly in that 
 place, he is like to lose his labour, or much of it ; but for the 
 generality, three or four flies, neat and rightly made, and not 
 too big, serve for a trout in most rivers all the summer. And 
 winter fly-fishing — it is as useful as an almanac out of date ! 
 And of these, becaus e as no man is born_an_artist, so no manjs 
 born an angler, I thought fit to give thee this notice. 
 
12 TO THE READER. 
 
 When I have told the reader that in this fifth impression there 
 are many enlargements, gathered both by my own observation 
 and the communication with friends, I shall stay him no longer 
 than to wish him a rainy evening to read this following Dis- 
 fiV^ course ; and that if he be an honest angler, the east wind may 
 never blow when he goes a-fishing. 
 
 I. W. 
 

 /UA>^J^JJ3^^ 
 
 THE COMPLETE ANGLER. 
 
 PART THE FIRST. 
 
 THE FIRST DAY. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 CONFERENCE BETWIXT AN ANGLER, A HUNTER, AND A 
 FALCONER; EACH COMMENDING HIS RECREATION. 
 
 PiscATOR, Venator, Auceps. 
 
 PiSCATOR. You are well overtaken, gentlemen; a good 
 morning to you both ; I have stretched my legs up Tottenham 
 Hill to overtake you, hoping your business may occasion you 
 towards Ware, whither I am going this fine, fresh May 
 morning. ^ 
 
 Venator. Sir, I for my part shall almost answer your hopes ; j Ay 
 
 House in Hoddesden, and I think not to rest till I come thither, 1r» 
 
 for mYjauxpQ^e4s-to drink -yny-morni ng's draught at the TJi atdied 
 
 . ^ y 
 
 where I have appointed a friend or two to meet me: but for this it- 
 gentleman that you see with me, I know not how far he intends 
 his journey; he came so lately into my company, that I have 
 scarce had time to ask him the question. 
 
 Auceps. Sir, I shall, by your favour, b^ax^ixm^xompajayLjas 
 far_as_T heobald 's, and there leave you; for then I turn up to a 
 friend's-Jimise_who_mew s a hawk jor me, which I now long to 
 see. 
 
 Ven. Sir, we are all so happy as to have a fine, fresh, cool 
 
14 THE COMPLETE ANGLER. part i. 
 
 morning ; and I hope we shall each be the happier in the other's 
 company. And, gentlemen, that I may not lose yours, I shall 
 either abate or amend my pace to enjoy it ; knowing that, as the 
 Italians say, "Good company in a journey makes the way to 
 seem the shorter." 
 
 Auc. It may do so, sir, with the help of good discourse, which 
 methinks we may promise from you that both look and speak so 
 cheerfully; and for my part I promise you, as an invitation to 
 it, that I will be as free and open-hearted as discretion will 
 allow me to be with strangers. 
 
 Ven. And, sir, I promise the like. 
 
 PiSC. I am right glad to hear your answers, and in confidence 
 you speak the truth, I shall put on a boldness to ask you, sir, 
 whether business or pleasure caused you to be so early up, and 
 walk so fast ; for this other gentleman hath declared that he is 
 going to see a hawk that a friend mews for him. 
 
 Ven. Sir, mine is a mixture of both, a little business and more 
 pleasure; for I intend this day to do all my business, and then 
 bestow another day or two in hunting the Otter, which a friend, 
 that I go to meet, tells me is much pleasanter than any other 
 chase whatsoever : howsoever, I mean to try it ; for to-morrow 
 j\ morning we shall meet a pack of Otter-dogs ofjiobje Mr. 
 y^ Sadler's, upon Amvv^lljlill, who~wiil be there so early that 
 they intend to prevent the sun-rising. 
 
 PiSC. Sir, my fortune has answered my desires, and my 
 purpose is to bestow a day or two in helping to destroy some 
 of those villanous vermin ; for I hate them perfectly, because 
 they love fish so well, or rather, because they destroy so much ; 
 indeed so much that, in my judgment, all men that keep 
 Otter-dogs ought to have pensions from the king, to encourage 
 them to destroy the very breed of those base Otters, they do so 
 much mischief. 
 
 Ven. But what say you to the Foxes of the Nation, would 
 not you as willingly have them destroyed ? for doubtless they 
 do as much mischief as Otters do. 
 
 PiSC. O sir, if they do^ it is not so much to me and my 
 fraternity, as those base vermin the Otters do. 
 
CHAP. I. THE FIRST DAY. 15 
 
 Auc. Why, sir, I pray, of what fraternity are you, that you 
 are so angry with the poor Otters ? 
 
 PiSC. I am, sir, a brother of the Angle, and therefore an 
 enemy to the Otter: for you are to note that we Anglers all 
 love one another, and therefore do I hate the Otter, both for 
 my own and for their sakes who are of my brotherhood. 
 
 Ven. And I am a lover of Hounds ; I have followed many a 
 pack of dogs many a mile, and heard many merry huntsmen 
 make sport and scoff at Anglers. 
 
 Auc. And I profess myself a Falconer, and have heard many 
 grave serious men pity them, it is such a heavy, contemptible, 
 dull, recreation. 
 
 PiSC. You know, gentlemen, it is an easy thing to scoff at 
 any art or recreation ; a little wit, mixed with ill-nature, con- 
 fidence, and malice, will do it ; but though they often venture 
 boldly, yet they are often caught, even in their own trap, 
 according to that of Lucian, the father of the family of scoffers. 
 
 ** Lucian, well skill'd in scoffing, this hath writ, 
 
 Friend, that's your folly, which you think your wit; \ 
 
 This, you vent oft, void both of wit and fear, \ 
 
 Meaning another, when yourself you jeer." \ 
 
 Jf to this you add what Solomon says of scoffers, that "they 
 are an abomination to mankind," let them that think fit scoff on, 
 and be scoffers still ; but I account them enemies to me and to 
 all that love virtue and angling. 
 
 And for you, that have heard many grave, serious men, pity 
 Anglers; let me tell you, sir, there be many men that are by 
 others taken to be serious and grave men, whom we contemn 
 and pity. Men_thatj^re taken to begraiie^liecause nature hath 
 made th^rn^ of a sour complexion ; money-getting men, men 
 thalspend. all their time, first in getting, and next in anxious 
 care^keep it ; men that are condemned to be rich, and then 
 ah\:ays_Jbusy_p_r discontented ; for these poor jiich men, we 
 Anglers pity them perfectly, and stand^TnTno need to borrow 
 their thoughts to think ourselves so happy. No, no, sir, we 
 enjoy a contentedness above the reach of such dispositions, 
 
i6 THE COMPLETE ANGLER. part i. 
 
 W^nd as the learned and ingenuous J V^on^^k^ne says — like 
 A^^"'''""^ himself, freely, ^' When my cat and I entertain each other with 
 mutual apish tricks, as playing with a garter, who knows but 
 that I make my cat more sport than she makes me ? Shall I 
 conclude her to be simple, that has her time to begin or refuse 
 to play as freely as I myself have? Nay, who knows but that 
 it is a defect of my not understanding her language (for doubt- 
 less cats talk and reason with one another), that we agree no 
 better? And who knows but thai she pities me for being no 
 wiser than to play with her, and laughs and censures my folly 
 for making sport for her, when we two play together?" 
 
 Thus freely speaks Montaigne concerning cats ; and I hope 
 I may take as great a liberty to blame any man, and laugh at 
 him too, let him be never so grave, that hath not heard what 
 Anglers can say in the justification of their art and recreation ; 
 which I may again tell you is so full of pleasure, that we need 
 not borrow their thoughts to make ourselves happy. 
 
 Ven. Sir, you have almost amazed me ; for though I am no 
 scoffer, yet I have, I pray let me speak it v/ithout offence, 
 always looked upon Angl^r^ ns m^r^ pnti^nt ^^^ mn^^ cin-.pi/a 
 mm^ fhc^n T ff-cir T shall find yoi] to be. 
 
 PiSC. Sir, I hope you will not judge my earnestness to be 
 impatience: and for my simplicity, if by that you mean a 
 harmlessness, or that simplicity which was usually found in the 
 primitive Christians, who were, as most Anglers are, quiet men, 
 and followers of peace ; men that were so simply wise, as not to 
 sell their_consci ^ces to buy riches, and with them vexa tion 
 a nd a_fear to di e-;-- if you mean such sjmple men as lived 
 in those times when there were fewer lawyers, when men 
 might have had -a lordship safely conveyed to them in a 
 piece of parchment no bigger than your hand, though several 
 sheets will not do i_t safely m this wiser_age-: J say, sir, if you 
 take us Anglers to be such simple men as I have spoken, then 
 myself and those of my profession will be glad to be so under- 
 stood: but if by simplicit^Lyoa-ia eant to ~ejc press a gen eral defect 
 in tho'^e^thaj- pr ofpqs n n d prrK^tisp tbL e- nvr n 1lQ iit_arl_nf angling, 
 
 I hope in time to di sabuse you, and _ai ake the contrar y appear 
 
 ^1 
 
CHAP. I. THE FIRST DAY. 17 
 
 so evidently, that, if you will but have patience to hear me, I 
 sliall_re mov e all i^l ie a nticipations that discourse, j or t ime, ~6r 
 prejudice, have possessed youlvitH"agarnst that laudable and 
 ancient-artTlor"! klio\VTrworIIiyTTie knowledge and practice 
 of a wise man. 
 
 But, gentlemen, though I be able to do this, j^ a m not so 
 unmannerly as to engross all the discourse to myself; and, 
 therefore, you two HaWhg decrarEd"'yotIrseIves", the one to be 
 a lover of hawks, the other of hounds, I shall be most glad to 
 hear what you can say in the commendation of that recreation 
 which each of you love and practise ; and having heard what 
 you can say, I shall be glad to exercise your attention with what 
 I can say concerning my own recreation and art of angling, and 
 by this means we shall make the way to seem the shorter ; and 
 if you like my motion, I would have Mr. Falconer to begin. 
 
 Auc. Your motion is consented to with all my heart ; and to 
 testify it, I will begin as you have desired me. 
 
 And first, for the element that I use to trade in, — which is 
 the air, — an element of more worth than weight — an element 
 that doubtless exceeds both the earth and water; for though 
 I sometimes deal in both, yet the air is most properly mine, — 
 I and my hawks use that most, and it yields us most recrea- 
 tion : it stops not the high soaring of my noble, generous 
 falcon ; in it she ascends to such a height as the dull eyes of 
 beasts and fish are not able to reach to ; their bodies are too 
 gross for such high elevations : in the air my troops of hawks 
 soar up on high, and when they are lost in the sight of men, 
 then they attend upon and converse with the gods; therefore 
 I think my eagle is so justly styled " Jove' s servant in o rdi- 
 nary ;" and that very falcon that I am now going to see, 
 deserves no meaner title, for she usually in her flight endangers 
 h ^^Jl'^gKU^jf^^^^?"" "^ n^pdalirqT^jHvpjT^r wtTmrx--^»f^^ e d 
 by the sun's heat, she-flies-S Q near i^ t : but heT'mettie makes 
 her careless of danger; for then she heeds nothing, but 
 makes her nimble pinions cut the fluid air, and so makes her 
 highway over the steepest mountains and deepest rivers, and in 
 her glorious career looks with contempt upon those high steeples 
 
 2 
 
V^ ^HE COMPLETE ANGLER. part i. 
 
 -^^i^^^nd magnificent palaces which we adore and wonder at ; from 
 
 \j^ which height I can make her to descend by a word from my 
 
 ^ mouth (which she both knows and obeys), to accept of meat 
 
 from my hand, to own me for her master, to go home with me, 
 
 and be wilHng the next day to afford me the hke recreation. 
 
 And more : thiselement of air which I profess to trade in, 
 the worth of it i^^^nrh^ nnH' it ig pf siic^ Tip^PQ^j ty, tha t no 
 cieature whatsoever, not only those numerous creatures that 
 feed on the face of the earth, but those various creatures that 
 have their dwelling within the waters, every creature that hath 
 life in itsjiostrils. stands in need of my ele ment. The waters 
 cannot preserve the fish without air, witnessThe not breaking of 
 ice in an extreme frost : the reason is, for that if the inspiring 
 and expiring organ of an animal be stopped, it suddenly yields 
 to nature, and dies. Thus necessary is air to the existence both 
 of fish and beasts, nay, even to man himself; the air or breath 
 of life with which God at first inspired mankind, he, if he wants 
 it, dies presently, becomes a sad object to all that loved and 
 beheld him, and in an instant turns to putrefaction. 
 
 Nay more, the very birds of the air, those that be not hawks, 
 are both so many and so useful and pleasant to mankind, that 
 I must not let them pass without some observations. They 
 both feed and refresh him— feed him with their choice bodies, 
 ^ and refresh him with their heavenly voices. I will not undertake 
 to mention the several kinds of fowl by which this is done— and 
 his curious palate pleased by day, and which with their very 
 excrements afford him a soft lodging at night — these I will pass 
 by ; but not those little nimble musicians of the air, that warble 
 forth their curious ditties, with which nature hath furnished 
 them to the shame of art. 
 
 As, first, the lark, when she means to rejoice, to cheer herself 
 and those that hear her; she then quits the earth, and sings as 
 she ascends higher into the air, and having ended her heavenly 
 employment, grows then mute and sad, to think she must 
 descend to the dull earth, which she would not touch, but for 
 necessity. 
 
 How do the blackbird and thrassel, with their melodious 
 
CHAP. I. THE FIRST DAY. 19 
 
 voices, bid welcome to the cheerful spring, and in their fixed 
 months warble forth such ditties as no art or instrument can 
 reach to ? 
 
 Nay, the smaller birds also do the like in their particular 
 seasons, as, namely, the leverock, the titlark, the little linnet, 
 and the honest robin, that loves mankind both alive and 
 dead. ^"^ ' 
 
 But the nightingale, another of my airy creatures, breathes 
 such sweet loud music out of her little instrumental throat, that 
 it might make mankind to think miracles are not ceased. He th at 
 at midinight, when the very labourer sleeps securely, should hear, 
 as I have very often, the clear airs, the sweet descants, the 
 natural rising and falling, the doubling and redoubling of her 
 voice, might well be lifted above earth, and say, " Lord, what 
 music hast thou provided for the saints in heaven, when thou 
 affordest bad men such music on earth ? " 
 
 And this makes me the less to wonder at the many aviaries in 
 Italy, or at the great charge of Varro's aviary, the ruins of which 
 are yet to be seen in Rome, and is still so famous there, that it 
 is reckoned for one of those notables which men of foreign 
 nations either record, or lay up in their memories, when they 
 return from travel. 
 
 T Jlis for the birds of plp n<;nrp^ of yvh\rh vpr^r mnrV> mnr^ 
 
 might be said. M^next shnll hp nf hirdg ni" pnlitir^l use. I 
 think 'tis not to be doulDted that swallows have been taught to 
 carry letters between two armies. But it is certain, that when 
 the Turks besieged Malta or Rhodes (I now remember not 
 which it was), pigeons are then related to carry and recarry 
 letters. And Mr. G. Sandys, in his Travels^ relates it to be 
 done between Aleppo and Babylon. But if that be disbelieved, 
 it is not to be doubted that the dove was sent out of the ark by 
 Noah, to give him notice of land, when to him all appeared 
 to be sea ; and the dove proved a faithful and comfortable 
 messenger. And for the sacrifices of the law, a pair of turtle- 
 doves or young pigeons were as well accepted as costly bulls 
 and rams. And when God would feed the prophet Elijah after a 
 kind of miraculous manner, he did it by ravens, who brought 
 
20 THE COMPLETE ANGLER. part i. 
 
 him meat mornin>,'- and evening. Lastly, the Holy Ghost, when 
 he descended visibly upon our Saviour, did it by assuming the 
 shape of a dove. And to conclude this part of my discourse, 
 pray remember these wonders were done by birds of the air, the 
 element in which they and I take so much pleasure. 
 
 There is also a little contemptible winged creature, an in- 
 habitant of my aerial element, — namely, the laborious bee, — of 
 whose prudence, policy, and regular government of their own 
 commonwealth I might say much, as also of their several kinds, 
 and how useful their honey and wax are both for meat and 
 medicines to mankind; but I will leave them to their sweet 
 labour, without the least disturbance, believing them to be all 
 very busy at this very time amongst the herbs and flowers that 
 we see nature puts forth this May morning. 
 
 And now to return to my hawks, from whom I have made too 
 12113" ^ '^'g^^f ^sion ; you are to note, that they are usually dis- 
 tinguished into two kinds ; namely, the long-winged and the 
 short-winged hawk : of the first kind, there be chiefly in use 
 amongst us in this nation, 
 
 r^^- 
 
 The Gerfalcon and Jerkin, 
 CrjieJFakon^jLndJTa^se^ 
 The Laner and Lanaret, 
 The Bockerel and Bockeret, 
 The Saker and Sacaret, 
 The Merlin and Jack Merhn, 
 The Hobby and Jack : 
 
 There is thejStelletto of Spain, 
 
 The Blood-red Rook from Turkey, 
 The Waskite from Virginia : 
 
 And there is of short-winged hawks, 
 
 The Eagle and Iron, 
 The Goshawk and Tarcel, 
 The Sparhawk and Musket, 
 The French Pye, of two sorts. 
 
CHAP. I. THE FIRST DAY. 21 
 
 These are reckoned hawks of note and worth ; but we have also 
 hawks of an inferior rank, 
 
 The Stanyel, the Ringtail, 
 
 The Raven, the Buzzard, 
 
 The Forked Kite, the Bald Buzzard, 
 
 The Hen-driver, and others that I forbear to name. 
 
 Gentlemen, if I should enlarge my discourse to the observation 
 of the eh'ies, the brancher, the ramish hawk, the haggard, and 
 the two sorts of lentners, and then treat of their several ayries, 
 thei r mewings, rar e order of casting, and the renovation of their 
 feath ers : their reclaiming, dieting, and then come to their rare 
 s tories of practi ce ; I say, if I should enter into these, and many 
 other observations that I could make, it would be much, very 
 much pleasure to me : b ut lest I should break the rules of 
 '^ivility to vou. by taking up more than the proporti on of time 
 allotted to me, I will here break off, and entreat you, Mr. 
 Venator, to say what you are able in the commendation of 
 hunting, to which you are so much affected ; and, if time will 
 serve, I will beg your favour for a further enlargement of some 
 of those several heads of which I have spoken. But no more 
 at present. 
 
 Ven. Well, sir, and I will now take my turn, and will first 
 begin with a commendation of the Earth, as you have done 
 most excellently of the Air; the ear-th being that element 
 upon which I drive my pleasant, wholesome, hungry trade. 
 The earth is a solid, settled element — an element most 
 universally beneficial both to man and beast : to men who 
 have their several recreat[ons__upQii,^itj^as_horse-racing, hunting, 
 s w eer~smel is^_pL^s^"^ ""wal^ai-Jhe earth feeds man, and all 
 those several beasts that both feed him and afford him re- 
 creation. What pleasure doth man take in hunting the stately 
 stag^the_ generous buck, tlie wild boar, the cunning otter, the 
 cr afty f gx,^and the fearful hare.^ And if I may descend to a 
 lower game, what pleasure is it sometimes with gins to betray 
 the very vermin of the earth ? as, nam'ely, the fitchet, the fulimart, 
 the ferret, the pole-cat, t he mould - warp, and the like creatures 
 
22 THE COMPLETE ANGLER. part i. 
 
 that live upon the face and within the bowels of the earth ! 
 How doth the earth bring forth herbs, flowers, and fruits, both 
 for physic and the pleasure of mankind ! and above all, to me 
 at least, the fruitful vine, of which, when I drink moderately, it 
 clears my brain, cheers my heart, and sharpens my wit. How 
 could Cleopatra have feasted Mark Antony, with eight wild 
 boars roasted whole at one supper, and other meat suitable, if 
 the earth had not been a bountiful mother ? But to pass by the 
 mighty elephant, which the earth breeds and nourisheth, and 
 descend to the least of creatures, how doth the earth afford us 
 a doctrinal example in the little pismire, who in the summer 
 provides and lays up her winter provision, and teaches man to 
 do the like ! The earth feeds and carries those horses that 
 carry us. If I would be prodigal of my time and your patience, 
 what might not I say in commendations of the earth ? that puts 
 limits to the proud and raging sea, and by that means preserves 
 both man and beast, that it destroys them not, as we see it daily 
 doth those that venture upon the sea, and are there^hipwrec^^, 
 drovvnedj and left to feed haddocks ; when we that are so wise 
 as to keep ourselves on the earth, walk, and talk, and live, and 
 eat, and drink, and go a-hunting : of which recreation I will say 
 a little, and then leave Mr. Piscator to the commendation of 
 angling. 
 
 Hunting ijg_;^ o-^amp {nr prinr^f^ ^yid nohl^ pprt;nn«=; ; it hath 
 
 been highly prized in all ages; it was one of the qualifications 
 thafXenophon bestowed on his Cyrus, that he was a hunter of 
 wild beasts. Hunting trains up the younger nobility to the 
 use of manly exercises in their riper age. What more manly 
 exercise than hunting the wild boar, the stag, the buck, the fox, 
 or the hare ? How doth it preserve health, and increase strength 
 and activity ! 
 
 And for the dogs that we use, who can commend their 
 excellency to that height which they deserve? How perfect 
 is the hound at smelling, who never leaves or forsakes his first 
 scent, but follows it through so many changes and varieties of 
 other scents, even over and in the water, and into the earth ! 
 What music doth a pack of dogs then make to any man, whose 
 
CHAP. I. THE FIRST DAY. 23 
 
 heart and ears are so happy as to be set to the tune of such 
 instruments ! How will a right greyhound fix his eye on the 
 best buck in a herd, single him out, and follow him, and him 
 only, through a whole herd of rascal game, and still know and 
 then kill him ! For my hounds, I know the language of them, 
 and they know the language and meaning of one another as 
 perfectly as we know the voices of those with whom we discourse 
 daily. 
 
 I might enlarge myself in the commendation of hunting, and 
 of the noble hound especially, as also of the docibleness of 
 dogs in general ; and I might make many observations of land 
 creatures, that for composition, order, figure, and constitution, 
 approach nearest to the completeness and understanding of 
 man; especially of those creatures which Moses in the law 
 permitted to the Jews, which have cloven hoofs, and chew the 
 cud ; which I shall forbear to name, because I will not be so 
 uncivil to Mr. Piscator, as not to allow him a time for the com- 
 mendation of angling, which he calls an art; but doubtless it is 
 an easy one ; and, Mr. Auceps, I doubt we shall hear a watery 
 dis £Durse of it, but I hope it will not be a long one. 
 
 Aug. And I hope so too, though I fear it will. 
 
 Pisc. Gentlemen, l et not pr ejudice prepossessyou. I confess 
 
 my discourse is like to prove suitable to my recreation, calm and 
 
 quiet ; we seldom take the name of God into our mouths but it is 
 
 either to praise him or pray to him ; if others use it vainly in the 
 
 midst of their recreations, so vainly as if they meant to conjure, 
 
 I must tell you it is neither our fault nor our custom ; we protest 
 
 against it. But pray remember, I accuse nobody ; for as I would 
 
 not make a " watery discourse," so I would not put too much 
 
 vinegar into it, nor would I j;akp th e reputation of mv o wn art 
 
 by-jjie ^iminution or ruin of ano ther's. And so much for the 
 
 *pxQlQ^uje to what I mean to say. 
 
 And now for the water, teh element t hat I trade in. The 
 t_ I - ■ 
 
 water is the eldest daughter of the creation, the element upon 
 which the SDJr lt of God did first move, the element which God 
 commanded to bring forth living creatures abundantly; and 
 without which, those that inhabit the land, even all creatures 
 
24 THE COMPLETE ANGLER. parti. 
 
 that have breath in their nostrils, must suddenly return to 
 putrefaction. Moses, the great lawgiver, and chief philosopher, 
 skilled in all the learning of the Egyptians, who was called the 
 friend of God, and knew the mind of the Almighty, names this 
 element the first in the creation ; this is the element upon which 
 the Spirit of God did first move, and is the chief ingredient in 
 the creation : many philosophers have made it to comprehend 
 all the other elements, and most allow it the chiefest in the 
 mixtion of all living creatures. 
 
 There be that profess to believe that all bodies are ma dejjf 
 water, and may be reduced back again to water only : they 
 endeavour to demonstrate it thus : 
 
 Take a willow, or any like speedy growing plant, newly rooted 
 in a box or barrel full of earth, weigh them all together exactly 
 when the tree begins to grow, and then weigh all together after 
 the tree is increased from its first rooting, to weigh a hundred 
 pound weight more than when it was first rooted and weighed ; 
 and you shall find this augment of the tree to be without the 
 diminution of one drachm weight of the earth. Hence they 
 infer this increase of wood to be from water of rain, or from 
 dew, and not to be from any other element. And they affirm 
 they can reduce this wood back again to water; and they affirm 
 also the same may be done in any animal or vegetable. And 
 this I take to be a fair testimony of the excellency of my element 
 of water. 
 
 T he water is m or^ pf^dprfivp f\^^x) ^^^^-^-^^^^-^ Nay, the earth 
 hath no fruitfulness without showers or dews ; for all the herbs 
 and flowers and fruit are produced, and thriye by the water; 
 and the very minerals are fed by streams that run uf]nd€4:^round, 
 whose natural course carries them to the tops of maiiy^kigh 
 mountains, as we see by several springs breaking forth ^tB 
 tops of the highest hills ; and this is also witnessed by the daily 
 trial and testimony of several miners. 
 
 Nay, the increase of those creatures that are bred and fed in 
 the water is not only more and more miraculous, but more 
 advantageous to man, not only for the lengthening of his life, 
 but for preventing of sickness, for it is observed by the most 
 
CHAP. I. THE FIRST DAY, 25 
 
 learned physicians, that the casting- off of Lent and other fish 
 dayspwKich hath not only given the He to so many learned, ^^ 
 piousTwise founder s of coll eges, for which we should be ashamed, jjt. 
 hatF"crou btress~T3een the ~cFieF"ca use of those many putrid, Z. ^ 
 shajkmg , mtermitting ai^^ues. unto which this nation of ours is ^ J?U^ 
 now more subject than thnsp. wiser countries that feed on lierbs, 
 salad s^and plenty of fish ; ofjudikh it is observed in story, ^at 
 the gr eatest part of the wo rld now do. And it may be fit to 
 reinem Ger th at_ Moses appQir>ted_n sh to be the chief diet for the 
 best c ommon wealth J hat evet yetwas. 
 
 TtncTit is observable, not only that there are fish, as, namely, 
 the whale, three times as big as the mighty elephant, that is so 
 fierce in battle, but that the mightiest feasts have been of fish. 
 The Romansjji the height of their glory have made fish the 
 mistress of all their entertainments; Thi^y have~ted" nriTSTr to 
 usftgrTrTlheir stur geons, lampreys, and mullets, whic h_ they 
 would~purchase at jates rather to be wondered at than believed. 
 He^ltlaT^haTlT^vTew the writings of Macrobius or Varro may be 
 confirmed and informed of this, and of the incredible value of 
 their fish and fish-ponds. 
 
 But, gentlemen, I have al mncit Ingf myc^pl f. which I co nfess I 
 may ensily do in this philosop hical d iscourse^ I met with most 
 of it very lately, ancf I hope happily, in a conference with a 
 most learned physician. Dr. Wharton, a dear friend, that loves 
 both me and my art of angling. But, however, I will wade no 
 deeper in these mysterious arguments, but pass to such observa- 
 tions as I can manage with more pleasure, and less fear of 
 running into error. But I must not yet forsake the waters, by 
 whose help we have so many known advantages. 
 
 And first, to pass by the miraculous cures of our known 
 baths, how advantageous is the sea for our daily traffic, 
 without which we could not now subsist ! How does it not 
 only furnish us with food and physic for the bodies, but with 
 such observations for the mind as ingenious persons would 
 not want 1 
 
 How ignorant had we been of the beauty of Florence, of the 
 monuments, urns, and rarities that yet remain in and near unto 
 
26 THE COMPLETE ANGLER. part i. 
 
 old and new Rome, so many as it is said will take up a year's 
 time to view, and afford to each of them but a convenient con- 
 sideration ! And therefore it is not to be wondered at that so 
 learned and devout a father as St. Jerome, after his wish to 
 have seen Christ in the flesh, and to have heard St. Paul 
 preach, makes his third wish, to have seen Rome in her glory ; 
 and that glory is not yet all lost, for what pleasure is it to see 
 the monuments of Livy, the choicest of the historians; of Tully, 
 the best of orators ; and to see the bay-trees that now grow out 
 of the very tomb of Virgil ! These, to any that love learning, 
 must be pleasing. But what pleasure is it to a devout Christian 
 to see there the humble house in which St. Paul was content to 
 ^ P^^^-dwell, and to view the many rich statues that are made in 
 'U^/^ honour of his memory ! nay, to see the very place in which St. 
 ^ Peter and he lie buried together ! These are in and near to 
 
 Rome. And how much more doth it please the pious curiosity 
 of a Christian to see that place on which the blessed Saviour of 
 the world was pleased to humble himself, and to take our nature 
 upon him, and to converse with men : to see Mount Zion, Jeru- 
 salem, and the very sepulchre of our Lord Jesus ? How may it 
 beget and heighten the zeal of a Christian to see the devotions 
 that are daily paid to him at that place ! Ge ntlemen, le st I 
 forget myself I will stopji et'e and remp-mbpr ynu jKhat but for 
 my element ot water, the inhabitants_Qf jhis po or island must 
 rgmain_Jgn orant that suc h t hmgs^ e yer were, or tha. t any of 
 tla em have yet a be ing. 
 
 Gentlemen, I might both enlarge and lose myself in such-like 
 arguments ; I might tell you that Almighty God is said to have 
 spoken to a fish but never to a beast ; that he hath made a 
 whale a ship to carry, and set his prophet Jonah safe on the 
 appointed shore. Of these I might speak, but I must in man- 
 ners break off, for I see Theobald's house. I cry youx^ra^Ycy for 
 being so long, and thank you for your patience. 
 ^ Auc. Sir, my pardon is easily granted you : I except against 
 nothing that you have said ; nevertheless I must part with you 
 at this park wall, for which I am very sorry; but I assure you, 
 Mr. Piscator, I now part with you full of good thoughts, not 
 
CHAP. I. THE FIRST DAY. 27 
 
 only of yourself, but your recreation. And so, gentlemen, God 
 keep you both. 
 
 PiSC. Well now, Mr. Venator, you shall neither want time 
 nor my attention to hear you enlarge your discourse concerning 
 hunting. . 
 
 Ven. Not I, sir : I remember you said that angling itself was 
 of great antiquity and a perfect art, and an art not easily attained 
 to ; and you have so won upon me in your former discourse, that 
 I am. v ery desirous to h ear whRt y^" ^^" ^^y ^^^<->'p^ rnnrprnino- 
 tho ae particu lars. 
 
 PiSC. Sir, I did say so : and I doubt not but if you and I did 
 converse together but a few hours, to leave you possessed with 
 the same high and happy thoughts that now possess me of it ; 
 not only of the antiquity of angling, but that it deserves com- 
 mendations ; and that it is an art, and an art worthy the know- 
 ledge and practice of a wise man. 
 
 Ven. Pray, sir, speak of them what you think fit, for we have 
 yet five miles to the Thatched House ; during which walk I 
 dare promise you my patience and diligent attention shall not 
 be wanting. And if you shall make that to appear which you 
 have undertaken — first that it is an art, and an art, worth 
 t he learning, I sha l l beg that I may attend you a day o r two 
 a-fishing, and th at I may become your scholar and be in^^ ructed 
 in the art its elt which voi ^^ m^](^h niagnify 
 
 PisC. U sir, doubt not that angling is an art. Is it not an 
 art to deceive a trout with an artificial fly ? a trout ! that is 
 more sharp-sighted than any hawk you have named, and more 
 watchful and timorous than your high-mettled merlin is bold ; 
 and yet I doubt not to catch a brace or two to-morrow for a y 
 friend's breakfast ; — doubt not, therefore, sir, but that angling is ^^ y 
 an art, and an art worth your learning. The question is rathe r^ k Ah 
 whether you be capable of learning it? for angling is somew hat jlj\. 
 like'peetfyy42ierLarje_ta_be_bon^ : jjnean ^with inclinations t o it, f \J^ 
 thaugh both may be heightened by discourse and practice : but [ ^ 
 hejhat hopes-to-be a good angler, must not onlyBnng an mquiring, \ 
 searching, observing wit, but he must bring a large measure of \ 
 h ppe^ nd^patjfince, and a^qve andLpropensi ty to the a rt itself- *^-- 
 
28 THE COMPLETE ANGLER. part i. 
 
 but having once got and practised it, then doubt not but angling 
 will prove to be so pleasant, that it will prove to be like virtue, 
 a reward to itself. 
 
 Ven. Sir, I am now become so full of expectation, that 
 I long much to have you proceed ; and in the order you 
 propose. 
 
 PiSC. Then first, for the antiquity of angling, of which I shall 
 not say much, but only this : some say it is as ancient as 
 Deucalion's flood; others, that Belus, who was the first inventor 
 of godly and virtuous recreations, was the first inventor of 
 angling; and some others say, for former times have had 
 their disquisitions about the antiquity of it, that Seth, one of the 
 sons of Adam, taught it to his sons, and that by them it was 
 derived to posterity: others say, that he left it engraven on 
 those pillars which he erected, and trusted to preserve the 
 knowledge of the mathematics, music, and the rest of that 
 precious knowledge and those useful arts which by God's 
 appointment or allowance and his noble industry, were thereby 
 preserved from perishing in Noah's flood. 
 
 These, Sir, have been the opinions of several men that have 
 possibly endeavoured to make angling more ancient than is 
 needful, or may well be warranted; but for my part, I shall 
 content myself in teUing you, that angling is much more ancient 
 than the Incarnation of our Saviour; for in the prophet Amos 
 mention is made of fish-hooks ; and in the book of Job, which 
 was long before the days of Amos, for that book is said to be 
 writ by Moses, mention is made also of fish-hooks, which must 
 imply anglers in those times. 
 
 But, my worthy friend, as L_would rather prove myself a 
 gentleman, by being learned and humble, valiant and inotlen-" 
 sive, virtuous and communicable, than by any fond ostentation " 
 of riches; or, wanting those virtues myself, boast that these 
 were in my ancestors (and yet I grant that where a no ble and_ 
 ancient descent, and such merit meet in any man, it is a double 
 digniJTcation of that person) ; so if this antiquitv i ]t£~aaglimr. 
 which f or my p art T h?fvp not fprrfj, ^^^^^, li^'^ a^ ancient 
 faqailya-be either an honour or an ornament tojLhis virtuous art 
 
CHAP. I. THE FIRST DAY. 29 
 
 which I profess to love and practise, I gTTalt" bL the gla dder that 
 I made an accidental mention of d ieanticj uity of it, of^ which I 
 shall say no rn gre, but proceed to That just commendation which 
 I think it deserves. 
 
 And for that, I shall tell you, that in ancient times a debate 
 hath ""arTsetTPand it~l-¥mains^tunresoIve^r whether the Tiappi- 
 ne^si'DTmaiTinThis world doth consist more in contemp lation or 
 act^n ? 
 
 Concerning which some have endeavoured to maintain their 
 opinion of the first ; by saying, that the nearer we mortals come 
 to God by way of imitation, the more happy we are. And they 
 say that God enjoys himself only, by a contemplation of his own 
 infiniteness, eternity, power, and goodness, and the like. And 
 upon this ground, many cloisteral men of great learning and 
 devotion, prefer contemplation before action. And many of the 
 fathers seem to approve this opinion, as may appear in their 
 commentaries upon the words of our Saviour to Martha (Luke 
 X. 41, 42). 
 
 And on the contrary, there want not men of equal authority 
 and credit, tha t prefer action to be the more excelle nt ; as 
 namely, e xperiments in physic, and tJlc LtiWH'^aLiun uT jk both for 
 the ease and prolonoa iign of m ^ri'^^ hff> ; hy whirh f^rh man is 
 en^hlpd to -irf nnd do good ^ o others, either to serve^ is country 
 or do good to particular persons. And they say also that action 
 is doctrinal, and teaches both art and virtue, and is a maintainer 
 of human society; and for these, and other like reasons, to be 
 preferred before contemplation. 
 
 Concerning which two opinions, I shall forbear to add a thi rd, \ 
 by declaring my own ; and rest myself contented in telling you, 
 my very worthy friend, that _ both tlgese meet together, and do 
 most properly belong to the most J ianp^t, ing^^pjous. quiet,^ nd 
 harmless aj l of anglin g. 
 
 And first,.! shall tell you what some have observed, and I 
 have found it to be a real truth, that the very sitting by the 
 river's side is not only the quietest and fittest place for contem- 
 plation, but will invite an angler to it: and this seems to be 
 maintained by the learned Peter Du Moulin, who, in his dis- 
 
30 THE COMPLETE ANGLER. part i. 
 
 course of the fulfilling of prophecies, observes, that when God 
 intended to reveal any future events or high notions to his 
 prophets, he then carried them either to the deserts or the sea- 
 shore, that having so separated them from amidst the press of 
 people and business, and the cares of the world, he might settle 
 their minds in a quiet repose, and there make them fit for 
 revelation. 
 
 And this seems also to be intimated by the Children of Israel 
 (Psal. cxxxvii.), who, having in a sad condition banished all 
 mirth and music from their pensive hearts, and having hung up 
 their then mute harps upon the willow-trees growing by the 
 rivers of Babylon, sat down upon these banks bemoaning the 
 ruins of Sion, and contemplating their own sad condition. 
 
 And an ingenious Spaniard says, thatJ'rwiers. and the in- 
 ■habi tants of tVip wa^<^M' '^^^^^^^^^ werenj^dfi-iiui-is^se men to 
 cojitprnpl ate and fools to p ass^y witJiout considera tion." And 
 though I will not rank myself in the number of the first, yet give 
 me leave to free myself from the last, by offering to you a short 
 contemplation, first of rivers and then of fish ; concerning which 
 I doubt not but to give you many observations that will appear 
 very considerable : I am sure they have appeared so to me, and 
 made many an hour to pass away more pleasantly, as I have sat 
 quietly on a flowery bank by a calm river, and contemplated 
 what I shall now relate to you. 
 
 And first, concerning rivers : there be so many wonders re- 
 ported and written of them, and of the several creatures that be 
 bred and live in them ; and those by authors of so good credit, 
 that we need not to deny them an historical faith. 
 
 As namely of a river in Epirus, that puts out any lighted 
 torch, and kindles any torch that was not lighted. Some waters 
 being drank cause madness, some drunkenness, and some 
 laughter to death. The river Selarus in a few hours turns a 
 rod or wand to stone ; and our Camden mentions the like in 
 England, and the like in Lochmere in Ireland. There is also a 
 river in Arabia, of which all the sheep that drink thereof have 
 their wool turned into a vermilion colour. And one of no less 
 credit than Aristotle tells us of a merry river, the river Elusina, 
 
CHAP. I. THE FIRST DAY. 31 
 
 that dances at the noise of music, for with music it bubbles, 
 dances, and grows sandy, and so continues till the music ceases, 
 but then it presently returns to its wonted calmness and clear- 
 ness. And Camden tells us of a well near to Kirby in West- 
 moreland, that ebbs and flows several times every day : and he 
 tells us of a river in Surrey, it is called Mole, that after it has 
 run several miles, being opposed by hills, finds or makes itself 
 a way under ground, and breaks out again so far off, that the 
 inhabitants thereabout boast, as the Spaniards do of their river 
 Anus, that they feed divers flocks of sheep upon a bridge. And 
 lastly, for I would not tire your patience, one of no less authority 
 than Josephus, that learned Jew, tells us of a river in Judea that 
 runs swiftly all the six days of the week, and stands still and 
 rests all their sabbath. 
 
 But I will lay aside my discourse of rivers, and tell you some 
 things of the monsters, or fish, call them what you will, that 
 they breed and feed in them. Pliny, the philosopher, says, in 
 the third chapter of his ninth book, that irrthe Indian Sea, the 
 fish called balcena or whirlpool, is so long and broad as to take 
 up more in length and breadth than two acres of ground ; and 
 of other fish of two hundred cubits long; and that, in the river 
 Ganges, there be eels of thirty feet long. He says there, that 
 these monsters appear in the sea only when tempestuous winds 
 oppose the torrents of water falling from the rocks into it, and 
 so turning what lay at the bottom to be seen on the water's top. 
 And he says that the people of Cadara, an island near this place, 
 make the timber for their houses of those fish-bones. He there 
 tells us that there are sometimes a thousand of these great eels 
 found wrapt or interwoven together. He tells us there that it 
 appears that dolphins love music, and will come when called 
 for, by some men or boys that know, and use to feed them; 
 and that they can swim as swift as an arrow can be shot out of 
 a bow; and much of this is spoken concerning the dolphin, and 
 other fish, as may be found also in the learned Dr. Casaubon's 
 Discourse of Credulity a?td l7tcred ulily^ printed, by him about 
 the year 1670. 
 
 I know^gj skind o ro ar e averse to tht bditf uf tliuijo wondorg .; 
 
32 THE COMPLETE ANGLER. part i. 
 
 but there be so many strange creatures to be now seen, many 
 collected by John Tradescant, and others added by my friend 
 Elias Ashmole, Esq., who now keeps them carefully and 
 methodically at his house near to Lambeth near London, as 
 may get some belief of some of the other wonders I mentioned. 
 I will tell you some of the wonders that you may now see, and 
 not till then believe, unless you think fit. 
 
 You may see the hog-fish, the dog-fish, the dolphin, the 
 coney- fish, the parrot-fish, the shark, the poison-fish, sword-fish, 
 and not only other incredible fish, but you may there see the 
 salamander, several sorts of barnacles, and Solan geese, the 
 bird of Paradise, such sorts of snakes, and such birds'-nests, 
 and of so various forms, and so wonderfully made, as may 
 beget wonder and amusement in any beholder : and so many 
 hundred of other rarities in that collection, as will make the 
 other wonders I spake of the less incredible ; for you may note 
 that the waters are nature's store-house, in which she locks up 
 her wonders. * 
 
 But, sir, lest this discourse may seem tedious, I shall give it a 
 sweet conclusion out of that holy poet Mr, George Herbert his 
 divine Co7ttemplatioji on God^s Providence. 
 
 *' Lord, who hath praise enough; nay, who hath any? 
 None can express thy works but lie that knows them; 
 And none can know thy works, they are so many, 
 And so complete, but only he that owes them. 
 
 We all ack no v\ ledge both thy power and love 
 
 To be exact, transcendent, and divine; 
 Who dost so strongly and so sweetly move, 
 
 Whilst all things have their end, yet none but thine. 
 
 Wherefore, most sacred Spiiit, I here present, 
 For me, and all my fellows, praise to thee; 
 
 And just it is that I should pay the rent, 
 Because the benefit accrues to me." 
 
 And as concerning fish, in that psalm (Psalm civ.) wherein, 
 for height of poetry and wonders, the prophet David seems 
 even to exceed himself; how doth he there express himself in 
 
CHAP. I. THE FIRST DAY. 33 
 
 choice metaphors, even to the amazement of a contemplative 
 reader, concerning the sea, the rivers, and the fish therein 
 contained ! And the great naturaHst, PHny, says, *' that nature's 
 great and wonderful power is more demonstrated in the sea 
 than on the land." And this may appear by the numerous and 
 various creatures inhabiting both in and about that element; as 
 to the readers of Gesner, Rondeletius, Pliny, Ausonius, Aristotle, 
 and others, may be demonstrated. But I will sweeten this 
 discourse also out of a contemplation in divine Du Bartas (in 
 the fifth day), who says : — 
 
 *' God quicken'tl in the sea, and in the rivers. 
 So many fishes of so many features, 
 That in the waters we mny see all crentures, 
 Even all that on the earth are to be found, 
 As if the wo rld wer e in deejp waters drown'd. 
 For seas — as well as skies — have sun, moon, stars; 
 As well as air — swallows, rooks, and stares; 
 As well as earth — vines, roses, nettles, melon--, 
 * Mushrooms, pinks, gilliflowers, and many millions 
 Of other plants, more rare, more strange than these, 
 As very fishes, living in the seas ; 
 As also rams, calves, horses, hares, and hogs, 
 Wolves, urchins, lions, elephants, and dogs; 
 Yea, men and maids; and, which I most admire, 
 The mitredJbisfiop^TTd-thexov5ded"fftar"; " 
 OFwhich, examples, but a few years since, 
 Were shown the Norway and Polonian Prince." 
 
 These seem to be wonders, but have had so many confirma- 
 tions from men of learning and credit, that you need not doubt 
 them; nor are the number, nor the various shapes of fishes, 
 jnore strange or more fit for contemplation than their different 
 natures, inclinations, and actions ; concerning which I shall beg 
 your patient ear a little longer. 
 
 The cuttle-fish will cast a long gut out of her throat, which, 
 like as an angler doth his line, she sendeth forth and pulleth in 
 again at her pleasure, according as she sees some little fish come 
 iiear to her; and the cuttle-fish, being then hid in the gravel, 
 
 3 
 
34 THE COMPLETE ANGLER. part i. 
 
 lets the smaller fish nibble and bite the end of it, at which time 
 she by little and little draws the smaller fish so near to her that 
 she may leap upon her, and then catches and devours her : and 
 for this reason some have called this fish the sea-angler. 
 
 And there is a fish called a hermit, that at a certain age gets 
 into a dead fish's shell, and like a hermit dwells there alone, 
 studying the wind and weather, and so turns her shell, that she 
 makes it defend her from the injuries that they would bring 
 upon her. 
 
 There is also a fish called, by ^lian, in his ninth book of 
 Livi7tg Creatures^ chap. i6, the Adonis, or darling of the sea; 
 so called because it is a loving and innocent fish, a fish that 
 hurts nothing that hath life, and is at peace with all the 
 numerous inhabitants of that vast watery element : and truly 
 I think most anglers are so disposed to most of mankind. 
 
 And there are also lustful and chaste fishes, of which I shall 
 give you examples. 
 
 And first Du Bartas says of a fish called the sargus; which 
 because none can express it better than he does, I shall give 
 you in his own words ; supposing it shall not have the less 
 credit for being in verse ; for he hath gathered this and other 
 observations out of authors that have been great and indus- 
 trious searchers into the secrets of nature. 
 
 The adulterous sargus dolh not only change 
 Wives every day, in the deep streams, but, strange, 
 As if the honey of sea-love delight 
 J^ Could not suffice his raging appetite, 
 
 \^ y Goes courting she-goats on the grassy shore, 
 
 Horning their husbands that had horns before." 
 
 And the same author writes concerning the cantharus that 
 which you shall also hear in his own words : — 
 
 t^j^ 
 
 %&. 
 
 But, contrary, the constant cantharus 
 Is ever constant to his faithful spouse; 
 
 / 
 
 " > In nuptial duties spending his chaste Hfc; 
 Never loves any but his own dear wife." 
 
 Sir, but a little longer, and I have done. 
 
CHAP. I. THE FIRST DAY. 35 
 
 Ven. Sir, take what liberty you think fit, for your discourse 
 seems to be music, and charms me to an attention. 
 
 PiSC. Why then, sir, I will take a liberty to tell, or rather 
 to remember you what is said of turtle-doves : first, that they 
 silently plight their troth, and marry; and that then the sur- 
 vivor scorns, as the Thracian women are said to do, to outlive 
 his or her mate, and this is taken for a truth; and if the sur- 
 vivor shall ever couple with another, then not only the living 
 but the dead, be it either the he or the she, is denied the name 
 and honour of a true turtle-dove. 
 
 And to parallel this land-rarity, and teach mankind moral 
 fakbM aess, and to condemn those that talko?^7eTi^ioi; i, and 
 yet come f=;1inrf nf \} \e moral faith of fish and fowl ; men that 
 violate the law affirmed by St. Paul (Rom. ii. 14, 15), to be writ 
 in their hearts, and which he says shall at the last day condemn 
 and leave them without excuse ; I pray hearken to what Du 
 Bartas sings, for the hearing of such conjugal faithfulness will 
 be music to all chaste ears, and therefore I pray hearken to 
 what Du Bartas sings of the mullet. 
 
 ^¥^ 
 
 "But for chaste love the Mullet hath no peer ; 
 For if the fisher hath surprised her pheer, 
 
 As mad with woe to shore she followeth, ^^"^t^A/ 
 
 Prest to consort him both in life and death." 
 
 On the contrary, what shall I say of the house-cock, which 
 treads any hen, and then, contrary to the swan, the partridge, 
 and pigeon, takes no care to hatch, to feed or to cherish his 
 own brood, but is senseless, though they perish. 
 
 And it is considerable that the hen, which, because she also 
 takes any cock, expects it not, who is sure the chickens be her 
 own, hath by a moral impression her care and affection to her 
 own brood more than doubled, even to such a height that our 
 Saviour, in expressing his love to Jerusalem (Matt, xxiii. ^^y), 
 quotes her for an example of tender affection ; as his Father 
 had done Job for a pattern of patience. 
 
 And to parallel this cock, there be divers fishes that cast 
 their spawn on flags or stones, and then leave it uncovered and 
 
36 THE COMPLETE ANGLER. part i. 
 
 exposed to become a prey and be devoured by vermin, or other 
 fishes; but other fishes, as namely the barbel, take such care 
 for the preservation of their seed, that unlike to the cock or the 
 cuckoo, they mutually labour, both the spawner and the melter, 
 to cover the spawn with sand, or watch it, or hide it in some 
 secret place, unfrequented by vermin or any fish but them- 
 selves. 
 
 Sir, these examples may to you and others seem strange, but 
 they are testified, some by Aristotle, some by Pliny, some by 
 Gesner, and by many others of credit ; and are believed and 
 known by divers both of wisdom and experience, to be a truth ; 
 and indeed are, as I said at the beginning-, fit for the contem- 
 plation of a most serious and a most pious man. And doubt- 
 less this made the prophet David say, " They that occupy 
 themselves in deep waters see the wonderful works of God : " 
 indeed such wonders and pleasures too, as the land affords 
 not. 
 
 And that tlieybe fit for the contemplation ofth^ m^'^^^^ prudent 
 ati d pious and peaceable men, seems to be testifie d by the 
 p rnrtirf^ pf so many d f ^^o'^t n^d rnnt^"''p1^<^i'^<^ '''if ^n, ^'^ the 
 patriarchs and prophets of old ; and of the apostles of our 
 Saviour in our latter times, of which twelve, we are sure he 
 c hose fon r \]inf vvpi-p gin iple fishp rmpp^^w|-inm he inspired and 
 cf^ni^ tr> piiKijc^i-^ 4^ic; ]-^]^c|c;pr| will tn thf^ Gentilcs ; aud i nspired 
 them also with^ ^ power to speak all languap-es, and by their 
 pow^erful el oo-u^^icfi , to beget faith in the u pb^hf^ving Jpw<; ; and 
 K themselves to suffer for that Saviour w^hom their forefathers and 
 ^ they had crucified ; and, in their sufferings, to preach freedom 
 "^ '\ from the encumbrances of the law, and a new way to everlasting 
 ^1^^ life: this was the employment of these happy fishermen. Con- 
 
 X^' 
 
 ^\ ^ cerning which choice some have made these observations. 
 
 ^ . / First, That he never reproved these for their employment 
 
 ' / or callmg as he did scribes and the money-changers. And 
 
 \J secondly, he found that the hearts of such men by nature were 
 
 -f fitted for contemplation and quietness ; men of mild, and sweet, 
 
 X. and peaceable spirits, as indeed most anglers are : these men 
 our blessed Saviour, who is observed to love to plant grace in 
 
CHAP. I. THE FIRST DAY. 37 
 
 good natures, though indeed nothing be too hard for him ; yet 
 these men he chose to call from their irreprovable employment 
 of fishing, and gave them grace to be his disciples, and to 
 follow him and do wonders. I y^y fnnr of ^welye. 
 
 And it is observable, t hat it was our Savr ouys_wiJl that these 
 our fnnr ti'^hprnTft Tp<d^TiTrl have a pri ority of nomiiiationjn^the 
 catalogue^^Jiis^ tweh'e apostles (Matt, x. 2, _Act_s_2^3) ; as 
 namelyTfirst^ St. Pejer^ St^ Andrew, St. James^ and St. John, 
 a'hdlh'en the _rjsst_.in, their orderT ' 
 
 And it is yet more observa ble, that when ouj'. bk^S^J, J^^^JQ^^' 
 w ent up m t o the mount \vhen he left the res t of his disci ples 
 an d chose only three to be arhimc qmpany at his transfigurati on , 
 tli at thos e three we re^ all fish ermen. And it is to be believed, 
 tl^at- ^ the other apostles, after they betook themselves toid llow 
 ^lljirist; bet ook them selvpfi tn bp ^sher men too ; for it is certain 
 that the greater number of them were found together fishing by 
 Jesus after his Resurrection, as it is recorded in the 21st chapter 
 of St. John's Gospel, ver. 3 and 4. 
 
 And since I have your promise to hear me with patience, I 
 will take the liberty to look back upon an observation that hath 
 been made by an ingenious and learned man, who observes that 
 God hath been pleased to allow those whom he himself hath 
 appointed to write his holy will in holy writ, yet to express his 
 will in such metaphors as their former affections or practice 
 had inclined them to ; and he brings Solomon fo£jLli_£xainple, 
 whoJjefoiaJiis conver gioa was reinaikably^cajn ally-- amoroiis ; 
 and after, by God's appointment, wrote that spiritual dialogue, 
 or holy amorous lov e- song, the Canticl e s, betwixt God and his ^^^K^ 
 
 "^ Jm ilJ' i i^^' . which ho oay p , hj^ ^^^C'Y^jLJ'^g^^y^f^ J' ^^ ^^^ ^^ ^^~ aA*^ 
 pools o£ Hes hbon . ^'^H 
 
 Ancl if this Iiold in reason, as I see none to the contrary, then 
 it may be probably concluded that Moses, who I told you before 
 writ the book of Job, and the prophet Amos, who was a shepherd, 
 were both anglers; for you shall, in all the Old Testament find 
 fsh-hooks, I think, but twice mentioned: namely, by meek 
 Moses, the friend of God, and by the humble prophet Amos. 
 Concerning which last, namely, the prophet Amos, I shall make 
 
 A 
 
38 THE COMPLETE ANGLER. part i. 
 
 but this observation ;abAt-h £_that shall read the humble. lowly, 
 plaki ^yle of that p roghet, and compare4twit h the h igh, glorious, 
 ej bquent styl& -Q£,the jTophet Isaia h (though lliey botlTbeequally 
 true), may easily believe Amos to be. not oftlv a . s l^epJTfvrcl rbl^ ^ ^ 
 good-natured, plain fish erman. Which I do the rather believe, 
 "by comparing the aflfertionnte ^ lovino-^ Inwlv^ humble epistles of 
 St Peter, St. James, and St. John ^ -wKo^^wCjnow^^fwere all 
 fishers, with lEe^glorTous l anguage a ndhi^h metaph o rs of St . 
 P^LiiL^-MJ lom we may belie ve^aS noT ' " 
 
 A^d for the lawfulness of fishing: it may very well be 
 maintained by our^ Saviou?s~l 3iddiiig St. Peter cast his hook 
 into the water and catch a fish, for money to pay tribute to 
 Caesar. 
 
 And let me tell you that angling is of high esteem and much 
 use in other nations. He that reads the voyages of Ferdinand 
 Mendez Pinto shall find that there he declares to have found a 
 king and several priests a-fishing. 
 
 And he that reads Plutarch shall find that angling was not 
 contemptible in the days of Mark Anthony and Cleopatra, and 
 that they, in the midst of their wonderful glory, used angling 
 as a principal recreation. And let me tell you, that in the 
 Scripture angling is always taken in the best sense, and that 
 though hunting may be sometimes so taken, yet it is but seldom 
 to be so understood. And let me add this more, he that views 
 the ancient ecclesiastical canons shall find hunting to be for- 
 bidden to churchmen, as being a turbulent, toilsome, perplexing 
 recreation ; and shall find angling allowed to clergymen, as being 
 a harmless recreation — a recreation that invites them to con- 
 templation and quietness. 
 
 I might here enlarge myself by telling you what commenda- 
 tions our learned Perkins bestows on angling: and how dear 
 a lover, and great a practiser of it our learned Doctor Whittaker 
 was, as indeed many others of great learning have been. But I 
 will content myself with two memorable men, that lived near tG 
 our own time, whom I also take to have been ornaments to the 
 art of angling. 
 
 The first is Doctor Nowel, some time Dean of the Cathedral 
 
CHAP. I. THE FIRST DAY. 39 
 
 Church of St. Paul's in London, where his monument stands 
 yet undefaced : a man that in the reformation of Queen 
 Elizabeth, not that of Henry VHL, was so noted for his meek 
 spirit, deep learning, prudence, and piety, that the then Parlia- 
 ment and Convocation both, chose, enjoined, and trusted him 
 to be the man to make a catechism for public use, such a one 
 as should stand as a rule for faith and manners to their 
 posterity. And the good old man, though he was very learned, 
 yet knowing that God leads us not to Heaven by many nor by 
 hard questions, like an honest angler, made that good, plain, 
 unperplexed catechism, which is printed with our good old 
 service-book. I say, this good old man was a dear lover and 
 constant practiser of angling, as any age can produce : and his 
 custom was to spend, besides his fixed hours of prayer (those 
 hours which, by command of the church, were enjoined the 
 clergy, and voluntarily dedicated to devotion by many primitive 
 Christians) ; T, nnvj b eside those hours, this good man was 
 nh^prvpri fn <;pf>nf1 ^^ tpn th part of his time in angTing; and 
 also, for I have conversed with those which have conver sed 
 with him, tcTBesfow'a tenth part of his revenue, and usually all 
 hisUsh, amongst the poor that inhabited near to those rivers in 
 which it was caught; saying often, "that charity gave life to 
 religion:" and, at his return to his house, would praise God he 
 had spent that day free from worldly trouble ; both harmlessly, 
 and in recreation that became a churchman. And this_good 
 man was well content, if not desirous, that posterity should 
 know he was an angler; as may appear by bis picture, now to 
 be^leenilanj^caiefully kept, in Brazen-nose College; to which 
 he vvias-ar-hberaLB enetac tor. In which picture he was drawn, 
 leajimg_on^a_deskj_with his Bible before him, and on one hand 
 of hmi^hisjin^ hooks, and other tacklin 
 a nd on his ot her hand are 
 bjc^themjihis^ls written 
 aged 95 years, 44 of which he had been Dean of St. Paul's 
 Church; and"that his age had neither impaired his hearing,'nor 
 dimmed his eyes, nor weakened his memory, nor made any of 
 the faculties of his mind _ weak or useless." 'Tis said that 
 
 and other tackling lying in a round; >4 AJ 
 re his angle-rods of several sorts :_and vf^ 
 , "That he died 13 Feb. 1601, being ^0 7^ 
 
40 THE COMPLETE ANGLER. part i. 
 
 angling and temperance were great causes of these blessings, 
 and I wish the like to all that imitate him, and love the memory 
 of so good a man. 
 
 My next and last example ^ hnll ho. that nr>df;|--Y^ J n pr of 
 monevr the late prov ost r>f Kton Colleg;e^^ r Henr yjA^otton — a 
 man with whom T h^ve. n ft pn fiffhpd nr| H conveli gfedj a man 
 whose foreign employments in the service of this nation, and 
 wnose experience, learning, wit, and cheerfulness, made his 
 company to be esteemed one of the delights of mankind: this 
 man, whose very approbation of angling were sufficient to 
 convince any modest censurer of it, this man was also a most 
 dear lover, and a frequent practiser of the art of angling; of 
 which he would say, "'Twas an employment for his idle time, 
 which was then not idly spent:" for angling was, "after tedious 
 study, a rest to his mind, a cheerer of his spirits, a diverter of 
 sadness, a calmer of unquiet thoughts, a moderator of passions, 
 a procurer of contentedness:" and "that it begat habits of 
 peace and patience in those that professed and practised it." 
 Indeed, mv'fnonrlj ynn will find nnolinrr I^' Tt^TI^ tlTf^jv ^^ of 
 . humility^ wh ich has a calmness '^f "^pj^it, and fi ^^'^^^'^^ of other 
 blessings attending upon it. Sir, this was the saying of that 
 learned man. 
 
 And I do easily believe, that peace and patience, and a calm 
 content, did cohabit in the cheerful heart of Sir Henry Wotton ; 
 because I knowjLhaOvhen he was beyond sevent y years of ag e, 
 he made this descriptijon of a part of the pre sent pleasure that 
 possessed him, as he sat^quietly ni a sunxmer 's evening^ o n 
 ^..Jbank a-fishmg. It is a description of the spring; which 
 because it ghded as soft and sweetly from his pen, as that river 
 does at this time, by which it was then made, I shall repeat it 
 unto you: — 
 
 This day dame Nature seem'd in love; 
 p Tiie lusty sap began to move ; 
 
 ^^i Fresh juice did stir th' embracing vines; 
 
 
 And birds had drawn their valentines 
 The jealous trout, that low did lie, 
 Rose at a well-dissembled fly ; 
 
CHAP. I. THE FIRST DAY. 4 1 
 
 There slood my friend, wiih patient skill, 
 Attending of his trembling quill; 
 Already were the eaves possess'd 
 With the swift pilgrim's daubed nest ; 
 The groves already did rejoice 
 In Philomel's triumphing voice, 
 The showers were short, the weather mild, 
 The morning fresh, the evening smiled. 
 
 Jq an takes her neat-rubbed pail, and n ow 
 Sh e^ trips to milk t he sand-red cow ; 
 Where, for some sturdy f oot-ball sw ain, 
 Jo an"sTfokes a svlTabuFor twa in. 
 The fieldsand gardens were tte set 
 With tulip, crocus, violet; 
 And now^Jhough late, the modest rose 
 D mjmorethan ha TTa^btTTsh disclose. 
 
 Thus all looks gay and full of cheer, 
 To w'elcome the new-liveried year." 
 
 These were the thoughts that then possessed the undisturbed 
 mind of Sir Henry Wotton. Will you hear the wish of another 
 angler, and the commendation of his happy life, which he also 
 sings in versei' — viz., Jo. Davors, Esq.: — 
 
 " Let me live harmlessly; and near the brink 
 
 Of Trent or Avon have a dwelling-place. 
 Where I may see my quill or cork down sink 
 
 With eager bite of perch, or bleak, or dace; 
 And on the world and my Creator think: 
 
 Whilst som e men strive ill-gotte n goods t' embrac e. 
 And others spend their time in base excess ^f^^'^^''^-'^^ 
 
 Of wine, or worse, in war and wantonness. 
 
 I ^et them th at list, these pastimes still pursue. 
 
 And on such pleasmg Jancies teea^ttretr fill ; 
 So I the fields and meadows green may view. 
 
 And daily by fresh rivers walk at will, 
 A mong the daisies_an d the violet s blue. 
 
 Red hyacinth and yellow daffodil, 
 Pur'pTe'narcissus like the morning rays, 
 Pale gander-grass, and azure culverkeys. 
 
42 THE COMPLETE ANGLER. part i. 
 
 I count it higher pleasure to behold 
 
 The stately compass of the lofty sky ; 
 And in the midst thereof, like burning gold, 
 
 The flaming chariot of the world's great eye ; 
 The watery clouds that, in the air up-roll'd, 
 
 With sundry kinds of painted colours fly ; 
 And fair Aurora, lifting up her head, 
 Still blushing, rise from old Tithonus' bed. 
 
 The hills and mountains raised from the plains. 
 The plains extended level with the ground; 
 
 The grounds divided into sundry veins. 
 
 The veins enclos'd with rivers running round ; 
 
 These rivers making way through nature's chains 
 With headlong course into the sea profound ; 
 
 The raging sea, beneath the valleys low. 
 
 Where lakes and rills and rivulets do flow. 
 
 The lofty woods, the forests wide and long, 
 
 Adorn'd with leaves and branches fresh and green, 
 
 In whose cool bowers the birds, with many a song, 
 Do welcome with their choir the summer's queen ; 
 
 The meadows fair, where Flora's gifts among 
 Are intermixed, with verdant grass between ; 
 
 The silver-scaled fish that softly swim 
 
 Within the sweet brook's crystal watery stream. 
 
 All these, and many more of His creation 
 
 That made the heavens, the angler oft doth see .* 
 
 Taking therein no little delectation, 
 
 To think how strange, how wonderful they be ! 
 
 Fr.iming thereof an inward contemplation 
 To set his heart from other fancies free ; 
 
 And whilst he looks on these with joyful eye, 
 
 His mind is wrapt above the starry sky." 
 
 Sir, I am glad my memory has not lost these last verses, 
 because they are somewhat more pleasant and more suitable 
 to ]\Iay-day than my harsh discourse. And I am glad your 
 patience hath held out so long, as to hear them and me; for 
 both together have brought us within the sight of the Thatch ed 
 
CHAP. I. 
 
 THE FIRST DAY. 
 
 43 
 
 House. And I must be your debtor, if you think it worth your 
 
 attention, for the rest of my promised discourse, till some other 
 opportunity, and a like time of leisure. 
 
 Ven. Sir, you have angled me on with much pleasure to the 
 Thatched House ; and I now find your words true, " that good 
 company makes the way seem short;" for trust me, sir, I 
 thought we had wanted three miles of this house, till you showed 
 it me. But now we are at it, we'll turn into it, and refresh our- 
 selves with a cup of drink, and a little rest. 
 
 PiSC. Most gladly, sir, and we^lldrinJ$._a_ciyiLgip^ the 
 
 o tter- hunters that_are joj neet you to -morrow. 
 
 VENTTHar'we will, sir, and to all the lovers of angling, of 
 which number I am now willing to be one myself : for, by the 
 help of your good discourse and company, I have put on new 
 thoughts both of the art of angling, and of all that profess it: 
 anH if,yiAn will hn^- mppt me. to-morrow^ at the tim e and place 
 appointed, and bestow one day with me and my fri ends in 
 hunting the otter, I will dedicate the next two day s to wait upon 
 you, and we two will for that time do nothing but angle , and 
 tall LPf fish and fishin g. 
 
 PiSC. 'Tis a match, sir ; Pll not fail you, God willing, to be at 
 Amwell Hill to-morrow morning before sun-rising. 
 
44 
 
 THE SECOND DAY. 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 OBSERVATIONS OF THE OTTER AND CHUB. 
 
 Ven. My friend Piscator, you have kept time with my 
 thoughts, for the sun is just rising, and I myself just now come 
 to this place, and the dogs have just now put down an otter. 
 Look down at the bottom of the hill there in that meadow, 
 chequered with water-lilies and lady-smocks ; there youiT^ 
 see what work they make : look ! leek.! y ^u may see all ^u s)^ 
 pi^tt-anri (;]n^^% (]r ^s and me n aUfbus y. 
 
 PiSC. Sir, I ani riglit glad to meet you, and glad to have so 
 fair an entrance into this day's sport, and glad to see so many 
 dogs and more men all in pursuit of the otter. Let us com- 
 pliment no longer, but join unto them. Come, honest Venator, 
 let us be gone, let us make haste; I long to be doing; no 
 reasonable hedge or ditch shall hold me. 
 
 Ven. Gentleman-huntsman, where found you this otter? 
 
 Hunt. Many, sir, we found her a mile from this place, a- 
 fishing. She has this morning eaten the greatest part of this 
 trout ; she has only left this much of it as you see, and was 
 fishing for more ; when we came we found her just at it ; but we 
 were here very early, we were here an hour before sunrise, and 
 have given her no rest since we came ; sure, she will hardly 
 escape all these dogs and men. I am to have the skin, if we 
 kill her. 
 
 Ven. Why, sir, what is the skin worth ? 
 
CHAP. II. THE SECOND DAY. 45 
 
 Hunt. It i s worth ten shillin gs to make gloves ; the gl oves ^Jji 
 of an otter are the best fortifica tion for your hands that can be /^ 
 tho ugh t^ n_ag ain St wet w eather. ^.^ 
 
 ~~T^SC. I pray, honestnTiintsman, let me ask you a pleasant ^^^ rfj 
 question : do you hunt a beast or a fis h ? (7qi S^^ 
 
 Hunt. Sir, it is not in my power to resolve you; I leave it to ^^rKi 
 be resolved by the college of Carthusians, who have made vows ^^-^ 
 never to eat flesh. But I have heard the question hath been ^^ 
 debated among many great clerks, and they seem to differ about 1 
 
 it; yet most a:4ree that her tail is fish ; and if her body be fish ^^ 
 too, then I may say that a fish will walk upon land ; for an otter 
 does so, sometimes, five or six or ten miles in a night, to catch 
 for her young ones, or to glut herself with fish. And I can tell 
 you that pigeons will fly forty miles for a breakfast; but, sir, I 
 am sure the otter devours much fish, and kills and spoils much 
 more than he eats. And I can tell you that this dog-fisher, for 
 so t he La tjjis call him , c an smell^a fish in the water a h undred 
 yards from him : Gesner says much farther ; and that his stones 
 are good against the .falling sicknes s ; and that there is an herb, 
 benione, which being hung in a linen cloth, near a fish pond, or 
 any haunt that he uses, makes him to avoid the place; which 
 proves he smells both by water and land ; and I can tell you 
 there is brave hunting this water-dog in Cornwall, where there 
 have been so many, that our learned Camden says there is a 
 river called Ottersey, which was so named by reason of the 
 abundance of otters that bred and fed in it. 
 
 And this much for my knowledge of the otter, which you may 
 now see above water at vent, and the dogs close with him ; I 
 now see he will not last long, follow therefore my masters, 
 follow, for Sweetlips was like toJ iaiVC, h'"^ .aUJhis Jast v ent. 
 
 Ven. Oh meT"STrthe horse are got over the river, what shall 
 we do now ? Shall we follow them over the water ? 
 
 Hunt. No, sir, no, be not so eager; stay a little and follow 
 me, for both they and the dogs will be suddenly on this side 
 again I warrant you ; and the otter too, it* may be : now h ave 
 a t him with Kilbuck , for he vents again. 
 
 Ven. Marry so he does, for look he vents in that corner. 
 
46 THE COMPLETE ANCxLER. part i. 
 
 Now, poor Ringwood has him: now he's gone again, and has 
 bit the poor dog. Now Sweethps has her; hold her, Sweet- 
 hps ! now all the dogs have her, some above and some under 
 water; but now, now she's tired, and past losing: come bring 
 her to me, Sweetlips. Look, 'tis a bitch otter, and she has 
 lately whelped, let's go to the place where she was put down, 
 and not far from it you will find all her young ones, I dare 
 warrant you, ^nd kill them all too._ 
 
 Hunt. Come, gentlemen, come all, let's go to the place where 
 we put down the otter. Look you, hereabout it was that she 
 kennelled ; look you, here it was indeed, for here's her young 
 ones, no less than five ; come, let's kill them a ll, v \jCl>Jrt<3 
 i*^ PiSC. ,No^ T prny ^ir, save me one, and I'll try if I can make 
 lT£^_tamej_as I know an ingenious gentleman In Leicestershire, 
 Mr. Nicholas Seagrave, has done ; who hath not only made her 
 tame, but to catch fish, and do many other things of much 
 pleasure. 
 
 Hunt. Take one with all my heart, bu t_letjQs kill the tiaot ^nd 
 now let's^o to aji jionest ale-Uause, wE eJ'e we may ^haveacup 
 of good barlej^-vniieT and sing Old Rose^ and all of us rejoice 
 together. 
 
 Ven. Come, my friend Piscator, let me invite you along with 
 us ; ril bear your charges this night, and you shall bear mine 
 to-morrow; for my intention is to accompany you a day or two 
 in fishing. 
 
 PiSC. Sir, your request is granted, and I shall be right glad 
 both to exchange such a courtesy, and also to enjoy your 
 company. 
 
 Ven. Well, now let's go to your sport of angling. 
 
 PiSC. Let's be going with all my heart. God keep you all, 
 gentlemen, and send you meet this day with another bitch- 
 otter, and kill her merrily, and all her young ones too. 
 
 Ven. Now, Piscator, where will you begin to fish ? 
 
 PiSC. We are not yet come to a likely place, I must walk a 
 mile further yet before I begin. 
 
CHAP. II. THE SECOND DAY 47 
 
 Ven. Well then, I pray, as we walk tell me^fre ely^ how d o 
 voulikej^oujL_lQdi:ing^jind.mil^^^ company ? Is 
 
 not mine ho st a witty nian ? 
 
 PiSC. Sir, I will tell you presently what I think of your host: 
 but first, I will tell you, I ani. oJad these otte y^ wprp h\]]ec] ; but 
 I anj^so iiy them ai e iro more otter killer s ; for I know that the 
 want of otter-killers, and the not keeping the fence-months for 
 the preservation of fish, will, in time, prove the destruction of 
 all rivers. And those very few that are left, that make con- 
 science of the laws of the nation, and of keeping days of 
 abstinence, will be forced to eat flesh, or suffer more incon- 
 veniences than are yet foreseen. 
 
 Ven. Why, sir, what be those that you call the fence-months? 
 
 PiSC. Sir, they be principally three, namely, March, April, 
 and May; for these be the usual months that salmon come out 
 of the sea to spawn in most fresh rivers. And.tlieii- ii:y.jvould, 
 a bout a certain time, return back to the salt water, if they were 
 not hindered by weirs and unlawful gins, which the greedy 
 fishermen set, an d so de stroy them by thousands ; as they 
 wQ uid, bemg so'Taught by nature, change the fresh for salt 
 water. H e that shall view the wis e stat utes, made in the i ^th 
 oT^dward I , and the like in Richard II., may see s everal 
 provisions m ade against jtlie^ destruction of fish ; and though I 
 pr ofess no knowledge of th e law, yet I am sure the regulation 
 of these def ects might b e easily mended. But I remember 
 fliat a wise friend of mine did usually say, "that which is 
 everybody's business is nobody's business." If it were other- 
 wise, there could not be so many nets and fish, that are under 
 the statute size, sold daily amongst us, and of which the con- 
 servators of the waters should be ashamed. 
 
 But, above all, the I xLJim fTTT in pi iiiiii] limn in l^ be 
 said to be against nat ure ; it is like the taking the dam on the 
 nest when she hatches her young: a sin so against nature that 
 Almighty God hath in the Levitical law made a law against it 
 (Deut. xii. 6, 7). 
 
 But tli£._ po or fish jiaye_ene mies f^"Q Ugh__besid es such, un- 
 natural fishermen, as nanieb/;^Jhe_^ters that I spake of, the 
 
4S 
 
 THE COMPLETE ANGLER. 
 
 'V 
 
 cormorant, the bittern, the osprey, the sea-g-iill, the heron, th e 
 king-fishcr, tlic gorara, the puct, the swan, ^oose. d ucks, an d 
 the craberj vyhich some call the water-rat: against all which 
 any honest man might make a just quarrel, but I will not, I 
 will leave them to be quarrelled with, and killed by others; for 
 JP^mnot o f a cruel nature, I love to kjll nothinp- bi^l, fi^jj ^ 
 
 " ^"^ to your question concerning your host ; to speak 
 
 ttul^^, he Tsjoot^-to me a good companion; for most of lug 
 cpnceits were cither Scripture-jests, or Inscivi onc; jests, for whic h 
 L cou nt no man wjtt\ %for the devil will help a, rrLaj4.^i,-\| \vaj 
 i ncli ned^ to thf^ first ; and his own corrupt nature, which he 
 always carries with him, to the latter; but a companion tha t 
 feasts [he rg nipany with wit and mirth, and leaves out the sin^^ 
 which is u^suajlxjnixe cl with th em, he^J5^.he man ; and indeed 
 such a man should have his charges borne, and to such com- 
 pany I hope to bring you this night ; for at Trout Pla llnot far 
 from_this place^^ wtie re I purpose Jjo lodg£ZlQ»«ig^[i». ^ere~ i s 
 usually an angler that proves good company : and iQtmetell 
 you, good compajny and good discourse, are the verv ^news q£ 
 vhtue : but for such discburse as we heard last night, it infects 
 others; the^> j:erv bov^i vn'll lenrn t^ tn^^" nnr* ^"THTI ''^ they 
 
 Jieard m inf^ hn^f- , md 1 r Hn rpmp a ny that sha ll be 
 
 nameless ; — I am sorry the othe £ is a gentleman : for less 
 rengioir*wi 11 not . save theiFjouls than a beggajf^ : I thin k mo re 
 will be required at the last great day. Well ! you know what 
 example is able to do ; and I know what the poet says in the like 
 case, — which is worthy to be noted by all parents and people 
 of civility : 
 
 "... many a one 
 Owes to his country his religion ; 
 And in another would as strongly grow, 
 Had but his nurse or mother taught him ?o " 
 
 This is reason put into verse, and worthy the consideration 
 of a wise man. But of this no more; for though I love civility, 
 yet I hate severe censures. I'll to my own art ; and I doubt 
 not but at yonder tree I shall catch a chub: and then we'll 
 
CHAP. 11. THE SECOND DAY, 49 
 
 turn to an honest cleanly hostess that I know right well ; rest 
 ourselves there ; and dress it for our dinner. 
 
 Ven. Oh, sir ! a chub is the worst fish that swims ; I hoped 
 for a trout to my dinner. 
 
 PiSC. Trust me, sir, there is not a likely place for a trout 
 hereabout : and we stayed so long to take leave of your huntsmen 
 this morning, that the sun is got so high, and shines so clear, 
 that I will not undertake the catching of a trout till evening. 
 And though a chub be, by you and many others, reckoned the 
 worst of fish ; yet you shall see I'll make it a good fish by 
 dressing it. 
 
 Ven. Why, how will you dress him ? 
 
 PiSC. I'll tell you by-and-by, when J have caught hmi. Look 
 you here, sir, do you see ? (but you must stand very close), there 
 lie upon the top of the water, in this very hole, twenty chubs. 
 I'll catch only one, and that shall be the biggest of them all ; 
 and that I will do so, I'll hold you twenty to one, and you shall 
 see it done. 
 
 Ven. Ay, marry, sir, now you talk like an artist, and I'll say 
 you are one, when I shall see you perform what you say you 
 can do ; but I yet doubt it. 
 
 PiSC. You shall not doubt it long, for you shall see me do 
 it presently . look, the biggest of these chubs has had some 
 bruise upon his tail by a pike, or some other accident, and 
 that looks like a white spot; that very chub I mean to put 
 into your hands presently; sit you but down in the shade, 
 and stay but a little while, and I'll warrant you I'll bring him 
 to you. 
 
 Ven. I'll sit down, and hope well, because you seem to be so 
 confident. 
 
 PiSC. Look you, sir, there is a trial of my skill, there he is, 
 that very chub that I showed you with the white spot on his 
 tail : and I'll be as certain to make him a good dish of meat as 
 I was to catch him. Pll now lead you to an honest ale-hqyse 
 where_we shall find a cleanly room, lavender in the windows, , 
 and twenty ballads stuck about the wall ; there my hostess, 
 wHich^JjBay te]l^j|mi, is both cleanly and handsome, and (^^yil. . #yj<{ 
 
 4 
 
50 THE COMPLETE ANGLER. part i. 
 
 hath dressed many a one for me, and shall now dress it after. 
 m7Ta^bTi;'anaTwa:n'antrit'|^atK!TT^ 
 
 '^ Vt N . "Come,' sir, with all my heart, for I begin to be hungry, 
 and long to be at it, and indeed to rest myself too; for though 
 I have walked but four miles this morning, yet I begin to be 
 weary ; yesterday's hunting hangs still upon me. 
 
 PiSC. Well, sir, you shall quickly be at rest, for yonder is the 
 house I mean to bring you to. 
 
 Come, Hostess, how do you do.? Will you first give me a 
 cup of your best drink, and then dress this chub as you dressed 
 my last, when I and my friend were here about eight or ten 
 days ago ? But you must do me one courtesy, it must be done 
 instantly. 
 
 Hostess, l will do it, Mr. Piscator, and with all the speed I 
 can. 
 
 Pisc. Now, sir, has not my hostess made haste i* and does 
 not the fish look lovely ? 
 
 Ven. Both, upon my word, sir, and therefore let's say grace, 
 and fall to eating of it. 
 
 PiSC. Well, sir, how do you like it ? 
 
 Ven. Trust me, 'tis as good meat as 1 ever tasted : now let 
 me thank you for it, drink to you, and beg a courtesy of you ; 
 but it must not be denied me. 
 
 PiSC. What is it, I pray, sir? You are so modest, that 
 methinks I may promise to grant it before it is asked. 
 
 Ven. Why, sir, it is, that from henii©fert^r-7^u-iaiQuid--«llo\v 
 me^ ^call voi ^ iNTnntnr^ ^rirJT thf^t iTjrf y I m ay be yo ur schg lar ; 
 C^^ymnu't suOh ii COiiipiiiilOli, and-i^av^-gaji ulcldy ca ugt>t, and 
 s » exc e]i^^<^1y ^ ooked this fish, as makes m e anibitiou^^ to 
 
 ]->p ynnr c;rkQiftj' 
 
 PisC. Give me your hand; from this time forward I will be 
 your master, and teach you as much of this art as I am able ; 
 and will, as you desire me, tell you somewhat of the nature of 
 most of the fish that we are to angle for; and I am sure I both 
 can and will tell you more than any common Angler yet knows. 
 
51 
 
 THE THIRD DAY. 
 CHAPTER HI. 
 
 HOW TO FISH FOR, AND TO DRESS, THE CHAVENDER, 
 OR CHUB. 
 
 PiSC. The Chub, though he eat well thus dressed, yet as he 
 is usually dressed he does not. He is objected against, not 
 only for being full of small forked bones, dispersed through all 
 his body, but that he eats waterish and that the flesh of him is 
 not firm, but short and tasteless. The French esteem him so 
 mean as to call him un vilainj nevertheless, he may be so 
 dressed as to make him very good meat ; as, namely, if he be a 
 large chub, then dress him thus : — 
 
 First, scale him, and then wash him clean, and then take 
 out his guts ; and to that end make the hole as little and near 
 to his gills as you may conveniently, and especially make 
 clean his throat from the grass and weeds that are usually in it ; 
 for if that be not very clean, it will make him to taste very 
 sour. Having so done, put some sweet herbs into his belly; 
 and then tie him with two or three splinters to a spit, and 
 roast him, basted often with vinegar, or rather verjuice and 
 butter, with good store of salt mixed with it. Being thus 
 dressed, you will find him a much better dish of meat than you, 
 or most folk, even than anglers themselves, do imagine: for 
 this dries up the fluid watery humour with which all chubs do 
 abound. 
 
 But take this rule with you, that a chub newly taken and 
 
52 THE COMPLETE ANGLER part i. 
 
 newly dressed is so much better than a chub of a day's 
 keeping after he is dead, that I can compare him to nothing so 
 fitly as to cherries newly gathered from a tree, and other sthat 
 have been bruised and lain a day or two in water. But the 
 chub being thus used, and dressed presently, and not washed 
 after he is gutted (for note, that lying long in water, and 
 washing the blood out of any fish after they be gutted, abates 
 much of their sweetness), you will find the chub (being dressed 
 in the blood, and quickly) to be such meat as will recompense 
 your labour, and disabuse your opinion. 
 
 Or you may dress the chavender or chub thus : — 
 
 When you have scaled him, and cut off his tail and fins, and 
 washed him very clean, then chine or slit ,him through the 
 middle, as a salt fish is usually dut; fhen 'gi>^4wm~thi:ejaair four 
 c uts or scotches on the back^with your kni fe, and broil him on 
 charcoal, or wood-coal that is free from smoke, and all the time 
 he is a-broiling baste him with the best sweet butter, and good 
 store of salt mixed with it ; and to this add a little thyme cut 
 exceeding small, or bruised into the butter. The cheven thus 
 dressed hath the watery taste taken away, for which so many 
 excep against him. Thus was the cheven dressed that you 
 now liked so well, and commended so much. But note again, 
 that if this chub that you ate of had been kept till to-morrow, 
 he had not been worth a rush. And remember that his throat 
 be washed very clean, I say very clean, and his body not 
 washed after he is gutted, as indeed no fish should be. 
 
 Well, scholar, you see what pains I have taken to recover the 
 lost credit of the poor despised chub. And now I will give you 
 some rules how to catch him ; and I am glad to enter you into 
 the art of fishing by catching a chub, for there is no fish better 
 to enter a young angler, he is so easily caught, but then it must 
 be this particular way. 
 
 Go to the same hole in which I caught my chub, where in 
 most hot days you will find a dozen or twenty chevens floating 
 near the top of the water : get two or three grasshoppers as you 
 go over the meadow, and get secretly behind the tree, and stand 
 as free from motion as is possible; then put a grasshopper on 
 
CHAP III. THE THIRD DAY. 53 
 
 your hook, and let your hook hang a quarter of a yard short of 
 the water, to which end you must rest your rod on some bough 
 of the tree. But it is hkely the chubs will sink down towards 
 the bottom of the water at the first shadow of your rod (for 
 chub is the fearfulest of fishes), and will do so if but a bird flies 
 over him and makes the least shadow on the water. But they 
 will presently rise up to the top again, and there lie soaring till 
 some shadow affrights them again. I say, when they lie upon 
 the top of the water, look out the best chub (which you, setting 
 yourself in a fit place, may very easily see), and move your rod 
 as softly as a snail moves, to that chub you intend to catch ; let 
 your bait fall gently upon the water three or four inches before 
 him, and he will infallibly take the bait. And you will be as 
 sure to catch him ; for he is one of the leather-mouthed fishes, 
 of which a hook does scarce ever lose its hold ; and therefore 
 give him play enough before you offer to take him out of the 
 water. Go your way presently ; take my rod and do as I bid 
 you ; and I will sit down and mend my tackling till you return 
 back. 
 
 Ven. Truly, my loving master, you have offered me as fair 
 as I could wish. I'll go, and observe your directions. 
 
 Look you, master, what I have done, that which joys my 
 heart,— caught just such another chub as yours was. 
 
 PiSC. Marry, and I am glad of it : I am like to have a 
 towardly scholar of you. I now see that with advice and 
 practice, you will make an angler in a short time. IJ aye bu t 
 a lov^ to it : and ^'P wQrllan^ you. 
 
 *"Ven. But, master, what if I could not have found a grass- 
 hopper ? 
 
 PiSC. Then I may tell you that a black snail, with his belly 
 slit to show his white, or a piece of soft cheese, will usually do 
 as well. Nay, sometimes a worm, or any kind of fly, as the 
 ant-fly, the flesh-fly, or wall-fly; or the dor or beetle, which you 
 may find under cow-dung, or a bob, which you will find in the 
 same place, and in time will be a beetle; it is a short white 
 worm, like to and bigger than a gentle, or a cod-worm, or a 
 case-worm, any of these will do very well to fish in such a 
 
54 THE COMPLETE ANGLER. part i. 
 
 manner. And after this manner you may catch a trout in a hot 
 evening : when as you walk by a brook, and shall see or hear 
 him leap at flies, then if you get a grasshopper, put it on your 
 hook, with your line about two yards long, standing behind a 
 bush or tree where his hole is, and make your bait stir up and 
 down on the top of the water, you may, if you stand close, be 
 sure of a bite, but not sure to catch him, for he is not a leather- 
 mouthed fish : and after this manner you may fish for him with 
 almost any kind of Hve fly, but especially with a grasshopper. 
 
 Ven. But before you go further, I pray, good master, what 
 mean you by a leather-mouthed fish ? 
 
 PiSC. By a leather-mouthed fish I mean such as have their 
 teeth in their throat, as the chub or cheven, and so the barbel, 
 the gudgeon, and carp, and divers others have ; and the hook 
 being stuck into the leather or skin, or the mouth of such fish, 
 does very seldom or never lose its hold : but, on the contrary, 
 a pike, a perch, or trout, and so some other fish, which have 
 not their teeth in their throats, but in their mouths, which you 
 shall observe to be very full of bones, and the skin very thin, and 
 little of it ; I say, of these fish the hook never takes so sure 
 hold, but you often lose your fish, unless he have gorged it. 
 
 Ven. I thank you, good master, for this observation ; but 
 now, what shall be done with my chub or cheven that I have 
 caught ? 
 
 PiSC. Marry, sir, it shall be given away to some poor body, 
 for Fll warrant you Pll give you a trout for your supper: and 
 it is a good beginning of your art to offer your first-fruits to 
 the poor, who will both thank you and God for it, which I see 
 by your silence you seem to consent to. And for your willing- 
 ness to part with it so charitably, I will also teach more con- 
 cerning chub-fishing : you are to note that in March and April 
 he is usually taken with worms ; in May, June, and July, he will 
 bite at any fly, or at cherries, or at beetles with their legs and 
 wings cut off, or at any kind of snail, or at the black bee that 
 breeds in clay walls. And he never refuses a grasshopper, on 
 the top of a swift stream, nor, at the bottom, the young humble 
 bee that breeds in long grass, and is ordinarily found by the 
 
CHAP. III. THE THIRD DAY. ^55 
 
 mower of it. In August, and in the cooler monttis, a yellow 
 paste made of the strongest cheese, and pounded in a mortar, 
 with a little butter and saffron, so much of it, as being beaten 
 small, will turn it to a lemon colour. And some make a paste, 
 for the winter months, at which time the chub is accounted best 
 (for then it is observed that the forked bones are lost, or turned 
 into a kind of gristle, especially if he be baked), of cheese and 
 turpentine. He will bite also at a minnow, or penk, as a trout 
 will : of which I shall tell you more hereafter, and of divers 
 other baits. But take this for a rule, that, in hot weather, he is 
 to be fished for towards the mid-water, or near the top ; and in 
 colder weather nearer the bottom. And if you fish for him on 
 the top, with a beetle, or any fly, then be sure to let your line be 
 very long and to keep out of sight. And having told you that 
 his spawn is excellent meat, and that the head of a large 
 cheven, the throat being well washed, is the best part of him, I 
 will say no more of this fish at the present, but wish you may 
 catch the next you fish for. 
 
 But, lest you may judge me too nice in urging to have the 
 chub dressed so presently after he is taken, I will commend to 
 your consideration how curious former times have been in the 
 like kind. 
 
 You shall read m Seneca, his Natural Quesiio7is^ Lib. 3, Cap. 
 17, that the ancients were so curious in the newness of their 
 fish, that that seemed not new enough that was not put aliv6 
 into the guest's hand ; and he says that to that end they did 
 usually keep them living in glass bottles in their dining-rooms : 
 and they did glory much in their entertaining of friends, to have 
 that fish taken from under their table alive that was instantly to 
 be fed upon And he says, they took great pleasure to see their 
 Mullets change to several colours, when they were dying. But 
 enough of this, for I doubt I have stayed too long from giving 
 you some observations of the trout, and how to fish for him, 
 which shall take up the next of my spare time. 
 
56, THE COMPLETE ANGLER. part i. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 OBSERVATIONS OF THE NATURE AND BREEDING OF THE 
 TROUT, AND HOW TO FISH FOR HIM ; AND THE MILK- 
 MAID'S SONG. 
 
 The Trout is a fish highly valued both in this and foreign 
 nations: he n iay be justly said,_ asthe old poet said of wine, 
 and, we English say of venisonTt o be a_ gener ous hsh : a "fish 
 that is so like the buck that he also has his seasons ; for it is 
 observed, that he comes in and goes out of season with the 
 stag and buck , G£sner_saj^]nsjiame is-of a Germ an offsprii ig, 
 and says he is a fish that feeds clean and purely, in the swiftest 
 streams, and on the hardest gravel ; and that he may justly 
 contend with all fresh-water fish, as the Mullet may with all 
 sea-fish, for precedency and daintiness of taste, and that being 
 in right season, the most dainty palates have allowed pre- 
 cedency to him. 
 
 And before I go further in my discourse, let me tell you, 
 that you are to observe, that as there be some barren does, 
 that are good in summer, so there be some barren trouts that 
 are gOod in winter ; but there are not many that are so, for 
 usually they be in their perfection in the month of May, and 
 decline with the buck. Now you are to take notice, that in 
 several countries, as in Germany and in other parts, compared 
 to ours, fish differ much in their bigness and shape, and other 
 ways, and so do trouts ; it is well known that in the Lake 
 Leman, the Lake of Geneva, there are trouts taken of three 
 cubits long, as is affirmed by Gesner, a writer of good credit ; 
 and Mercator says, the trouts that are taken m the Lake of 
 Geneva, are a great part of the merchandise of that famous 
 city. And you are further to know, that there be certain waters, 
 that breed trouts remarkable both for their number and small- 
 ness. I know a little brook in Kent, that breeds them to a 
 number incredible, and you may take them twenty or forty in 
 an hour, but none greater than about the size of a gudgeon: 
 
CHAP. IV. THE THIRD DAY. S7 
 
 there are also in divers rivers, especially that relate to, or be 
 near to the sea, as Winchester, or the Thames about Windsor, 
 a little trout called samlet, or skegger trout (in both which 
 places I have caught twenty or forty at a standing), that will 
 bite as fast and as freely as minnows : these be by some taken 
 to be young salmon ; but in those waters they never grow to be 
 bigger than a herring. 
 
 Th^rejs__alsoin Kent, near Jo^ Cant erfca^ ^ a trout ca lled 
 there a Fo rdid^e^rout,'a trout that bears the name of the 
 towrTwhereiTis usually caugKtV tliat is "accounted "theTaHsTof 
 fisirflnany of them near the bigness of a salmon, but known by 
 tTT^IT ^HTHer ent colour ; iind in their best season they cut very 
 whit e ; and none _o£jIiese have been known to be caughT~\vith 
 an angle, u nless it were one that was caught by Sir George 
 lla stmgs^ an excellent arigler, and now with God ; and he hath 
 told me, he thought that trout bit not for hunger but wanton- 
 ness ; an d it is ra ther to be believed, because both he, then, and 
 rnany^tEer^Jbefore him, have been curious to search into Fheir 
 beTHes, what the food was by which they lived; and have found 
 olit nothing by which they mjght satisfy their curiosity. 
 
 Concerning which you are to take notice, that it is reported 
 by good authors, that grasshoppers, and some fish, have no 
 mouths, but are nourished and take breath by the porousness 
 of their gills, man knows not how : and this may be believed, if 
 we consider that when the raven hath hatched her eggs, she 
 takes no further care, but leaves her young ones to the care of 
 the God of nature, who is said, in the Psalms, "to feed the 
 young ravens that call upon him." And they be kept alive, and 
 fed by dew, or worms that breed in their nests, or some other 
 ways that we mortals know not ; and this may be believed of 
 the Fordidge trout, which, as it is said of the Sto rk (Jerem. 
 viii. 7), that, ^he knows hi s season, '^ so he knows his times, I 
 think alm ost his da y of cominj^ into that river out ot' the s ea, 
 where' he lives, and, it is like, feeds ninejmonths^ofjhe year, 
 a nd f l ists ~ three -Tn the river orToi^dge'."'"^^n d you ar ejo note 
 thaTTEose' townsmen are very punctual in observmg the time of 
 begmn'rfrg'~to fish for them; and boast much that their river 
 
^: 
 
 ^ 58 THE COMPLETE ANGLER. part i. 
 
 Vr ajfifords a trout, that exceeds all others. And-^^^t ^ so do cs 
 y^ Sussex boast of several fish ; as namely, a Shels^iLX^iJ^J^) ^ 
 y/ Chich ester lobster, an Arundel mullet, and an Amerlv tp out. 
 
 And now for some confirmation of the Fordidge trout : you 
 are to know that this trout is thought to eat nothing in the fresh 
 water, and it may be better believed, because it is wellknpwn 
 tha^ swallows, and bats, and wagtails, wh i ch_ are "called ^ 1 f- 
 yQar_birds, and not seen to fly in England for six monllisjnjhe 
 ygar, but about Michaelmas leave us for a better c limate J han 
 this ; yet some of them that have been left behind their fellows^ 
 have been found many thousands at a time, in hollow trees, or 
 clay caves; where they have been observed to h've and sleep 
 out the whole winter without meat; and so Albertus observes, 
 that there is one kind of frog that hath her mouth naturally 
 shut up about the end of August, and that she Hves so all the 
 i'' winter: and though it be strange tj some, yet it is known to 
 
 too many among us to be doubted. 
 / And so much for these Fordidge trouts, which never afford an 
 
 angler sport, but either live their time of being in the fresh 
 water, by their meat formerly got in the sea (not unlike the 
 swallow or frog), or by the virtue of the fresh water only ; or, as 
 the birds of Paradise and the chameleon are said to live, by the 
 sun and the air. 
 
 There is also in Northumberland a trout called a bull-trout, of 
 a much greater length and bigness than any in the southern 
 parts. And there are, in many rivers that relate to the sea, 
 salmon-trouts, as much different from others, both in shape and 
 in their spots, as we see sheep in some countries differ one from 
 another in their shape and bigness, and in the fineness of t4ieir 
 wool. And, certainly, as some pastures breed larger sheep, so 
 do some rivers, by reason of the ground over which they run, 
 breed larger trouts. 
 
 Now the next thing that I will commend to your consideration 
 is, that the trout is of a more sudden growth than other fish. 
 Concerning which, you are also to take notice, that he lives not 
 so long as the perch, and divers other fishes do, as Sir Francis 
 Bacon hath observed in his History of Life and Death, 
 
CHAP. IV. THE THIRD DAY- 59 
 
 And now you are to take notice, that he is not Hke the croco- 
 dile, which if he Hves never so long, yet always thrives till his 
 death. And you are to know, that he will about, especially before, 
 the time of his spawning, get almost miraculously through weirs 
 and flood-gates against the streams ; even through such high 
 and swift places as is almost incredible. Next, that the trout 
 usually spawns about October or November, but in some rivers 
 a little sooner or later: which is the more observable, because 
 most other fish spawn in the spring or summer, when the sun 
 hath warmed both the earth and the water, and made it fit for 
 generation. And you are to note that he continues many months 
 out of season ; for it may be observed of the trout, that he is like 
 the buck or the ox, that he will not be fat in many months, 
 though he go in the very same pasture that horses do, which 
 will be fat in one month ; and so you may observe that most 
 other fishes recover strength, and grow sooner fat and in season 
 than the trout doth. 
 
 And next you are to note, that till the sun gets to such a 
 height as to warm the earth and the water, the trout is sick, and 
 lean, and lousy, and unwholesome : for you shall in winter find 
 him to have a big head, and then to be lank, and thin, and lean : 
 at which time many of them have sticking on them sugs, or trout- 
 lice, which is a kind of worm, in shape like a clove or pin, with a 
 big head, and sticks close to him and sucks his moisture ; those, 
 I think, the trout breeds himself, and never thrives till he free 
 himself from them, which is when warm weather comes; and 
 then, as he grows stronger, he gets from the dead, still water, 
 into the sharp streams, and the gravel, and there rubs off these 
 worms oj: lice ; and then, as he grows stronger, so he gets him 
 into swifter and swifter streams, and there lies at the watch for 
 any fly or minnow that comes near to him ; and he especially 
 loves the May-fly, which is bred of the cod-worm or cadis'; and 
 these make the trout bold and lusty, and he is usually fatter 
 and better meat at the end of that month than at any time of 
 the year. 
 
 Now you are to know that it is observed, that usually .the best 
 trouts are either red or yellow ; though some (as the Fordidge 
 
6o THE COMPLETE ANGLER. part i. 
 
 trout) be white and yet good; but that is not usual: and it is a 
 note observable, that the female trout hath usually a less head, 
 and a deeper body than the male trout, and is usually the better 
 meat. And note, that a hog-back and a little head to either 
 trout, salmon, or any other fish, is a sign that that fish is in 
 season. 
 
 But yet you are to note, that as you see some willows or palm- 
 trees bud and blossom sooner than others do, so some trouts be, 
 in rivers, sooner in season : and as some hoUies or oaks are 
 longer before they cast their leaves, so are some trouts in rivers 
 longer before they go out of season. 
 
 And you are to note, that there are several kinds of trouts : 
 but these several kinds are not considered but by very few men ; 
 for they go under the general name of trouts : just as pigeons 
 do, in most places; though, it is certain, there are tame and 
 wild pigeons ; and of the tame, there be helmets and runts, and 
 carriers and cropers, and indeed too many to name. Nay, the 
 Royal Society have found and published lately, that there be 
 thirty and three kinds of spiders ; and yet all, for aught I know, 
 go under that one general name of spider. And it is so with 
 many kinds of fish, and of trouts especially ; which differ in their 
 bigness and shape and spots and colour. The great Kentish 
 hens may be an instance, compared to other hens. And, doubt- 
 less, there is a kind of small trout, which will never thrive to be 
 big ; that breeds very many more than others do, that be of a 
 larger size: which you may rather believe, if you consider that 
 the little wren and titmouse will have twenty young ones at a 
 time, when usually the noble hawk, or the musical thrassel or 
 blackbird, exceed not four or five. 
 
 And now you shall see me try my skill to catch a trout ; and 
 at my next walking, either this evening or to-morrow morning, 
 I will give you direction how you yourself shall fish for him. 
 
 Ven. Trust me, master, I see now it is a harder matter to 
 catch a trout than a chub: for I have put on patience, and 
 followed you these two hours, and not seen a fish stir, neither 
 at your minnow nor your worm. 
 
 Pisc. Well, scholar, you must endure worse luck some time, 
 
CHAP. IV. THE THIRD DAY. 6t 
 
 or you will never make a good angles But what say you 
 now ? There . is a trout now, and a good one too, if I can 
 but hold him, and two or three more turns will tire him. 
 Now you see he lies still, and the sleight is, to land him; 
 reach me that landing net; so, sir, now he is mine own, 
 what say you now? Is not this worth all my labour and your 
 patience ? 
 
 Ven. On my word, master, this is a gallant trout ; what shall 
 we do with him ? 
 
 PiSC. Marry, e'en eat him to supper; we'll go to my 
 hostess, from whence we came ; she told me, as I was going out 
 of door, that my brother Peter, a good angler and a cheerful 
 companion, had sent word that he would lodge there to-night, ^ 
 
 and bring a friend with him. My hostess has two beds, and I 
 ' k now yo ujmd^LniayJi,ave_theJie5t ; we'll rejoice with my brother ^^\^ 
 Peter and his friend, tell tales, or sing ballads, or make a catch, V 
 
 o^ find some harmless sport to content us and pass away a little ^ 
 
 time, without offence to God or man. 
 
 Ven. a ma Jxli. go od master^ let's go to that house ; for t he ^ 
 
 l inen looks white, and smells of lavendefj and I love to lie in a 
 p air of sheets that smell so. Let's be going, good maste i\jbr 
 r^m hungr^againwith fishing. 
 
 PiSC. Nay7stay~anirtle, good scholar ; I caught my last trout 
 with a worm ; now I will put on a minnow, and try a quarter of 
 an hour about yonder trees for another; and so walk towards 
 our lodging. Look you, scholar, thereabout we shall have a r\\fc 
 bite presently or not at all. Have with you, sir ! o' my word I \ 
 have hold of him. Oh ! it is a great logger-headed chub ; come 
 hang[_hj m upon that wlHow twig, and let's be going. But turn 
 out_oflJ±uEL_ffiay_a^little, good scholar ! towards yonder high 
 h onevsuckle hedg e ; there we'll sit and sing, whilst this ^ y 
 shuwieL flails, so gently upon the teeming earth, and gives yet 
 a sweeter smell to the lovely flowers that adorn these verdant 
 meadows. ■ — 
 
 t 
 
 Look ! under that broad b^ech tree I sat down when I was last 
 
 this waya- fishing. And the birds in the adjoining grove seemed 
 to_ have a frien dly-contention witli^ ^Q.-gg-^Qi^J^b-Q^g-^'^^d^-^'Qltre "^ \^ 
 
 I 
 
62 THE COMPLETE ANGLER. part i. 
 
 seemed to live in a hollow tree, near to the brow of that primrose 
 hill. There 1 sat viewing the silver streums glide silently towards 
 their centre, the tempestuous sea; yet sometimes opposed by 
 rugged roots and pebble-stones, which broke their waves and 
 turned them into foam. And sometimes I beguiled time by 
 viewing the harmless lambs; some leaping securely in the cool 
 shade, whilst others sported themselves in the cheerful sun; 
 and saw others craving comfort from the swollenudders of their 
 bleating dams. As I thus sat, these and other sights had so 
 fully possessed my soul with content, that I thought, as the poet 
 hath happily expressed it, 
 
 *' I was for that time lifted above earth, 
 And possess'd joys not promised in my birth." 
 
 As I left this place, and entered into the next field, a second 
 pleasure entertained me : 'twas a handsome milkmaid, that had 
 not yet attained so much age and wisdom as to load her mind 
 with any fears of many things that will never be, as too many 
 men too often do : but she cast away all care, and sung like a 
 nightingale: her voice was good, and the ditty fitted for it: it 
 was that smooth song which was made by Kit Marlow, now 
 at least fifty years ago; and the milkmaid's mother sung an 
 ' answer to it, which was made by Sir Walter Raleigh in his 
 younger days. 
 
 They were old-fashioned poetry, but choicely good, I think 
 much better than the strong lines that are now in fashion in this 
 critical age. Look yonder ! on my word, yonder they both be 
 a-milking again. I will give her the chub, and persuade them 
 to sing those two songs to us. 
 
 God speed you, good woman ! I have been a-fishing, and 
 am going to Bleak Hall to my bed, and having caught more 
 fish than will sup myself and my friend, I will bestow this upon 
 you and your daughter, for I use to sell none. 
 
 MiLK-W. Marry, God requite you, sir, and we'll eat it cheer- 
 fully; and ifl4aiu_come.,this way a-fishing two months hen ce, a. 
 grace of God, I'll give, you a syllabub of new -V.erjuicfi.mja.Jiew- 
 made hay co ck for it, and my Maudlin shall sing you one of her 
 
CHAP. IV. THE THIRD DAY. 63 
 
 best ballad s ; for she and I both l ove all anglers, they be su ch 
 hon est, civil, quiet men : in the meantime will you drink a 
 drauo jit of red cqw's milk ? you shall have it free lv. 
 
 Ttsc. No, I thank you ; but, I pray, do us a courtesy that 
 shall stand you and your daughter in nothing, and yet we will 
 think ourselves still something in your debt ; it is but to sing us 
 a song that was sung by your daughter when I last passed over 
 this meadow about eight or nine days since. / 
 
 MiLK-W. \Vhat^,s£aig~-WasJt. I pray ? Was it Come Shep- 0^ 
 herds^jdeckyour heads? or, As at noon Dulciiia rested? or, /L^ 
 TTuBda flouts me? or, Chevy Chace? or, Johnjty Armstrong f f7r 
 or, Troy Town ? '"V- 
 
 PTscTNo, it is none of those ; it is a song that your daughter Ac^JL 
 sung the first part, and you sung the answer to it. i^. 
 
 MiLK-W. O, I know it now. X learned the first part in m y ^^ 
 golden ag e ^hen I w?^s _aj )out the a^e of my poor daughte r ; 
 aiidt helatter part, which indeed fits me best npw, but two or 
 t hree years ago, wh en the care s of the world began to take hol d 
 of me: but you shall, God wiihng , hear them both, and sung as 
 we ll as we can, for we both love anglers. Come, Maudlin, 
 sin^thelirst part to the gentleman "witTi a" merry he art, and I'll 
 sing the second, when you have done. ** 
 
 THE MILKMAID'S SONG. 
 
 Come live with me, and be my love, 
 And we will all the pleasures prove 
 That valleys, groves, or hills, or field, 
 Or woods and steepy mountains yield; 
 
 Where we will sit upon the rocks, 
 And see the shepherds feed our flocks 
 By shallows rivers, to whose falls 
 Melodious birds sing madrigals. 
 
 And 1 will make thee beds of roses, 
 And then a thousand fragrant posies, 
 A cap of flowers, and a kirtle 
 Embroider'd all with leaves of myrtle ; 
 
64 THE COMPLETE ANGLER. part i. 
 
 A gown made of the finest wool 
 Which from our pretty lambs we pull \ 
 Slippers lined choicely for the cold. 
 With buckles of the purest gold ; 
 
 A belt of straw and ivy buds, 
 With coral clasps and amber studs: 
 And if these pleasures may thee move. 
 Come live with me, and be my love. 
 
 Thy silver dishes for my meat, 
 As precious as the gods do eat, 
 Shall, on an ivory table, be 
 Prepared each day for thee and me. 
 
 The shepherd swains shall dance and sing, 
 For thy delight, each May morning. 
 If these delights thy mind may move, 
 Then live with me, and be my love. 
 
 Ven. Trust me, my master, it is a choice song, and sweetly 
 sung by honest Maudlin. I now see_jt_wasji Qt without c ause 
 that our good Que^nJRlMzahftb did go o ften \fj\ f\\ bfir«;f^]f3jrnilK 
 mai3~"aTrthe~month of^Ma y^ because they are^not troubled w ith 
 fears and cares, and sing sweetly all the day, and sleep securely 
 all the night: and without doubt, honest, innocent, pretty 
 Maudlin does so. I'll bontnnr Sir Tj^ni ppc; Overburyls milk- 
 maid's wish upon her, "That she may die in the spring, and 
 being dead, may have good store of flowers stuck round about 
 her winding sheet." 
 
 THE MILKMAID'S MOTHER'S ANSWER. 
 
 If all the world and love were young, 
 And truth in every shepherd's tongue, 
 These pretty pleasures might me move 
 To live with thee, and be thy love. 
 
 But Time drives flocks from field to fold, 
 When rivers rage and rocks grow cold; 
 Then Philomel becometh dumb, 
 And age complains of care to come. 
 
ciTA?. 17. THE THIRD DAY. 65 
 
 The flowers do fade, and wanton fields 
 To wayward winter reckoning yields. 
 A honey tongue, a heart of gall, 
 Is fancy's spring, but sorrow's fall. 
 
 Thy gowns, thy shoes, thy beds of roses, 
 Thy cap, thy kirtle, and thy posies, 
 Soon break, soon wither, soon forgotten ; 
 In folly ripe, in reason rotten. 
 
 Thy belt of straw and ivy buds, 
 Thy coral clasps and amber studs, 
 All these in me no means can move 
 To come to thee and be thy love. 
 
 What should we talk of dainties, then. 
 Of belter meat than's fit for men? 
 These are but vain ; that's only good 
 Which God hath bless'd, and sent for food. 
 
 But could youth last and love still breed- 
 Had joys no date, or age no need — 
 Then those delights my mind might move 
 To live with thee, and be thy love. 
 
 Mother. Well ! I have done my song. But stay, honest 
 anglers ; for I will make Maudlin to sing you one short song 
 more. Maudlin ! sing that song that you sung last night, when 
 young Coridon the shepherd played so purely on his oaten pipe 
 to you and your cousin Betty. 
 
 Maud. I will, mother. 
 
 *'I married a wife of late, 
 The more's my unhappy fate; 
 
 I married her for love, 
 
 As my lancy did me nu) ve, c^t""0w^"^O 
 And not for a worldly esta te ; fj 
 
 But, oh ! the green sickness 
 Soon changed her likeness 
 And all her beauty did fail. 
 
66 THE COMPLETE ANGLER. part i. 
 
 But 'tis not so 
 With those that go 
 Through frost and snow, 
 As all men know, 
 And carry the milking-pail." 
 
 PiSC. Well sung, good woman ; I thank you. Fll give you 
 another dish of fish one of these days, and then beg another 
 song of you. Come, scholar, let Maudlin alone ; do not you 
 offer to spoil her voice. Look, yonder comes mine hostess, to 
 call us to supper. How now ? Is my brother Peter come ? 
 
 Host. Yes, and a friend with him ; they are both glad to hear 
 that you are in these parts, and long to see you^ and long to be 
 at supper, for they be very hungry. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 MORE DIRECTIONS HOW TO FISH FOR, AND HOW TO MAKE 
 FOR THE TROUT AN ARTIFICIAL MINNOW AND FLIES ; 
 WITH SOME MERRIMENT. 
 
 PiSC. Well met, brother Peter: I heard you and a friend 
 would lodge here to-night, and that hath made me to bring my 
 friend to lodge here too. My friend is one that would fain be a 
 brother of the angle ; he hath been an angler but this day, and 
 I have taught him how to catch a chub by dapping with a grass-' 
 hopper, and the chub that he caught was a lusty one of nineteen 
 inches long. But pray, brother Peter, who is your companion ? 
 
 Peter. Brother Piscator, my friend is an honest country- 
 man, and his name is Coridon, and he is a downright witty 
 companion, that met me here purposely to be pleasant and eat 
 a trout, and I have not yet wetted my line since we met 
 together ; but I hope to fit him with a trout for his breakfast, 
 for Pll be early up. 
 
 PiSC. Nay, brother, you shall not stay so long: for, look you, 
 here is a trout will fill six reasonable bellies. 
 
ciTAP. V. THE THIRD DAY. 67 
 
 Comejiostjess^-rtess it presently, and get us what other meat 
 the hou se will aj joid^-and^giye us some of your best barley-wine, 
 the good liquor that our honest forefathers did use to drink of; 
 th e~BHn^ ^wElcli4H:esmx£djgeirirealth, and made them live so 
 long, and do so many good deeds. 
 
 ^^ET^rTO' my word, this trout is perfect in season. Come I 
 thank you, and here is a hearty draught to you, and to all the 
 brothers of the angle wheresoever they be, and to my young 
 brothei-'s good fortune to-morrow. I will furnish him with a rod 
 if you will furnish him with the rest of the tackling ; we will set 
 him up and make him a fisher. And I will tell him one thing 
 for his encouragement, that his fortune hath made him happy to 
 be scholar to such a master; a master that knows as much, 
 both of the nature and breeding of fish, as any man ; and can 
 also tell him as well how to catch and cook them, from the 
 minnow to the salmon, as any that I ever met withal. 
 
 PiSC. Trust me, brother Peter, I find my scholar to be so 
 suitable to my own humour, which is, to be free and pleasant 
 and civilly merry, that my resolution is to hide nothing that I 
 know from him. Believe me, scholar, this is my resolution; 
 and so here's to you a hearty draught, and to all that love us 
 and the honest art of angling. 
 
 Ven. Trust me, good master, you shall not sow your seed in 
 barren ground ; for I hope to return you an increase answerable 
 to your hopes : but, however, you shall find me obedient and 
 .thankful and serviceable to my best ability. 
 
 Pisc. 'Tis enough, honest scholar ! come, let's to supper. 
 Come, my friend Coridon, this trout looks lovely ; it was twenty- 
 two inches when it was taken ! and the belly of it looked, some 
 part of it, as yellow as a marigold, and part of it as white as a 
 lily ; and yet, methinks, it looks better in this good sauce. 
 
 Coridon. Indeed, honest friend, it looks well, and tastes 
 well : I thank you for it, and so doth my friend Peter, or else he 
 is to blame. 
 
 Peter. Yes, and so do I, we all thank you ; and when we 
 have supped, I will get my friend Coridon to sing you. a song 
 for requital. 
 
68 THE COMPLETE ANGLER. part i. 
 
 Cor. I will sing a song, if anybody will sing another; else, 
 to_be.pIaiir^'tth yoLi, I'will sing none: I am none of those that 
 sing for meat, but for company : I say, " 'Tis me rry in h all, 
 when men sing all." ^^ "^ " 
 
 PiSC. I'll promise you I'll sing a song that was lately made 
 at my request by M^r. William Basse, one that hath made the 
 choice songs of The Htintej^ i?t Ms Carcer^^n^ of Tni fi nf E pdJ.am.^ 
 and many others of note; and this that I will si ng is in pr aise 
 of angling. 
 
 "T^OR. And then mine shall be, the praise of a countryman's 
 life: what will the rest sing of? 
 
 Peter. I will promise you, I will sing another song in praise 
 of angling to-morrow night ; for we will not part till then, but 
 fish to-morrow, and sup together, and the next day every man 
 leave fishing, and fall to his business. 
 
 Ven. 'Tis a match ; and I will provide you a song or a 
 catch against then too, which shall give some addition of 
 mirth to the company ; for we wil l be civ il, and as merry as 
 beggars. 
 
 PiSC. 'Tis a match, my masters; let's e'en say grace, and 
 turn to the fire, drink the other cup to wet our whistles, and so 
 sing away all sad thoughts. 
 
 Come on, my masters, who begins? I think it is best to 
 draw cuts, and avoid contention. 
 
 Peter. It is a match. Look, the shortest cut falls to 
 Coridon. 
 
 Cor. Well, then, I will begin, for I hate contention. 
 
 CORIDON'S SONG. 
 
 Oh, the sweet contentment 
 The countryman doth find ! 
 
 Heigh trolql lie loll ie loe, 
 
 Heigh trolollie lollie lee. 
 Thnf r^nj^f c ontemplation 
 Possesseth all my mind ; 
 
 Then care away, 
 
 And wend along with me. 
 
CHAP. V. THE THIRD DAY. 69 
 
 For COUrf.g ar^ full nf flnltpry^ 
 
 As hath too oft been tried ; 
 
 Heigh trolollie loUie loe, etc. 
 T^^ rjfy full of wanton ness. 
 Atfd both are full o f pride : 
 
 Then care away, etc. 
 
 But, oh ! the honest countryman 
 Speaks truly from his heart; 
 
 Heigh trolollie lollie loe, etc 
 His pride is in his tillage, 
 His horses and his cart: 
 
 Then care away, etc. 
 
 Our clothing is good sheepskins, 
 Gray russet for our wives; 
 
 Heigh trolollie lollie loe, etc. 
 
 ' Tis warmth, a nrj not prny rlnthin^j 
 
 That doth prolong our lives : 
 Then care away, etc. 
 
 The ploij^ hman, thoug h \ie. labour ha rci^ 
 Yet on the holiday. 
 
 Heigh trolollie lollie loe, etc 
 I ^emperor so mer rily 
 Dj ^lh pass his time away. 
 
 Then care away, etc. 
 
 To recompense our tillage. 
 The heavens afford us showers ; 
 
 Heigh trolollie lollie loe, etc. 
 And for our sweet refreshments 
 The earth affords us bowers : 
 
 Then care away, etc. 
 
 The cuckoo and the nightingale 
 Full merrily do sing, 
 
 Heigh trolollie lollie loe, etc. 
 And with their pleasant roundelays 
 Bid welcome to the spring : 
 
 Then care away, etc. 
 
70 THE COMPLETE ANGLER. part i. 
 
 This is not half the happiness 
 
 The countryman enjoys; 
 
 Heigh troloUie lollie loe, etc. 
 
 Though others think they have as much, 
 
 Yet he that says so lies: 
 Then come away, turn 
 Countryman with me. — ^Jo. Ciialkhill. 
 
 VyV^ PiSC. Well sung, Condon; this song was sung with mettle, 
 
 kT and it was choicely fitted to the occasion ; I shall love you for 
 
 rl it as long as I know you ; I would you were a brother of the 
 
 Kr^ tSLYi^le .: fqr a companion that is cheerful, and free from swearing 
 
 ' a nd scurrilous""5t5gfll]f5e. is worth gold. 1 love such mirth as 
 
 does not make friends ashamed to look upon one another next 
 
 morning; nor men that cannot well bear it, to repent the money 
 
 they spent when they be warmed with drink : and take this for 
 
 ajrulej^you may pick out such times, and such companions, that 
 
 you may make yourselves merrier for a little than a great deal 
 
 of money; for, '"Tis the company and not the ^ charge that 
 
 makes the feast;" and such a companion you p rove, I th ank 
 
 you for it. 
 
 X^"^ "-But I will not compliment you out of thede. bt tha L l owe y ou; 
 
 and therefore I will begin my song, and wish it may be so well 
 
 liked. 
 
 THE ANGLER'S SONG. 
 
 As inward love breeds outward talk. 
 The hound some praise, and some the hawk; 
 Some, better pleased with private sport, 
 Use tennis; some a mistress court: 
 
 But these delights I neither wish 
 
 Nor envy, while I freely fish. 
 
 Who hunts, doth oft in danger ride ; 
 Who hawks, lures oft both far and wide ; 
 \Vho uses games, shall often prove 
 A loser; but who falls in love 
 Is fetter'd in fond Cupid's snare : 
 J^yangle breeds me no such care. 
 
CHAP. V. THE THIRD DAY. 
 
 Of recreation there is none 
 
 So free as fishing is alone; 
 
 All other pastimes do no less 
 
 Than mind and body both possess; 
 My hand alone my work can do 
 So I can lish and study too. 
 
 I care not, I, to fish in seas — 
 Fresh rivers best my mind do please, 
 Whose sweet calm course I contemplate, 
 And seek in life to imitate : 
 
 In civil bounds I fain would keep, 
 And for my past offences weep. 
 
 And when the timorous trout I wait 
 To take, and he devours my bait, 
 How poor a thing, sometimes I find, 
 Will captivate a greedy mind ; 
 
 An d when none bite. I praise the w ise, 
 WJiom vain allurements ne er surp rise. 
 
 But yet, though while I fish I fast, 
 I make good fortune my repast ; 
 And thereunto my friend invite. 
 In whom I more than that delight: 
 Who is more welcome to my dish 
 Than to my angle was my fish. 
 
 As well content no prize to take, 
 As use of taken prize to make ; 
 For so our Lord was pleased, when 
 He fishers made fishers of men ; 
 Where (which is in no other game) 
 A man may fish and praise His name. 
 
 The first men that our Saviour dear 
 Did choose to wait upon Him here, 
 Bless'd fishers were, and fish the last 
 Food was that He on earth did taste: 
 I therefore strive to follow those 
 Whom He to follow Him hath chose. 
 
72 THE COMPLETE ANGLER. part i. 
 
 Cor. Well sung, brother, you have paid your debt in good 
 coin. We anglers are all beholden to the good man that made 
 this song : come^ hostess, give us more ale, and let's drink to 
 him. 
 
 And now let's every one go to bed, that we may rise early : 
 but first let's pay our reckoning, for I will have nothing to 
 hinder me in the morning, for my purpose is to prevent the sun- 
 rising. 
 
 Peter. A match. Come, Coridon, you are to be my bed- 
 fellow. I know, brother, you and your scholar will lie together. 
 But where shall we meet to-morrow night.? for my friend 
 Coridon and I will go up the water towards Ware. 
 
 Pl6C. And my scholar and I will go down towards Waltham. 
 
 CoR. Then let's meet here, for here are fresh sfe«^i;5_Jiiat 
 sn^H^ll nflRvpndpi:; and I am sure we cannot expect better meat 
 or better usage in any place. 
 
 Peter. 'Tis a match. Good night to everybody. 
 
 Pisc. And so say I. 
 
 Ven. And so say I. 
 
73 
 
 THE FOURTH DAY. 
 CHAPTER V.~ {Continued) 
 
 PlSC. Good-morrow, good hostess; I see my brother Peter 
 is still in bed : come, give my scholar and me a morning drink, 
 and a bit of meat to breakfast ; and be sure to get a good dish 
 of meat or two against supper, for we shall come home as 
 hungry as hawks. Come, scholar, let's be going. 
 
 Ven. Well now, good master, as we walk towards the river 
 give me direction, according to your promise, how I shall fish 
 for a trout. 
 
 PiSC. My honest scholar, I will take this very convenient 
 opportunity to do it. 
 
 The trout is usually caught with a worm or a minnow, which 
 some call a penk, or with a fly, viz., either a natural or an 
 artificial fly: concerning which three I will give you some 
 observations and directions. 
 
 And, first, for worms: of these there be very many sorts: 
 some breed only in the earth, as the earth-worm; others of or 
 amongst plants, as the dung- worm ; and others breed either out 
 of excrements, or in the bodies of living creatures, as in the 
 horns of sheep or deer; or some of dead flesh, as the maggot 
 or gentle, and others. 
 
 Now these be most of them particularly good for particular 
 fishes : but for the trout, the dew-worm, which some also call 
 the lob- worm, and the brandling are the chief ; and especially 
 the first for a great trout, and the latter for a less. There be 
 also of lob-worms some called squirrel-tails, a worm that has a 
 
74 THE COMPLETE ANGLER. part i. 
 
 red head, a streak down the back, and a broad tail, which are 
 noted to be the best, because they are the toughest and most 
 Hvely, and Hve longest in the water : for you are to know that a 
 dead worm is but a dead bait, and like to catch nothing, com- 
 pared to a lively, quick, stirring worm : and for a brandling, he 
 is usually found in an old dunghill, or some very rotten place 
 near to it: but most usually in cow-dung, or hog's dung, rather 
 than horse-dung, which is somewhat too hot and dry for that 
 worm. But the best of them are to be found in the bark of the 
 tanners, which they cast up in heaps after they have used it 
 about their leather. 
 
 There are also divers other kinds of worms, which for colour 
 and shape alter even as the ground out of which they are got ; 
 as the marsh-worm, the tag-tail, the flag-worm, the dock-worm, 
 the oak-worm, the gilt-tail, the twachel, or lob-worm, which of 
 all others is the most excellent bait for a salmon ; and too many 
 to name, even as many sorts as some think there be ofseveral 
 herbs or shrubs, or ofseveral kinds of birds in the air; of which 
 I shall say no more, but tell you that what worms soever you fish 
 with are the better for being well scoured, that is, long kept 
 before they be used : and in case you have not been so provi- 
 dent, then the way to cleanse and scour them quickly is to put 
 them all night in water, if they be lob-worms, and then put them 
 into your bag with fennel But you must not put your brand- 
 lings above an hour in water, and then put them into fennel, for 
 sudden use : but if you have time, and purpose to keep them 
 long, then they be best preserved in an earthen pot, with good 
 store of moss, which is to be fresh every three or four days in 
 summer, and every week or eight days in winter ; or, at least, 
 the moss taken from them and clean washed, and wrung betwixt 
 your hands till it be dry, and then put it to them again. And 
 when your worms, especially the brandling, begins to be sick 
 and lose of his bigness, then you may recover him by putting a 
 little milk or cream, about a spoonful in a day, into them, by 
 drops on the moss ; and if there be added to the cream an egg 
 beaten and boiled in it, then it will both fatten and preserve 
 them long. And note, that when the knot, which is near to the 
 
CHAP. V. THE FOURTH DAY. 75 
 
 middle of the brandling, begins to swell, then he is sick; and, if 
 he be not well looked to, is near dying. And for moss, you are 
 to note, that there be divers kinds of it, which I could name to 
 you, but I will only tell you that that which is likest a buck's- 
 horn is the best, except it be soft white moss, which grows on 
 some heaths, and is hard to be found. And note, that in a very 
 dry time, when you are put to an extremity for worms, walnut- 
 tree leaves squeezed into water, or salt in water, to make it bitter 
 or salt, and then that water poured on the ground, where you 
 shall see worms are used to rise in the night, will make them 
 to appear above ground presently. And you may take notice, 
 some say that camphor, put into your bag with your moss and 
 worms, gives them a strong and so tempting a smell, that the 
 fish fare the worse and you the better for it. 
 
 And now I shall show you how to bait your hook with a 
 worm, so as shall prevent you from much trouble, and the loss 
 of many a hook too, when you fish for a trout with a running- 
 line, that is to say, when you fish for him by hand at the 
 ground : I will direct you in this as plainly as I can, that you 
 may not mistake. 
 
 Suppose it be a big lob-worm, put your hook into him some- 
 what above the middle, and out again a little below the middle ; 
 having so done, draw your worm above the arming of your 
 hook : but note that at the entering of your hook it must not be 
 at the head-end of the worm, but at the tail-end of him, that the 
 point of your hook may come out toward the head-end, and 
 having drawn him above the arming of your hook, then put the 
 point of your hook again into the very head of the worm, till it 
 come near to the place where the point of the hook first came 
 out : and then draw back that part of the worm that was above 
 the shank or arming of your hook, and so fish with it. And if 
 you mean to fish with two worms, then put the second on before 
 you turn back the hook's-head of the first worm: you cannot 
 lose above two or three worms before you attain to what I 
 direct you; and having attained it, you will find it very useful, 
 and thank me for it, for you will run on the ground without 
 tangling. 
 
76 THE COMPLETE ANGLER. part i. 
 
 Now for the Minnow or Penk: he is not easily found and 
 caught till March, or in April, for then he appears first in the 
 river; nature having taught him to shelter and hide himself, in 
 the winter, in ditches that be near to the river; and there both 
 to hide, and keep himself warm, in the mud, or in the weeds, 
 which rot not so soon as in a running river, in which place if he 
 were in winter, the distempered floods that are usually in that 
 season would suffer him to take no rest, but carry him headlong 
 to mills and weirs, to his confusion. And of these minnows ; 
 first you are to know that the biggest size is not the best ; and 
 ^next, that the middle size and the whitest are the best; and then 
 you are to know, that your minnow must be so put on your 
 hook, that it must turn round when it is drawn against the 
 stream; and, that it may turn nimbly, you must put it on a big- 
 sized hook, as I shall now direct you, which is thus: put your 
 hook in at his mouth, and out at his gill ; then, having drawn 
 your hook two or three inches beyond or through his gill, put it 
 again into his mouth, and the point and beard out at his tail ; 
 and then tie the hook and his tail about, very neatly, with a 
 white thread, which will make it the apter to turn quick in the 
 water: that done, pull back that part of your line which was 
 slack when you did put your hook into the minnow the second 
 time ; I say, pull that part of your line back, so that it shall 
 fasten the head, so that the body of the m.innow shall be almost 
 straight on your hook : this done, try how it will turn, by drawing 
 it across the water or against the stream; and if it do not turn 
 nimbly, then turn the tail a little to the right or left hand, and 
 try again, till it turn quick; for if not, you are in danger to catch 
 nothing : for know that it is impossible that it should turn too 
 quick; and you are yet to know, that in case you want a 
 minnow, then a small loach or a stickle-bag, or any other small 
 fish that will turn quick, will serve as well : and you are yet to 
 know, that you may salt them, and by that means keep them 
 ready and fit for use three or four days or longer ; and that of 
 salt, bay-salt is the best. 
 
 And here let me tell you, what many old anglers know right 
 well, that at some times, and in some waters, a minnow is not to 
 
CHAP. V. THE FOURTH DAY. . 77 
 
 be got; and therefore let me tell you, I have— which I will 
 show you — an artificial minnow, that will catch a trout as well 
 as an artificial fly, and it was made by a handsome woman that 
 had a fine hand, and a live minnow lying by her: the mould or 
 body of the minnow was cloth, and wrought upon or over it 
 thus with a needle : the back of it with very sad French green 
 silk, and paler green silk towards the belly, shadowed as 
 perfectly as you can imagine, just as you see a minnow; the 
 belly was wrought also with a needle, and it was a part of it 
 white silk, and another part of it with silver thread ; the tail and 
 fins were of a quill which was shaven thin ; the eyes were of 
 two little black beads, and the head was so shadowed, and all 
 of it so curiously wrought, and so exactly dissembled that it 
 would beguile any sharp-sighted trout in a swift stream. And 
 this minnow I will now show you ; look, here it is, and, if you 
 like it, lend it you, to have two or three made by it ; for they 
 be easily carried about an angler, and be of excellent use ; for 
 note, that a large trout will come as fiercely at a minnow as 
 the highest mettled hawk doth seize on a partridge, or a grey- 
 hound on a hare. I have been told that a hundred and sixty 
 minnows have been found in a trout's belly ; either the trout 
 had devoured so many, or the miller that gave it a friend of 
 mine had forced them down his throat after he had taken him. 
 
 Now for flies, which is the third bait wherewith trouts are 
 usually taken. You are to know that there are so many sorts of 
 flies as there be of fruits: I will name you but some of them; 
 as the dun-fly, the stone-fly, the red-fly, the moor-fly, the 
 tawny-fly, the shell-fly, the cloudy or blackish-fly, the flag-fly, 
 the vine-fly ; there be of flies, caterpillars, and canker-flies, and 
 bear-flies ; and indeed too many either for me to name, or for 
 you to remember. And their breeding is so various and 
 wonderful, that I might easily amaze myself, and tire you in 
 a relation of them. 
 
 And, yet, I will exercise your promised patience by saying 
 a little of the caterpillar, or the palmer-fly or worm ; that by 
 them you may guess what a work it were, in a discourse, but 
 to run over those very many flies, worms, and little living 
 
78 . THE COMPLETE ANGLER. part i. 
 
 creatures with which the sun and summer adorn and beautify 
 the river-banks and meadows, both for the recreation and 
 contemplation of us anglers; pleasures which, I think, I 
 myself enjoy more than any other man that is not of my 
 profession. 
 
 Pliny holds an opinion that many have their birth or being 
 from a dew that in the spring falls from the leaves of trees ; 
 and that some kinds of them are from a dew left upon herbs 
 or flowers; and others, from a dew left upon coleworts or 
 cabbages: all which kinds of dews being thickened and con- 
 densed, are by the sun's generative heat most of them hatched, 
 and in three days made living creatures ; and these of several 
 shapes and colours ; some being hard and tough, some smooth 
 and soft; some are horned in their head, some in their tail, 
 some have none; some have hair, some none; some have 
 sixteen feet, some less, and some have none; but as our 
 Topsel hath with great diligence observed, those which have 
 none move upon the earth, or upon great leaves, their motion 
 being not unlike to the waves of the sea. Some of them, he 
 also observes, to be bred of the eggs of other caterpillars, and 
 that those in their time turn to be butterflies; and again, 
 that their eggs turn the following year to be caterpillars. And 
 some affirm that every plant has his particular fly or caterpillar, 
 which it breeds and feeds. ' I have seen, and may therefore 
 affirm it, a green caterpillar or worm, as big as a small peascod, 
 which had fourteen legs, eight on the belly, four under the neck, 
 and two near the tail. It was found on a hedge of privet, and 
 was taken thence and put into a large box, and a little branch 
 or two of privet put to it, on which I saw it feed as sharply as 
 a dog gnaws a bone ; it lived thus five or six days, and thrived 
 and changed the colour two or three times; but, by some 
 neglect in the keeper of it, it then died, and did not turn to a 
 fly: but if it had Hved, it had doubtless turned to one of those 
 flies that some call flies of prey, which those that walk by the 
 rivers may, in summer, see fasten on smaller flies, and, I think, 
 make them their food. And 'tis observable, that as there be 
 these flies of prey, which be very large, so there be others, very 
 
CHAP. V. THE FOURTH DAY. 79 
 
 little, created, I think, only to feed them, and breed out of 
 I know not what ; whose life, they say, nature intended not to 
 exceed an hour : and yet that life is thus made shorter by other 
 flies, or by accident. 
 
 It is needless to tell you what the curious searchers into 
 nature's productions have observed of these worms and flies: 
 but yet I shall tell you what Aldrovandus, our Topsel, and 
 others say of the palmer-worm, or caterpillar, that whereas 
 others content themselves to feed on particular herbs or leaves, 
 — for most think those very leaves that gave them life and 
 shape give them a particular feeding and nourishment, and 
 that upon them they usually abide; yet he observes that this 
 is called a pilgrim, or palmer-worm, for his very wandering 
 life and various food : not contenting himself, as others do, with 
 any one certain place for his abode, nor any certain kind of 
 "herb or flower for his feeding, but will boldly and disorderly 
 wander up and down, and not endure to be kept to a diet, or 
 fixed to a particular place. 
 
 Nay, the very colours of caterpillars are, as one has observed, 
 very elegant and beautiful. I shall, for a taste of the rest, 
 describe one of them ; which I will, some time the next month, 
 show you feeding on a willow-tree; and you shall find him 
 punctually to answer this very description : his lips and mouth 
 somewhat yellow; his eyes black as jet; his forehead purple; 
 his feet and hinder parts green; his tail two-forked and black; 
 the whole body stained with a kind of red spots, which run 
 along the neck and shoulder-blade, not unlike the form of St. 
 Andrew's cross, or the letter X) made thus cross- wise, and a 
 white line drawn down his back to his tail ; all which add much 
 beauty to his whole body. And it is to me observable, that at 
 a fixed age this caterpillar gives over to eat, and towards winter 
 comes to be covered over with a strange shell or crust, called 
 an aurelia: and so lives a kind of dead life, without eating, all 
 the winter ; and, as others of several kinds turn to be several 
 kinds of flies and vermin the spring following, so this cater- 
 pillar then turns to be a painted butterfly. 
 
 Come, come, my scholar, you see the river stops our morning 
 
So THE COMPLETE ANGLER. part i. 
 
 walk, and I will also here stop my discourse ; only as we sit 
 down under this honeysuckle hedge, whilst I look a line to fit 
 the rod that our brother Peter hath lent you, I shall for a little 
 confirmation of what I have said, repeat the observation of Du 
 Bartas. 
 
 " God, not contented to each kind to give, 
 And to infuse the virtue generative, 
 By His wise power made many creatures breed 
 Of lifeless bodies, without Venus' deed. 
 
 So the cold humour breeds the salamander, 
 Who, in effect like to her birth's commander, 
 With child with hundred winters, with her touch 
 Quencheth the fire, though glowing ne'er so much. 
 
 So in the fire, in burning furnace springs 
 The fly Perausta, with the flaming wings; 
 Without the fire it dies, in it it joys, 
 Living in that which all things else destroys 
 
 So slow Bootes underneath him sees, 
 In th' icy islands, goslings hatch'd of trees, 
 Whose fruitful leaves, falling into the water. 
 Are turn'd, 'tis known, to living fowls soon after. 
 
 So rotten planks of broken ships do change 
 To barnacles. O transformation strange ! 
 Twas first a green tree, then a broken hull, 
 Lately a mushroom, now a flying gull." 
 
 Ven. O my good master, this morning-walk has been spent 
 to my great pleasure and wonder: but I pray, when shall I 
 have your direction how to make artificial flies, like to those 
 that the trout loves best, and also how to use them ? 
 
 PiSC. My honest scholar, it is now past five of the clock, 
 we will fish till nine, and then go to breakfast. Go you to yon 
 sycainpre-tree and hide your bottle of drink^under Tfie'Trol low 
 ^y r^ot of it ; for about that time, and in that place, we"will make 
 a brave breakfast with a piece of powdered beef^ andjuradish 
 or two th at I have in_ my fish-ba ^^ ; we shall, I warrant you, 
 
 A 
 
CHAP. V. THE FOURTH DAY. 8i 
 
 make a g ^ood ^hones t, Nvholesome, hun gry breakfast, and I will 
 then give you direction for the making and using of your flies ; 
 and in the meantime there is your rod, and line, and my advice 
 is, that you fish as you see me do, and let's try which can catch 
 the first fish. 
 
 Ven. I thank you, master, I will observe and practise your 
 direction as far as I am able. 
 
 PiSC. Look you, scholar, you see I have hold of a good fish : 
 I now see it is a trout, I pray put that net under him, and touch 
 not my line, for if you do, then we break all. Well done, 
 scholar, I thank you. 
 
 Now for another. Trust me, I have another bite: come, 
 scholar, come lay down your rod, and help me to land this as 
 you did the other. So now we shall be sure to have a good 
 dish for supper. 
 
 Ven. I am glad of that ; bi;! I h n v c n n f n rtu n r - n nrrj-m nntrrj 
 vours Js a better r od an^Ji^Ltex-taeWrng. 
 
 PiSC. Nay, theu^'idke mine, and I will fish with yours. 
 Look you, scholar, I have another. Come, do as you did 
 before. And now I have a bite at another. Oh me ! he has 
 broke all : there's half a line and a good hook lost. 
 
 VEN.^.y, and a good trout too. 
 
 PiscyNay, the troutjs jiot lost ; for pray take notice, no _man 
 can lose what he never had.^N^ 
 
 "VENTlVlaster, I can neitlif^atch with the first nor second 
 angle: T hive no fnrtntK 
 
 PiSC. 1.00k you, scholar, I have yet another. And now, 
 having caught three brace of trouts, I will tell you a short tale 
 as we walk towards our breakfast. A scholar,, a preacher I 
 should say, that was to jDreach to procure the approbation of a 
 pai-ishT^hatlTeli ilght be their lect urer, had got from his fellow 
 pupiljJie>^£op}j ^f a sermon t hat was first preached with great 
 recommendation by him that composed it: and though the 
 borrowe ^r^'of'hr^preacTiedit, w oHTor word, as it was at first,x^t 
 it was utterly disliked as it was preached by the second to^Jiis 
 congregation: which the sermoiTBorrbwer complained of tojhe 
 lender of it ; and thus was answered : "I lent you, indeed, my 
 
 ■ — , , : — ~^ 
 
82 
 
 TPIE COMPLETE ANGLER. 
 
 TART I. 
 
 fiddle, but not my fiddlestick; for you are to know that every 
 one cannot make music with my words, which arc fitted to my 
 pwn mouth." And so, my scholar, you are to know, that as the 
 
 ill pronun ciation or ^' ^j nr^f^nting- r^f wm-ric; in n qormon <;pn ik it, 
 
 S Q_the ill carriao-e oFvour line, or no t fis hino- even to a foot in a 
 ri<>^ht place, make s, vou lose your laboiii: : and yon are to know, 
 t hat though yo u^hnvf^ ixn^^firlrllp t hat is, my very rp d and 
 tacklin^s with which yon see~i catrh tishj ypf ynn ]invp not 
 mA Lfiddlestickj _that is. you yet have not skill to know how to 
 carry your handand fine, or how tO gume it to a rityhtj alace : 
 and thTs"musrbe taug ht you : tor you are to remember. I told 
 i yoiua ilgling is an art , either by practice or a long observaUo n, 
 \or both . But take this for a rule. When you tish ior a trout with 
 a worm, let your line have so much, and not more lead than will 
 fit the stream in which you fish ; that is to say, more in a great 
 troublesome stream than in a smaller that is quieter; as near as 
 may be, so much as will sink the bait to the bottom, and keep 
 it still in motion, and not more ^.\i^i 
 
 But ^ow let's say grace and fall to breakfast : what say 
 yo u, sc holar, to the providence of an oldLangleF? Does not 
 this meat taste well? and was not this place weltcRbsen to 
 eat it? for this sycamore tree will shade us from the sun's heat. 
 Ven. All excellent good, and my stomach excellent good 
 too. And now I remember and find that true which devout 
 Lessius says: ^^"Wi^>J: pr^^^^- m'^U, and those that fast ofl^ en, 
 h^ve much mnrp.j 2Lca^ne in eat i ng than rich men and glut tons, 
 th at alwa y ^ee 
 
 feed before^ their'stni -narhg ^"'^ ^ritpfy r>£ th^^ir last 
 meat, an d call for morej for by that means they rob themselves 
 of that pleasure that hunger brings to poor men." And I do 
 seriously approve of that saying of yours, " that you would rather 
 be a civil, \ven-governed, well-grounded, temperate, poor a t^gler 
 th an^^a^diTmken lord. " But I hope there is none suchj hiowever , 
 I am certain of this, thaTTTiaVe iDcen at very many^Tostly 
 dinners that have not afforded me half the content that this iTas 
 done, for which I thank God and you. -^ 
 
 And now, good master, proceed to your promised direction for 
 niaking and ordering my artificial fly. 
 
CHAP. V, THE FOURTH DAY. S3 
 
 PiSC. My honest scholar, I will do it ; for it is a debt due 
 unto you by my promise. And because you shall not think 
 yourself more engaged to me than indeed you really are, I will 
 freely give you such directions as were lately given to me by an 
 ingenious brother of the angle, an honest man and a most 
 excellent fly-fisher. 
 
 You are to note, that there are twelve kinds of artificially made 
 flies to angle with on the top of the water. Note, by the way, 
 that the fittest season of using these is a blustering windy day, 
 when the waters are so troubled that the natural fly cannot be 
 seen, or rest upon them. The first is the dun-fly, in March : the 
 body is made of dun wool ; the wings, of the partridge's feathers. 
 The second is another dun-fly : the body of black wool ; and the 
 wings made of the black drake's feathers, and of the feathers 
 under his tail. The third is the stone-fly, in April: the body is 
 made of black wool ; made yell^ under the wings and under 
 the tail, and so made with the wings of the drake. The fourth 
 is the ruddy fly^ in the beginning of May : the body made of 
 red wool, wrapt about with black silk ; and the feathers are the 
 wings of the drake : with the feathers of a red capon also, which 
 hangs dangling on his sides next to the tail. The fifth is the 
 yellow or greenish fly, in May likewise: the body made of 
 yellow wool ; and the wings made of the red cock's hackle or 
 tail. The sixth is the black-fly, in May also : the body made of 
 black wool, and lapped about with the herle of a peacock's tail ; 
 the wings are made of the wings of a. brown capon, with his 
 blue feathers in his head. The seventh is the sad yellow-fly, in 
 June : the body is made of black wool, with a yellow list on 
 either side ; and the wings taken off the wings of a buzzard, 
 bound with black braked hemp. The eighth is the moorish-fly : 
 made with the body of duskish wool ; and the wings made of 
 the blackish mail of the drake. The ninth is the tawny-fly, 
 good until the middle of June : the body made of tawny wool, 
 the wings made contrary, one against the other, made of the 
 whitish mail of the wild drake. The tenth is the wasp-fly, in 
 July: the body made of black wool, lapped about with yellow 
 silk; the wings made of the feathers of the drake, or of the 
 
84 THE COMPLETE ANGLER. part i. 
 
 buzzard. The eleventh is the shell-fly, good in mid-July : the 
 body made of greenish wool, lapped about with the herle of a 
 peacock's tail, and the wings made of the wings of the buzzard. 
 The twelfth is the dark drake-fly, good in August: the body 
 made with black wool, lapped about with black silk; his wings 
 are made with the mail of the black drake, with a black head. 
 Thus have you a jury of flies, likely to betray and condemn all 
 the trouts m the river. 
 
 I shaIlnext_^ive_^ou_^qme_jOthe^ directions for fly-fishing, 
 siich as are-gJYejQ ^ by Mr. Thomas BarkerTa ge ntleman that 
 hath^sftent^miirji jime in fish ing; but _I shall do it with a little 
 variation. " 
 
 First, let your rod be light, and very gentle ; I take the best 
 to be of two pieces : and let not your line exceed, — especially 
 for three or four links next to the hook, — I say, not exceed 
 three or four hairs at the most, though you may fish a little 
 stronger above, in the upper part of your line; but if you can 
 attain to angle with one hair, you shall have more rises, and 
 catch more fish. Now you must be sure not to cumber yourself 
 with too long a line, as most do. And before you begin to 
 angle, cast to have the wind on your back; and the sun, if it 
 shines, to be before you ; and to fish down the stream ; and 
 carry the point or top of your rod downward, by which means, 
 the shadow of yourself and rod too will be least offensive to 
 the fish ; for the sight of any shade amazes the fish, and spoils 
 your sport — of which you must take a great care. 
 
 In the middle of March, till which time a man should not, 
 in honesty, catch a trout — or in April, if the weather be dark, 
 or a little windy or cloudy, the best fishing is with the palmer- 
 worm, of which I last spoke to you ; but of these there be divers 
 kinds, or at least of divers colours; these and the May-fly are 
 the ground of all fly-angling, which are to be thus made : 
 
 First, you must arm your hook with the line in the inside 
 of it, then take your scissors, and cut so much of a brown 
 mallard's feather, as in your own reason will make the wings 
 of it, you having withal regard to the bigness or littleness of 
 your hook ; then lay the outmost part of your feather next to 
 
CHAP. V. THE FOURTH DAY. 85 
 
 your hook, then the point of your feather next the shank of 
 your hook; and having done so, whip it three or four times 
 about the hook with the same silk with which your hook was 
 armed; and, having made the silk fast, take the hackle of 
 a cock or capon's neck, or a plover's top, which is usually 
 better; take off the one side of the feather, and then take the 
 hackle, silk, or crewel, gold or silver thread, make these fast at 
 the bent of the hook, that is to say, below your arming; then 
 you must take the hackle, the silver or gold thread, and work it 
 up to the wings, shifting or still removing your finger, as you 
 turn the silk about the hook ; and still looking at every stop or 
 turn, that your gold, or what materials soever you make your 
 fly of do lie right and neatly ; and if you find they do so, then, 
 when you have made the head, make all fast and then work 
 your hackle up to the head, and make that fast : and then with 
 a needle or pin divide the wing into two, and then with the 
 arming silk whip it about crossways betwixt the wings, and 
 then with your thumb you must turn the point of the feather 
 towards the bent of the hook, and then work three or four times 
 about the shank of the hook, and then view the proportion, and 
 if all be neat and to your liking, fasten. 
 
 I confess, no direction can be given to make a man of a dull 
 capacity able to make a fly well : and yet I know this, with a 
 little practice, will help an ingenious angler in a good degree ; 
 but to see a fly made by an artist in that kind is the best 
 teaching to make it. And then an ingenious angler may walk 
 by the river and mark what flies fall on the water that day, and 
 catch one of them, if he sees the trouts leap at a fly of that kind ; 
 and then having always hooks ready hung with him, and having 
 a bag always with him, with bear's hair, or the hair of a brown 
 or sad-coloured heifer, hackles of a cock or capon, several 
 coloured silk and crewel to make the body of the fly, the 
 feathers of a drake's head, black or brown sheep's wool, or 
 hog's wool or hair, thread of gold and of silver; silk of several 
 colours (especially sad-coloured), to make the fly's head : and 
 there be also other coloured feathers, both of little birds and of 
 speckled fowl. I say, having those with him in a bag, and 
 
l^i 
 
 »i>:t 
 
 fli 
 
 86 THE COMPLETE ANGLER. part i. 
 
 trying to make a fly, though he miss at first, yet shall he at last 
 hit it better, even to such a perfection as none can well teach 
 him ; and if he hit to make his fly right, and have the luck to 
 hit also where there is store of trouts, a dark day, and a right 
 wind, he will catch such store of them, as will encourage him to 
 grow more and more in love with the art of fly-making. 
 
 Ven. But, my loving master, if any wind will not serve, 
 then I wish I were in Lapland, to buy a good wind of o ne 
 ^i, of the honest witches, t hat sell so many winds there, and _s o 
 cheap. 
 
 T^SC. Marry, scholar, but I would not be there, nor indeed 
 from under this tree : for look how it begins to rain ; and by the 
 clouds, if I mistake not, we shall presently have a smoking 
 shower; and therefore sit close ; this sycamore tree will shelter 
 us : and I will tell you, as they shall come into my mind, more 
 observations of fly-fishing for a trout. 
 
 But first, for the wind ; you are to take notice, that of the 
 winds, the south wind is said to be the best. One observes- 
 that 
 
 "... when the wind is south, 
 It blows your bait into a fish's mouth." 
 
 Next to that, the west wind is believed to be the best ; and 
 having told you that the east wind is the worst I need not 
 tell you which wind is the best in the third degree: and yet (as 
 Solomon observes), that "he that considers the wind shall never 
 sow," so he that busies his head too much about them, if the 
 weather be not made extreme cold by an east wind, shall be a 
 li ttle superstit ious : for as it is observed by some that " lliere is 
 I / no-good hQj:s£_o£ a bad colou r," so I have observed, that if it be 
 7 a cloudy day, and not extreme cold, let the wind set in what 
 corner it will and do its worst. I heed it not. And yet take this 
 for a rule, that I would willingly fish standing on the lee-shore: 
 and you are to take notice, that the fish lies or swims nearer the 
 bottom, and in deeper water, in winter than in summer; and 
 also nearer the bottom in any cold day, and then gets nearest 
 the lee-side of the water. 
 
CHAP. V. THE FOURTH DAY. 87 
 
 But I promised to tell you more of the fly-fishing for a trout, 
 which I may have time enough to do, for you see it rains May- 
 butter. First, for a May-fly, you may make his body with 
 greenish-coloured crewel or willowish colour, darkening it m 
 most places with waxed silk, or ribbed with black hair, or some 
 of them ribbed with silver thread; and such wings for the 
 colour as you see the fly to have at that season, nay, at that 
 very day on the water. Or you may make the oak-fly with an 
 orange tawny, and black ground, and the brown of a mallard's 
 feather for the wings ; and you are to know, that these two are 
 most excellent flies, that is, the May-fly and the oak-fly. And 
 let me again tell you that you keep as far from the water as you 
 can possibly, whether you fish with a fly or worm, and fish down 
 the stream : and when you fish with a fly, if it be possible, let 
 no part of your line touch the water, but your fly only ; and 
 be still moving your fly upon the water, or casting it into the 
 water, you yourself being also always moving down the stream. 
 
 Mr. Barker commends several sorts of the palmer-flies, not 
 only those ribbed with silver and gold, but others that have their 
 bodies all made of black, or some with red, and a red hackle; 
 you may also make the hawthorn-fly, which is all black, and not 
 big, but very small, the smaller the better; or the oak-fly, 
 the body of which is orange colour and black crewel, with a 
 brown wing; or a fly made with a peacock's feather is excellent 
 in a bright day. You must be sure you want not in your 
 magazine-bag the peacock's feather, and grounds of such wool 
 and crewel as will make the grasshopper ; and note, that usually 
 the smallest flies are the best; and note also, that the light 
 fly does usually make most sport in a dark day, and the darkest 
 and least fly in a bright or clear day; and lastly, note, that you 
 are to repair upon any occasion to your magazine-bag, and upon 
 any occasion vary and make them lighter or sadder, according 
 to your fancy, or the day. 
 
 And now I shall tell you that the fishing with a natural fly is 
 excellent, and affords much pleasure. They may be found thus : 
 the May-fly, usually in and about that month, near to the river- 
 side, especially against rain : the oak-fly, on the butt or body of 
 
S^ THE COMPLETE ANGLER. part i. 
 
 an oak or ash, from the beginning of May to the end of August ; 
 it is a brownish fly and easy to be found, and stands usually 
 with his head downward, that is to say, towards the root of the 
 tree : the small black-fly, or hawthorn-fly, is to be had on any 
 hawthorn bush after the leaves be come forth. With these 
 and a short line (as I showed, to angle for a chub), you may 
 dape or dop, and also with a grasshopper, behind a tree, or in 
 any deep hole ; still making it to move on the top of the water, 
 as if it were alive, and still keeping yourself out of sight, you 
 shall certainly have sport if there be trouts; yea, in a hot 
 day, but especially in the evening of a hot day, you will have 
 sport. 
 
 And now, scholar, my direction for fly-fishing is ended with 
 this shower, for it has done raining ; and now look about you, 
 and see how pleasantly that meadow looks ; nay, and the earth 
 smells as sweetly too. Come, let me tell you what holy Mr. 
 Herbe rt savs of su ch days and flower s as these ; an d then we 
 wj U thank Go d that we enjoy tnenij^and walk t n t[ip->4.i/pr 
 and sit down quietly, and try to catch the other brace o^ 
 trouts. 
 
 '* Sweet day, so cool, so calm, so bright, 
 The bridal of the earth and sky, 
 Sweet dews shall weep thy fall to-night — 
 For thou must die. 
 
 Sweet rose, whose hue, angry and brave, 
 Bids the rash gazer w/ipe his eye, 
 Thy root is ever in its grave — 
 
 And thou must die. 
 
 ;^.( Sweet spring, full of sweet days and roses, 
 
 A box where sweets compacted lie ; 
 My music shows you have your closes — 
 And all must die. 
 
 ^ 
 
 \ 
 
 "^ 
 
 Only a sweet and virtuous soul, 
 Like season'd timber, never gives ; 
 But when the whole world turns to coal, 
 Then chiefly lives." 
 
CHAP. V. THE FOURTH DAY. 89 
 
 Ven. I thank you, good master, for your good direction for 
 fly-fishing, and for the sweet enjoyment of the pleasant day, 
 which is so far spent without offence to God or man : and I 
 thank you for the sweet close of your discourse with Mr. Herbert's 
 verses, who, I have heard, loved angling ; and I do the rather 
 believe it, because he had a spirit suitable to anglers, and to 
 those primitive Christians that you love, and have so much 
 commended. 
 
 PiSC. Well, my loving scholar, and I am pleased to know 
 that you are so well pleased with my direction and dis- 
 course. 
 
 And since you like these verses of Mr. Herbert's so well 
 let me tel l-you what a reverend and learned divine that , prnfeqs^pq 
 to imitat£ _him (and has indeed done sq most exxi aLleally^ hath 
 writ o f our B nnk pf Cnmmnit Pravp.r: which I know you will 
 like the better, because he is a friend of mine, and I am sure no 
 enemy to angling. 
 
 " What ! Pra) er by the Book ? and Common ? Yes ! why not ? 
 The spirit of grace 
 And supplication 
 Is not left free alone 
 For time and place, 
 But manner too : to read, or speak^ by rote. 
 Is all alike to him that prays 
 In's heart, what with his mouth he says. 
 
 They that in private, by themselves alone, 
 Do pray, may take 
 What liberty they please, 
 In choosing of the ways 
 Wherein to make 
 Their soul's most intimate affections known 
 To him that sees in secret, when 
 They're most conceal'd from other men. 
 
 But he that unto others leads the way 
 In public prayer, 
 Should do it so 
 
90 THE COMPLETE ANGLER. part l 
 
 As all that hear may know 
 They need not fear 
 To tune their hearts unto his tongue, and say, 
 Amen ; not doubt they were betrayed 
 To blaspheme, when they meant to have pray'd. 
 
 Devotion will add life unto the letter: 
 And why should not 
 That which authority 
 Prescribes, esteemed be 
 Advantage got ? 
 If the prayer be good, the commoner the better ; 
 Prayer in the Church's zvords as well 
 As sensey of all prayers bears the bell." — Ch. IIarviE. 
 
 And now, scholar, I think it will be time to repair to our 
 angle-rods, which we left in the water to fish for themselves ; 
 and you shall choose which shall be yours ; and it is an even 
 lay, one of them catches. 
 
 And, let me tell you, this ^^i]jjl^_fgl?ip_ g ^'^^ ^ dead rod, an d 
 
 layinglSigBFhooksTliFe like putting money to use ; for they both 
 
 work for the owners, when they do nothing but sleep, or cal, or 
 
 rejoTce ; as you know we have done this last hour, and sat as 
 
 quietly and as free from cares under this sycamore as Virgil's 
 
 Tityrus and his Meliboeus did under their broad beech tree. 
 
 No life, my honest scholar, no life so happy and so ple^^ ant a s 
 
 /m the life of a well-governed angler, for when t he lawyer is 
 
 '^ . sw'gllawe^i up-vvith business, and the statesman is prpypnf in|:r 
 
 jtV^^ jor contrrving plots, then we sit on cowslip banks, h ear the b irds 
 
 a/^ sing, and possess ourselves in as much quietness as thesesHent 
 
 > ^ siTyej: .streams, which we now see glide so quietly by us. . Indeed, 
 
 KT rnyj;pod_SLchQlai", we may say of angling, as Dr. Botele r said o f 
 
 y\ strawberries, "Doubtless God could have made a bette r berr y, 
 
 j»> but doubtless God never did;" and so, if I might be judge, 
 
 - v| , *' God never did make a more calnij, jquLet, innocent rec reati on 
 
 y / than angling." 
 
 . ' \ rjl_teri you, scholar^ vvhen.Xjat last on this jDrijiiro^e bank, 
 
 and looked down these meadows, I thought of them, ^g^^Gharles 
 
 y^ 
 
 ^ 
 ^ 
 
CHAP. V. THE FOURTH DAY. 91 
 
 the emperor did of the city of Florence, " That they were too 
 plcasant'to be looked~^on, but only on hoITdays.^'' 7^[sTlEen sat 
 orT^Lhis vt3r>^Tass7TTurned my present "thoughts into verse: 
 'twas a wish, which I'll repeat to you. 
 
 THE ANGLER'S WISH. 
 
 I in these flowery meads would be : 
 
 These crystal streams should solace me ; 
 
 To whose harmonious bubbling noise 
 
 I with my angle would rejoice, 
 Sit here, and see the turtle dove 
 Court his chaste male to acts of love : 
 
 Or, on that bank, feel the west wind 
 Breathe health and plenty: please my mind. 
 To see sweet dewdrops kiss these flowers, 
 And then wash'd off by April showers ; 
 Here, hear my Kenna sing a song ; ^ 
 There, see a blackbird feed her young, 
 
 Or a leverock build her nest : 
 
 Here, give my weary spirits rest. 
 
 And raise my low-pitch'd thoughts above 
 
 Earth, or what poor mortals love : 
 TlinT, fr"^^ frnm H'"""-*^ nnfl the noise 
 Qf princes' courts, I would rejo ice ; 
 
 Or, with my Bryan and a book. 
 Loiter long days near Shawford brook ; 
 There sit by him, and eat my meat; 
 There see the sun both rise and set ; 
 There bid good morning to next day; 
 There meditate my time away ; 
 And angle on, and beg lo have 
 Kjjy/^ A quiet passage to a w e lcome grave . 
 ^ / iTTt T 1 1 -x^A *u;,, ^^»-.^»^^r..,..^ T i^a fu:^^ 
 
 f AVben I hajjjTHJrji thiii composure, I left this place, and saw 
 a brother of the ang 1e_sit under that honeysucklehedge, one 
 that will prove worth your acquaintance : I saT down by him, 
 
 * Like Herniit Poor. 
 
 J-/ 
 
r 
 
 92 THE COMPLETE ANGLER. part i. 
 
 and presently we met with an accidental piece of merriment, 
 which I will relate to you ; for it rains still 
 
 On the other side of this very hedge sat a gang of gipsies, and 
 near to them sat a gang of beggars. The gipsies were then to 
 divide all the money that had heen got that week, either by 
 stealing linen or poultry, or by fortune-telling, or legerdemain, 
 or indeed by any other sleights and secrets belonging to their 
 mysterious government. And the sum that was got that week 
 proved to be but twenty and some odd shillings. The odd 
 money was agreed to be distributed amongst the poor of their 
 own corporation ; and for the remaining twenty shillings, that 
 was to be divided unto four gentlemen gipsies, according to their 
 several degrees in their commonwealth. 
 
 And the first or chiefest gipsy was, by consent, to have a 
 third part of the 20s., which all men know is 6s. 8d. 
 
 The second was to have a fourth part of the 20s., which all 
 men know to be 5s. 
 
 The third was to have a fifth part of the 20s., which all men 
 know to be 4s. 
 
 The fourth and last gipsy was to have a sixth part of the 20s., 
 which all men know to be 3s. 46.. 
 As for example, 
 
 3 times 6s. 8d. is 20s. 
 And so is 4 times 5s. . . 20s. 
 And so is 5 times 4s. . . 20s. 
 And so is 6 times 3s. 4d. 20s. 
 And yet he that divided the money was so very a gipsy, that 
 though he gave to every one these said sums, yet he kept is. 
 of it for himself. 
 
 As for example, s. d. 
 6 8 
 5 o 
 4 o 
 3 4 
 
 make but . . 190 
 But now you shall know, that when the four gipsies saw that 
 
CHAP. V. THE FOURTH DAY. 93 
 
 he had got is. by dividing the money, though not one of them | 
 knew any reason to demand more, yet, hke lords and courtiers, / 
 eve^ gips y envied him that was the gainer, and wrangled with / 
 him , and every one said the remaining s hilling belonged to / 
 him : and so the y fell to so high a contest abo ut it, as none that / 
 kriQ ^s the laitni n Lnr "''; nT'^n^ [^ tp^^y-t'^ Ivnn fFpr will easily j 
 believe ; only we that have lived these last twenty years are / 
 cerfain,t hat money has been able to' do much mischief. 1 
 However, the gipsies w ere too wise to go to law^ and did tEe re- ^. 
 fore choose their choice friends Rook and Shark, and our late 
 English Gusman, to be their arbitrators and umpires; and so 
 th^y jeft this honeysuckle hedge, and went to tell fortunes, and 
 cheat, ^r>r] grpf mnrp; m oney and lo dging in the next village. 
 
 When these were gone, we heard a high contention amongst 
 the-bep-p-nrs^- adiether it was easiest to rip a cloak or to u nrip a 
 clo ak. One beogar affirmed it was all one. But that was d enied 
 by ^QT^ino- hpr [fHnip^ anrl n pdoin p ^ were all o ne. Then another 
 said 'twas easiest to unrip a cloak, for that was to let it alone. 
 But she was answered by asking her how she unripped it, if she 
 let it alone : and she confessed herself mistaken. These and 
 twenty^siic h-like que' ^t^if^nc; wprp prnpoj^^d, and nn^iv^rH ivith as 
 much-b£g: garly logicj ind '^^^"^stn' ^ss as was ever heard to p roceed 
 froiD the n-iniifh of the mnsf p^rfinn Qpus schisma tic : and some- 
 times alTTHe" beggars, whose number was neither more nor less 
 than the poet's nine muses, talked altogether about this ripping 
 and unripping, and so loud that not one heard what the other 
 said: but at last one beggar craved audience, and told them 
 that old father Clause, whom Ben Jonson in his Be^oar's Bu sh 
 crea tedking of their corp ora.tion, was to lodge at an alehouse 
 called " Catch-her-by-the-way," not far from Waltham Cross, 
 and in the high road towards London ; and he therefore desired 
 them to spend no more time about that and such-like questions, 
 but refer all to father Clause at night, for he was an upright 
 judge, and in the meantime draw cuts what song should be next 
 sung, and who should sing it. They all agreed to the motion ; 
 and the lot fell to her that was the youngest and veriest virgin 
 of the company. And she sung Frank Davison's song, which he 
 
 \ 
 
94 
 
 THE COMPLETE ANGLER. 
 
 PART I. 
 
 made forty years ago; and all the others of the company joined 
 to sing the burthen with her. The ditty was this: but first 
 the burthen : 
 
 ** Bright shines the sun ; play, beggars, play ! 
 Here's scraps enough to serve to-day. 
 
 What noise of viols is so sweet 
 
 As when our merry clappers ring? 
 What mirth doth want when beggars meet? 
 
 A beggar's life is for a king, 
 Eat, drink, and play, sleep when we list, 
 Go where we will — so stocks be miss'd. 
 
 Bright shines the sun ; play, beggars, play ! 
 
 Here's scraps enough to serve to-day. 
 
 The world is o urs, and purs alon e ; 
 
 For we alone have world at will. 
 ^Vr purrhnir nnt nil in r^n nirn ; 
 
 Both fields and streets we beggars fdl. 
 
 Bright shines the sun; play, beggars, play! 
 
 Here's scraps enough to serve to-day. 
 
 A hundred herds of black and white 
 
 Upon our gowns securely feed ; 
 And yet if any dare us bite, 
 
 He dies, therefore, as sure as creed. 
 Thus beggars lord it as they please, 
 Ajad r|plj7 bepp-a rs live at ease . 
 
 Bright shnies the sun; play, beggars, play ! 
 
 Here's scraps enough to serve to-day." 
 
 Ven. I thank you, good master, for this piece of merriment, 
 and this song, which was well humoured by the maker, and well 
 remembered by you. 
 
 PiSC. But, I pray, forget not the catch which you promised 
 to make against night; for our countryman, honest Coridon, 
 will expect your catch, and my song, which I must be forced 
 to patch up, for it is so long since I learnt it, that I have for- 
 gotten a, part of it. But come, now it hath done raining, let's 
 stretch our legs a little in a gentle walk to the river, and try 
 
ciFAP. V. THE FOURTH DAY. 95 
 
 what interest our angles will pay us for lending them so long to 
 ])e i med by the trouts : l ent_jhem^jndeed, like usurers, for our 
 profit j ind^heir desti'uction. 
 
 Ven. Oh me ! look you, master, a fish ! a fish ! Oh, alas, 
 master, I have lost her ! 
 
 PiSC. Ay, marry, sir, that was a good fish indeed : if I had 
 had the luck to have taken up that rod, then 'tis twenty to one 
 he should not have broke my line by running to the rod's end, 
 as you suffered him. I w ould have held him w^ith in the bent of 
 my j-od (unl ess, he had been fellow to the great trout that is near 
 an ell lonj^^jvhich_v yas of such a length and depth that he had his 
 picture drawn, and now is to be seen at mine host Rickabie's, 
 a rnte-I^Teorge, in Ware), and it may be by giving that very 
 great trout the rod, that is, by casting it to him into the water, 
 I might have caught him at the long run ; for so I use always 
 to do when I meet with an overgrown fish ; and you will learn to 
 do so too hereafter ; for I tell you, scholar ^ fishing is an art ; or, 
 
 at If-a^^fj i^ jq nn art tn rntrli fi^Vi 
 
 Ven. Kut, master, I have heard that the great trout you 
 speak of is a salmon. 
 
 PiSC. Trust me, scholar, I know not what to say to it. J'here 
 are many country pe ople tliat believe hares change sexes eveiy 
 yea r: and t here be very many learned men think so too, for in 
 
 ::m:Rny reasons to incline them to 
 And to make the wonder seem yet less, that hares 
 change sexes, note, that Doctor Mer. Casaubon affirms in his 
 book of credible and incredible things, that Caspar Peucerus, a 
 learned physician, tells us of a people that once a year turn 
 wolves, partly in shape and partly in conditions. And so, whether 
 this were a salmon when he came into the fresh water, and his 
 not returning into the sea hath altered him to another colour or 
 kind, I am not able to say : but I am certain he hath all the 
 signs of being a trout both for his shape, colour, and spots; and 
 yet many think he is not. 
 
 Ven. But, master, will this trout which I had hold of die? 
 for it is hke he hath the hook in his belly. 
 
 PisC. I will tell you, scholar, that unless the hook be fast in 
 
96 THE COMPLETE ANGLER. part i. 
 
 his very gorge, 'tis more than probable he will live ; and a little 
 time, with the help of the water, will rust the hook, and it will 
 in time wear away; as the gravel doth in the horse-hoof, which 
 only leaves a false quarter. 
 
 And now, scholar, let's go to my rod. Look you, scholar, I 
 have a fish too, but it proves a logger-headed chub; and this is 
 not much amiss, for this will pleasure some poor body, as we go 
 to our lodging to meet our brother Peter and honest Coridon. 
 Come, now bait your hook again, and lay it into the water, for 
 it rains again: and we will even retire to the sycamore tree, 
 and there I will give you more directions concerning fishing ; 
 for I would fain make you an artist. 
 
 Ven. Yes, good master, I pray let it be so. 
 
 PiSC. Well, scholar, now we are sat down and are at ease, 
 I shall tell you a little more of trout-fishing, before I speak of 
 salmon, which I purpose shall be next, and rfien of the pike or 
 luce. 
 
 You are to know there is night as well as day-fishing for a 
 trout, and that in the night the best trouts come out of their 
 holes: and the manner of taking them is on the top of the 
 water, with a great lob or garden-worm, or rather two, which 
 you are to fish within a place where the waters run somewhat 
 quietly, for in a stream the bait will not be so well discerned. 
 I say, in a quiet or dead place, near to some swift: there draw 
 your bait over the top of the water, to and fro; and if there be 
 a good trout in the hole he will take it, especially if the night 
 be dark ; for then he is bold, and lies near the top of the water, 
 watching the motion of any frog, or water-rat, or mouse that 
 swims between him and the sky: these he hunts after if he sees 
 the water but wrinkle or move in one of these dead holes, where 
 these great old trouts usually lie near to their holds ; for you are 
 to note, that the great old trout is both subtle and fearful, and 
 lies close all day, and does not usually stir out of his hold, but 
 lies in it as close in the day as the timorous hare does in her 
 form, for the chief feeding of either is seldom in the day, but 
 usually in the night, and then the great trout feeds very 
 boldly. 
 
CHAP. V. THE FOURTH DAY. 97 
 
 And you must fish for him with a strong line, and not a little 
 hook ; and let 'him have time to gorge your hook, for he does 
 not usually forsake it, as he oft will in the day-fishing. And if 
 the night be not dark, then fish so with an artificial fly of a light 
 colour, and at the snap: nay, he will sometimes rise at a dead 
 mouse, or a piece of cloth, or anything that seems to swim 
 across the water, or to be in motion. This is a choice way, but 
 I have not often used it, because it is void of the pleasures 
 that such days as these, that we two now enjoy, afford an 
 angler. 
 
 And vou_ ^re to k no w that in Jjampshire, which I Jjiipk • 
 e xceeds^all England J"or swift, shallow, clear, pleasant brooks, ^/jh^ 
 and store of tro uts, they used to catch trouts in the night, by ^ 
 
 the light ot a torch or straw, which, when they have dis- / . w^ 
 covered^ they strike" with a trout-sgiear, or other ways. This ^ 
 
 k md q t__ way they catch very many^but I would not believe it 
 tilL ^was an ey e-witness of it, nor do I like it now I have__ 
 s een it . 
 
 Ven. But, master, do not trouts see us in the night ? 
 
 PiSC. Yes, and hear and smell too, both then and in the 
 day-time; for Gesner observes, the otter smells a fish forty 
 furlongs off him in the water : and that it may be true, seems 
 to be affirmed by Sir Francis Bacon, in the eighth century of 
 his Natii7'al History^ who there proves that water may be the 
 medium of sounds, by demonstrating it thus : " that if you 
 knock two stones together very deep under the water, those 
 that stand on a bank near to that place may hear the noise 
 without any diminution of it by the water." He also offers the 
 like experiment concerning the letting an anchor fall, by a very 
 long cable or rope, on a rock, or the sand within the sea. And 
 this being so well observed and demonstrated as it is by that 
 learned man, has made me to believe that eels unbed themselves 
 and stir at the noise of thunder; and not only, as some think, by 
 the motion or stirring of the earth, which is occasioned by that 
 thunder. 
 
 And this reason of Sir Francis Bacon, Exper. 792, has made 
 me crave pardon of one that I laughed at, for affirming that he 
 
 7 
 
98 THE COMPLETE ANGLER. part i. 
 
 knew carps come to a certain place in a pond, to be fed, at the 
 ringing of a bell, or the beating of a drum ; and however, it shall 
 be a rule for me to make as little noise as I can when I am fish- 
 ing, until Sir Francis Bacon be confuted, which I shall give any 
 man leave to do. 
 
 And, lest you may think him singular in his opinion, I will 
 tell you, this seems to be believed by our learned Dr. Hakewill, 
 who, in his Apology of God's Power and Providence^ fol. 360, 
 quotes Pliny to report that one of the emperors had particular 
 fish-ponds, and in them several fish that appeared and came 
 when they were called by their particular names ; and St. James 
 tells us (chap. iii. 7) that all things in the sea have been tamed 
 by mankind. And Pliny tells us (lib. ix. 35) that Antonia, the 
 wife of Darsus, had a lamprey, at whose gills she hung jewels or 
 ear-rings; and that others have been so tender-hearted as to 
 shed tears at the death of fishes which they have kept and loved. 
 And these observations, which will to most hearers seem wonder- 
 ful, seem to have a further confirmation from Martial (lib. iv. 
 Epigr. 30), who writes thus — 
 
 ''^Piscator^fug ; ne nocens,^* etc. 
 
 *' Angler ! wouldst thou be guiltless? then forbear; 
 For these are sacred fishes that swim here, 
 Who know their sovereign, and will lick his hand; 
 Than which none's greater in the world's command : 
 Nay more, they've names, and, when they called are, 
 Do to their several owners' call repair." 
 
 All the further use that I shall make of this shall be, to advise 
 anglers to be patient and forbear swearing, lest they be heard, 
 and catch no fish. 
 
 And so I shall proceed next to tell you, Jt_is_cert ain, th at 
 certain fields near Leominster, a town in HereJOcu^d^ hire, are 
 observed to make the sheep that graze upon them m ore fat t han 
 the next, and also to bear finer wool ; that is to say that that 
 year in which they feed in such a particular pasture, they shall 
 yield finer wool than they did that year before they came to feed 
 in it, and coarser again if they shall return to their former 
 
CTiAP. VI. THE FOURTH DAY. 99 
 
 pasture ; and again return to a finer wool, being fed in the fine- 
 wool ground., Which I tell you, that you may the better believe 
 that I am certain, if I catch a trout in one meadow he shall be 
 white and faint, and very like to be lousy ; and as certainly, if I 
 catch a trout in the next meadow, he shall be strong, and red, 
 and lusty, and much better meat. Trust me, scholar, I have 
 caught many a trout in a particular meadow, that the very shape 
 and the enamelled colour of him hath been such as have joyed 
 me to look on him ; and I have then with much pleasure con- 
 cluded with Solomon, " Everything is beautiful in his se ason." 
 
 I should by promise speak next of the salmon ; but I will by 
 your favour say a little of the umber or grayling, which is so 
 like a trout for his shape and feeding, that I desire I may 
 exercise your patience with a short discourse of him, and then 
 the next shall be of the salmon. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 OBSERVATIONS OF THE UMBER OR GRAYLING, AND DIREC- 
 TIONS HOW TO FISH FOR HIM. 
 
 PiSC. The umber and grayling are thought by some to differ, 
 as the herring and pilchard do. But though they may do so in 
 other nations, I think those in England differ in nothing but 
 their names. Aldrovandus says they be of a trout kind ; and 
 Gesner says, that in his country, which is in Switzerland, he is 
 accounted the choicest of all fish. And in Italy, he is in the 
 month of May so highly valued, that he is sold at a much 
 higher rate than any other fish. The French, which call the 
 chub un vilain^ call the umber of the lake Leman un urnble 
 chevalier; and they value the umber or grayling so highly, that 
 they say he feeds on gold, and say that many have been 
 caught out of their famous river Loire, and of whose bellies 
 grains of gold have been often taken. And some think that he 
 feeds on water-thyme, and smells of it at his first taking out of 
 
loo THE COMPLETE ANGLER. part i. 
 
 the water ; and they may think so with as good reason as we 
 do that our smelts smell like violets at their first being caught, 
 which I think is a truth. Aldrovandus says, the salmon, the 
 grayling, and trout, and all fish that live in clear and sharp 
 streams, are made by their mother nature of such exact shape 
 and pleasant colours purposely to invite us to a joy and con- 
 tentedness in feasting with her. Whether this is a truth or not it 
 is not my purpose to dispute; but 'tis certain, all that write of the 
 umber declare him to be very medicinable. And Gesner says, 
 that the fat of an umber or Grayling, being set, with a little 
 honey, a day or two in the sun, in a little glass, is very excellent 
 against redness, or swarthiness, or anything that breeds in the 
 eyes. Salvian takes him to be called umber from his swift 
 swimming, or gliding out of sight more like a shadow or a 
 ghost than a fish. Much more might be said both of his smell 
 and taste: but I shall only tell you, that St. Ambrose, the 
 glorious bishop of Milan, who lived when the church kept 
 fasting days, calls him the flower-fish, or flower of fishes : and 
 that he was so far in love with him that he would not let 
 him pass without the honour of a long discourse ; but I must, 
 and pass on to tell you how to take this dainty fish. 
 
 First, note, that he grows not to the bigness of a trout ; for 
 the biggest of them do not usually exceed eighteen inches. 
 He lives in such rivers as the trout does, and is usually taken 
 with the same baits as the trout is, and after the same manner; 
 for he will bite both at the minnow, or worm, or fly ; though he 
 bites not often at the minnow, and is very gamesome at the fly, 
 and much simpler, and therefore bolder than a trout ; for he 
 will rise twenty times at a fly, if you miss him, and yet rise 
 again. He has been taken with a fly made of the red feathers 
 of a parakita, a strange outlandish bird ; and he will rise at a 
 fly not unlike a gnat or a small moth, or indeed at most flies 
 that are not too big. He is a fish that lurks close all winter, 
 but is very pleasant and jolly after mid-April, and in May, and 
 in the hot months : he is of a very fine shape, his flesh is white; 
 his teeth, those little ones that he has, are in his throat, yet he 
 has so tender a mouth, that he is oftener lost after an angler 
 
CHAP. VII. THE FOURTH DAY. loi 
 
 has hooked him, than any other fish. Though there be many ^. 
 of thes^Jis.hes.in-t];ieaielica.te ri ver Dov e an^ 1 renT^Tn J some ^"^^^ 
 other small rivers, as that which runs by SaHsbury, yet he is --"^' 
 iTUTrso general a iish as the trout, nor to me so good to eat 
 or_to_angle for. And so I shall take my leave of him ; and 
 now come to some observations of the salmon, and how to 
 catch him. 
 
 CHAPTER VH. 
 
 OBSERVATIONS OF THE SALMON ; DIRECTIONS HOW TO 
 FISH FOR HIM. 
 
 PiSC. The salmon is accounted the king of fresh-water fish ; 
 and is ever bred in rivers relating to the sea, yet so high or far 
 from it as admits of no tincture of salt or brackishness. He is 
 said to breed, or cast his spawn, in most rivers, in the month of 
 August : some say that then they dig a hole or grave in a safe 
 place in the gravel, and there place their eggs or spawn, after 
 the melter has done his natural office, and then hide it most 
 cunningly, and cover it over with gravel and stones, and then leave 
 it to that Creator^s protection, who, by a gentle heat which He 
 infuses into that cold element, makes it brood and beget life in the 
 spawn, and to become samlets early in the spring next following. 
 
 The salmons having spent their appointed time, and done 
 this natural duty in the fresh waters, they then haste to the 
 sea before winter, both the melter and spawner ; but if they 
 be stopped by flood-gates or weirs or lost in the fresh waters, 
 then those so left behind by degrees grow sick, and lean, and 
 unseasonable, and kipper; that is to say, have bony gristles 
 grow out of their lower chaps, not unlike a hawk's beak, which 
 hinders their feeding ; and in time such fish, so left behind, 
 pine away and die. It is observed that he may live thus one 
 year from the sea ; but he then grows insipid and tasteless, and 
 loses both his blood and strength, and pines and dies the 
 second year. And it is noted that those little salmons called 
 skeggers, which abound in many rivers relating to the sea, are 
 
I02 THE COMPLETE ANGLER. part i. 
 
 bred by such sick salmons that might not go to the sea ; and 
 that though they abound, yet they never thrive to any con- 
 siderable bigness. 
 
 But if the old salmon gets to the sea, then that gristle, which 
 shows him to be kipper, wears away, or is cast off, as the 
 eagle is said to cast his bill ; and he recovers his strength, and 
 comes next summer to the same river, if it be possible, to enjoy 
 
 (the former pleasures that there possessed him ; jbr , as one h as 
 wittily observed, he has, like some_£ersons of ho nour an d 
 ric^hes^ which have both their winter and summer houses, Jhe 
 fresh rivers for summer, and the salt water for winter, to spend 
 his life in ; which is not, as Sir Francis Bacon hath observed in 
 his History of Life and Deaths above ten years. And it is to be 
 observed that though the salmon does grow big in the sea, yet 
 he grows not fat but in fresh rivers ; and it is observed that the 
 farther they get from the sea, the y be both the fatter and bet ter. 
 Next I shall tell you, that though they make very hard shift 
 to get out of the fresh rivers into the sea, yet they will make a 
 harder shift to get out of the salt into the fresh rivers, to spawn, 
 or possess the pleasures that they have formerly found in them : 
 to which end they will force themselves through flood-gates, or 
 over weirs or hedges, or stops in the water, even to a height 
 beyond common belief. Gesner speaks of such places as are 
 known to be above eight feet high above water. And our 
 Camden mentions, in his Britarmia, the like wonder to be in 
 Pembrokeshire, where the river Tivy falls into the sea; and that 
 the fall is so downright, and so high, that the people stand and 
 wonder at the strength and sleight by which they see the 
 salmon use to get out of the sea into the said river; and the 
 manner and height of the place is so notable, that it is known, 
 far, by the name of the " Salmon-leap." Concerning^^which, 
 take this also out of Michael Drayton, my honest old friend, as 
 he tells it j[ou in his Polyolbion: — 
 
 ** And when the salmon seeks a fresher stream to find, 
 Which hither from the sea comes yearly by his kind ; 
 As he tow'rds season grows, and stems the wat'ry tract 
 Where Tivy falling down, makes a high cataract, 
 
CHAP. vn. THE FOURTH DAY. 103 
 
 P'orced by the rising rocks that there her course oppose, 
 As though within her bounds they meant her to inclose ; 
 Here, when the labouring fish does at the foot arrive, 
 And finds that by his strength he does but vainly strive, 
 His tail takes in his mouth, and, bending like a bow, 
 That's to full compass drawn, aloft himself dolh throw; 
 Then springing at his height, as doth a little warid 
 That, bended end to end, and started from man's hand. 
 Far oft itself doth cast ; so does the salmon vault : 
 And if at first he fail, his second summersault 
 He instantly essays; and from his nimble ring, 
 Still yerking, never leaves until himself he fling 
 Above the opposing stream " 
 
 This Michael r)rayfn n^|flk ynn nf thii In n p n r ni i mm rn nn lt of 
 the salmon. 
 
 And next I shall tell you, that it is observed by Gesner and 
 others, that there is no better salmon than in England ; and 
 that though some of our northern counties have as fat and as 
 large as the river Thames, yet none are of so excellent a taste. 
 
 And as I have told you that Sir Francis Bacon observes, the 
 age of a salmon exceeds not ten years ; so let me next tell you, 
 that his growth is very sudden : it is said, that after he is got 
 into the sea, he becomes from a samlet not so big as a gudgeon, 
 to be a salmon, in as short a time as a gosling becomes to be a 
 goose. Much of this has been observed by tying a ribbon, or 
 some known tape or thread, in the tail of some young salmons, 
 which have been taken in weirs as they have swimmed towards 
 the salt water, and then by taking a part of them again with the 
 known mark at the same place at their return from the sea, 
 which is usually about six months after; and the like experi- 
 ment hath been tried upon young swallows, who have, after six 
 months' absence, been observed to return to the same chimney, 
 there to make their nests and habitations for the summer 
 following: which has inclined many to think, that every salmon 
 usually returns to the same river in which it was bred, as young 
 pigeons taken out of the same dovecote have also been 
 observed to do. 
 
104 THE COMPLETE ANGLER. part i. 
 
 And you are yet to observe farther, that the he-sahiion is 
 usually bigger than the spawner; and that he is more kipper, 
 and less able to endure a winter in the fresh water than she is : 
 yet she is, at that time of looking les's kippier and better, as 
 watery, and as bad meat. 
 
 And yet you are to observe that as there is no general rule 
 without an exception, so there are some few rivers in this 
 nation that have trouts and salmons in season in winter, as it is 
 certain there be in the river Wye, in Monmouthshire, where 
 they be in season, as Camden observes, from September till 
 April. But, my scholar, the observation of this and many other 
 things, I must in manners omit, because they will prove too 
 large for our narrow compass of time, and therefore I shall 
 next fall upon my directions how to fish for this salmon. 
 
 And for that, first you shall observe, that usually he stays not 
 long in a place, as trouts will, but, as I said, covets still to go 
 nearer the spring head; and that he does not, as the trout and 
 many other fish, lie near the water-side, or bank, or roots of 
 trees, but swims in the deep and broad parts of the water, and 
 usually in the middle, and near the ground, and that there you 
 are to fish for him, and that he is to be caught as the trout is, 
 with a worm, a minnow, which some call a penk, or with a fly. 
 
 And you are to observe that he is very seldom observed to 
 bite at a minnow, yet sometimes he will, and not usually at a 
 fly ; but more usually at a worm, and then most usually at a lob 
 or garden-worm, which should be well scoured, that is to say, 
 kept seven or eight days in moss before you fish with them: 
 and if you double your time of eight into sixteen, twenty, or 
 more days, it is still the better; for the worms will still be 
 clearer, tougher, and more lively, and continue so longer upon 
 your hook ; and they may be kept longer by keeping them 
 cool and in fresh moss, and some advise to put camphor 
 into it. 
 
 Note also, that many used to fish for a salmon with a ring of 
 wire on the top of their rod, through which the line may run to 
 as great a length as is needful when he is hooked. And to that 
 end, some use a wheel about the middle of their rod, or near 
 
CHAP. VII. THE FOURTH DAY. 105 
 
 their hand; which is to be observed better by seeing one of 
 them, than by a large demonstration of words. 
 
 And now I shall tell you that which may be called a secret : ^ 
 I have been a-fishing with old Oliver Henley, now with God, a Cyi^ 
 noted fisher both for trout and salmon, and have observed that ^ 
 he would usually take three or four worms out of his bag, and ■ -C^^ 
 put them into a little box in his pocket, where he would usually 
 let them continue half-an-hour or more before he would bait '^<^ 
 his hook with them. I have asked him his reason, and he has 
 replied: "He did but pick the best out to be in readiness 
 against he baited his hook the next time;" but he has been 
 observed, both by others and myself, to catch more fish than I 
 or any other body that has ever gone a-fishing with him could 
 do, and especially salmons ; and I have been told lately by one ^M-^ 
 of his most intimate and secret friends, that the box in which.<\\ 
 he put those worms was anointed with a drop, or two or three, 
 of the oil of ivy-berries, made by expression or infusion ; and 
 told, that by the worms remaining in that box an hour, or a like 
 time, they had incorporated a kind of smell that was irresistibly 
 attractive, enough to force any fish within the smell of them to 
 bite. This I heard not long since from a friend, but have 
 not tried it; yet I grant it probable, and refer my reader to Sir 
 Francis Bacon's Natural History^ where he proves fishes may 
 hear, and doubtless can more probably smell ; and I am certain 
 Gesner says the otter can smell in the water, and I know not 
 but that fish may do so too ; it is left for a lover of angling, or 
 any that desires to improve that art, to try this conclusion. 
 
 I shall also impart two other experiments (but not tried by 
 myself), which I will deliver in the same words that they were 
 given me, by an excellent angler, and a very friend, in writing: 
 he told me the latter was too good to be told but in a learned 
 language, lest it should be made common. 
 
 "Take the stinking oil drawn out of the polybody of the 
 oak by a retort, mixed with turpentine and hive-honey, and 
 anoint your bait therewith, and it will doubtless draw the fish 
 to it." 
 
 The other is this : " Vulnera hederce grandissimcB injlicfa 
 
 (9e 
 
io6 THE COMPLETE ANGLER. part i. 
 
 sudant bahamum oleo gelato, albica^ttique per simile^ odoris 
 vero longe suavissimij^ 
 
 It is supremely sweet to any fish, and yet asafoetida may do 
 the hke. 
 
 But in these things I have no great faith, yet grant it 
 probable, and have had from some chemical men, namely, from 
 Sir George Hastings and others, an affirmation of them to be 
 very advantageous ; but no more of these, especially not in this 
 place. 
 
 I might here, before I take my leave of the salmon, tell you 
 that there is more than one sort of them ; as, namely, a tecon, 
 and another called in some places a samlet, or by some a 
 skegger ; but these and others, which I forbear to name, may 
 be fish of another kind, and difier as we know a herring and a 
 pilchard do, which, I think, are as different as the rivers in 
 which they breed, and must by me be left to the disquisitions 
 of men of more leisure, and of greater abilities, than I profess 
 myself to have. 
 
 And lastly, I am to borrow so much of your promised patience 
 as to tell you that the trout or salmon, being in season, have, at 
 their first taking out of the water, which continues during life, 
 their bodies adorned, the one with such red spots, and the other 
 with such black or blackish spots, as give them such an addi- 
 tion of natural beauty, as I think was never given to any woman 
 by the artificial paint or patches in which they so much pride 
 themselves in this age. And so I shall leave them both, and 
 proceed to some observations on pike. 
 
 CHAPTER VIH. 
 
 OBSERVATIONS OF THE LUCE, OR PIKE ; DIRECTIONS HOW 
 TO FISH FOR HIM. 
 
 PiSC. The mighty Luce, or Pike, is taken to be the tyrant, 
 as the salmon is the king of the fresh waters. It is not to be 
 doubted but that they are bred, some by generation, and some 
 
CHAP. VIII. THE FOURTH DAY. 107 
 
 not, as namely, of a weed called pickerel weed, unless learned 
 Gesner be much mistaken, for he says this weed and other 
 glutinous matter, with the help of the sun's heat, in some par- 
 ticular months, and some ponds apted for it by nature, do 
 become pikes. But, doubtless, divers pikes are bred after this 
 manner, or are brought into some ponds some such other 
 ways as is past man's finding out, of which we have daily 
 testimonies. 
 
 Sir Francis Bacon, in his History of Life and Death^ observes 
 the pike to be the longest lived of any fresh-water fish ; and yet he 
 computes it to be not usually above forty years ; and others think 
 it to be not above ten years ; and yet Gesner mentions a pike 
 taken in Swedeland, in the year 1449, with a ring about his neck, 
 declaring he was put into that pond by Frederick the Second 
 more than two hundred years before he was last taken, as by 
 the inscription in that ring, being Greek, was interpreted by the 
 then Bishop of Worms. But of this no more but that it is ob- 
 served that the old or very great pikes have in them more of 
 state than goodness ; the smaller or middle-sized pikes being, 
 by the most and choicest palates, observed to be the best meat ; 
 and, contrary, the eel is observed to be the better for age and 
 bigness. 
 
 All pikes that live long prove chargeable to their keepers, 
 because their life is maintained by the death of so many other 
 fish, even those of their own kind; which has made him by 
 some writers to be called the tyrant of the rivers, or the fresh- 
 water wolf, by reason of his bold, greedy, devouring disposition ; 
 which is so keen, as Gesner relates a man going to a pond, 
 where it seems a pike had devoured all the fish, to water his 
 mule, had a pike bit his mule by the lips ; to which the pike 
 hung so fast that the mule drew him out of the water, and by 
 that accident the owner of the mule angled out the pike. And 
 the same Gesner observes, that a maid in Poland had a pike bit 
 her by the foot, as she was washing clothes in a pond. And I 
 have heard t he like o f^a woman in Killingworth pond, not far 
 from Coventry. But I have been assured by my friend Mr. 
 beagrave, ot whom I spake to you formerly, that keeps tame 
 
io8 THE COMPLETE ANGLER. part i. 
 
 otters, that he hath known a pike in extreme hunger fight with 
 one of his otters for a carp that the otter had caught, and was 
 then bringing out of the water. I have told you who relate 
 these things, and tell you they are persons of credit; and shall 
 conclude this observation, by telling you what a wise man has 
 observed, " I t is a hard thing to persuade the belly, bec ause it 
 h^^-fte-ears.^ 
 
 But if these relations be disbelieved, it is too evident to be 
 donhted fhnf ^, pike will devou r^ai jsh of his own kind ^ha±, &h'fl1 1 
 bejjig ger th ^n his be lly or throat _ will receive, and swallo w a 
 part_of him^ a nd let the other p artj^emam m his mou th till t he 
 swallowed part be jdigested, and then'~s\Vall uW^t hfrnfh.pr part 
 th at was in his mouth, and so put it over by degrees.; which is 
 not unlike the ox and some other beasts, takmg their meat, not 
 out of their mouth immediately into their belly, but first into 
 some place betwixt, and then chew it, or digest it by degrees 
 after, which is called chewing the cud. And, doubtless, pikes 
 will bite wbeiL -they are not hungry : but, as some think, even for 
 
 very nrLor^-^-w^H^-^-a^t^m pf inpr h^\\ rnir|pc; nf^pr tn thf^^ 
 
 And it is observed that the pike will eat venomous things, as 
 some kind of frogs are, and yet live without being harmed by 
 them; for, as some say, he has in him a natural balsam, or anti- 
 dote against all poison. And he has a strange heat, that 
 . though it appears to us to be cold, can yet digest or put over 
 any fish-flesh, by degrees, without being sick. And others 
 observe that he never eats the venomous frog till he have first 
 killed her, and then, as ducks are observed to do to frogs in 
 spawning time, at which time some frogs are observed to be 
 venomous, — so thoroughly washed her, by tumbling her up and 
 down in the water, that he may devour her without danger. 
 And Gesner affirms that a Polonian gentleman did faithfully 
 assure him, he had seen two young geese at one time in the 
 belly of a pike. AnrI rlnnhHr^cg ^ pike, in his he[g:ht o f hunger, 
 wi ll bitf' nt nnr l dfvnnr n ^^^g ^^^ t swims m a pg p d ; an d there 
 h ayf^ h(^f^■^-^ ^XRP^p les of it, or the lik ^ ; f^^ , ^"^ ^ ^^^^^ y ^", "The 
 belly has no ears w^^n hnno-P|- rnmpc; u pon i t.'' 
 
 The pike is also observed to be a sohtary, melancholy, and a 
 
CHAP. VIII. THE FOURTH Dx\Y. 109 
 
 bold fish; melancholy because he always swims or rests him- 
 self alone, and never swims in shoals or with company, as roach 
 and dace and most other fish do; and bold, because he fears 
 not a shadow, or to see or be seen of anybody, as the trout and 
 chub and all other fish do. 
 
 And it is observed by Gesner that the jaw-bones and hearts 
 and galls of pikes are very medicinable for several diseases ; 
 or to stop blood, to abate fevers, to cure agues, to oppose or 
 expel the infection of the plague, and to be many ways medicin- 
 able and useful for the good of mankind ; but he observes that 
 the biting of a pike is venomous, and hard to be cured. 
 
 And it is observed that the pike is a fish that breeds but 
 once a year; and that other fish, as namely loaches, do breed 
 oftener, as we are certain tame pigeons do almost every month; 
 and yet the hawk, a bird of prey, as the pike is of fish, breeds 
 but once in twelve months. And you are to note, that his time 
 of breeding, or spawning, is usually about the end of February, 
 or somewhat later, in March, as the weather proves colder or 
 warmer ; and to note, that his manner of breeding is thus : a he 
 and ^<j|ip pi ke will usually go together out of a rive r into some 
 ditcji, or-c reek. and th atthere thf^ c;pawnpr casts her eggs, and 
 the meU£j:^h overs over her aHthat time that she is r a^tino- her 
 spawn, but touches her not. \ 
 
 I nu ght say more of this^ but it mig ht be thou ght curiosjt y or )^^-eA> 
 worse^ and shall therefore forbear it : ann rake np srt mnrh of 
 your attention as to tell you that the best of pikes are noted to 
 be in rivers ; next, those in great ponds or meres ; and the 
 worst, in small ponds. 
 
 But before I proceed farther, I am to tell you, that there is 
 a great antipathy betwixt the pike and some frogs ; and this 
 may appear to the reader of Dubravius, a bishop in Bohemia, 
 who, in his book 0/ Fish and Fish-ponds^ relates what he says 
 he saw with his own eyes, and could not forbear to tell the 
 reader, which was : — 
 
 " As he and the Bishop Thurzo were walking by a large pond 
 in Bohemia they say a frog, when the pike lay very sleepily 
 and quiet by the shore side, leap upon his head ; and the frog 
 
no THE COMPLETE ANGLER. parti. 
 
 having expressed malice or anger by his swollen cheeks and 
 staring eyes, did stretch out his legs and embraced the pike's 
 head, and presently reached them to his eyes, tearing with them 
 and his teeth those tender parts : the pike, moved with anguish, 
 moves up and down the water, and rubs himself against weeds 
 and whatever he thought might quit him of his enemy ; but all 
 in vain, for the frog did continue to ride triumphantly, and to bite 
 and torment the pike till his strength failed, and then the frog 
 sunk with the pike to the bottom of the water ; then presently 
 the frog appeared again at the top and croaked, and seemed to 
 rejoice like a conqueror ; after which he presently retired to 
 his secret hole. The bishop that had beheld the battle called 
 his fishermen to fetch his nets, and by all means to get the 
 pike that they might declare what had happened ; and the 
 pike was drawn forth, and both his eyes eaten out ; at which 
 when they began to wonder, the fisherman wished them to 
 forbear, and assured them he was certain that pikes were 
 often so served." 
 
 I told this, which is to be read in the sixth chapter of the 
 first book of Dubravius, unto a friend, who replied, " U was 
 as improbable as to have the mouse scratch out the cat's eyes." 
 But he did not consider that there be fishing frogs, which the 
 Dalmatians call the water-devil, of which I might tell you as 
 wonderful a story ; but I shall tell you, that 'tis not *to be 
 doubted, but that there be some frogs so fearful of the water- 
 snake, that, when they swim in a place in which they fear to 
 meet with him, they then get a reed across into their mouths, 
 which, if they two meet by accident, secures the frog from the 
 strength and malice of the snake ; and note, that the frog 
 usually swims the fastest of the two. 
 
 And let me tell you, that as there be water and land frogs, so 
 there be land and water-snakes. Concerning which, take this 
 observation, that the land-snake breeds and hatches her eggs, 
 which become young snakes, in some old dunghill, or a like hot 
 place ; but the water-snake, which is not venomous, and, as I 
 have been assured by a great observer of such secrets, does not 
 hatch, but breed her young alive, which she does not then 
 
CHAP. VIII. THE FOURTH DAY. iii 
 
 forsake, but bides with them, and in case of danger will take 
 them into her mouth and swim away from any apprehended 
 danger, and then let them out again when she thinks all danger 
 to be passed ; these be accidents that we anglers sometimes see, 
 and often talk of. 
 
 But whither am 1 going? I had almost lost myself, by 
 remembering the discourse of Dubravius. I will therefore stop 
 here, and tell you, according to my promise, how to catch the 
 pike. 
 
 His feeding is usually of fish or frogs, and sometimes a weed 
 of his own called pickerel-weed, of which I told you some think 
 pikes are bred ; for they have observed that where none have 
 been put into ponds, yet they have there found many, and that 
 there has been plenty of that weed in those ponds, and that that 
 weed both breeds and feeds them ; but whether those pikes so 
 bred will ever breed by generation as the others do, I shall leave 
 to the disquisitions of men of more curiosity and leisure than I 
 profess myself to have ; and shall proceed to tell you that you 
 may fish for a pike either with a ledger or a walking-bait ; and 
 you are to note that I call that a ledger-bait which is fixed or 
 made to rest in one certain place when you shall be absent from 
 it ; and I call that a walking-bait which you take with you, and 
 have ever in motion. Concerning which two, I shall give you 
 this direction, that your ledger-bait is best to be a living bait 
 (though a dead one may catch), whether it be a fish or a frog; 
 and that you may make them live the longer, you may, or indeed 
 you must, take this course : — 
 
 First, for your live-bait. Of fish, a roach or dace is, I think, 
 best and most tempting (and a perch is the longest lived on a 
 hook) ; and having cut off his fin on his back, which may be 
 done without hurting him, you must take your knife, which 
 cannot be too sharp, and between the head and the fin on the 
 back, cut or make an incision, or such a scar, as you may put 
 the arming-wire of your hook into it, with as little bruising or 
 hurting the fish as art and diligence will enable you to do ; and 
 so carrying your arming-wire along his back, unto or near the 
 tail of your fish, between the skin and the body of it, draw out 
 
112 THE COMPLETE ANGLER. tart i. 
 
 that wire or arming of your hook at another scar near to his 
 tail : then tie him about it with thread, but no harder than of 
 necessity to prevent hurting the fish ; and the better to avoid 
 hurting the fish, some have a kind of probe to open the way, for 
 the more easy entrance and passage of your wire or arming; 
 but as for these, time and a Httle experience will teach you 
 better than I can by words ; therefore I will for the present say 
 no more of this, but come next to give you some directions how 
 to bait your hook with a frog. 
 
 Ven. But, good Master, did you not say even now that 
 some frogs are venomous, and is it not dangerous to touch 
 them ? 
 
 PiSC. Yes ; but I will give you some rules or cautions con- 
 cerning them. And first, you are to note that there are two 
 kinds of frogs ; that is to say, if I may so express myself, a 
 flesh and a fish-frog ; by flesh-frogs, I mean frogs that breed 
 and- live on the land ; and of these there be several sorts also, 
 and of several colours, some being speckled, some greenish, 
 some blackish or brown : the green frog, which is a small one, 
 is by Topsell taken to be venomous, and so is the paddock or 
 frog paddock, which usually keeps or breeds on the land, and is 
 very large and bony and big, especially the she-frog of that 
 kind ; yet these will sometimes come into the water, but it is 
 not often ; and the land-frogs are some of them observed by 
 him to breed by laying eggs, and others to breed of the slime 
 and dust of the earth, and that in winter they turn to sHme 
 again, and that the next summer that very slime returns to be a 
 living creature ; this is the opinion of Pliny, and Cardanus (in 
 his tenth book De Siibtilitate) undertakes to give a reason for the 
 raining of frogs : but if it were in my power, it should rain none but 
 water-frogs, for those I think are not venomous, especially the 
 right water-frog, which about February or March breeds in ditches 
 by slime, and blackish eggs in that slime, about which time of 
 breeding the he and she-frogs are observed to use divers summer- 
 saults, and to croak and make a noise, which the land-frog, or 
 paddock-frog, never does. Now of these water-frogs, if you intend 
 to fish with a frog for a pike, you are to choose the yellowest that 
 
CHAP. VIII. THE FOURTH DAY. 113 
 
 you can get, for that the pike ever hkes best. And thus use 
 your frog", that he may continue long alive: — 
 
 Put your hook into his mouth, which you may easily do from 
 the middle of April till August ; and then the frog's mouth grows 
 up, and he continues so for at least six months without eating, 
 but is sustained none but He whose name is Wonderful knows 
 how : I say, put your hook, I mean the arming- wire, through 
 his mouth and out at his gills ; and then with a fine needle and 
 silk sew the upper part of his leg, with only one stitch, to the 
 arming-wire of your hook ; or tie the frog's leg, above the upper 
 joint, to the arming-wire ; and, in so doing, use him as though 
 you loved him, that is, harm him as little as you may possibly, 
 that he may live the longer. 
 
 And now, having given you this direction for the baiting your 
 ledger-hook with a live fish or frog, my next must be to tell you 
 how your hook thus baited must or may be used, and it is thus : 
 Having fastened your hook to a line, which, if it be not fourteen 
 yards long, should not be less than twelve, you are to fasten 
 that line to any bough near to a hole where a pike is, or is likely 
 to lie, or to have a haunt, and then wind your line on any forked 
 stick, all your line, except half a yard of it, or rather more, and 
 split that forked stick with such a nick or notch at one end of 
 it as may keep the line from any more of it ravelling from about 
 the stick than so much of it as you intend ; and choose your 
 forked stick to be of that bigness as may keep the fish or frog 
 from pulling the forked stick under the water till the pike bites; 
 and then the pike having pulled the line forth of the cleft or 
 nick of that stick in which it was gently fastened, he will have 
 line enough to go to his hold and pouch the bait ; and if you 
 would have this ledger-bait to keep at a fixed place, undisturbed 
 by wind or other accidents, which may drive it to the shore side 
 (for you are to note, that it is likeliest to catch a pike in the midst 
 of the water), then hang a small plummet of lead, a stone, or 
 piece of tile, or a turf in a string, and cast it into the water with 
 the forked stick, to hang upon the ground, to be a kind of 
 anchor to keep the forked stick from moving out of your in- 
 tended place till the pike come. This I take to be a very 
 
114 THE COMPLETE ANGLER. parti. 
 
 good way to use so many ledger-baits as you intend to make 
 trial of. 
 
 Or if you bait your hooks thus with live fish or frogs, and in 
 a windy day fasten them thus to a bough or bundle of straw, 
 and by the help of that wind can get them to move across a 
 pond or mere, you are like to stand still on the shore and see 
 sport presently if there be any store of pikes ; or these live baits 
 may make sport, being tied about the body or wings of a goose 
 or duck, and she chased over a pond ; and the like may be done 
 with turning three or four live baits thus fastened to bladders, 
 or boughs, or bottles of hay or flags, to swim down a river, 
 whilst you walk quietly alone on the shore, and are still in ex- 
 pectation of sport. The rest must be taught you by practice, 
 for time will not allow me to say more of this kind of fishing 
 with live baits. 
 
 And for your dead bait for a pike, for that you may be taught 
 by one day's going a fishing with me, or any other body that 
 fishes for him, for the baiting your hook with a dead gudgeon 
 or a roach, and moving it up and down the water, is too easy a 
 thing to take up any time to direct you to do it; and yet, be- 
 cause I cut you short in that, I will commute for it by telling 
 you that that was told me for a secret : it is this : — 
 
 Dissolve gum of ivy in oil of spike, and therewith anoint your 
 dead bait for a pike, and then cast it into a likely place, and 
 when it has lain a short time at the bottom, draw it towards the 
 top of the water, and so up the stream, and it is more than likely 
 that you have a pike follow with more than common eagerness. 
 
 And some affirm that any bait anointed with the marrow of 
 the thigh-bone of an hern is a great temptation to any fish. 
 
 These have not been tried by me, but told me by a friend of 
 note, that pretended to do me a courtesy ; but if this direction 
 to catch a pike thus do you no good, yet I am certain this 
 direction how to roast him when he is caught is choicely good, 
 for I have tried it, and it is somewhat the better for not being 
 common; but with my direction you must take this caution, 
 that your pike must not be a small one, that is, it must be more 
 than half a yard, and should be bigger. 
 
CHAP. VIII. THE FOURTH DAY. 115 
 
 First, open your pike at the gills, and if need be, cut also a 
 little slit towards the belly; out of these take his guts and keep ^ 
 his liver, which you are to shred very small with thyme, sweet ^""^ 
 marjoram, and a little winter-savory; to these put some pickled 
 oysters, and some anchovies, two or three, both these last >» 
 whole ; for the anchovies will melt, and the oysters should not : fjr- 
 to these you must add also a pound of sweet butter, which you 
 are to mix with the herbs that are shred, and let them all be ^ 
 well salted : if the pike be more than a yard long, then you may ^--tf^ 
 put into these herbs more than a pound, or if he be less, then ' 
 
 less butter will suffice : these being thus mixed with a blade or 
 two of mace, must be put into the pike's belly, and then his /^ 
 belly so sewed up as to keep all the butter in his belly, if it be 
 possible : if not, then as much of it as you possibly can ; but / 
 take not off the scales : then you are to thrust the spit through /f*^^ 
 his mouth out at his tail; and then take four, or five, or six/^ ^ 
 split sticks or very thin laths, and a convenient quantity of tape 
 or filleting : these laths are to be tied round about the pike's 
 body from his head to his tail, and the tape tied somewhat thick \. 
 to prevent his breaking or falling off from the spit : let him be 
 
 roasted very leisurely, and often basted with claret wine and -^ 
 
 anchovies and butter mixed together, and also with what/O^ 
 moisture falls from him into the pan : when you have roasted ^ 
 him sufficiently, you are to hold under him, when you unwind 
 or cut the tape that ties him, such a dish as you purpose to eat /^ 
 him out of; and let him fall into it with the sauce that is 
 roasted in his belly ; and by this means the pike will be kept ^T 
 unbroken and complete : then, to the sauce which was within, ^ 
 and also that sauce in the pan, you are to add a fit quantity of 
 the best butter, and to squeeze the juice of three or four 
 oranges : lastly, you may either put into the pike with the 
 oysters two cloves of garlick, and take it whole out, when the 
 pike is cut off the spit ; or to give the sauce a haiit-goict let the 
 dish into which you let the pike fall be rubbed with it : the 
 using or not using of this garlick is left to your discretion, — 
 M. B. 
 
 This dish of meat is too good for any but anglers, or very ^^/J 
 
 -^ 
 
1x6 THE COMPLETE ANGLER. parti. 
 
 honest men ; and I trust you will prove both, and therefore I 
 liave trusted you with this secret. 
 
 "^ Let me next tell you that Gesner tells us there are no pikes 
 in Spain ; and that the largest are in the lake Thrasymene in 
 Italy ; and the next, if not equal to them, are the pikes of 
 England ; and that in England, Lincolnshire boas teth to hav e 
 the biggest. Just so doth Sussex boast ot to ur sorts of fish ; 
 liam eTypan ^f u n del Mullet, a Chichest er Lobster, a Shels ey 
 Cockle, and an A merley Trout. 
 
 But I will take up no more of your time with this relation, 
 but proceed to give you some observations of the Carp, and 
 how to angle for him, and to dress him, but not till he is 
 caui^ht. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 OBSERVATIONS OF THE CARP ; DIRECTIONS HOW TO 
 FISH FOR HIM. 
 
 PiSC. The Carp is the queen of rivers ; a stately, a good, and 
 a very subtle fish ; that was not at first bred, nor hath been long 
 in England, but is now naturalised. It is said they were 
 brought hither by one Mr. Mascal, a gentleman that then 
 lived at Plumsted, in Sussex, a county that abounds more with 
 fish than any in this nation. 
 
 You may remember that I told you Gesner says there are no 
 pikes in Spain : and doubtless there was a time, about a hundred 
 or a few more years ago, when there were no carps in England, 
 as may seem to be affirmed by Sir Richard Baker, in whose 
 Chro7iicle you may find these verses : — 
 
 *' Hops and turkeys, carps and beer, 
 Came into England all in a year." 
 
 And doubtless, as of sea-fish the herring dies soonest out of 
 the water, and of fresh-water fish, the trout, so, except the eel, 
 the carp endures most hardness, and lives longest out of his own 
 
K> 
 
 CHAP. IX. THE FOURTH DAY. 117 
 
 proper element. And, therefore, the report of the carp's being 
 brought out of a foreign country into this nation is the more 
 probable. ^ 
 
 Carps and loaches are^ observed to bjeed several months in ^Ylpj 
 one yearTwhich pikes an djUQ^, other fish do not. And this is jy 
 partly provedTby tame and wild rabbits; an3 also by some /7 
 ducks, which will lay eggs nine out of the twelve months ; and w^Lu 
 yet there be other ducks that lay not longer than about one ^^L 
 month. And it is the rather to be believed, because you shall 
 scarce or never take a male carp without a melt, and a female 
 without a roe or spawn, and for the most part, very much, and 
 especially all the summer season. And it is observed that they ^^ 
 breed more naturally in ponds than in running waters, if they 
 breed there at all ; and that those that live in rivers are taken 
 by men of the best palates to be much the bett er meat. 
 
 And it is observed that in some ponds carps will not breed, y 
 
 especially in cold ponds ; but where they will breed they breed / 
 
 innumerably: Aristotle and Pliny say six times in a year, if 
 there be no pikes or pearch to devour their spawn, when it is 
 cast upon grass, or flags, or weeds, where it lies ten or twelve 
 days before it is enlivened. 
 
 The carp, if he have water room and good feed, will grow to 
 a very great bigness and length; I have heard, to be much 
 above a yard long. It is said by Jovius, who hath writ of fishes, 
 that in the lake Lurian in Italy carps have thriven to be more 
 than fifty pounds weight ; which is the more probable, for as the 
 bear is conceived and born suddenly, and being born, is but 
 short-lived, so, on the contrary, the elephant is said to be two 
 years in his dam's belly, some think he is ten years in it, and 
 being born, grows in bigness twenty years ; and it is observed, 
 too, that he lives to the age of a hundred years. And it is 
 also observed that the crocodile is very long-lived, and more 
 than that, that all that long life he thrives in bigness ; and so 
 I think some carps do, especially in some places ; though I 
 never saw one above twenty-three inches, which was a great 
 and a goodly fish ; but have been assured they are of a far 
 greater size, and in England too. 
 
ii8 THE COMPLETE ANGLER. parti. 
 
 Now, as the increase of carps is wonderful for their number, 
 so there is not a reason found out, I think, by any, why they 
 should breed in some ponds, and not in others of the same 
 nature for soil and all other circumstances. And as their 
 breeding, so are their decays also very mysterious : I have both 
 read it, and been told by a gentleman of tried honesty, that 
 he has known sixty or more large carps put into several ponds 
 near to a house, where, by reason of the stakes in the ponds, 
 and the owner's constant being near to them, it was impossible 
 they should be stole away from him ; and that when he has, 
 after three or four years, emptied the pond, and expected an 
 increase from them by breeding young ones (for that they 
 might do so, he had, as the rule is, put in three melters for 
 one spawner), he has, I say, after three or four years, found 
 neither a young nor old carp remaining. And the like I have 
 known of one that had almost watched the pond, and at a like 
 distance of time, at the fishing of the pond, found, of seventy or 
 eighty large carps, not above five or six; and that he had fore- 
 borne longer to fish the said pond, but that he saw, in a hot day 
 in summer, a large carp swim near the top of the water with a 
 frog upon his head ; and that he, upon that occasion, caused 
 his pond to be let dry? and I say, of seventy or eighty carps, only 
 found five or six in the said pond, and those very sick and lean, 
 and with every one a frog sticking so fast on the head of the 
 said carps that the frog would not be got off without extreme 
 force or killing. And the gentleman that did affirm this to me, 
 told me he saw it ; and did declare his belief to be, and I also 
 believe the same, that he thought the other carps, that were so 
 strangely lost, were so killed by the frogs, and then devoured. 
 
 And^a^person^of^honouTjjiQW-living in Worcester shire, assu red 
 me heJiaxLaeen_ajiecklace or collar of tadpoles^Jia ng hke a 
 chain_ or_neckl ace of b eads about.a-pike^ jieck, and tojcill 
 him ; wheth er^it be for meat or ma lice must be to me a 
 quest ion. " ' 
 
 But I am fallen into this discourse by accident, of which I 
 might say more, but it has proved longer than I intended, and 
 possibly may not to you be considerable : I shall therefore give 
 
ctiAf. tx. THE FOURTH DAY. ug 
 
 you three or four more short observations of the catpj dnd then 
 fall upon some directions how you shall fish fot him. 
 
 The age of carps is by Sir Francis Bacon, in his History of 
 Life and Deaths observed to be but ten years; yet others think 
 they live longer. Gesner says a carp has been known to live in 
 the Palatinate above a hundred years : but most conclude that, 
 contrary to the pike or luce, all carps are the better for age and 
 bigness. The tongues of carps are noted to be choice and 
 costly meat, especially to them that buy them : but Gesner says 
 carps have no tongue like other fish, but a piece of flesh-like 
 fish in their mouth like to a tongue, and should be called a 
 palate: but it is certain it is choicely good; and that the carp is 
 to be reckoned amongst those leather-mouthed fish, which I 
 told you have their teeth in their throat, and for that reason he 
 is very seldom lost by breaking his hold, if your hook be once 
 stuck into his chaps. 
 
 I told you that Sir Francis Bacon thinks that the carp lives 
 but ten years : but Janus Dubravius has writ a book. Of Fish 
 and Fish-ponds^ in which he says that carps begin to spawn at 
 the age of three years, and continue to do so till thirty : he says 
 also, that in the time of their breeding, which is in summer, 
 when the sun hath warmed both the earth and water, and so 
 apted them also for generation, that then three or four male 
 carps will follow a female : and that then, she putting on a 
 seeming coyness, they force her through weeds and flags, where 
 she lets fall her eggs or spawn, which sticks fast to the weeds ; 
 and then they let fall their melt upon it, and so it becomes in a 
 short time to be a living fish: and, as I told you, it is thought 
 that the carp does this several months in the year. And most 
 believe that most fish breed after this manner, except the eel. 
 And it has been observed, that when the spawner has weakened 
 herself by doing that natural office, that two or three melters 
 have helped her from off" the weeds, by bearing her up on both 
 sides, and guarding her into the deep. And you may note, that 
 though this may seem a curiosity not worth observing, yet others 
 have judged it worth their time and cost to make glass hives, 
 and order them in such a manner as to see how bees have bred 
 
120 THE COMPLETE ANGLER. parti. 
 
 and made their honeycombs, and how they have obeyed their 
 king, and governed their commonwealth. But it is thought that 
 all carps are not bred by generation ; but that some breed other 
 ways, as some pikes do. 
 
 The physicians make the galls and stones in the heads of 
 carps to be very medicinable. But it is not to be doubted but 
 that in Italy they make great profit of the spawn of carps by 
 selling it to the Jews, who make it into red caviare ; the Jews 
 not being by their law admitted to eat of caviare made of the 
 sturgeon, that being a fish that wants scales — and, as may 
 appear in Lev. xi. lo — by them reputed to be unclean. 
 
 Much more might be said out of him, and out of Aristotle, 
 which Dubravius often quotes in his Discourse of Fishes ; but 
 it might rather perplex than satisfy you : and therefore I shall 
 rather choose to direct you how to catch, than spend more time 
 in discoursing either of the nature or the breeding of this Carp, 
 or of any more circumstances concerning him; but yet I shall 
 remember you of what I told you before, that he is a very subtle 
 fish, and hard to be caught. 
 
 And my first direction is, that if you will fish for a carp, you 
 must put on a very large measure of patience ; especially to 
 fish for a river carp ; I have known a very good fisher angle 
 diligently four or six hours in a day, for three or four days 
 together, for a river carp, and not have a bite. And you are 
 to note that in some ponds it is as hard to catch a carp as 
 in a river ; that is to say, where they have store of feed, and 
 the water is of a clayish colour; but you are to remember 
 I have told you there is no rule without an exception ; and 
 therefore being possessed with that hope and patience which 
 I wish to all fishers, especially to the carp-angler, I shall tell - 
 you with what bait to fish for him. But first, you are to know 
 that it must be either early or late ; and let me tell you that 
 in hot weather, for he will seldom bite in cold, you cannot be 
 too early or too late at it. And some have been so curious 
 as to say the tenth of April is a fatal day for carps. 
 
 The carp bites either at worms or at paste ; and of worms 
 I think the bluish marsh or meadow worm is best; but 
 
CHAP. IX. THE FOURTH DAY. 121 
 
 possibly another worm not too big may do as well, and so 
 may a green gentle ; and as for pastes, there are almost as 
 many sorts as there are medicines for the toothache; but 
 doubtless sweet pastes are best ; I mean pastes made with 
 honey or with sugar ; which, that you may the better beguile 
 this crafty fish, should be thrown in the pond or place in 
 which you fish for him some hours, or longer, before you 
 undertake your trial of skill with the angle-rod ; and doubt- 
 less if it be thrown into the water a day or two before, 
 at several times, and in small pellets, you are the likelier, when 
 you fish for the carp, to obtain your desired sport. Or, in a 
 large pond, to draw them to a certain place, that they may 
 the better and with more hope be fished for, you are to throw 
 into it, in some certain place, either grains or blood mixed 
 with cow-dung, or with bran ; or any garbage, as chickens' 
 guts or the like ; and then some of your small sweet pellets 
 with which you purpose to angle: and these small pellets 
 being a few of them also thrown in as you are angling, will 
 be the better. 
 
 And your paste must be thus made : take the flesh of a 
 rabbit or cat cut small ; and bean flour ; and if that may not 
 be easily got, get other flour; and then mix these together, 
 and put to them either sugar, or honey (which I think better) : 
 and then beat these together in a mortar, or sometimes work 
 them in your hands, your hands being very clean ; and then 
 make it into a ball, or two, or three, as you like best, for your 
 use; but you must work or pound it so long in the mortar 
 as to make it so tough as to hang upon your hook, without 
 washing from it, yet not too hard : or, that you may the 
 better keep it on your hook, you may knead with your paste 
 a little, and not much, white or yellowish wool. 
 
 And if you would have this paste keep all the year, for any 
 other fish, then mix with it virgin wax, and clarified honey, 
 and work them together with your hands before the fire; then 
 make these into balls, and they will keep all the year. 
 
 And if you fish for a carp with gentles, then put upon your 
 hook a little piece of scarlet about this bigness D, it being 
 
122 THE COMPLETE ANGLER. parti. 
 
 soaked in or anointed with oil of peter, called by some oil of 
 the rock ; and if your gentles be put two or three days before 
 into a box or horn anointed with honey, and so put upon your 
 hook as to preserve them to be living, you are as like to kill 
 this crafty fish this way as any other; but still, as you are 
 fishing, chew a little white or brown bread in your mouth, and 
 cast it into the pond about the place where your float swims. 
 Other baits there be; but these, with diligence and patient 
 watchfulness, will do it better than any that I have ever 
 practised or heard of; and yet I shall tell you that the 
 crumb of white bread and honey, made into a paste, is a good 
 bait for a carp ; and you know it is more easily made. And 
 having said thus much of a carp, my next discourse shall be 
 of the bream ; which shall not prove so tedious, and therefore 
 I desire the continuance of your attention. 
 
 But, first, I will tell you how to make this carp, that is so 
 curious to be caught, so curious a dish of meat, as shall make 
 him worth all your labour and patience; and though it is 
 not without some trouble and charges, yet it will recompense 
 both. 
 
 Take a carp, alive if possible, scour him, and rub him clean with 
 water and salt, but scale him not ; then open him, and put him, 
 with his blood and his liver, which you must save when you open 
 him, into a small pot or kettle ; then take sweet marjoram, 
 thyme, and parsley, of each half a handful, a sprig of rosemary, 
 and another of savory, bind them into two or three small bundles, 
 and put them to your carp, with four or five whole onions, twenty 
 pickled oysters, and three anchovies. Then pour upon your 
 carp as much claret wine as will only cover him, and season 
 your claret well with salt, cloves, and mace, and the rinds of 
 oranges and lemons : that done, cover your pot and set it on a 
 quick fire till it be sufficiently boiled ; then take out the carp 
 and lay it with the broth into the dish, and pour upon it a 
 quarter of a pound of the best fresh butter, melted and beaten 
 with half-a-dozen spoonfuls of the broth, the yolks of two or 
 three eggs, and some of the herbs shred ; garnish your dish 
 with lemons, and so serve it up, and much good do you. 
 
CHAP. X. THE FOURTH DAY. 123 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 OBSERVATIONS OF THE BREAM ; AND DIRECTIONS TO 
 CATCH HIM. 
 
 PiSC. The Bream, being at a full growth, is a large and stately 
 fish : he will breed both in rivers and ponds ; but loves best to 
 live in ponds, and where, if he likes the water and air, he will 
 grow not only to be very large, but as fat as a hog : he is by 
 Gesner taken to be more pleasant or sweet than wholesome : 
 this fish is long in growing, but breeds exceedingly in a water 
 that pleases him ; yea, in many ponds so fast as to overstore 
 them, and starve the other fish. 
 
 He is very broad, with a forked tail, and his scales set in 
 excellent order ; he hath large eyes, and a narrow sucking 
 mouth ; he hath two sets of teeth, and a lozenge-like bone, a 
 bone to help his grinding. The melter is observed to have 
 two large melts ; and the female two large bags of eggs or 
 spawn. 
 
 Gesner reports that in Poland a certain and a great number 
 of large breams were put into a pond, which in the next following 
 winter were frozen up into one entire ice, and not one drop of 
 water remaining, nor one of these fish to be found, though they 
 were diligently searched for; and yet the next spring, when the 
 ice was thawed, and the weather warm, and fresh water got into 
 the pond, he affirms they all appeared again. This Gesner 
 affirms ; and I quote my author because it seems almost as 
 incredible as the resurrection to an atheist: but it may win 
 something, in point of believing it, to him that considers the 
 breeding or renovation of the silk-worm, and of many insects. 
 And that is considerable, which Sir Francis Bacon observes in 
 his History of Life aitd Deaths fol. 20, that there be some herbs 
 that die and spring every year, and some endure longer. 
 
 But though some do not, yet the French esteem this fish 
 highly, and to that end have this proverb, *' He that hath breams 
 in his pond is able to bid his friend welcome." And it is noted 
 that the best part of a bream is his belly and head. 
 
T24 THE COMPLETE ANGLER. part l 
 
 Some say that breams and roaches will mix their eggs and 
 melt together, and so there is in many places a bastard breed 
 of breams, that never come to be either large or good, but very 
 numerous. 
 
 The baits good to catch this Bream are many. i. Paste made 
 of brown bread and honey, gentles, or the brood of wasps that 
 be young, and then not unlike gentles, and should be hardened 
 in an oven, or dried on a tile before the fire, to make them 
 tough ; or there is at the root of docks or flags, or rushes in 
 watery places, a worm not unlike a maggot, at which tench will 
 bite freely. Or he will bite at a grasshopper with his legs 
 nipped off, in June or July, or at several flies under water, which 
 may be found on 'flags that grow near to the water-side. I doubt 
 not but that there be many other baits that are good ; but I will 
 turn them all into this excellent one, either for a carp or bream, 
 in any river or mere : it was given to me by a most honest and 
 excellent angler; and hoping you will prove both, I will impart 
 it to you. 
 
 1. Let your bait be as big a red worm as you can find, without 
 a knot ; get a pint or quart of them in an evening in garden 
 walks, or chalky common, after a shower of rain, and put them 
 with clean moss well washed and picked, and the water squeezed 
 out of the moss as dry as you can, into an earthen pot or pipkin 
 set dry, and change the moss fresh every three or four days, 
 for three weeks or a month together; then your bait will be at 
 the best, for it will be clear and lively. 
 
 2. Having thus prepared your baits, get your tackling ready 
 and fitted for this sport. Take three long angling rods, and as 
 many and more silk, or silk and hair lines, and as many large 
 swan or goose-quill floats. Then take a piece of lead, and fasten 
 them to the low ends of your lines ; then fasten your link-hook 
 also to the lead, and let there be about a foot or ten inches 
 between the lead and the hook ; but be sure the lead be heavy 
 enough to sink the float or quill a little under the water, and not 
 the quill to bear up the lead, for the lead must lie on the ground. 
 Note, that your link next the hook may be smaller than the rest 
 of your line, if you dare adventure, for fear of taking the pike or 
 
CHAP. X. THE FOURTH DAY. 125 
 
 pearch, who will assuredly visit your hooks, till they be taken 
 out, as 1 will show you afterward, before either carp or bream 
 will come near to bite. Note also, that when the worm is 
 well baited, it will crawl up and down as far as the lead will give 
 leave, which much enticeth the fish to bite without suspicion. 
 
 3. Having thus prepared your baits, and fitted your tackling, 
 repair to the river, where you have seen them swim in skulls or 
 shoals, in the summer time, in a hot afternoon, about three or 
 four of the clock, and watch their going forth of their deep 
 holes and returning, which you may well discern, for they 
 return about four of the clock, most of them seeking food at 
 the bottom, yet one or two will lie on the top of the water, 
 rolling and tumbling themselves whilst the rest are under him 
 at the bottom, and so you shall perceive him to keep sentinel ; 
 then mark where he plays most, and stays longest, which com- 
 monly is in the broadest and deepest place of the river, and 
 there, or near thereabouts, at a clear bottom and a convenient 
 landing-place, take one of your angles ready fitted as aforesaid, 
 and sound the bottom, which should be about eight or ten feet 
 deep, two yards from the bank is the best. Then consider with 
 yourself whether that water will rise or fall by the next morning, 
 by reason of any water-mills near, and according to your dis- 
 cretion take the depth of the place, where you mean after to 
 cast your ground-bait, and to fish, to half an inch, that the lead 
 lying on near the ground-bait, the top of the float may only 
 appear upright half an inch above the water. 
 
 Thus you having found and fitted for the place and depth 
 thereof, then go home and prepare your ground-bait, which is, 
 next to the fruit of ^our labours, to be regarded. 
 
 THE GROUND-BAIT. 
 
 You shall take a peck, or a peck and a half, according to the 
 greatness of the stream and deepness of the water where you 
 mean to angle, of sweet gross-ground barley malt, and boil it 
 in a kettle ; one or two warms is enough, then strain it through a 
 bag into a tub, the liquor whereof hath often done my horse 
 
126 THE COMPLETE ANGLER. parti. 
 
 much good, and when the bag and malt is near cold, take it 
 down to the water-side about eight or nine of the clock in the 
 evening, and not before ; cast in two parts of your ground-bait, 
 squeezed hard between both your hands ; it will sink presently 
 to the bottom, and be sure it may rest in the very place where 
 you mean to angle ; if the stream run hard or move a little, cast 
 your malt in handfuls a little the higher, upwards the stream'. 
 You may, between your hands, close the malt so fast in hand- 
 fuls that the water will hardly part it with the fall. 
 
 Your ground thus baited and tackling fitted, leave your bag 
 with the rest of your tackling and ground-bait near the sporting- 
 place all night, and in the morning about three or four of the 
 clock visit the water-side, but not too near, for they have a 
 cunning watchman, and are watchful themselves too. 
 
 Then gently take one of your three rods, and bait your hook; 
 casting it over your ground-bait, and gently and secretly draw 
 it to you, till the lead rests about the middle of^the ground-bait. 
 
 Then take a second tod, and cast in about a yard above, and 
 your third a yard below the first rod ; and stay the rods in the 
 ground : but go yourself so far from the water-side that you 
 perceive nothing but the top of the floats, which you must watch 
 most diligently. Then when you have a bite, you shall perceive 
 the top of your float to sink suddenly into the water: yet, 
 nevertheless, be not too hasty to run to your rods, until you see 
 that the line goes clear away, then creep to the water-side, and 
 give as much line as you possibly can : if it be a good carp or 
 bream, they will go to the farther side of the river : then strike 
 gently, and hold your rod at a bent a little while ; but if you 
 both pull together, you are sure to lose your game, for either 
 your line, or hook, or hold will break : and after you have 
 overcome them, they will make noble sport, and are very shy 
 to be landed. The carp is far stronger and more mettlesome 
 than the bream. 
 
 Much more is to be observed in this kind of fish and fishing, 
 but it is far better for experience and discourse than paper. 
 Only, thus much is necessary for you to know, and to be 
 mindful and careful of, that if the pike or pearch do breed in 
 
CHAP. X. THE FOURTH DAY. 127 
 
 that river, they will be sure to bite first, and must first be taken. 
 And for the most part they are very large ; and will repair to 
 your ground-bait, not that they will eat of it, but will feed and 
 sport themselves among the young fry that gather about and 
 hover over the bait. 
 
 The way to discern the pike and to take him, if you mistrust 
 your bream-hook^for I have taken a pike a yard long several 
 times at my bream-hooks, and sometimes he hath had the luck 
 to share my line — may be thus :-*- 
 
 Take a small bleak, or roach, or gudgeon, and bait it, and 
 set it alive among your rods, two feet deep from the cork, with 
 a little red worm on the point of the hook ; then take a few 
 crumbs of white bread, or some of the ground-bait, and sprinkle 
 it gently amongst your rods. If Mr. Pike be there, then the 
 little fish will skip out of the water at his appearance, but the 
 live-set bait is sure to be taken. 
 
 Thus continue your sport from four in the morning till eight, 
 and if it be a gloomy windy day, they will bite all day long. 
 But this is too long to stand to your rods at one place, and it 
 will spoil your evening sport that day, which is this : — 
 
 About four of the clock in the afternoon repair to your baited 
 place; and as soon as you come to the water-side, cast in one 
 half of the rest of your ground-bait, and stand off: then whilst 
 the fish are gathering together, for there they will most certainly 
 come for their supper, you may take a pipe of tobacco; and 
 then in with your three rods, as in the morning : you will find 
 excellent sport that evening, till eight of the clock ; then cast in 
 the residue of your ground-bait, and next morning by four of 
 the clock visit th^m again for four hours, which is the best 
 sport of all ; and after that, let them rest till you and your 
 -friends have a mind to more sport. 
 
 From St. James's-tide until Bartholomew-tide is the best; 
 when they have had all the summer's food, they are the fattest. 
 
 Observe lastly, that after three or four days' fishing together 
 your game will be very shy and wary, and you shall hardly get 
 above a bite or two at a baiting; then your only way is to desist 
 from your sport about two or three days ; and in the meantime, 
 
128 THE COMPLETE ANGLER. parti. 
 
 on the place you late baited, and again intend to bait, you shall 
 take a tuft of green but short grass, as big or bigger than a 
 round trencher; to the top of this turf, on the green side, you 
 shall with a needle and green thread, fasten one by one as many 
 little red worms as will near cover all the turf; then take a 
 round board or trencher, make a hole in the middle thereof, and 
 through the turf, placed on the board or trencher, with a string 
 or cord as long as is fitting, tied to a pole, let it down to the 
 bottom of the water, for the ffth to feed upon without disturb- 
 ance about two or three days ; and after that you have drawn it 
 away, you may fall to and enjoy your former recreation. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 OBSERVATIONS OF THE TENCH ; ADVICE HOW TO ANGLE 
 FOR HIM. 
 
 PiSC. The Tench, the physician of fishes, is observed to love 
 ponds better than rivers, and to love pits better than either: yet 
 Camden observes, there is a river in Dorsetshire that abt)unds 
 with tenches, but doubtless they retire to the most deep and 
 quiet places in it. 
 
 This fish hath very large fins, very small and smooth scales, 
 a red circle about his eyes, which are big and of a gold colour, 
 and from either angle of his mouth there hangs down a little 
 barb. In every tench's head there are two little stones which 
 foreign physicians make great use of, but he is not commended 
 for wholesome meat, though there be very much use made of 
 them for outward applications. Rondeletius says, that at his 
 being at Rome, he saw a great cure done by applying a tench to 
 the feet of a very sick man. This, he says, was done after an 
 unusual manner, by certain Jews. And it is observed, that 
 many of those people have many secrets yet unknown to 
 Christians; secrets that have never yet been written, but have 
 been (since the days of their Solomon, who knew the nature 
 
CHAP. XI. THE FOURTH DAY. 129 
 
 of all things, even from the cedar to the shrub) delivered by 
 tradition, from the father to the son, and so from generation to 
 generation, without writing ; or (unless it were casually), with- 
 out the least communicating them to any other nation or tribe ; 
 for to do that they account a profanation. And yet it is thought 
 that they, or some spirit worse than they, first told us that lice 
 swallowed alive were a certain cure for the yellow-jaundice. 
 This, and many other medicines, were discovered by them, or 
 by revelation ; for, doubtless, we attained them not by study. 
 
 Well, this fish, b esides his eating, ic vory useful both dead 
 and alive for the good of mankind. Bi>t I will meddle no more 
 with tTnaij^my linr|^<;f Tinmhip qrt ter^rh es no such bold ness : 
 there ^Tg_l:^r"^^''y f-^^lig^^ mAHHUrc ^r^ pl-iymV and divinity, that 
 think thprn^pjve g^fi^ to mpddlp with hidden serret Sj p-^^ g^ Krmo- 
 Hp<;trnrtjnp tn thf^j r followers. B ut TU not meddle with them, 
 any further than to wish them wiser; and shall tell you next, for 
 I hope I may be so bold, that the tench is the physician of 
 fishes, for the pike especially ; and that the pike, being either 
 sick or hurt, is cured by the touch of the Tench. And it is 
 observed that the tyrant pike will not be a wolf to his physician, 
 but forbears to devour him though he be never so hungry. 
 
 This^ifish, tliat carries a natural balsa m ip him to rnrr himself 
 ai)d, other s, loves vet to feed in very foul water, and amongst 
 weeds. ^~Xnd yet I am sure he eats pleasantly, and doubtless 
 you will think so too, if you taste him. And I shall therefore 
 proceed to give you some few, and but a few, directions how to 
 catch this Tench, of which I have given you these observations. 
 
 He will bite a paste made of brown bread and honey, or at a 
 marsh-worm, or a lob-worm ; he inclines very much to any paste 
 with which tar is mixed : and he will bite also at a smaller worm, 
 with his head nipped off, and a cod- worm put on the hook before 
 that worm ; and I doubt not but that he will also in the three 
 hot months — for in the nine colder he stirs not much— bite at a 
 flag-worm, or at a green gentle ; but I can positively say no 
 more of the tench, he being a fish I have not often angled for; 
 but I wish my honest scholar may, and be ever fortunate when 
 he fishes. 
 
 9 
 
130 THE COMPLETE ANGLER. part i. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 OBSERVATIONS OF THE PEARCH ; DIRECTIONS HOW TO 
 FISH FOR HIM. 
 
 PiSC. The Pearch is a very good and a very bold-biting fish. 
 He is one of the fishes of prey that, like the pike and trout, 
 carries his teeth in his mouth, which is very large ; and he dare 
 venture to kill and devour several other kinds of fish. He has a 
 hooked or hog back, which is armed with sharp and stiff bristles, 
 and all his skin armed or covered over with thick dry hard 
 scales, and hath, which few other fish have, two fins on his back. 
 He is so bold that he will invade one of his own kind, which the 
 pike will not do willingly, and you may therefore easily believe 
 him to be a bold biter. 
 
 The pearch is of great esteem in Italy, saith Aldrovandus, 
 and especially the least are there esteemed a dainty dish. And 
 Gesner prefers the pearch and pike above the trout, or any fresh- 
 water fish : he says the Germans have this proverb, *' More 
 wholesome than a pearch of Rhine;" and he says the river 
 p&arch is so wholesome that physicians allow him to be eaten 
 by wounded men, or by men in fevers, or by women in child- 
 bed. 
 
 He spawns but once a year, and is, by physicians, held very 
 nutritive ; yet, by many, to be hard of digestion. They abound 
 more in the river Po, and in England, says Rondeletius, than 
 other parts, and have in their brain a stone which is in foreign 
 parts sold by apothecaries, being there noted to be very medicin- 
 able against the stone in the reins. These be a part of the 
 commendations which some philosophical brains have bestowed 
 upon the fresh-water pearch ; yet they commend the sea-pearch, 
 which is known by having but one fin on his back — of which, 
 they say, we English see but a few — to be a much better fish. 
 
 The pearch grows slowly, yet will grow, as I have been 
 credibly informed, to be almost two feet long ; for an honest 
 informer told me such a one was not long since taken by Sir 
 
CHAP. XII. THE FOURTH DAY. 131 
 
 Abraham Williams, a gentleman of worth, and a brother of the 
 angle, that yet lives, and I wish he may. this was a deep bodied 
 fish, and doubtless durst have devoured a pike of half his own 
 length ; for I have told you he is a bold fish, such a one as, but 
 for extreme hunger, the pike will not devour ; for to affright the 
 pike, and save himself, the pearch will set up his fins, much like 
 as a turkey-cock will sometimes set up his tail. 
 
 But, my scholar, the pearch is not only valiant to defend 
 himself, but he is, as I said, a bold-biting fish, yet he will 
 not bite at all seasons of the year; he is very abstemious in 
 winter, yet will bite then in the midst of the day, if it be 
 warm: and note, that all fish bite best about the midst of a 
 warm day in winter, and he hath been observed by some not 
 usually to bite till the mulberry-tree buds, that is to say, till 
 extreme frosts be past the spring, for when the mulberry-tree 
 blossoms many gardeners observe their forward fruit to be 
 past the danger of frosts, and some have made the like 
 observation on the pearch's biting. 
 
 But bite the pearch will, and that very boldly: and as one 
 has wittily observed, if there be twenty or forty in a hole, 
 they may be at one standing all catched one after another, 
 they being, as he says, like the wicked of the world, not 
 afraid, though their fellows and companions perish in their 
 sight. And you may observe, that they are not like the 
 solitary pike, but love to accompany one another, and march 
 together in troops. 
 
 And the baits for this bold fish are not many : I mean, he 
 will bite as well at some or at any of these three, as at any 
 or all others whatsoever, a worm, a minnow, or a little frog, 
 of which you may find many in hay-time ; and of worms, the 
 dunghill-worm, called a brandling, I take to be best, being 
 well scoured in moss or fennel ; or he will bite at a worm 
 that lies under cow-dung, with a bluish head. And if you 
 rove for a pearch with a minnow, then it is best to be alive, 
 you sticking your hook through his back fin, or a minnow 
 with the hook in his upper lip, and letting him swim up 
 and down about mid-water, or a little lower, and you still 
 
132 THE COMPLETE ANGLER. part i. 
 
 keeping him to about that depth by a cork, which ought not 
 to be a very httle one; and the hke way you are to fish for 
 the pearch, with a small frog, your hook being fastened 
 through the skin of. his leg, towards the upper part of it; 
 and lastly, I will give you but this advice, that you give the 
 pearch time enough when he bites, for there was scarce ever 
 any angler that has given him too much. And now I think 
 best to rest myself, for I have almost spent my spirits with 
 talking so long. 
 
 Ven. Nay, good master, one fish more, for you see it 
 rains still, and you know our angles are like money put to 
 usury, they may thrive, though we sit still and do nothing 
 but talk and enjoy one another. Come, come, the other fish, 
 good master. 
 
 PiSC. But, scholar, have you nothing to mix with this dis- 
 course, which now grows both tedious and tiresome? Shall 
 I have nothing from you, that seem to have both a good 
 memory and a cheerful spirit? 
 
 Ven. Yes, ni;tsster, I will speak you a copy of verses that 
 were made bji Doctor Donne, and made to show the world 
 that he could rnal^e soft and smooth verses wheiTtTe'Thmig ht 
 smoothness worth his labour^^nd I love them the better 
 because they allude to rivers, and fish and fishing. They be 
 these : — 
 
 '* Come live with me, and be my love, 
 And we will some new pleasures prove, 
 Of golden sands and crystal brooks, 
 With silken lines and silver hooks. 
 
 There will the river whisp'ring run, 
 Warm'd by thy eyes more than the sun; 
 And there th' enamell'd fish will stay, 
 Begging themselves they may betray. 
 
 When thou wilt swim in that live bath, 
 Each fish, which every channel hath. 
 Most amorously to thee will swim, 
 Gladder to catch thee, than thou him. 
 
CHAP. XIII. THE FOURTH^ DAY. 133 
 
 If thou to be so seen be'st loath, 
 By sun or moon, thou darkenest both; 
 And if mine eyes have leave to see, 
 I need not their light, having thee. 
 
 Let others freeze with angling-reeds, 
 And cut their legs with shells and weeds. 
 Or treacherously poor fish beset, 
 With strangling snares, or windowy net: 
 
 Let coarse bold hands, from slimy nest, 
 The bedded fish in banks outwrest ; 
 Let curious traitors sleave silk flies, 
 To witch poor wandering fishes' eyes : 
 
 /K' 
 
 For thee thou need'st no such deceit, 
 FarTTiou^tEyself art thine own bait : ' > / / 
 
 TfiaFfisTi that is not catch'd thereby (aT^^Mj , 
 
 fs^wiser far, alas! than I. " 
 
 PiSC. Well remembered, honest scholar ; I thank you for 
 fhese choice verses, which I have heard formerly, but had 
 quite forgot till they were recovered by your happy memory. 
 Well, being I have now rested" myself a little, I will make 
 you some requital, by telling you some observations of the 
 eel, for it rains still, and because, as you say, our angles are 
 as money put to use, that thrives when we play, therefore 
 we'll sit still and enjoy ourselves a Httle longer under this 
 honeysuckle hedge. 
 
 CHAPTER XIIL 
 
 OBSERVATIONS OF THE EEL, AND OTHER FISH THAT WANT 
 SCALES ; AND HOW TO FISH FOR THEM. 
 
 Pisc. It is agreed by most men that the eel is a most dainty 
 fish; the Romans haviTesteenfied her the Helena of their feasts, 
 ati^ sorn e^Ee que^ of palate-pleasure. But most men differ 
 about their breeding: some say they breed by generation as 
 other fish do, and others, that they breed, as some worms do, of 
 
134 THE COMPLETE ANGLER. part i. 
 
 mud ; as rats and mice, and many other living ^x£aJLiii:es_are 
 bredjn^Eg^t^yJjie-sun's heat, wbe«4iL shine j_upon the o ver- 
 flqwing: of the river Nilus; or out of the putrefaction of the 
 earth, and divers other ways. Those that deny them to breed 
 by generation as other fish do, ask, if any man ever saw an eel 
 to have a spawn or melt ? and they are answered, that they may 
 be as certain of their breeding as if they had seen spawn : for 
 they say, that they are certain that eels have all parts, fit for 
 generation, like other fish, but so small as not to be easily dis- 
 cerned, by reason of their fatness ; but that discerned they may 
 be ; and that the he and the she-eel may be distinguished by 
 their fins. And Rondeletius says he has seen eels cling together 
 like dew-worms. 
 
 And others say that eels, growing old, breed other eels out 
 of the corruption of their own age ; which. Sir Francis Bacon 
 says, exceeds not ten years. And others say, that as worms are 
 made of glutinous dew-drops, which are condensed by the sun's 
 heat in those countries, so eels are bred of a particular dew, 
 falling in the months of May or June on the banks of some par- 
 ticular ponds or rivers, apted by nature for that end ; which in 
 a few days are, by the sun's heat, turned into eels ; and some of 
 the ancients have called the eels that are thus bred the offspring 
 of Jove. I have seen, m the beginning of Tuh\_in_ g^river not far 
 from Canterbury, some parts^f ij^o \^ered^"over with young e els^ 
 about the thickness of a straw; and the se eels ^ did lie on t he 
 top of that water^ as thick as -motes^ are said to be in the sun ; 
 and I have heard the like of other rivers, as^namely, inSevern, 
 where they are called yelvers ; and in a pond, or mere, near unto 
 Staffordshire, where, about a set time in summer, such small 
 eels abound so much that many of the poorer sort of people that 
 inhabit near to it, take such eels out of this mere with sieves or 
 sheets ; and made a kind of eel-cake of them, and eat it like as 
 bread. And Gesner quotes venerable Bede, to say, that in 
 England there is an island called Ely, by reason of the in- 
 numerable number of eels that breed in it. But that eels may 
 be bred as some worms, and some kind of bees and wasps are, 
 either of dew, or out of the corruption of the earth, seems to be 
 
CHAP. XIII. THE FOURTH DAY. 135 
 
 made probable by the barnacles and young goslings bred by 
 the sun's heat and the rotten planks of an old ship, and hatched 
 of trees; both which are related for truths by Du Bartas and 
 Lobel, and also by our learned Camden, and laborious Gerard, 
 in his Herbal. 
 
 It is said by Rondeletius that those eels that are bred in 
 rivers that relate to or be near to the sea, never return to the 
 fresh waters (as the salmon does always desire to do), when they 
 have once tasted the salt water ; and I do the more easily 
 believe this, because I am certain that powdered beef is a most 
 excellent bait to catch an eel. And though Sir Francis Bacon 
 will allow the eel's life to be but ten years, yet he, in his History 
 of Life and Deaths mentions a lamprey belonging to the Roman 
 emperor, to be made tame, and so kept for almost threescore 
 years; and that such useful and pleasant observations were 
 made of this lamprey, that Crassus the orator, who kept her, 
 lamented her death. And we read in Dr. Hakewill, that Hor- 
 tensius was seen to weep at the death of a lamprey that he had 
 kept long and loved exceedingly. 
 
 It is granted by all, or most men, that eels, for about six 
 months, that is to say, the six cold months of the year, stir not 
 up and down, neither in the rivers, nor in the pools in which they 
 usually are, but get into the soft earth or mud ; and there many 
 of them together bed themselves, and live without feeding upon 
 anything, as I have told you some swallows have been observed 
 to do in hollow trees, for those cold six months ; and this the eel 
 and swallow do, as not being able to endure winter weather: 
 for Gesner quotes Albertus to say, that in the year 1125, that 
 year's winter being more cold than usually, eels did by nature's 
 instinct get out of the water into a stack of hay in a meadow 
 upon dry ground, and there bedded themselves, but yet at last 
 a frost killed them. And our Camden relates that in Lanca- 
 shire fishes were digged out of the earth with spades, where no 
 water was near to the place. I shall say little more of the eel, 
 but that, as it is observed, he is impatient of cold ; so it hath 
 been observed, that in warm weather an eel has been known to 
 live five days out of the water. 
 
1^6 THE COMPLETE ANGLER. parti. 
 
 And lastly, let me tell you that some curious searchers into 
 the natures of fish observe that there be several sorts or kinds 
 of eels, as the silver eel, and green or greenish eel, with which 
 the river of Thames abounds, and those are called grigs ; and a 
 blackish eel, whose head is more flat and bigger than ordinary 
 eels; and also an eel whose fins are reddish, and but seldom 
 taken in this nation, and yet taken sometimes: these several 
 kinds of eels are, say some, diversely bred ; as namely, out of 
 the corruption of the earth, and some by dew, and other waySj 
 as I have said to you : and yet it is affirmed by some for certain, 
 that the silver eel is bred by generation, but not by spawning as 
 other fish do, but that her brood come alive from her, being then 
 little live eels, no bigger nor longer than a pin : and I have had 
 too many testimonies of this to doubt the truth of it myself; and 
 if I thought it needful I might prove it, but I think it is need- 
 less. 
 
 And this eel, of which I have said so much to you, may be 
 caught with divers kinds of baits; as namely, with powdered 
 beef, with a lob or garden-worm, with a minnow, or gut of a hen, 
 chicken, or the guts of any fish, or with almost anything, for he 
 is a greedy fish : but the eel may be caught especially with a little, 
 a very little lamprey, which some call a pride, and may in the 
 hot months be found many of them in the river Thames, and in 
 many mud-heaps in other rivers, yea, almost as usually as one 
 finds worms in a dunghill. 
 
 Next note, that the eel seldom stirs in the day, but then 
 hides himself; and therefore he is usually caught by night, 
 with one of these baits of which I have spoken : and may be 
 then caught by laying hooks, which you are to fasten to the 
 bank, or twigs of a tree ; or by throwing a string across the 
 stream with many hooks at it, and those baited with the 
 aforesaid baits, and a clod, or plummet, or stone, thrown into 
 the river with this line, that so you may in the morning find 
 it near to some fixed place; and then take it up with a drag- 
 hook, or otherwise. But these things are, indeed, too common 
 to be spoken of; and an hour's fishing with an angler will 
 teach you better, both for these and many other common things, 
 
CHAP. XIII. THE EOURTti DAY 137 
 
 in the practical part of angling, than a week's discourse. I 
 shall therefore conclude this direction for taking' the eel by 
 telling you, that in a warm 4ay in summer I have taken many 
 a good eel by sniggling, and have been much pleased with that 
 sport. 
 
 And because you, that are but a young angler, know not what 
 sniggling is, I will now teach it to you. You remember I told 
 you that eels do not usually stir in the daytime , for then they 
 hide themselves under some covert ; or under boards or planks 
 about flood-gates or weirs or mills ; or m holes on the river 
 banks : so that you, observing your time in a warm day, when 
 the water is lowest, may take a strong small hook, tied to a 
 strong line, or to a string about a yard long : and then into one 
 of these holes or between any boards about a mill or under any 
 great stone or plank or any place where you think an eel may 
 hide or shelter herself, you may, with the help of a short stick, 
 put in your bait, but leisurely, and as far as you may con- 
 veniently ; and it is scarce to be doubted, but if there be an eel, 
 within the sight of it, the eel will bite instantly, and as certainly 
 gorge it; and you need not doubt to have him if you pull 
 him not out of the hole too quickly, but pull him out by degrees ; 
 for he, laying folded double in his hole, will, with the help 
 of his tail, break all, unless you give him time to be wearied 
 with pulling : and so get him out by degrees, not pulling too 
 hard. 
 
 And to commute for your patient hearing this long discourse, 
 I shall next tell you how to make this Eel a most excellent dish 
 of meat. 
 
 First, wash him in water and salt, then pull off his skin below 
 his vent or navel, and not much further ; having done that, take 
 out his guts as clean as you can, but wash him not : then give 
 him three or four scotches with a knife, and then put into his 
 belly and those scotches sweet herbs, and anchovy, and a little 
 nutmeg grated, or cut very small ; and your herbs and anchovies 
 must also be cut very small, and mixed with good butter and 
 salt : having done this, then pull his skin over him all but his 
 head, which you are to cut off, to the end you may tie his skin 
 
138 THE COMPLETE ANGLER. part i. 
 
 about that part where his head grew : and it must be so tied as 
 to keep all his moisture within his skin : and having done this, 
 tie him with tape or packthread to a spit, and roast him leisurely, 
 and baste him with water and salt till his skin breaks, and then 
 with butter ; and having roasted him enough, let what was put 
 into his belly and what he drips be his sauce. 
 
 When I go to dress an eel thus, I wish he were as long an d 
 big as that which was caught in PeterborouglTriverin jhe yea r 
 i6677whieh was a yard and three-quarters long! iTyou will not 
 believe me, then go and see at one of the coffee-houses in Kmg 
 Street, in Westminster. 
 
 " BuFnow let me tell you, that thoug^h the eel thus dressed be 
 not only excellent good, but more harmless than any other way; 
 yet it is certain, that physicians account the eel dangerous meat : 
 I will advise you, therefore, as Solomon says of honey, " Hast 
 thou found it, eat no more than is sufficient, lest thou surfeit ; 
 for it is not good to eat much honey." And let me add this, 
 that the uncharitable Italian bids us "give eels and no wine to 
 our enemies." 
 
 And I will beg a little more of your attention to tell you 
 Aldrovandus, and divers physicians, commend the eel very much 
 for medicine, though not for meat. But let me tell you one 
 observation, that the eel is never out of season ; as trouts, and 
 most other fish are at set times : at least most eels are not. 
 
 I might here speak of many other fish, whose shape and 
 nature are much like the eel, and frequent both the sea and 
 fresh rivers; as namely, the lamprel, the lamprey, and the 
 lamperne : as also of the mighty conger, taken often in Severn, 
 about Gloucester : and might also tell in what high esteem many 
 of them are for the curiosity of their taste. But ^hese are no t so 
 prope r to be talked of bv me^ becauF ^ thry ^-^i^^"g nyoi^rg no 
 sport; therefore I will let t hem alone, as the Jews do^towhom 
 they are forbiddenbytheir law. 
 
 And, scholar, there is also a FLOUNDER, a sea-fish which will 
 wander very far into fresh rivers, and there lose himself and 
 dwell : and thrive to a hand's breadth, and almost twice so long : 
 a fish without scales, and most excellent meat : and a fish that 
 
CHAP. XIV. THE FOURTH DAY. 139 
 
 affords much sport to the angler, with any small worm, but 
 especially a little bluish worm gotten out of marsh-ground or 
 meadows, which should be well scoured. But this, though it be 
 most excellent meat, yet it wants scales, and is, as I told you, 
 therefore an abomination to the Jews. 
 
 But, scholar, there is a fish that they in Lancashire boast very 
 much of, called a Char ; taken there (and I think there only), 
 in a mere called Winander Mere : a mere, says Camden, that is 
 the largest in this nation, being ten miles in length, and (some 
 say) as smooth in the bottom as if it were paved with polished 
 marble. This fish never exceeds fifteen or sixteen inches in 
 length ; and is spotted like a trout : and has scarce a bone but 
 on the back. But this, though I do not know whether it make 
 the angler sport, yet I would have you take notice of it, because 
 it is a rarity, and of so high esteem with persons of great note. 
 
 Nor would I have you ignorant of a rare fish called a 
 GuiNiAD ; of which I shall tell you what Camden and others 
 speak. The river Dee (which runs by Chester) springs in 
 Merionethshire ; and, as it runs toward Chester, it runs through 
 Pemble-Mere, which is a large water: and it is observed, that 
 though the river Dee abounds with salmon, and Pemble-Mere 
 with the guiniad, yet there is never any salmon caught in the 
 mere, nor a guiniad in the river. And now my next observation 
 shall be of the Barbel. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 OBSERVATIONS OF THE BARBEL; AND DIRECTIONS HOW TO 
 FISH FOR HIM. 
 
 PiSC. The Barbel is so called, says Gesner, by reason of his 
 barb or wattles at his mouth, which are under his nose or chaps. 
 He is one of those leather-mouthed fishes, that I told you of, 
 that does very seldom break his hold if he be once hooked : but 
 he is so strong that he will often break both rod and line, if he 
 proves to be a big one. 
 
I40 THE COMPLETE ANGLER. part i. 
 
 But the barbel, though he be of a fine shape, and looks big, 
 yet he is not accounted the best fish to eat, neither for his 
 wholesomeness nor his taste: but the male is reputed much 
 better than the female, whose spawn is very hurtful, as I will 
 presently declare to you. 
 
 They flock together, like sheep, and are at the worst in April, 
 about which time they spawn, but quickly grow to be in season. 
 He is able to live in the strongest swifts of the water, and in 
 summer they love the shallowest and sharpest streams; and 
 love to lurk under weeds, and to feed on gravel against a rising 
 ground, and will root and dig in the sands with his nose like a 
 hog, and there nest himself: yet sometimes he retires to deep 
 and 'swift bridges, or flood-gates, or weirs, where he will nest 
 himself amongst piles or in hollow places, and take such hold of 
 moss or weeds, that be the water never so swift, it is not able to 
 force him from the place that he contends for. This is his 
 constant custom in summer, when he and most living creatures 
 sport themselves in the sun: but at the approach of winter, 
 then he forsakes the swift streams and shallow waters, and by 
 degrees retires to those parts of the river that are quieter and 
 deeper: in which places, and I think about that time, he 
 spawns, and, as I have formerly told you, with the help of the 
 melter, hides his spawn or eggs in holes, which they both dig 
 in the gravel, and then they mutually labour to cover it with 
 the same sand, to prevent it from being devoured by other fish. 
 
 There be such store of this fish in the river Danube, that 
 Rondeletius says they may in some places of it, and in some 
 months of the year, be taken by those that dwell near to the 
 river, with their hands, eight or ten load at a time: he says 
 they begin to be good in May, and that they cease to be so in 
 August; but it is found to be otherwise in this nation: but thus 
 far we agree with him, that the spawn of a barbel, if it be not 
 poison, as he says, yet that it is dangerous meat, and especially 
 in the month of May; which is so certain, that Gesner and 
 Gasius declare it had an ill effect upon them, even to the 
 endangering of their lives. 
 
 This fish is of a fine cast and handsome shape, with small 
 
CHAP. XIV. THE FOURTH DAY. 141 
 
 scales, which are placed after a most exact and curious manner, 
 and, as I told you, may be rather said not to be ill than to be 
 good meat: the chub and he have, I think, both lost part of 
 their credit by ill cookery, they being reputed the worst or 
 coarsest of fresh-water fish. But the Barbel affords an angler 
 choice sport, being a lusty and a cunning fish ; so lusty and 
 cunning as to endanger the breaking of the angler's line, by 
 running his head forcibly towards any covert or hole or bank, 
 and then striking at the line, to break it off with his tail, as is 
 observed by Plutarch in his book, De hidustrid A7ii77ialium; 
 and also so cunning to nibble and suck off your worm close to 
 the hook, and yet avoid the letting the hook come into his 
 mouth. 
 
 The barbel is also curious for his baits ; that is to say, that 
 they be clean and sweet ; that is to say, to have your worms 
 well scoured, and not kept in sour and musty moss, for he is a 
 curious feeder ; but at a well scoured lob-worm he will bite as 
 boldly as at any bait, and especially if, the night or two before 
 you fish for him, you shall bait the places where you intend to 
 fish for him with big worms cut into pieces; and note, that 
 none did ever overbait the place, nor fish too early or too late 
 for a barbel. And the barbel will bite also at gentles, which 
 not being too much scoured, but green, are a choice bait for 
 him ; and so is cheese, which is not to be too hard, but kept a 
 day or two in a wet linen cloth to make it tough : with this you 
 may also bait the water a day or two before you fish for the 
 barbel, and be much the likelier to catch store; and if the 
 cheese were laid in clarified honey a short time before, as 
 namely, an hour or two, you are still the likelier to catch fish: 
 some have directed to cut the cheese into thin pieces, and toast 
 it, and then tie it on the hook with fine silk : and some advise 
 to fish for the barbel with sheep's tallow and soft cheese beaten 
 or worked into a paste, and that it is choicely good in August, 
 and I believe it ; but doubtless the lob-worm well scoured, and 
 the gentle not too much scoured, and cheese ordered as I 
 have directed, are baits enough, and I think will serve in any 
 month, though I shall commend any angler that tries con- 
 
142 THE COMPLETE ANGLER. part i. 
 
 elusions, and is industrious to improve the art. And now, my 
 honest scholar, the long shower and my tedious discourse are 
 both ended together ; and I shall give you but this observation, 
 that when you fish for barbel, your rod and line be both long 
 and of good strength, for, as I told you, you will find him a 
 heavy and a dogged fish to be dealt withal, yet he seldom or 
 never breaks his hold if he be once strucken. And jf you wou ld 
 knowjnore^of ftshing for the mpber or ^arbel3_£:eLJBio.favour 
 with Doctor Sheldo n^ whose skill is above oth ers ; and of that 
 the poor that^dwell about him have a co mfortable experletiu er 
 
 And now let us go and see what interest the trouts will pay 
 us for letting our angle-rods lie so long and so quietly in the 
 water, for their use. Come, scholar, which will you take up ? 
 Ven. Which you think fit, master. 
 
 PiSC. Why, you shall take up that, for I am certain, by 
 viewing the line, it has a fish at it. Look you, scholar ! well 
 done! Come, now take up the other too : well! now you may 
 tell my brother Peter, at night, that you have caught ajeash of 
 trouts this day. And now let's move towards our lodging^ and 
 drink a draught of red cow's milk as we go ; and give pretty 
 Maudlin and her honest mother a brace of trouts for their supper. 
 Ven. Master, I like your motion very well ; and I think it is 
 now about milking-time ; and yonder they be at it. 
 
 PiSC. God speed you, good woman ! I thank you both for 
 our songs last night : I and my companion have had such for- 
 tune a-fishing this day that we resolve to give you and Maudlin 
 a brace of trouts for supper ; and we will now taste a draught of 
 your red cow's milk. 
 
 MiLK-W. Marry, and that you shall with all my heart ; and 
 I will still be your debtor when you come this way. If ypujyjjl 
 but speak the word, Lwill make you a good syllabub jofjnew 
 verjutce ; ^d then you may sit down in a haycock and eat it ; 
 and Maudlin shall sit by and sing you the good old song oTtlie 
 Himii72g in Chevy Chase^ or some other good ballad, for she 
 hath store af them ; Maudlin, my honest Maudlin, hathajiot- 
 able memory, and she thinks nothing too good for yo u, bec ause 
 you be such honest men. ' ^~^ 
 
CHAP. XV. THE FOURTH DAY. 143 
 
 Ven. We thank you ; and intend once in a month to call upon 
 you again, and give you a little warning ; and so, good-night ; 
 good-night, Maudlin. And now, good master, let's lose no time ; 
 but tell me somewhat more of fishing ; and, if you please, first, 
 something of fishing for a gudgeon. 
 
 PiSC. I will, honest scholar. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 OBSERVATIONS OF THE GUDGEON, THE RUFFE, AND THE 
 BLEAK; AND HOW TO FISH FOR THEM. 
 
 PiSC. The Gudgeon is reputed a fish of excellent taste, and 
 to be very wholesome : he is of a fine shape, of a silver colour, and 
 beautified with black spots both on his body and tail. He breeds 
 two or three times in the year, and always in summer. He is 
 commended for a fish of excellent nourishment: the Germans 
 call him Groundling, by reason of his feeding on the ground ; 
 and he there feasts himself in sharp streams, and on the gravel. 
 He and the barbel both feed so, and do not hunt for flies at any 
 time, as most other fishes do : he is a most excellent fish to enter 
 a young angler, being easy to be taken with a small red-worm, 
 on or near to the ground. He is one of those leather-mouthed 
 fish that has his teeth in his throat, and will hardly be lost off 
 from the hook if he be once strucken. 
 
 They be usually scattered up and down every river in the 
 shallows, in the heat of summer ; but in autumn, when the weeds 
 begin to grow sour and rot, and the weather colder, they gather 
 together, and get into the deep parts of the water, and are to be 
 fished for there, with your hook always touching the ground, if 
 you fish for him with a float, or with a cork ; but many will fish 
 for the Gudgeon by hand, with a running line upon the ground, 
 without a cork, as a trout is fished for ; and it is an excellent way, 
 if you have a gentle rod and as gentle a hand. 
 
 There is also another fish called a PoPE, and by some a 
 
> 
 
 144 THE COMPLETE ANGLER. part i 
 
 Ruffe, a fish that is not known to be in some rivers : he is much 
 like the pearch for his shape, and taken to be better than the 
 pearch, but will not grow to be bigger than a gudgeon. He is 
 an excellent fish, no fish that swims is of a pleasanter taste, and 
 he is also excellent to enter a young angler, for he is a greedy 
 biter; and they will usually lie abundance of them together, in 
 one reserved place, where the water is deep and runs quietly ; 
 and an easy angler, if he has found where they lie, may 
 catch forty or fifty, or sometimes twice as many, at a 
 standing. 
 
 You must fish for him with a small red- worm; and if you bait 
 the ground with earth, it is excellent. 
 
 There is also a bleak, or fresh-water sprat, a fish that is ever 
 in motion, and therefore called by some the river-swallow ; for 
 just as you shall observe the swallow to be most evenings in 
 summer ever in motion, making short and quick turns when he 
 flies to catch flies in the air, by which he lives, so does the bleak 
 at the top of the water. Ausonius would have him called 
 Bleak from his whitish colour : his back is of a pleasant sad or 
 sea-water green, his belly white and shining as the mountain 
 snow ; and doubtless, though he have the fortune, which virtue 
 has in poor people, to be neglected, yet the bleak ought to be 
 much valued, though we want Allamot salt, and the skill that 
 the Italians have to turn them into anchovies. T his^sh may be 
 caught with a Paternoster line; that is, six or ei ght very sm all 
 hooksU^d along the line, one half a foot above tliejother: I 
 have~ seen five caught thus at one time, and the bait has been 
 gentles, than which none is better. 
 
 Or this fish may be caught with a fine small artificial fly, 
 which is to be of a very sad brown colour, and very small, and 
 the hook answerable. There is no better sport than whipping 
 for bleaks in a boat, or on a bank, in the swift water, in a 
 summer's evening, with a hazel top about five or six foot long, 
 and a line twice the length of the rod. I have heard Sir Henry 
 Wotton say that there be many that in Italy will catch swallows 
 so, or especially martins ; this bird-angler standing on the top 
 of a steeple to do it, and with a line twice so long as I have 
 
CHAP. xvj. THE FOURTH DAY. 145 
 
 spoken of. And let me tell you, scholar, that both martins and 
 bleaks be most excellent meat. 
 
 And let me tell you that I have known a hern, that did 
 constantly frequent one place, caught with a hook baited with 
 a big minnow or small gudgeon. The line and hook must be 
 strong, and tied to some loose staff, so big as she cannot fly 
 away with it, a line not exceeding two yards. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 IS OF NOTHING, OR THAT WHICH IS NOTHING WORTH. 
 
 PiSC. My purpose was to give you some directions concerning 
 roach and dace, and some other inferior fish, which make the 
 angler excellent sport, for you know there is more pleasure in 
 hunting the hare than in eating her; but I will forbear at this 
 time to say anymore, because you see yonder come .our brother 
 Peter and honest Coridonr but I wULpromise yoo^t hat as you 
 and I fish, and walk_ t o-morrow towards London, if I have now 
 fo rgotte n anything that I can then reme mber, I_ will_no^keep 
 it^om-Jour ■ 
 
 Welljmet,_ gentl emen : this is lu cky tha t we meet so _just 
 to.get]i£x_at_this_verydoor. C ome, hostess,"where are you ? Is 
 supper ready? Come, first give us drink^ and be aT^quick as 
 you can, for I believe we are all very hungry. Well, brother 
 P eter, ancL Coridon, to you both ; come drink, and then tell me 
 what luck of fish : we two have caught but ten trouts, of which 
 mj^gcholar^ caught three ; look, here^s eight, and a brace we 
 gave away: weh ave^had_a most pleasant dayTqrJishing and 
 t alking, an d are returned home both weary and. hungry, and 
 no w meat and rest will bejjleasapt. " 
 
 Pet. Anji Cnri d o.i]L,andJ have had not an unpleasant day, 
 a nd vet I have caught but five trouts: for i ndeeH" w e'wehl To a C^lfffl 
 good honest ale-house, and there we played at shovel-board 
 h alf the jay ; all the time that it rained we were there, and as ^\JL 
 merry as they that fished; and I am glad we are now with a L{^ 
 
 10 
 
 ^^ 
 
* 
 
 146 THE COMPLETE ANGLER. part i. 
 
 dry house over our heads, for hark how it rains and blows. 
 Come, hostess, give us more ale, and our supper with what 
 haste you may: and when we have supped, let us have your 
 song, Piscator, and the catch that your scholar promised us ; or 
 else Coridon will be dogged. 
 
 PiSC. Nay, I will not be worse than my word ; yjau-Shalljiot 
 w^nt my song, and I hope Lshall be perfect in,it. 
 
 VEN. And I hope the like for my catch, which I have ready 
 too : and therefore let's go merrily to supper, and then have a 
 gentle touch at singing and drinking; but the last with moder- 
 
 Cor. Come, now for your song ; for we have fed heartily. 
 Come, hostess, lay a few more sticks on the fire. And now sing 
 when you will. 
 
 PiSC. Well then, here's to you, Coridon ; and now for my song. 
 
 " O the gallant fisher's life, 
 It is the best of any ! 
 *Tis full of pleasure, void of strife. 
 And 'tis beloved by many: 
 
 Other joys 
 
 Are but toys ; 
 
 Only this 
 
 Lawful is ; 
 
 For our skill 
 
 Breeds no ill, 
 But content and pleasure. 
 
 In a_morning up we rise 
 Ere Aurora's peeping ; 
 Drinli^-cup-to wash our eyes; 
 Leave the sluggard sleeping. 
 
 Then we go 
 
 To and fro 
 
 With our knacks 
 
 At our backs 
 
 To such streams 
 
 As the Thames, 
 If we have the leisure. 
 
CHAP. XVI. THE FOURTH DAY. 147 
 
 When we please to walk abroad 
 
 For our recreation, 
 In the fields is our abode, 
 Full of delectation : 
 
 Where in a brook. 
 
 With a hook, 
 
 Or a lake, 
 
 Fish we take; 
 
 There we sit 
 
 For a bit. 
 Till we fish entangle. 
 
 We have gentles in, a horn. 
 
 We have paste and worms too ; 
 We can watch both night and morn, 
 Suffer rain and storms too. 
 None do here 
 Use to swear ; 
 Oaths do fray 
 Fish away : 
 We sit still 
 And watch our quill ; 
 Fishers must not wrangle. 
 
 If the sun's excessive heat 
 
 Make our bodies swelter, 
 To an osier-hedge we get 
 For a friendly shelter; 
 Where in a dike. 
 Perch or pike. 
 Roach or dace, 
 We do chase ; 
 Bleak or gudgeon, 
 Without grudging : 
 We are still contented. 
 
 Or we sometimes pass an hour . 
 
 Under a green willow, 
 That defends us from a shower — 
 
 Making earth our pillow : 
 
148 THE COMPLETE ANGLER. part i. 
 
 Where we may 
 Think and pray, 
 Before death 
 Stops our breath : 
 Other joys 
 Are but toys, 
 And to be lamented." — Jo. Chalkhill. 
 
 Ven. Well sung, master : this day's fortune and pleasure, 
 and this night's company and song, do all make me more and more 
 in love with angling. Gentlemen, my master left me alone for 
 an hour this day ; and I verily believe he retired himself from 
 talking with me, that he might be so perfect in this song : was 
 it not, master ? 
 
 PiSC. Yes, indeed ; for it is many years since I learned it, and 
 having forgotten a part of it, I was forced to patch it up by the 
 help of mine own invention, who am not excellent at poetry, as 
 rnypart of the song may testify : but of that I will say no more^ 
 l^^t_y^^i ?h^Mld thinlr T mnnn h iLdiscommending it to beg your 
 commendations of it. And therefore, without replication s,, le t 
 usTiearjyour catch, scholar, which 1 hope will be a good one; 
 fofyou are both musical, and have a good fancy to boot. 
 
 Ven. Marry, and that you shall; and as freely as I would 
 have my honest master tell me some more secrets of fish and 
 fishing as we walk and fish towards London to-morrow. But, 
 master, first let me tell you, that very hour which you were absent 
 from me, I sat down under a willow tree by the water^side^ and 
 considered what you had told me of the owner of that pleasgnt 
 meadow in which you had then left me ; that he had a plentiful 
 estate, and not a heart to think so ; that he had at this thue 
 nianylaw-suits depending, and that they both damped his mirth 
 and took up so much of his time and thoughts, that he himself 
 had not leisure to take the sweet content that l,,„ffi]i£L4ii:£j£nded 
 no title to th em, took in his fields : for I could sit there quTeTly ; 
 and looking on the water, see some fishes sport themselves in 
 the silver streams, others leaping at flies of several shapes and 
 colours; looking on the hills, I could behold them spotted with 
 woods and groves ; looking down the meadows, could see, here 
 
CHAP. xvL THE FOURTH DAY. 149 
 
 a boy gathering lilies and lady-smocks, and there a girl cropping 
 culverkeys and cowslips, all to make garlands suitable to this 
 present monih of May : these, and many other field-flowers, so 
 perfumed the air, that I thought that very meadow like that 
 field in Sicily of which Diodorus speaks, where the perfumes 
 arising from the place make all dogs that hunt in it to fall off, 
 and to lose their hottest scent. I say, as I thus sat, joying in 
 my own happy condition, and pitying this poor rich man that 
 owned this and many other pleasant groves and meadows about 
 me, I did thankfully remember what my Saviour said, that Uie 
 n^ek^^^sess the ^arth : or ra|hpr th py enjoy whf^^ tl-j^pj^^ers 
 poss ess and enj oy not ; fo r an triers and meek quiet-spiritedon en 
 are_tr^e, f'rom^^ oS^'liighj those res tless thoughts which co rrode 
 the sw eets ofl iSl^IZa^ OTTlieTrg ri^ ^^^y '^^Vj ^^^ ^^Yi ^^ ^^^ poet 
 hasja^pily ^^resi^e^ it — ; 
 
 ** H ail blest esta te of lowliness ! ^ 
 
 Happy enjoyments of such minds 
 As, tid lin self contentedae ss. 
 
 Cah, like the reeds in roughest winds, 
 By yielding make that blow but small, 
 At which proud oaks and cedars fall." 
 
 Thexf 4^arQ^,,alsoJnlCLJn)Lmind, at that time, certain verses 
 in praise of a mean estate and an TiulnbTe fnind ; they were 
 written by Phineas Fletcher, an excellent divine, and an excel- 
 l ent a ngler, and the author of excellent piscatory eclogues, in 
 which you shall see the picture of this good man's mind, and I 
 wish mine to be like it. 
 
 ** No empty hopes, no courtly fears him fright ; I 
 
 No begging wants his middle fortune bite : I 
 
 But sweet content exiles both misery and spite. J 
 
 Hk^r-prfaip )i'r^j tVinf ppvpr can decd yp him. 
 
 Is full of thousand sweets and rich content ; 
 The smooth-leaved beeches in the field receive him, \ 
 
 With coolest shade, till noontide's heat be spent. 
 
 
I50 THE COMPLETE ANGLER. part i. 
 
 His life is neither toss'd in boisterous seas 
 Or the vexatious world, or lost in slothful ease; 
 Pleased and full bless'd he lives, when he his God can please. 
 
 His bed, more safe than soft, yields quiet sleep s, 
 
 While by his side his faithful spouseTmTh place; 
 His little son into hisbosom^creep?, 
 
 7Th_eJive]h|r picture of hisjather's Jace ; 
 His humble house~oirpoor state ne'er torment him — 
 Less he could like, if less his God had lent him ; 
 And when he dies, green turfs do for a tomb content bim." 
 
 Gentlemen, these were a part of the thoughts that then pos- 
 sessed me. And I here made a conversion of a piece of an old 
 catch, and added more to it, fitting them to be sung by anglers. 
 Come, master, you can sing well ; you must sing a part of it as 
 it is in this paper. 
 
 Peter. Ay marry, sir, this is music indeed *, this has cheered 
 my heart, and made me to remember six verses in praise of 
 music, which I will speak to you instantly. 
 
 " Music ! miraculous rhetoric, that speakest sense 
 Without a tongue, excelling eloquence ; 
 With what ease might thy errors be excused, 
 Wert thou as truly loved as thou'rt abused ! 
 But though dull souls neglect, and some reprove thee, 
 I cannot hate thee, 'cause the angels love thee." 
 
 Ven. And the repetition of these last verses of music has 
 called to my memory what Mr. Ed. Waller , a lover of the angle, 
 says of love and music. 
 
 " Whilst I listen to thy voice, 
 
 Chloris, I feel my heart decay: 
 
 That powerful noise 
 Calls my fleeting soul away: 
 O supijressjLhat magic sound, 
 Wiiicli destroys without a wound 1 
 
CHAP. XVI. THE FOURTH DAY. igt 
 
 Teac^y Chloris, peace, or singing die. 
 That together you and I 
 
 To heaven may go; 
 
 P'or all we know 
 Of what the blessed do above 
 Is — that they sing, and that they love," 
 
 PiSC. Well remembered, brother Peter: these verses came 
 seasonably, and we thank you heartily. Come, we will all join 
 together, my host and all, and sing my scholar's catch over 
 again, and then each man drink the other cup, and to bed, and 
 thank nfy^izf^ hnvp n dyy house ovfr pLLp4i»e.;i d s. 
 
 PiSC. Well now, good-night to everybody. 
 
 Peter. And so say I. 
 
 Ven. And so say I. 
 
 Cor. Good-night to you all, and I thank you. 
 
152 
 
 
 VJ 
 
 r THE FIFTH DAY.* 
 
 SC. Good-morrow, brother Peter, and the hke to you, 
 honest Coridon : come, my hostess says there is seven shillings 
 to pay : let us each man drink a pot for his morning's draught, 
 and lay down his two shillings ; that so my hostess may not 
 have occasion to repent herself of being so diligent, and using 
 us so kindly. 
 
 Peter. The motion is liked by everybody ; and so, hostess, 
 here's your money : we anglers are all beholding to you, it will 
 not be long ere I'll see you again. And now, brother Piscator, 
 I wish you and my brother your scholar a fair day and good 
 fortune. Come, Coridon, this is our way. 
 
 CHAPTER XVH. 
 
 OF ROACH AND DACE, AND HOW TO FISH FOR THEM; 
 AND OF CADIS. 
 
 Ven. Good master, as we go now towards London, be still so 
 courteous as to give me more instructions : for I have several 
 boxes in my memory, in which I will keep them all very safe, 
 there shall not one of them be lost. 
 
 PiSC. Well, scholar, that I will, and I will hide nothing from 
 you that I can remember, and can think may help you forward 
 towards a perfection in this art. And because we have so much 
 time, and I have said so little of roach and dace, I will give you 
 some directions concerning them. 
 
CHAP. XVII. THE FIFTH DAY. 153 
 
 Some say the Roach is so called from rutilus^ which they 
 say signifies red fins. He is a fish of no great reputation for 
 his dainty taste ; and his spawn is accounted much better than 
 any part of him. And you may take notice, that as the carp 
 is accounted the water-fox for his cunning; so the roach is 
 accounted the water-sheep, for his simplicity or foohshness. It 
 is noted, that the roach and dace recover strength, and grow in 
 season, a fortnight after spawning ; the barbel and chub in a 
 month : the trout in four months ; and the salmon in the like 
 time, if he gets into the sea, and after into fresh water. 
 
 Roaches be accounted much better in the river than in a 
 pond, though ponds usually breed the biggest. But there is a 
 kind of bastard small roach, that breeds in ponds, with a very 
 forked tail, and of a very small size ; which some say is bred by 
 the bream and right roach ; and some ponds are stored with 
 these beyond belief; and knowing-men, that know their differ- 
 ence, call them ruds ; they differ from the true roach as much 
 as a herring from a pilchard. And these bastard breed of 
 roach are now scattered in many rivers; but I think jiat-in. the 
 Thames, which I believe afford the Jargest an3~fattest in this 
 na^don,_^specially_JbeIow London Bridge. The roach is a 
 leather-mouthe d fish, an d has a kind of saw-like teeth in his 
 throat: T^jidTastly, let me tell you the roach makes an angler 
 ca^itaT^ortTespecially the great roaches about London, where 
 I thmEThere^be^tTie best roach anglers. And I think the best 
 trout anglers be in Derbyshire : for the waters there are clear 
 tbaii_e:dxeiiiity. 
 
 Next, let me tell you you shall fish for this ROACH in winter 
 with paste or gentles ; in April, with worms or cadis ; in the very 
 hot months with little white snails, or with flies under water, for 
 he seldom takes them at the top, though the dace will. In 
 many of the hot months roaches may also be caught thus ; 
 take a May-fly or ant-fly, sink him with a little lead to the 
 bottom, near to the piles or posts of a bridge, or near to any 
 posts of a weir, I mean any deep place where roaches lie 
 quietly, and then pull your fly up very leisurely, and usually a 
 roach will follow your bait to the very top of the water, and 
 
154 THE COMPLETE ANGLER. parti. 
 
 • gaze on it there, and run at it and take it, lest the fly should 
 fly away from him. 
 
 I have seen this done at Windsor and Henley-bridge, and 
 great store of roach taken, and sometimes a dace or chub ; and 
 in August you may fish for them with a paste made only of the 
 crumbs of bread, which should be of pure fine manchet ; and 
 that paste must be so tempered betwixt your hands till it be 
 both soft and tough too ; a very little water, and time and 
 labour, and clean hands, will make it a most excellent paste : 
 but when you fish with it, you must have a small hook, a quick 
 eye. and a nimble hand, or the bait is lost, and the fish too ; if 
 one may lose that which he never had. With this paste you 
 may, as I said, take both the Roach and Dace or Dare, for 
 they be much of a kind in matter of feeding, cunning, goodness, 
 and usually in size. And therefore, take this general direction 
 for some other baits which may concern you to take notice of 
 They will bite almost at any fly, but especially at ant-flies ; con- 
 cerning which, take this direction, for it is very good : — 
 
 Take the blackish ant-fly out of the mole-hill or ant-hill, in 
 which place you shall find them in the month of June, or if that 
 be too early in the year, then doubtless you may find them in 
 July, August, and most of September; gather them alive with 
 both their wings, and then put them into a glass that will hold a 
 quart or a pottle ; but first put into the glass a handful or more 
 of the moist earth out of which you gather them, and as much 
 of the roots of the grass of the said hillock, and then put in the 
 flies gently, that they lose not their wings ; lay a clod of earth 
 over it, and then so many as are put into the glass without 
 bruising will live there a month or more, and be always in a 
 readiness for you to fish with ; but if you would have them keep 
 longer, then get any great earthen pot, or barrel of three or four 
 gallons, which is better, then wash your barrel with water and 
 honey, and having put into it a quantity of earth and grass roots, 
 then put in your flies, and cover it, and they will live a quarter 
 of a year : these in any stream and clear water are a deadly bait 
 for roach or dace, or for a chub ; and your rule is to fish not 
 less than a handful from the bottom. 
 
CHAP. XVII. THE FIFTH DAY. 155 
 
 I shall next tell you a winter bait for a roach, a dace, or chub, 
 and it is choicely good. About All-hallowtide and so till frost 
 comes, when you see men ploughing up heath ground, or sandy 
 ground or greenswards, then follow the plough, and you shall 
 find a white worm as big as two maggots, and it hath a red 
 head: you may observe in what ground most are, for there the 
 crows will be very watchful and follow the plough very close ; it 
 is all soft, and full of whitish guts ; a worm, that is, in Norfolk 
 and some other counties, called a grub ; and is bred of the 
 spawn or eggs of a beetle, which she leaves in holes that she 
 digs in the ground under cow or horse-dung, and there rests all 
 winter, and in March or April comes to be first a red, and then 
 a black beetle. Gather a thousand or two of these, and put 
 them with a peck or two of their own earth into some tub or 
 firkin, and cover and keep them so warm that the frost or cold 
 air or winds kill them not : these you may keep all winter, and 
 kill fish with them at any time ; and if you put some of them 
 into a little earth and honey, a day before you use them, you will 
 find them an excellent bait for bream, carp, or indeed for almost 
 any fish. 
 
 And after this manner you may also keep gentles all winter ; 
 which are a good bait then, and much the better for being lively 
 and tough. Or you may breed and keep gentles thus : take a 
 piece of beast's liver, and with a cross stick hang it in some 
 corner, over a pot or barrel half full of dry clay ; and as the 
 gentles grow big they will fall into the barrel and scour them^ 
 selves, and be always ready for use whensoever you incline to 
 fish; and these gentles may be thus created till after Michael- 
 mas. But if you desire to keep gentles to fish with all the year, 
 then get a dead cat or a kite, and let it be fly-blown ; and when 
 the gentles begin to be alive and to stir, then bury it and them 
 in soft moist earth, but as free from frost as you can ; and these 
 you may dig up at any time when you intend to use them : these 
 will last till March, and about that time turn to be flies. 
 
 But if you will be nice to foul your fingers, which good anglers 
 seldom are, then take this bait: get a handful of well-made 
 malt, and put into a dish of water ; and then wash and rub it 
 
156 THE COMPLETE ANGLER. parti. 
 
 betwixt your hands till you make it clean, and as free from 
 husks as you can ; then put that water from it, and put a small 
 quantity of fresh water to it, and set it in something that is fit 
 for that purpose, over the fire, where it is not to boil apace, but 
 leisurely and very softly, until it become somewhat soft, which 
 you may try by feeling it betwixt your finger and thumb ; and 
 when it is soft, then put your water from it, and then take a 
 sharp knife, and turning the sprout end of the corn upward, with 
 the point of your knife take the back part of the husk off from it, 
 and yet leaving a kind of inward husk on the corn, or else it is 
 marred ; and then cut off that sprouted end, I mean a little of 
 it, that the white may appear, and so pull off the husk on the 
 cloven side, as I directed you, and then cutting off a very little 
 of the other end, that so your hook may enter ; and if your hook 
 be small and good, you will find this to be a very choice bait 
 either for winter or summer, you sometimes casting a little of it 
 into the place where your float swims. 
 
 And to take the roach and dace, a good bait is the young 
 brood of wasps or bees, if you dip their heads in blood; 
 especially good for bream, if they be baked or hardened in 
 their husks in an oven, after the bread is taken out of it, or 
 hardened on a fire shovel; and so also is the thick blood of 
 sheep, being half dried on a trencher, that so you may cut it 
 into such pieces as may best fit the size of your hook, and a 
 little salt keeps it from growing black, and makes it not the 
 worse but better : this is taken to be a choice bait if rightly 
 ordered. 
 
 There be several oils of a strong smell that I have been told 
 of, and to be excellent to tempt fish to bite, of which I could 
 say much ; but I remember I once carried a small bottle from 
 Sir George Hastings to Sir Henry Wotton, they were both 
 chymical men, as a great present ; it was sent and received, 
 and used with great confidence ; and yet upon inquiry, I found 
 it did not answer the expectation of Sir Henry, which, with the 
 help of this and other circumstances, makes me have little 
 belief in such things as many men talk of : not but that I think 
 fishes both smell and hear, as I have expressed in my former 
 
CHAP. XVII. THE FIFTH DAY. ^^h--^ 
 
 discourse; but there is a mysterious knack, which^jhoug;!! jt_be 
 much easier tHanjttre-^llosopher's stone, yet itjs not attain- 
 alDle by commoh capacities, or else lies locked up in the brain 
 oinDreast of some xhymical man, that, like the Rosicrucians, 
 wTTTnot yeT reveal it. But let me nevertheless tell you, that 
 camph'orTput wrth moss into your worm-bag with your worms, 
 makes them, if many anglers be not very much mistaken, a 
 tempting bait, and the angler more fortunate. But I stepped 
 by chance into this discourse of oils and fishes smelHng ; and 
 though there might be more said, both of it and of baits for 
 roach and dace and other float fish, yet I will forbear it at this 
 time, and tell you in the next place how you are to prepare 
 your tackling; concerning which I will, for sport's sake, give 
 you an old rhyme out of an old fish-book which will prove a 
 part, and but a part, of what you are to provide. 
 
 ** My rod and my line, my float and my lead, 
 
 My hook and my plummet, my whetstone and knife, 
 My basket, my baits both living and dead, 
 
 My net, and my meat (for that is the chief): 
 Then I must have thread, and hairs green and small, 
 With mine angling- purse — and so you have all." 
 
 But you must have all these tackling, and twice so many 
 more, with which, if you mean to be a fisher, you must store 
 yourself; and to that purpose I will go with you either to^Mr. 
 Margra^e^whodwellsamongst^the booksellers in St. Paul's 
 Chur cHya rd^r to Mr. John Stubs, near to the Swan in Golden 
 Lane; they be both Eonest men, and will fit an angler with 
 yy hat ta cklingjiejacks. 
 
 Ven. iTien, good master, let it be at , for he is nearest 
 
 to my dwelling ; and I pray let us meet there the ninth of May 
 next, about two of the clock, and I'll want nothing that a fisher 
 should be furnished with. 
 
 PiSC. Well, and I'll not fail you (G.od willing) at the time and 
 place appointed. 
 
 Ven. I thank you, good master, and I will not fail you : and, 
 good master, tell me what baits more you remember, for it will 
 
158 THE COMPLETE ANGLER. part i. 
 
 no t now hej px^^^rb we shall be at Tottenham High Cross, and 
 when we come thither I will make youTsome requital of your 
 pains, by repeating as choice a copy of verses as any we have 
 heard since we met together ; and that is a proud word, for we 
 have heard very good ones. 
 
 PiSC. Well, scholar, and I shall be then right glad to hear 
 them ; and I will, as we walk, tell you whatsoever comes in my 
 mind that I think may be worth your hearing. You may make 
 another choice bait thus : take a handful or two of the best and 
 biggest wheat you can get, boil it in a little milk, like as frumity 
 is boiled ; boil it so till it be soft, and then fry it very leisurely 
 with honey, and a little beaten saffron dissolved in milk ; and 
 you will find this a choice bait, and good, I think, for any fish, 
 especially for roach, dace, chub, or grayling : I know not but 
 that it may be as good for a river carp, and especially if the 
 ground be a little baited with it. 
 
 And you may also note that the spawn of most fish is a very 
 tempting bait, being a little hardened on a warm tile, and cut 
 into fit pieces. Nay, mulberries, and those blackberries which 
 grow upon briars, be good baits for chubs or carps : with Jhese 
 many have been taken in ponds, and in some rivers where such 
 trees have grown near the water, and the fruits customarily 
 dropped in it. And there be a hundred other baits, more than 
 can be well named, which, by constant baiting the water, will 
 become a tempting bait for any fish in it. 
 
 You are also to know that there be divers kinds of cadis, or 
 case-worms, that are to be found in this nation, in several dis- 
 tinct counties, and in several little brooks that relate to bigger 
 rivers;- as namely, one cadis called a piper, whose husk or case 
 is a piece of reed about an inch long, or longer, and as big 
 about as the compass of a twopence. These worms being kept 
 three or four days in a woollen bag, with sand at the bottom of 
 it, and the bag wet once a day, will in three or four days turn to 
 be yellow ; and these be a choice bait for the chub or chavender, 
 or indeed for any great fish, for it^is a large bait. 
 
 There is also a lesser cadis-w^rm, called a cock-spur, being 
 in fashion like the spur of a cock, sharp at one end ; and the 
 
CHAP. xvii. THE FIFTH DAY. 159 
 
 case or house, in which this dwells, is made of small husks and 
 gravel and slime, most curiously made of these, even so as to be 
 wondered at, but not to be made by man no more than a king- 
 fishei-'s nest can, which is made of little fishes' bones, and have 
 such a geometrical interweaving and connection, as the like is 
 not to be done by the art of man : this kind of cadis is a choice 
 bait for any float-fish ; it is much less than the piper-cadis, and 
 to be so ordered ; and these may be so preserved, ten, fifteen, or 
 twenty days, or it may be longer. 
 
 There is also another cadis, called by some a straw-worm, and 
 by some a ruff-coat, whose house or case is made of little pieces 
 of bents, and rushes, and straws, and water-weeds, and I know 
 not what, which are so knit together with condensed slime, that 
 they stick about her husk or case, not unlike the bristles of a 
 hedgehog ; these three cadises are commonly taken in the be- 
 ginning of summer, and are good indeed to take any kind of 
 fish, with float or otherwise. I might tell you of many more, 
 which as these do early, so those have their time also of turning 
 to be flies later in summer ; but I might lose myself and tire 
 you by such a discourse : I shall therefore but remember you, 
 that to know these and their several kinds, and to what flies 
 every particular cadis turns, and then how to use them, first as 
 they be cadis, and after as they be flies, is an art, and an art that 
 every one that professes to be an angler has not leisure to search 
 after, and, if he had, is not capable of learning. 
 
 I will tell you, scholar, several countries have several kinds of 
 cadises, that indeed differ as much as dogs do ; that is to say, 
 as much as a very cur and a greyhound do. These be usually 
 bred in the very little rills, or ditches, that run into bigger 
 rivers: and I think, a more proper bait for those very rivers 
 than any other. I know not how or of what, this cadis receives . 
 life, or what coloured fly it turns to ; but doubtless they are the 
 death of many trouts; and this is one killing way: — 
 
 Take one, or more if need be, of these large yellow cadis : 
 pull off his head, and with it pull out his black gut ; put the 
 body, as little bruised as is possible, on a very little hook, 
 armed on with a red hair, which will show like the cadis head : 
 
i6o THE COMPLETE ANGLER. part i. 
 
 and a very little thin lead, so put upon the shank of the hook 
 that it may sink presently. Throw this bait, thus ordered, 
 which will look very yellow, into any great still hole where a 
 trout is, and he will presently venture his life for it, it is not to 
 be doubted, if you be not espied ; and that the bait first touch 
 the water before the line. And this will do best in the deepest 
 water. 
 
 Next let me tell you, I have been much pleased to walk . 
 quietly by a brook with a little stick in my hand, with which I 
 might easily take these, and consider the curiosity of their com- 
 posure: and if you shall ever like to do so, then note, that your 
 stick must be a little hazel or willow, cleft, or have a nick at one 
 end of it ; by which means you may with ease take many of 
 them in that nick out of the water, before you have any occasion 
 to use them. These, my honest scholar, are some observations 
 told to you as they now come suddenly into my memory, of 
 which you may make some use ; but for the practical part, it is 
 that that makes an angler: it is diligence, and observation, and 
 practice, and an ambition to be the best in the art, that must do 
 it. I will tell you, scholar, I once heard one say, ^iJLspvy not 
 hjrn thriit rntn brtter mea t .han I do, nor him that is ric her, or 
 that we ars better clothes t h^^i T Hn ; T prjy y nobody bu t him, 
 ^gjid_him nnlv^ that- ratrhpc; mn^f fish than I d o.'' And such a 
 ]3aan_is hk^ to pr ove an angler; and this noble emula tion^ I wish 
 to youand all young anglers." 
 
 CHAPTER XVHI. 
 
 OF THE MINNOW OR PENK, OF THE LOACH, AND OF THE 
 BULL-HEAD OR MILLER'S THUMB. 
 
 PiSC. There be also three or four other little fish that I had 
 almost forgot, that are all without scales, and may for excellency 
 of meat be compared to any fish of greatest value and largest 
 size. They be usually full of eggs or spawn all the months of 
 summer ; for they breed often, as it is observed mice, and many 
 
CHAP. XVIII. THE FIFTH DAY. i6i 
 
 of the smaller four-footed creatures of the earth do; and as 
 those, so these, come quickly to then- full growth and perrection. 
 And it is needful that they breed both often and numerously, 
 for they be, besides other accidents of ruin, both a prey and 
 baits for other fish. And first, I shall tell you of the Minnow 
 or Penk. 
 
 The minnow hath, when he is in perfect season, and not sick, 
 which is only presently after spawning, a kind of dappled or 
 waved colour, like to a panther, on his sides, inclining to a 
 greenish and sky-colour, his belly being milk-white, and his 
 back almost black or blackish. He is a sharp biter at a small 
 worm, and in hot weather makes excellent sport for young 
 anglers, or boys, or women that love that recreation, and in the 
 spring they make of them excellent minnow-tansies ; for being 
 washed well in salt, and their heads and tails cut off, and their 
 guts taken out, and not washed after, they prove excellent for 
 that use ; that is, being fried with yolks of eggs, the flowers of 
 cowslips, and of primroses, and a little tansy; thus used they 
 make a dainty dish of meat. 
 
 The Loach is, as I told you, a most dainty fish ; he breeds 
 and feeds in little and clear swift brooks or rills, and lives there 
 upon the gravel, and in the sharpest streams : he grows not to 
 be above a finger long, and no thicker than is suitable to that 
 length. This loach is not unlike the shape of the eel; he has a 
 beard or wattles like a barbel. He has two fins at his sides, 
 four at his belly, and one at his tail ; he is dappled with many 
 black or brown spots, his mouth is barbel-like under his nose. 
 This fish is usually full of eggs or spawn ; and is by Gesner, 
 and other learned physicians, commended for great nourish- 
 ment, and to be very grateful both to the palate and stomach of 
 sick persons : he is to be fished for with a very small worm at 
 the bottom, for he very seldom or never rises above the gravel, 
 on which I told you he usually gets his living. 
 
 The Miller's Thumb, or Bull-head, is a fish of no pleasing 
 shape. 
 
 He is by Gesner compared to the sea-toad-fish, for his simili- 
 tude and shape. It has a head big and flat, much greater 
 
i62 THE COMPLETE ANGLER. parti. 
 
 than suitable to his body; a mouth very wide, and usually 
 gaping ; he is without teeth, but his lips are very rough, much 
 like to a file. He hath two fins near to his gills, which be 
 roundish or crested; two fins also under the belly; two on the 
 back; one below the vent; and the fin of his tail is round 
 Nature hath painted the body of this fish with whitish, blackish, 
 and brownish spots. They be usually full of eggs or spawn all 
 the summer, I mean the females ; and those eggs swell their 
 vents almost into the form of a dug. They begin to spawn 
 about April, and, as I told you, spawn several months in the 
 summer. And in the wnnter, the minnow, and loach, and bull- 
 head dwell in the mud, as the eel doth ; or we know not where, 
 no more than we know where the cuckoo and swallow, and 
 other half-year birds, which first appear to us in April, spend 
 their six cold, winter, melancholy months. This fish does 
 usually dwell, and hide himself, in holes, or amongst stones in 
 clear water ; and in very hot days will lie a long time very still, 
 and sun himself, and will be easy to be seen upon any flat 
 stone, or any gravel ; at which time he will suffer an angler to 
 put a hook, baited with a small worm, very near unto his 
 mouth ; and he never refuses to bite, nor indeed to be caught 
 with the worst of anglers. Matthiolus commends him much 
 more for his taste and nourishment, than for his shape or 
 beauty. 
 
 There is also a fish called a Sticklebag, a fish without scales, 
 but hath his body fenced with several prickles. I know not 
 where he dwells in winter, nor what he is good for in summer, 
 but only to make sport for boys and women-anglers, and to 
 feed other fish that be fish of prey, as trout in particular, who 
 will bite at him as at a penk, and better, if your hook be rightly 
 baited with him ; for he may be so baited as, his tail turning 
 like the sail of a windmill, will make him turn more quick than 
 any penk or minnow can. For note, that the nimble turning of 
 that, or the minnow, is the perfection of minnow fishing. To 
 which end, if you put your hook into his mouth, and out at his 
 tail, and then, having first tied him with white thread a little 
 above his tail, and placed him after such a manner on your 
 
CHAP. XIX. THE FIFTH DAY. 163 
 
 hook, as he is like to turn, then sew up his mouth to your hne, 
 and he is like to turn quick, and tempt any trout ; but if he do 
 not turn quick, then turn his tail a little more or less towards 
 the inner part, or towards the side of the hook, or put the 
 minnow, or sticklebag, a little more crooked or more straight on 
 your hook, until it will turn both true and fast, and then doubt 
 not but to tempt any great trout that lies in a swift stream. 
 And the loach that I told you of will do the like : no bait is more 
 tempting, provided the loach be not too big. 
 
 And now, scholar, with the help of this fine morning, and your 
 patient attention, I have said all that my present memory will 
 afford me concerning most of the several fish that are usually 
 fished for in fresh waters. 
 
 Ven. But, master, you have, by your former civility, made me 
 hope that you will make good your promise, and say something 
 of the several rivers that be of most note in this nation ; and also 
 of fish-ponds, and the ordering of them ; and do it, I pray, good 
 master, for I love any discourse of rivers, and fish and fishing : 
 the time spent in such discourse passes away very pleasantly. 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 OF SEVERAL RIVERS: AND SOME OBSERVATIONS OF FISH. 
 
 PiSC. Well, scholar, since the ways and weather do both 
 favour us, and that we yet see not Tottenham Cross, you shall 
 see my willingness to satisfy your desire. And first, for the 
 rivers of this nation, there be, as you may note out of Doctor 
 Heylin's Geography, and others, in number 325, but those of 
 chiefest note he reckons and describes as followeth : — 
 
 I. The chief is Thamesis, compounded of two rivers, Thame 
 and Isis, whereof the former, rising somewhat beyond Thame in 
 Buckinghamshire, and the latter near Cirencester in Gloucester- 
 shne, meet together about Dorchester in Oxfordshire; the issue 
 of which happy conjunction is the Thamesis, or Thames; 
 
i64 THE COMPLETE ANGLER. part i. 
 
 hence it flieth between Berks, Buckinghamshire, Middlesex, 
 Surrey, Kent, and Essex: and so weddeth himself to the 
 Kentish Medway, in the very jaws of the ocean. This glorious 
 river feeleth the violence and benefit of the sea more than any 
 river in Europe, ebbing and flowing twice a day, more than 
 sixty miles ; about whose banks are so many fair towns and 
 princely palaces that a German poet thus truly spake : — . 
 
 " Tot campos," e(c. 
 
 ** We saw so many woods and princely bowers, 
 Sweet fields, brave palaces, and stately towers, 
 So many gardens dress'd with curious care, 
 That Thames with royal Tiber may compare." 
 
 2. The second river of note is Sabrina, or Severn ; it hath its 
 beginning in Plynlimmon Hill in Montgomeryshire, and his end 
 seven miles from Bristol, washing, in the mean space, the walls 
 of Shrewsbury, Worcester, and Gloucester, and divers other 
 places and palaces of note. ^^^ 
 
 3. Trent, so called from thirty kin^ OT^fishes that are found 
 in it, or for that it receiveth thirty lesser rivers ; who, having its 
 fountain in Staffordshire, and gliding through the counties of 
 Nottingham, Lincoln, Leicester, and York, augmenteth the 
 turbulent current of Humber, the most violent stream of all 
 the isle. This Humber is not, to say truth, a distinct river, 
 having a spring-head of his own, but it is rather the mouth 
 or aestuarium of divers rivers here confluent, and meeting to- 
 gether, namely, your Derwent, and especially of Ouse and 
 Trent; and (as the Danow, having received into its channel 
 the river Dravus, Savus, Tibiscus, and divers others) changeth 
 his name into this of Humberabus, as the old geographers 
 call it. 
 
 4. Medway, a Kentish river, famous for harbouring the royal 
 navy. 
 
 $. Tweed, the north-east bound of England ; on whose 
 northern banks is seated the strong and impregnable town of 
 Berwick. 
 
CHAP. XIX. THE FIFTH DAY. 165 
 
 6. Tyne, famous for Newcastle, and her inexhaustible coal-pits. 
 These, and the rest of principal note, are thus comprehended in 
 one of Mr. Drayton's sonnets. 
 
 *' Our floods' queen, Thames, for ships and swans is crown'd; 
 And stately Severn for her shore is praised ; 
 The crystal Trent, for fords and fish renown'd ; 
 And Avon's fame to Albion's cliffs is raised. 
 
 Carlegion Chester vaunts her holy Dee; 
 
 York many wonders of her Ouse can tell ; 
 The Peak, her Dove, whose banks so fertile be; 
 
 And Kent will say, her Medway doth excel. 
 
 Cotswold commends her Isis to the Thame ; 
 
 Our northern borders boast of Tweed's fair flood ; 
 Our western parts extol their Willy's fame; 
 
 And the old Lea brags of thFDanFsh blood." 
 
 These observations are out of learned Dr. Heylin, and my 
 old deceased fViendj_]VIichael Drayton ; and because you say 
 yoil love such dTscourses as these, of rivers and fish and fishing, 
 I love you the better, and love the more to impart them to you ; 
 nevertheless, scholar, if I should begin but to name the several 
 sorts of strange fish that are usually taken in many of those 
 rivers that run into the sea, I might beget wonder in you, or 
 unbelief, or both ; and yet I will venture to tell you a real truth 
 concerning one lately dissected by Dr. Wharton, a man of great 
 l earning and exp erience, and of equal freedom to communicate 
 it ; one_ that loves~~me_jjid" my arF; one to whom I have been 
 b eholden for man y of the choicest observations that I have 
 iiIUiartedJij _you. This go od^man, that dares to do anything 
 raUi er th an tell an untruth, did, I say, tell me he had lately 
 dissecte3~crne""strange fisBT^anHTie thus described it to me : — 
 
 " The~irsTPwas almost a yard broad, and twice that length ; 
 his mouth wide enough to receive, or take into it, the head of a 
 man ; his stomach seven or eight inches broad. He is of a slow 
 motion, and usually lies or lurks close in the mud, and has a 
 movable string on his head, about a span or near unto a quarter 
 
THE COMPLETE ANGLER. part i. 
 
 a yard long, by the moving of which, with his natural bait, 
 when he lies close and unseen in the mud, he draws other fish 
 so close to him that he can suck them into his mouth, and so 
 devours and digests them." 
 
 And, scholar, do not wonder at tli j^jj fnr hpc^j^jft; ihf^^ credit of 
 ^the r elater, you are to note, many of t hese, and fish es that are 
 g^ the like and more u nusual sh apes, are very nftp-n tak en on the 
 mouths of our sea-riveFs, an cTon the sea-shore. And this will 
 oe no wonder to any that Fiave travelled Egypt ; where 'tis 
 known the famous river Nilus does not only breed fishes that 
 yet want names, but by the overflowing of that river, and the 
 help of the sun's heat on the fat slime which that river leaves 
 on the banks when it falls back into its natural channel, such 
 strange fish and beasts are also bred, that no man can give a 
 name to, as Grotius, in his Sophom^ and others, have observed. 
 
 But whither am I strayed in this discourse? I will end it by 
 telling you, that at the mouth of some of these rivers of ours 
 herrings are so plentiful, as namely, near to Yarmouth, in Norfolk, 
 and in the west country, pilchers so very plentiful, as you will 
 wonder to read what our learned Camden relates of them in his 
 Britannia (pp. 178, 186). 
 
 Well, scholar, I will stop here,-and tell you what by reading 
 and conference I have observed concerning fish-ponds. 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 OF FISH-PONDS, AND HOW TO ORDER THEM. 
 
 PiSC. Doctor Lebault, the learned Frenchman, in his large 
 discourse of Maison Riistiquc^ gives this direction for making 
 of fish-ponds ; I shall refer you to him to read at large, but I 
 think I shall contract it, and yet make it as useful. 
 
 He adviseth, that when you have drained the ground, and 
 made the earth firm where the head of the pond must be, that 
 you must then, in that place, drive in two or three rows of oak 
 
CHAP. XX. THE FIFTH DAY.. 167 
 
 or elm piles, which should be scorched in ihe fire, or halT-burnt, 
 before they be driven into the earth ; for l.)eing thus used, it 
 preserves them much longer from rotting : and having done so, 
 lay faggots or bavins of smaller wood betwixt them, and then 
 earth betwixt and above them, and then having first very well 
 rammed them and the earth, use another pile in like manner as 
 the first were : and note, that the second pile is to be of or about 
 the height that you intend to make your sluice or flood-gate, or the 
 vent that you intend shall convey the overflowings of your pond 
 in any flood that shall endanger the breaking of the pond-dam. 
 
 Then he advises, that you plant willows or owlers about it, or 
 both, and then cast ih bavins in some places, not far from the 
 side, and in the most sandy places, for fish both to spawn upon, 
 and to defend them and the young fry from the many fish, 
 and also from vermin that lie at watch to destroy them, espe- 
 cially the spawn of the carp and tench, when 'tis left to the 
 mercy of ducks or vermin. 
 
 He and Dubravius, and all others advise, that you make 
 choice of such a place for your pond, that it may be refreshed 
 with a little rill, or wath rain-water, running or falling into it ; by 
 which, fish are more inclined both to breed, andare also refreshed 
 and fed the better, and do prove to be of a much sweeter and 
 more pleasant taste. 
 
 To which end it is observed that such pools as be large, and 
 have most gravel and shallows where fish may sport themselves, 
 do afford fish of the purest taste. And note, that in all pools, it 
 is best for fish to have some retiring place ; as namely, hollow 
 banks, or shelves, or roots of trees, to keep them from danger ; 
 and when they think fit, from the extreme heat of the summer; 
 as also, from the extremity of cold in winter. And note, that if 
 many trees be growing about your pond, the leaves thereof, 
 falling into the water, make it nauseous to the fish, and the fish 
 to be so to the eater of it. 
 
 'Tis noted that 'the tench and eel love mud: and the carp 
 loves gravelly ground, ahd in the hot months to feed on grass. 
 You are to cleanse your pqnd, if you intend cither profit or 
 pleasure, once every three or four years (especially some ponds), 
 
i68 THE COMPLETE ANGLER. part i. 
 
 and then let it lie dry six or twelve months, both to kill the 
 water-weeds, as water-lilies, candocks, reate, and bulrushes, 
 that breed there ; and also that as these die for want of water, 
 so grass may grow in the pond's bottom, which carps will eat 
 greedily in all the hot months, if the pond be clean. The letting 
 your pond dry, and sowing oats in the bottom, is also good, for 
 the fish feed the faster: and being sometimes let dry, you may 
 observe what kind of fish either increases or thrives best in that 
 water; for they differ much, both in their breeding and feeding. 
 Lebault also advises, that if your ponds be not very large and 
 roomy, that you often feed your fish by throwing into them 
 chippings of bread, curds, grains, or the Entrails of chickens or 
 of any fowl or beast that you kill to feed yourselves ; for these 
 afford fish a great relief. He says that frogs and ducks do 
 much harm, and devour both the spawn and the young fry of 
 all fish, especially of the carp ; and I have, besides experience, 
 many testimonies of it. But Lebault allows water-frogs to be 
 good meat, especially in some months, if they be fat: but you 
 are to note that he is a Frenchman ; and we English will hardly 
 believe him, though we know frogs are usually eaten in his 
 country : however, he advises to destroy them and king-fishers 
 out of your ponds. And he advises not to sufter much shooting 
 at wild fowl ; for that, he says, affrightens and harms and 
 destroys the fish. 
 
 Note, that carps and tench thrive and breed best when no 
 other fish is put with them into the same pond ; for all other 
 fish devour their spawn, or at least the greatest part of it. And 
 note, that clods of grass thrown into any pond, feed any carps 
 in summer; and that garden-earth and parsley thrown into a 
 pond recovers and refreshes the sick fish. And note, that when 
 you store your pond, you are to put into it two or three melters 
 for one spawner, if you put them into a breeding pond ; but if 
 into a nurse-pond or feeding pond, in which they will not 
 breed, then no care is to be taken, whether there be most 
 male or female carps. 
 
 It is observed that the best ponds to breed carps are those 
 that be stony or sandy, and are warm and free from wind, and 
 
CHAP. XXI. THE FIFTH DAY. 169 
 
 that are not deep, but have willow trees and grass on thoir sides, 
 over which the water sometimes flows : and note, that carps do 
 more usually breed in marle-pits, or pits that have clean clay- 
 bottoms, or in new ponds, or ponds that lie dry a winter season, 
 than in old ponds that be full of mud and weeds. 
 
 Well^ scholar, I have told you the substance of all that either 
 observation, or discourse, or a diligent survey of Dubravius and 
 Lebault hath told me. not that they in their long discourses 
 have not said more ; but the most of the rest are so common 
 observations, as if a man should tell a good arithmetician that 
 twice two is four. 1 will therefore put an end to this discourse, 
 and we will here sit down and rest us. 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 DIRECTIONS FOR MAKING OF A LINE, AND FOR THE COLOUR- 
 ING OF BOTH ROD AND LINE. 
 
 PiSC. Well, scholar, I have held you too long about these 
 cadis, and smaller fish, and rivers, and fish-ponds; and my 
 spirits are almost spent, and so I doubt is your patience : but 
 being, we are now almost at Tottenham, where I first met you, 
 and where we are to part, I will lose no time, but give 
 you a little direction how to make and order your lines, and 
 to colour the hair of which you make your lines, for that is 
 very needful to be known of an angler; and also how to paint 
 your rod, especially your top ; f^r a right grown top is a choice 
 commodity, and should be preserved from the water soaking 
 into it, which makes it in wet weather to be heavy and fish ill- 
 favouredly, and not true ; and also it rots quickly for want of 
 painting : and I think a good top is worth preserving, or I had 
 not taken care to keep a top above twenty years. 
 
 But first for your line. First, note, that you are to take care 
 that your hair be round and clear, and free from galls or scabs 
 or frets, for a well-chosen, even, clear, round hair, of a kind of 
 
I70 THE COMPLETE ANGLER. parti. 
 
 glass-colour, will prove as strong as three uneven scabby hairs, 
 that are ill-chosen, and full of galls and unevenness. You shall 
 seldom find a black hair but it is round, but many white are 
 flat and uneven ; therefore, if you get a lock of right, round, 
 clear, glass-colour hair, make much of it. 
 
 And for making your line observe this rule: first let your 
 hair be clean washed ere you go about to twist it j and then 
 choose not only the clearest hair for it, but hairs that he of an 
 equal bigness, for such do usually stretch altogether, and br-^ak 
 altogether, which hairs of an unequal bigner.s never do, but 
 break singly, and so deceive the angler that trusts to them. 
 
 When you have twisted your links, lay them in water for a 
 quarter of an hour at least, and then twist them over again 
 before you tie them into a line : for those that do not so shall 
 usually find their line to have a hair or two shrink, and be shorter 
 than the rest at the first fishing with it, which is so much of the 
 strength of the line lost for want of first watering it and then re- 
 twisting it ; and this is most visible in a seven-hair line, one of 
 those which hath always a black hair in the middle. 
 
 And for dyeing of your hairs, do it thus : take a pint of strong 
 ale, half a pound of soot, and a little quantity of the juice of 
 walnut-tree leaves, and an equal quantity of alum ; put these 
 together, in a pot, pan, or pipkin, and boil them half-an-hour ; 
 and having so done, let it cool ; and being cold, put your hair 
 into it, and there let it lie ; it will turn your hair to be a kind of 
 water or glass-colour, or greenish ; and the longer you let it lie 
 the deeper it will be. You might be taught to make many other 
 colours, but it is to little purpose ; for doubtless the water-colour 
 or glass-coloured hair is the most choice or the most useful for 
 an angler, but let it not be too green. 
 
 But if you desire to colour hair greener, then do it thus : take 
 a quart of small ale, half a pound of alum ; then put these into 
 a pan or pipkin, and your hair into it with them ; then put it 
 upon a fire, and let it boil softly for half-an-hour ; and then take 
 out your hair, and let it dry ; and having so done, then take a 
 pottle of water, and put into it two handfuls of marigolds, and 
 cover it with a tile or what you think fit, and set it again on the 
 
CHAP. XXI. THE FIFTH DAY. 171 
 
 fire, where it is to boil again softly for half-an-hcur, about which 
 time the scum will turn yellow; then put into it half a pound of 
 copperas, beaten small, and with it the hair that you intend to 
 colour ; then let the hair be boiled softly till half the liquor be 
 wasted, and then let it cool three or four hours with your hair in 
 it; and you are to observe that the more copperas you put into 
 it, the greener it will be ; but, doubtless, the pale green is best: 
 but if you desire yellow hair, which is only.good when the weeds 
 rot, then put in the more marigolds, and abate most of the 
 copperas, or leave it quite out, and take a little verdigrease 
 instead of it. 
 
 This for colouring your hair. And as for painting your rod, 
 which must be in oil, you must first make a size with glue 
 and water, boiled together until the glue be dissolved, and the 
 size of a lye-colour ; then strike your size upon the wood with a 
 bristle, or a brush, or pencil, whilst it is hot; that being quite 
 dry, take white-lead, and a little red-lead, and a little coal-black, 
 so much as altogether will make an ash-colour ; grind these 
 all together with linseed oil ; let it be thick, and lay it thin upon 
 the wood with a brush or pencil ; this do for the ground of any 
 colour to lie upon wood. 
 
 For a green, take pink and verdigrease, and grind them 
 together in linseed oil, as thin as you can well grind it ; then 
 lay it smoothly on with your brush, and drive it thin; once 
 doing for the most part will serve, if you lay it well;- and if 
 twice, be sure your first colour be thoroughly dry before you lay 
 on a second. 
 
 Well, scholar, having now taught you to paint your rod, and 
 we having still a mile to Tottenham High Cross, I will, as we 
 walk towards it in the cool shade of this sweet honeysuckle 
 hedge, mention to you some of the thoughts and joys that have 
 possest my soul since we two met together. And these thoughts 
 have been told you that you may also join with me in thankful- 
 ness to the Giver of every good and perfect gift, for our happiness. 
 And that our present happiness may appear to be the greater, 
 and we the more thankful for it, I will beg you to consider with 
 me how many do, even at this very time, lie under the torment 
 
172 
 
 THE COMPLETE ANGLER. 
 
 PART I. 
 
 / 
 
 f 
 
 of the stone, the gout, and tooth-ache ; and this we are free 
 from. And every misery that I miss is a new mercy, and 
 therefore let us be thankful. There have been, since we met, 
 others that have met disasters of broken limbs ; some have 
 been blasted, others thunder-strucken ; and we have been 
 freed from these, and all those many other miseries that 
 threaten human nature ; let us therefore rejoice, and be thank- 
 ful. Nay, which is a far greater mercy, we are free from the 
 unsupportable burthen of an accusing tormentiiTg^conscience, a 
 misery that none can bear ; and therefore let us praise him for 
 his preventing grace, and say, every misery that I miss is a new 
 mercy : nay, let me tell you, there be many that have forty times 
 our estates, that would give the greatest part of it to be health- 
 ful and cheerful like us ; who, with the expense of a little money, 
 have eat and drank, and laught, and angled, and sung, and slept 
 securely ; and rose next day, and cast away care, and sung, and 
 laught, and angled again ; which are blessings rich men cannot 
 purchase with all their money. Let me tell you, scholar, I have 
 n rir|i r> pip rVibp"^ ^^^^ js nivpys '^ bii'^y thnt h"^ hn^'nct leisure 
 to laugh: the whole business of his life i? ^ tn ^rp[ mnnp\r, and 
 more money, that he ma y still get more and more rnf ^ney ; he 
 is stiT rarudg iTTg on, and sa ys that Sol o mon s a ys, "Th e diligent 
 hand maketh rich : " an' g~it is true indeed ; bu't'he^on siders 
 r^t that i t is not ^ g_ff^power of riches to make a jiianTiappv : 
 fJO^Jl ^as wisely said, by ^ rnan of f^re^a^t obser vation, "That 
 th^rebe as ma ny miseries beyond riches, as o n this side t hem : " 
 nnrW^RtJ^Tod dpiiver lis frrrm pjnrhinp- pnvprty"]^^riri_gTa,pf that 
 havnig:,a, x gnipete ncy, we may, be content, and thankfrl. Let 
 us not repine, or so much as think the gifts of G od unequally 
 iL we ^ee ^i^nfher phnnnd wifh rirhec;^ wi-iprT^ aS God 
 
 those rffbes hang 
 
 knows, the cares that are the keys tha i keeg 
 
 nfrfn ^ftrr-rn>^wi±y u\ rhA^Vu't^ jnan^S _jn]-dle, \h^f tlu>y.^lng- him 
 
 w ith wea ry day s nnd res t less night s, even y^^n others sleee 
 quietly.^ We ^jee but they utside ot the rich man's happiness \ 
 f e\y consiHeFTiimto be likethe jUk-wo rm. that^ when she seems 
 to ^play, is, at the very samelime. spmninp^ her own bowels, and 
 consuming herself; and this many rich men do, loading them- 
 
CHAP. XXI. THE FIFTH DAY. 173 
 
 selves with corroding cares, to keep what they have, probably, 
 unconscionably got. Let us, therefore, be thankful for health 
 and a competence ; and, above all, for a quiet conscience. 
 
 Let me tell you, scholar, that Diogenes walked on a day, 'with 
 his friend, to see a country fair ; where he saw ribbons and 
 looking-glasses and nut-crackers and fiddles and hobby-horses 
 and many other gimcracks ; and, having observed them and all 
 the other finn imbr uns that make a complete country fair, he said 
 to his friend, ^TL ord, how many things are there in this wor ld of 
 irhrjT_Din£;flnr'-| ^th no nee d !^^ And truly it is so, or might 
 be so, with very many who vex and toil themselves to get what 
 they have no need of. C^in any man charp-e God \^^\ hP ^^^^ 
 nol given him enough t o make his life nappy ? No, doubtless ; 
 for natur e is conf5hr wi in a little. And vet you shall hardly 
 meet with a man that co mplains not of some want ; thnn p-h he, 
 indeedT^antij flUthmg but liis will ; it may be, nothing but his 
 will of his poor neighbour, for not worshipping or not flattering 
 him : and tV>^^g wTi^^r) -^y^^ mi ^ht be happy and qu iet, we create 
 trouble to** ourselves. I have heard of a man thai was angry 
 with himself because he was no taller ; and of a woman that 
 broke her looking-glass because it would not show her face to 
 be as young and handsome as her next neighboui-'s was. And 
 I knew another to whom God had given health and plenty, but 
 a wife that nature had made peevish, and her husband's riches 
 had made purse-proud ; and must, because she was rich, and 
 for no other virtue, sit in the highest pew in the church ; which 
 being denied her, she engaged her husband into a contention for 
 it, and at last into a lawsuit with a dogged neighbour who wa 
 as rich as he, and had a wife as peevish and purse-proud as the 
 other: and this lawsuit begot higher oppositions, and actionable 
 words, and more vexations and lawsuits -J^ryr^n fi^nc^ rAT-nf>i-n- 
 ber t hat both were rich, and J^ L )\^p>f thprpfnrp have their w ill. 
 Welt, this wiitui, purse-proud lawsutt lap ^^^ rl'"''"!! thr Ijf^ of 
 the fi rst husb and ; after which his wife vext and chid, and chid 
 and vext till she also r-Vmjar|^ yr^t ^^^-g^^^jn*^'^ ^^^^ 0-1-0^^^ ; and so 
 the we alth of these p oor ri ch people was cur j , i nl 11 1 [ ii ini ih ii i i n l^ 
 because they wanted meeK and thankful hearts ; for those only 
 
^74 
 
 THE COMPLETE ANGLER. 
 
 PART I. 
 
 can make us happy. I knew a man that had health and riches, 
 and several houses, all beautiful, and ready furnished, and would 
 often trouble himself and family to be removing from one house 
 to another ; and bein^ asked by a friend, why he removed so 
 oft en from one ji^'^^^ to anoth er, replici :!. " It was to fin d content 
 in^auae^one of them." But his friend, knowing- his tclftper, told 
 him. If hewoLrt4-iift4-eontcnt in any of his houses he must leave 
 himself behind him ; ixui ^ntent w ill never dwe ^bu j: in a m eek 
 And thio may ap px^iu^.j t^wel'ca 'd and consider 
 gi r^ says in St. Matthew's gospel ; for he there 
 says.^^-^H>k: ssed b e the' TiTcrciful. lor they siiall oljfrrtn mercy. 
 y.P>lp*^^pd he thp pnr^]n heart, for thpy shnll sop (;orl^ Blessed 
 S^gfae ^ t hc poor in a pi dL for theirs; is; tj io kin gdom n- hprrv f^^-" And, 
 ^^^( Blessed be the mee k, for they shall possess the earth." Not 
 that the me^ shall noi also obtain mercy, and se?lj59, and be 
 comforted, and at last come to the kingdom of heaven ; but in 
 the meantime he, and he nnly^ pr>Qc;^QQP<; tho om-th^ n<; Ko goes 
 to^^ard ^hat kingdom of heaven, by being huml ^lci nni^ cheerful, 
 aTi.d-pi=miej-it lyifh what his good Corl hns nllottpr] him ,_ He has 
 no^-t urbulent^ repining, vpvnfions thon ghi-'^ th^t l''o_^'^pT-\7f^g 
 hp±tat^^4^fM U_s vpxt when he sens others po'^'^ff^tjCJljIlI^^;^^'^"'^'^^ 
 or more riches than his wise God has allotted for his shar e ; but 
 he possesses what he has with a meek and contented qui etness, 
 gn^-h a qnJpfnpQc; nq mnl- ps his very dieaiiis pleasing.Jp oth to 
 Ge4-aftdJaixasel f. 
 
 My honest scholar, all this is told to incline you to thankful- 
 ness ; and to incline you the more, let me tell you, that though 
 the prophet Davi^ was guilty of murder and adultery, and many 
 other of the most deadly sins, yet he was said to be a man after 
 God's own heart, because he abounded more with thankfulness 
 than any other that is mentioned in Holy Scripture, as may 
 appear in his book of Psalms ; where there is such a commixture 
 o fJ}is confessing of h is sins and unworthines^^ n^^c^^is uch th ankful- 
 nig:ss for God^sp arcTon aiicPmercies, as did niake JbinT'TTr be 
 acco unted, e ven bv God hi mself, t o Jpe a_man ,aftci;^his own 
 h ^rt : and let us, in that, labour to be as like him as we can ; 
 let not the blessings we receive daily from God make us not to 
 
CHAP. XXI. THE FIFTH DAY. 175 
 
 value or not prajse him because they be common ; let us not 
 forget to praise him for the innocent mirth and pleasure we have 
 met with since we met together. What would a blind man give 
 to see the pleasant rivers and meadows and flowers aj^ fountains 
 that we have met with since we met together ?f^ I have been 
 told that if a man that was born blind could obtain to have his 
 sight for but only one hour during his whole life, and should, at 
 the first opening of his eyes, fix his sight upon the sun when it 
 was in its fuirglory, either at the rising or setting of it, he would 
 be so transported and amazed, and so admire the glory of it, 
 that he would not willingly turn his eyes from that first ravishing 
 object, to behold all the other various beauties this worfS could 
 present to him. And this^ and many other like blessings, we 
 enjoy daily. And for most o f theiri7t)ecause tlie ybe so^mmon, 
 most nienior^ ^ to pav theirpra ises ; but let not us, because it 
 is a sacrifice so pleasing to Him that made that sun and us, and 
 still protects us, and gives us flowers and showers, and stomachs 
 and meat, and content and leisure to go a-fishing. 
 
 Well, scholar, I have almost tired myself, and, I fear, more 
 than almost tired you ; but I now see Tottenham High Cross, 
 and our short walk thither shall put a period to my too long 
 discourse, in which my meaning was and is, to plant that in your 
 mind with which I labour to possess my own soul : that is, a 
 meek and thankful heart. And to that end, I have showed you 
 Hfchpq^ wlt h nnt thpin^ do not makp any rna n happy. But let me 
 tell you, that riches, with them, remove many fears and cares ; 
 and therefore my advice is, that you endeavour to be honestly 
 rich, or contentedly poor : but be sure that your riches be justly 
 got, or you spoil all. For it is well said by Caussin, " He^ .>A. 
 thatjoses his conscience, has n othing left that is worth keeping." '^-^^^ 
 Therefore oeTl^re you look to tnilL. "AlRl, ill ihB litixL Jjld.L'y, look 
 to your health : and if you have it, praise God, and value it 
 next to a good conscience ; for health is the second blessing 
 that we mortals are capable of ; a blessing that money cannot 
 buy, and therefore value it, and be thankful for it. As for 
 money, which may be said to be the third blessing, neglect it ^ 
 not : but note, Jthat there ^'^ ^^ nnrf^cjcjii v of being rich | for J ^ 
 
176 
 
 THE COMPLETE ANGLER. 
 
 PART I. 
 
 toldts YOu there _h^ ^'^^ many mjt^pnVt; hpy<^nrl riches, as on 
 this side them : and if you have a co mpetence, enjoy it with 
 a jiiee^cheeriul, tlSikf uljLeart. j^^vTiTtell you, scholar, 1 have 
 heard a grave divine say that God has two cTwellTngs^Tme in 
 heaven^ and the o^fe^ un a meek and tharikTul hear tr l^ich 
 Ahiiighty God grant to me,^ffdfo my^^ofresTlcHoT^r ; and so 
 you are welcome to Tottenham High Cross. 
 
 Ven. Well, master, I thank you for all your good directions; 
 but for none more than this last, of U ^nkfuhi<» &6, which I hope 
 I shall never forget. And pray let's now rest ourselves in this 
 sweet shady arbour, which nature herself has woven with her 
 own fine finger ; 'tis such a contexture of woodbines, sweet-briar, 
 jessamine, and myrtle ; and so interwoven, as will secure us 
 both from the sun's violent heat and from the approaching 
 shower. And being sat down, I will requite a part of y our 
 ciiuri^sies. with a bottle of sack, milk, orang es, and sugar; 
 which, all put together, make a drink like nectarjjruifigd^.too 
 good for any but us anglers. And so, master, here is aJ'uU 
 glass to you of that liquor: and when you have pledged me^I 
 will repeat the verses which I promised you: it is a copy printed 
 among some of Sir Henry Wotton's, and doubtless made either 
 by him or by a lover of angling. Come, master, noft^ drink a 
 glass_tojne, and then I will pledge you7"5nH fall to my repeti- 
 tfon; it is a description of such country recreations as I have 
 enjoyed since I had the happiness to fall into your company. ^ 
 
 4^ 
 
 Quivering fears, heart-tearing cares. 
 Anxious sighs, untimely tears, 
 
 Fly, fly to courts, 
 
 Fly to fond worldlings' sports, 
 Where strain'd Sardonic smiles are glosing still. 
 And grief is forced to laugh against her will ; 
 
 Where mirth's but mummery, 
 
 And sorrows only real be. 
 
 Fly from our country's pastimes, fly, 
 Sad troops of human misery. 
 
 Come, serene looks, 
 
 Clear as the crystal brooks, 
 
CHAP. XXI. THE FIFTH DAY. 177 
 
 Or the pure azured heaven that smiles to see 
 The rich attendance on our poverty; 
 
 Peace and a secure mind, 
 
 Which all men seek, we only find. A Q) V^^ \ v 
 
 Abused mortals ! did you know ^ f\ /\J]m>AJN, 
 
 Where joy, heart's ease, and comforts grow, / ^ 
 
 You'd scorn prnnd towery IVAOhA- 
 
 And seek them in these bowers : f t^V 
 
 Where winds, sometimes, our woods perhaps may shake, /! jiAA' 
 But blustering care could never tempest make, . 
 
 Nor murmurs e'er come nigh us. 
 
 Saving of fountains that glide by us. 
 
 Here's no fantastic mask nor dance, 
 But of our kids that frisk and prance ; 
 
 Nor wars are seen, 
 
 Unless upon the green 
 Two harmless lambs are butting one the other— 
 Which done, both bleating run, each to his mother ; 
 
 And wounds are never found, 
 
 Save what the ploughshare gives the ground. 
 
 Here are no entrapping baits. 
 To hasten to too hasty fates. 
 
 Unless it be ^/^ 
 
 Thpjrt pd rrpdiilily ^- /^ 
 Of siliv fish, which (wo rldling like) still look 
 TTpnn th^ bnU. 1^'ii- never on t he hook ; 
 
 Nor envy, less among 
 
 The birds, for prize of their sweet song. 
 
 Go, let the diving negro seek 
 
 For gems, hid in some forlorn creek ; 
 
 We all pearls scorn. 
 
 Save what the dewy morn 
 Congeals upon each little spire of grass, 
 Which careless shepherds beat down as they pass; 
 
 And gold ne'er here appears. 
 
 Save what the yellow Ceres bears. 
 
 BlessM silent groves, O may you be. 
 For ever, mirth's best nursery I 
 
 12 
 
178 THE COMPLETE ANGLER, part l 
 
 May pure contents 
 
 For ever pitch their tents 
 Upon these downs, these meads, these rocks, these mountains, 
 And peace still slumber by these purling fountains; 
 
 Which we may every year 
 
 Meet, when we come a-fishing here ! " 
 
 PiSC. Trust me, scholar, I thank you heartily for these 
 verses: they be choicely good, and doubtless made by a lover of 
 angling. Come, now, drink a glass with me, and I will requite 
 you with another very good copy : it is a farewell to the vanities 
 of the world, and some say written by Sir Harry Wotton, who I 
 told you was an excellent angler. But let them be writ by 
 whom they will, he that writ them had a brave soul, and must 
 needs be possest with happy thoughts at the time of their 
 composure. 
 
 "■ Farewell, ye gilded follies, pleasing troubles ! 
 Fa^e yv p^^; )' e honour'd ra^s^ ye glorioles bubbles ! 
 Fame's but a hollow echo — gold, pure clay — 
 fionour, the darling but of one short day — 
 Beauty, th' eye's idol, but a damask'd skin — 
 St ate, bu t a golden prison, to live in, 
 Ar?a torture iree-born mlhdy — uilibTSider'd trains. 
 Merely but pageants for proud swelling veins — 
 And blood allied to greatness is alone 
 Inherited, not purchased, nor our own. 
 
 F ame, hon omv-beau ty. state^ train, blood, and birth, 
 
 Are but the fndinp- blossoms of the earth. 
 
 I would be great, but that the sun dolh still 
 Level his rays against the rising hill — 
 I would be high, but see the proudest oak 
 Most subject to the rending thunder-stroke— 
 I wa uld bL ijlIi, but fee mtfn (tofa un kind) 
 jjjjjl i'l t^"**^ Im pels of the richesL ja>ind — 
 I would b e wise, b ut that T off pn -s ee n^ 
 
 I would be fair, but see the fair and proud, 
 Like the bright sun, oft setting in a cloud — 
 
 ^ 
 
CHAP. XXI. THE FIFTH DAY. 179 
 
 I would be poor, but know the humbl e gra ss 
 SdjT-Uampled o n by^ch unw ortliyass — 
 pj'rh^hnfnfl iTi'-iri nirpprtetj "•irorrTri, if p^rr — 
 fireaJ Lx fen r'd ^— fair, tempted — hi<;h, still envied mo re: 
 IJiave wish'd all; b u t now I wish f^r n,^\ilH^ 
 
 ■it 
 
 Great, hith. rich, wise, nor f air — poor I'll be rather. 
 
 Would the world now adopt me for her heir — 
 
 Would beauty's queen entitle me the fair — 
 
 Fame speak me fortune's minion — could I vie 
 
 Angels with India — with a speaking eye 
 
 Command bare heads, bow'd knees, strike justice dumb, 
 
 As well as blind and lame, or give a tongue 
 
 To stones by epitaphs — be call'd *' great master," 
 
 In the loose rhymes of every poetaster — 
 
 rnnM T hg _n-|nrf> fharL-a < iy mn n th a- t lives, 
 
 GreattJki£r- *^<^^> wise, all in jupLila fTves — 
 Yet I mor e freely would these gifts resign. 
 Than eveFFortune would have made them mine; 
 
 And hold one minute of this holy leisure 
 
 Beyond the riches of this empty pleasure ! 
 
 Welcome, pure thoughts ! welcome, ye silent groves ! 
 
 These guests, these courts, my soul most dearly loves ! 
 
 Now the wing'd people of the sky shall sing 
 
 My cheerful anthems to the gladsome spring : 
 
 A pr ayer-bo ok, now, shall be my looking-glass, 
 
 I^Twhich I will addl-e 5Weet virtue's iatt. 
 
 IX ere dwell no hateful looks, n o palace cares, 
 
 No broken vows dwell nere, nor paie-laceci lears; 
 
 Then here I'll sit, and sigh my hot love's folly, 
 
 And learn t' affect a holy melancholy : 
 And if c ontentment be a stranger, — then 
 rll fle er Iook <or It, but in heaven^ again." 
 
 Ven. Well, master, these verses be worthy to keep a^room in 
 every man's memory. I thank you for them ; and I thank you 
 for your many instructions, which (God willing) I will not forget. 
 And as St. Austin, in his Confessions (book iv. chap, iii.), com- 
 memorates the kindness of his friend Verecundus, for lending 
 him and his companion a country house; because there they 
 
i8o THE COMPLETE ANGLER. part i. 
 
 rested and enjoyed themselves, free from the troubles of the 
 world : so, having had the like advantage, both by your con- 
 versation and the art you have taught me, I ought ever to do 
 the like ; for indeed, your company and discourse have been so 
 useful and pleasant, that, I may truly say, I have only lived 
 since I enjoyed them and turned angler, and not before. Never- 
 theless, here I must part with you, here in this now sad place 
 where I was so happy as first to meet you : but I^shall iSTtg^Jor 
 the ni nth of May; for then T hope ^a^ yain to enjoy your beloye3~~ 
 copIpftTTypa<^ie "appointedtime anaplact^. Aftfl "no w ' I w ish 
 f or so rne somniferou s poti on^ that might force me to sleep aw ay 
 the intermitted time, which will pass away with me as tediously, 
 as it does with men in sorrow ; nevertheless, I will make it as 
 short as I can by my hopes and wishes. And, my good master, 
 I will hot forget the doctrine which you told me Socrates taught 
 his scholars, that they should not think to be honoured so much 
 for being philosophers, as to honour philosophy by their virtuous 
 lives. You advised me to the like concerning angling, and 1 
 will endeavour to do so ; and to live like those many worthy 
 men of which you made mention in the former part of your dis- 
 course. This is my firm resolution ; and as a pious man advised 
 his f riend^ that to beget m« ^''<^ifir^^^'^" Tlfi S^ft'^1^ frequent 
 HiU'-'^^T'l^s7^'^d vif^w monuments ., and cha rQf^-^'^'^ge^^^^T^^^" 
 _^nd there consider how many dead bo'^'^'^ timp hnrl pitp(?^ip at 
 the gates of death : so when T would h ecret ro ptent. and increase 
 Xonfidenci l_ in the power^ and w i^'^^^j ^T^d_^ provi dence of 
 Almighty Go d, I will walk the meadows bv somg gliding 
 sU: gam, and t here contemplate the l ilies that take no care, and 
 thosevery ifialiy oLh(jr vanoUs little hving^ cre atuFes, that are 
 n ot only created but ieHTman know s not how, b^ he goodness 
 of th g GoH" ^ iiatuLL, an d th greTbre trust in himT This is my 
 fmr£ose; and so, let everything thmr-feftth-'ISreath praise the 
 \ ^SeordTand let the blessing of St. Peter's master be with minq 
 J A PiSC. And upon all that are lovers of virtue , and dare trust in 
 ^y hjs prov idence, and be quiet, and go a-angling. 
 
 '''Study to be quiet:'— i Thess. iv. ii. 
 
Cx-j 
 
 The Complete Angler. 
 
 Being Instructions Hozv to Angle for a Trout or 
 Grayli7ig in a Clear Stream. 
 
 PART II. 
 
 *' Qui niihi non credit, facial licet ipse pericluin ; 
 Et (uerit scriptis sequior ille meis." 
 
TO 
 MY MOST WORTHY FATHER AND FRIEND, 
 
 Mr. IZAAK WALTON, THE ELDER. 
 
 Sir, — Being you were pleased, some years past, to grant 
 me your free leave to do what I have here attempted ; and 
 observing you never retract any promise when made in 
 favour of your meanest friends ; I accordingly expect to see 
 these following particular directions for the taking of a trout, 
 to wait upon your better and more general rules for all sorts 
 of angling. And though mine be neither so perfect, so well 
 digested, nor indeed so handsomely couch'd as they might have 
 been, in so long a time as since your leave was granted, yet I 
 dare affirm them to be generally true : and they had appeared 
 too in something a neater dress, but that I was surprised with 
 the sudden news of a sudden new edition of your Complete 
 A?tgler; so that, having little more than ten days' time to turn 
 me in, and rub up my memory (for, in truth, I have not, in all 
 this long time, though I have often thought on't, and almost as 
 often resolved to go presently about it), I was forced, upon the 
 instant, to scribble what I here present you : which I have also 
 endeavoured to accommodate to your own method. And, if mine 
 be clear enough for the honest brothers of the angle readily to 
 understand, which is the only thing I aim at, then I have my 
 end, and shall need to make no further apology ; a writing of 
 this kind not requiring, if I were master of any such thing, any 
 eloquence to set it off, and recommend it ; so that if you, in 
 your better judgment, or kindness rather, can allow it passable 
 for a thing of this nature, you will then do me the honour if the 
 cypher fixed and carved in the front of my little fishing-house, - 
 may be here explained : and to permit me to attend you in public, 
 who, in private have ever been, am, and ever resolve to be. 
 Sir, 
 Beresford, Your most affectionate son and servant, 
 
 loih of March 1675-76. CHARLES COTTON. 
 
1 84 
 
 TO 
 
 MY MOST HONOURED FRIEND, 
 
 CHARLES COTTON, ESQ. 
 
 Sir, — You now see I have returned you your very pleasant 
 and useful discourse of The Art of Fly-Jishi?io^ printed just as it 
 was sent me; for I have been so obedient to your desires, as to 
 endure all the praises you have ventured to fix upon me in it. 
 And when I have thanked you for them, as the effects of an 
 undissembled love, then, let me tell you, sir, that I will readily 
 endeavour to live up to the character you have given of me, if 
 there were no other reason, yet for this alone, that you, that love 
 me so well, and always think what you speak, may not, for my 
 sake, suffer by a mistake in your judgment. 
 
 And, sir, I have ventured to fill a part of your margin, by way 
 of paraphrase for the reader's clearer understanding the situa- 
 tion both of your fishing-house, and the pleasantness of that you 
 dwell in. And I have ventured also to give him a " Copy of 
 Verses " that you were pleased to send me, now some years 
 past, in which he may see a good picture of both; and so much 
 of your own mind too, as will make any reader, that is blessed 
 with a generous soul, to love you the better. I confess, that for 
 doing this you may justly judge me too bold; if you do, I will 
 say so too ; and so far commute for my offence, that, though 
 I be more than a hundred miles from you, and in the eighty- 
 third year of my age, yet I will forget both, and the next month 
 begin a pilgrimage to beg your pardon ; for I would die in your 
 favour, and till then will live. 
 
 Sir, 
 London, Your most affectionate father and friend, 
 
 April 2C)th, 1676. IZAAK WALTON. 
 
i85 
 
 PART THE SECOND. 
 
 THE FIRST DAY. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 CONFERENCE BETWIXT A COUNTRY GENTLEMAN PROFICIENT 
 IN THE ART OF FLY-FISHING AND A TRAVELLER WHO 
 -BECOMES HIS PUPIL. 
 
 PiSCATOR JUNIOR, AND VlATOR. 
 
 PiSC. You are happily overtaken, sir ; may a man be so bold 
 as to inquire how far you travel this way? 
 
 VlAT. Yes sure, sir, very freely, though it be a question I 
 cannot very well resolve you, as not knowing myself how far it 
 is to Ashtiorn, where I intend- to-night la. take_up my inn. 
 
 PiSC. Why then, sir, seeing I perceive you to be a stranger in 
 these parts, I shall take upon me to inform you that from the 
 t own you last cani e^through, called Brel^for4y4t4s_fiii£-jniles ; 
 and you are not yet aboveJhaLf-a-mi le on thj ^s side. 
 
 ViAT. So much ? I was told it was but ten miles from Derby; 
 and, methinks, I have rode almost so far already. 
 
 PiSC. O sir, find no fault with large measure of good land, 
 which Derbyshire abounds in, as much as most counties of 
 England. 
 
 VlAT. It may be so; and good land, I confess, affords a 
 pleasant prospect: but, by your good leave, sir, large measu re 
 of foul \^ ^ay_isjlQLa.] tng ot lt €r~sQ accejitable. 
 
 PiSC. True, sir; but the foul way serves to justify the fertility 
 
1 86 THE COMPLETE ANGLER. part ii. 
 
 of the soil, according to the proverb, " There is good land where 
 therejsjouljvay ; " and is of good use to infolrn you of tTie riches 
 oriHecountry you are come into, and of its continual travel and 
 traffic to the country town you came from : which is also very 
 observable by the fulness of its road, and the loaden horses you 
 meet everywhere upon the way. 
 
 ViAT. Well, sir, I will be content to think as well of your 
 country as you would desire ; and I shall have a great deal of 
 reason both to think and to speak very well of you, if I may 
 obtain the happiness of your company to the fore-mentioned 
 place, provided your affairs lead you that way, and that they will 
 permit you to slack your pace, out of complacency to a traveller 
 utterly a stranger in these parts, and who am still to wander 
 further out of my own knowledge. 
 
 PiSC. Sir, you invite me to my own advantage, and I am 
 ready to attend you, my way lying through that town; but 
 my business, that is, my home, some miles beyond it: how- 
 ever, I shall have time enough to lodge you in your quarters, 
 and afterward to perform my own journey. In the mean- 
 time, may I be so bold as to inquire the end of your 
 journey ? 
 
 ViAT. 'T[s_into Lancashire^ sir ; and a bout some bus iness of 
 concern to a near relation of mine ; for I assure you, I do not use 
 to take such long journeys as from Essex upon the single account 
 of pleasure. 
 
 PiSC. From thence, sir ! I do not then wonder you should 
 appear dissatisfied with the length of the miles, and the foulness 
 of the way : though I am sorry you should begin to quarrel with 
 them so soon ; for, beHeve me, sir, you will find the miles much 
 longer, and the way much worse, before you come to your 
 journey's end. 
 
 VlAT. Why ! truly, sir ! for that I am prepared to expect the 
 worst ; but methinks the way is mended since I had the good 
 fortune to fall into your good company. 
 
 PiSC. You are not obliged to my company for that, but 
 because you are already past the worst, and the greatest part 
 of your way to your lodging. 
 
CHAP. I. THE FIRST DAY. 187 
 
 ViAT. I am very glad to hear it, both for the ease of myself 
 and my horse; but especially, because I may then expect a 
 freer enjoyment of your conversation : though the shortness of 
 the way will, I fear, make me lose it the sooner. 
 
 PiSC. That, sir, is not worth your care : and I am sure you 
 deserve muc'i better for being content with so ill company. 
 But we have already talked away two miles of your journey ; 
 for, from the brook before us, that runs at the foot of this sandy 
 hill, you have but three miles to Ashborn. 
 
 ViAT. I meet, everywhere in this country, with these little 
 brooks; and they look as if they were full of fish: have they 
 not trouts in them ? 
 
 PiSC. That is a question which is to be excused in a stranger, 
 as you are : otherwise, give me leave to tell you, it would seem 
 a kind of affront to our country, to make a doubt of what we 
 pretend to be famous for, nex t, if not before^ our malt, wo ol, 
 l ead, and coal ; fo j^^you-^are^ t o understand, that we think we 
 have as many fine rivers, rivulets^ _and brooks, as any country 
 whatever; and they are all full of trouts, and some of them the 
 best. It is said, by many degrees, in England. 
 
 VlAT. I was first, sir, in love with you ; and now shall be so 
 enamoured of your country by this account you give me of it, 
 a s to wish myself a Derbyshire man, o r_a^t least tlial_XlDiglit 
 live in it : for you must know I am a pretender to the angle, 
 and, doubtless, a trout affords the most pleasure to the angler 
 of any sort of fish whatever; and the best trouts must needs 
 make the best sport; but this brook, and some others I have 
 met with upon this way, are too full of wood for that recreation. 
 
 PiSC. This, sir ! why this, and several others like it, which 
 you have passed, and some that you are like to pass, have 
 scarce any name amongst us; but we can show you as fine 
 rivers, and as clear from wood, or any other incumbrance to 
 hinder an angler, as any you ever saw ; and for clear, beautiful 
 streams, Hantshire itself, by Mr. Izaak Walton's good leave, 
 can show none such ; nor I think any country in Europe. 
 
 VlAT. You go far, sir, in the praise of your country rivers, 
 and I perceive have read Mr. Walton's CompUie Angler^ by 
 
i88 THE COMPLETE ANGLER. part il 
 
 your naming of Hantshire ; and I pray what is your opinion of 
 that book ? 
 
 PiSC. My opinion of Mr. Walton's book is the same with 
 every man's that understands anything of the art of angHng, 
 that it is an excellent good one, and that the fore-mentioned 
 gentleman understands as much of fish, and fishing, as any man 
 living: but I must tell you further, that I have the happiness to 
 know his person, and to be intimately acquainted with him, and 
 in him to know the worthiest man, and to enjoy the best, and 
 the truest friend any man ever had ; nay, I shall yet acquaint 
 you further, that he gives me leave ^to mil him F ather, and I 
 hope is not yet as hame d to own me fo r his adopteTSon. 
 
 VlAT. In earnest, sir, 1 am ravished to meet with a friend of 
 Mr. Izaak Walton's, and one that does him so much right in so 
 good and true a character; for I must boast to you, that I have 
 the good fortune to know him too, and came acquainted with 
 him much after the same manner I do with you; thathewas 
 
 m y Mnrtf^r iirVir. firrf ^oMg-Inf |^"|p \ q Ipye a n gling , f ^,nd then tO 
 
 b ecome pn ^r>cy1pr- nnH tn hf- plj^ .in with vou. I am the very 
 man deciphered in his book under the name of Venator ; for I 
 was wholly addicted to the chace, till he taught me as good, a 
 more quiet, innocent, and less dangerous diversion. 
 
 PiSC. Sir, I think myself happy in your acquaintance, and 
 before we part shall entreat leave to embrace you ; you have 
 said enough to recommend you to my best opinion: for my 
 father^';^ 1|r)n \vi|l be seen twice in no man' s company he does 
 not like^nd lU^ n num. l j iU > -.snrh as he beT T&ves to be very 
 honest men ; which is one of the best arguments^or^'aFleast of 
 tlTe best testimonies 1 have, that I either am, or that he thinks 
 me, one of those, seeing I have not yet found him weary 
 of me. 
 
 ViAT. You speak like a true friend, and in doing so render 
 yourself worthy of his friendship. May I be so bold as to ask 
 your name ? 
 
 PiSC. Yes surely, sir, and if you please a much nicer question j 
 
 my name is , and I intend to stay long enough in your 
 
 company, if I find you do not dislike mine, to ask yours too* 
 
CHAP. I. THE FIRST DAY. 189 
 
 In the meantime, because we are now almost at Ashborn, I 
 shall freely and bluntly tell you that I am a brother of the 
 angle too, and, peradventure, can give you some instructions 
 how to angle for a trout in a clear river that my father Walton 
 himself will not disapprove, though he did either purposely 
 omit, or did not remember them, when you and he sat discours- 
 ing under the sycamore tree. And, being you have already told 
 me whither your journey is intended, and that I am better 
 acquainted with the country than you are; I will heartily and 
 earnestly entreat you will not think of staying at this town, but 
 go on with me six miles farther to my house, where you shall 
 be extremely welcome ; it is directly in your way, we have day 
 enough to perform our journey, and, as you like your entertain- 
 ment, you may there repose yourself a day or two, or as many 
 more as your occasions will permit, to recompense the trouble 
 of so much a longer journey. 
 
 VlAT. Sir, you surprise me with so friendly an invitation upon 
 so short acquaintance ; but how advantageous soever it would 
 be to me, and that my haste, perhaps, is not so great but it 
 might dispense with such a divertisement as I promise myself 
 in your company, yet I cannot, in modesty, accept your offer, 
 and must therefore beg your pardon : I could otherwise, I con- 
 fess, be glad to wait upon you, if upon no other account but to 
 talk of Mr. I. Walton, and to receive those instructions you say 
 you are able to give me for the deceiving a trout; in which art 
 I will not d£jQy.but tha t I have an ambition to b e one of the 
 greatest dec^«ij£i:s : though I cannot forbear freely to tell you, 
 that I think it hard to say much more than has been read to me 
 upon that subject. 
 
 PiSC. Well, sir, 1 grant that too; but you must know that the 
 variety of rivers require different ways of angling : however, 
 you shall have the best rules I am able to give, and I will tell 
 you nothing I have not made myself as certain of as any man 
 can be in a thirty years' experienre. (for so long I have been a 
 dabbler in^diat art) ; and that, if you please to stay a few days, 
 you shall, in a very great measure, see made good to you. . But 
 of that hereafter; and now, sir, if I am not mistaken, I have 
 
I90 THE COMPLETE ANGLER. part ii. 
 
 half overcome you ; and that I may wholly conqu er that mod esty 
 ^f yours, I will take upon me to be so familiar as to say you 
 must accept my invitation, which, that you may the more easily 
 be persuaded to do, I . wil ltell you that^niy house stands_jjpon 
 the margiji of one- of the.jfi2jeSt~rtvers for trout and grayling in 
 ^gland j that I have lately built a httle fishing^iQuse' upoiQty 
 (dedicated to anglers, over the door of which you wilLsee the 
 two first letters of my father Walton's name and mine t wiste d 
 in_cipher ; that you shall lie in the same bed he has sometimes 
 been contented with, and have such country entertainment as 
 my friends sometimes accept, and be as welcome, too, as the 
 best friend of them all. 
 
 VlAT. No doubt, sir, but my master Walton found good 
 reason to be satisfied with his entertainment in your house; 
 far Yjati--t¥4»Q ^Arp go frippHly ( o a mere Stran ger, who deserves 
 spittle, must needs be exceeding kind and free to him who 
 deserves so much. 
 
 PiSC. Believe me, no : and such as are intimately acquainted 
 with that gentleman know him to be a man who will not endure 
 to be treated like a stranger. So that his acceptation of my 
 poor entertainment has ever been a pure effect of his own 
 humility and good-nature, and nothing else. But, sir, we are 
 now going down the Spittle Hill, into the town; and therefore 
 let me importune you suddenly to resolve, and (most earnestly) 
 not to deny me. 
 
 VlAT. In truth, sir, I am so overcome by your bounty, that I 
 find I cannot, but must render myself wholly to be disposed of 
 by you. 
 
 PiSC. Why, that's heartily and kindly spoken, and I as 
 heartily thank you. And^Jpeing^yoiLhavp abRndjQQed-ymirself 
 to -my rnnduct»_we,will only call and dri nk a glass on horseback 
 at the Talbot, and away7 " 
 
 VlAT. I attend you. But what pretty river is this, that runs 
 under this stone bridge ? Has it a name ? 
 
 PiSC. Yes, it is called Henmore; and has in it both trout 
 and grayling ; but you will meet with one or two better anon. 
 And so soon as we are past through the town, I will endeavour, 
 
CHAP. 11. THE FIRST DAY. 191 
 
 by such discourse as best likes you, to pass away the time till 
 you come to your ill quarters. 
 
 ViAT. We can talk of nothing with which I shall be more 
 delighted than of rivers and angling. 
 
 PiSC. Let those be the subjects, then ; but we are now come 
 to the Talbot. What will you drink, sir, ale or wine ? 
 
 ViAT. Nay ^ am for the ^co untry liquor, Derby shi re_ale^f A^^j, 
 you please ; for a nian should not^ methinks, come from Londo n ^''^X 
 to^Hrmk \vTneJji_^tJ}e JPeak. ^^'^^ 
 
 "^PlSC. You are in the right ; and yet, let me tell you, you may 
 drink worse French wine in many taverns in London, than they 
 have sometimes at this house. V/hat ho ! bring us a flagon of 1 
 your best ale ; and now, sir, my service to you, a good health to 
 the honest gentleman you know of, and you are welcome into 
 the Peak. 
 
 VlAT. I thank you, sir, and present you my service again, and 
 to all the honest brothers of the angle. 
 
 PiSC. ril pledge you, sir: so, there's for your ale, and fare- 
 well. Come, sir, let us be going, for the sun grows low, and 
 I would have you look about you as you ride ; for you will see 
 an odd country, and sights that will seem strange to you. 
 
 CHAPTER H. 
 
 OBSERVATIONS OF THE PRINCIPAL RIVERS IN DERBYSHIRE; 
 VIATOR LODGES AT PISCATOR JUNIOR'S HOUSE. 
 
 PiSC. So, sir, now we have got to the top of the hill out of 
 town, look about you, and tell me how you like the country. 
 
 ViAT. Bless me, what mountains are here ! Are we not in 
 Wales ? 
 
 PiSC. No, but in almost as mountainous a country ; and yet 
 these hills, though high, bleak, and craggy, breed and feed good 
 beef and mutton, above ground, and afford good store of lead 
 within. 
 
 VlAT. They had need of all those commodities to make 
 
{J 
 
 192 THE COMPLETE ANGLER. part ii. 
 
 amends f or the ill landskip; buMLh ope our way does not lie 
 o ver ^an y ^ft h e s e , for I dread a precipice. 
 
 PiSC. Believ e mc, but it does, and down onej^es^ecially^at 
 win appear a little terrible to a stranger: though the way is 
 passable enough, and so passable, that we who are natjyeFof 
 these mountains, and acquainted with them, disdain'to alight. 
 . I TTat^ I hope, though, that a foreigner is privileged to use his 
 ' V own_discretion, and that I may have the liberty to entrust my 
 neck-to the fidelityLoL my own feet, rather than to ^th ose of my 
 horse^ for I_ have no more a t hom e. "^ 
 
 T'ISC. Twere hard el^ But in the meantime, I think 'twere 
 best, while this way is pretty even, to mend our pace, that we 
 may be past that hill I speak of; to the end your apprehension 
 may not be doubled, for want of light to discern the easiness of 
 the descent. 
 
 VlAT. I am willing to put forward as fast as my beast will 
 give me leave, though I fear nothing in your company. But 
 what pretty river is this we are going into ? 
 
 PiSC. Why this, sir, is called Bently-brook, and is full of very 
 good trout and graylm"g ; Jb ut so encumbered with wood in 
 many_places ^as is troublesome to an angler. 
 
 VlAT. Here are the prettiest rivers, and the most of them in 
 this country that ever I saw; do you know how many you have 
 in the country ? 
 
 PiSC. I know them all ; and they were not hard to reckon, 
 were it worth the trouble, but the most considerable of them I 
 will presently name you. And to begin where we now are, for 
 you must know we are now up^tnr -thievery ski its of Deib'ysliire ; 
 \ve_have first the river Dove, that we shall come tol3y-and-by, 
 which divides the two counties of Derby and Stafford for many 
 miles together; and is so called from the swiftness of its cur- 
 rent, anHTfTat swiftness occasioned by the declivity of its course, 
 and by being so straitened in that course betwixt the rocks; 
 by which, and those very high ones, it is, hereabout, for four or 
 five miles, confined into a very narrow stream ; a river that 
 from a contemptible fountain, which I can cover with my hat, by 
 the confluence of other rivers, rivulets, brooks, and rills, is swelled 
 
CHAP. II. THE FIRST DAY. 193 
 
 before it falls into Trent, a little below Eggington, where it 
 loses the name, to such a breadth and depth as to be in most 
 places navigable, were not the passage frequently interrupted 
 with fords and weirs; and has as fertile banks as any river in 
 England, none excepted. And this river, from its head for a 
 mile or two, is a black water, as all the rest of the Derbyshire 
 rivers of note originally are, for they all spring from the mosses; 
 but is in a few miles travel so clarified by the addition of several 
 clear and very great springs, bigger than itself, which gush out 
 of the limestone rocks, that before it comes to my house, which 
 is but six or seven miles from its source, you will find it one of 
 the purest crystalline streams you have seen. 
 
 VlAT. Does Trent spring in these parts ? 
 
 PiSC. Yes, in these parts ; not in this country, but some- 
 where towards the upper end of Staffordshire; I think not far 
 from a place called Trentham; and thence runs down, not far 
 from Stafford, to Wolsly Bridge, and, washing the skirts and 
 purlieus of the forest of Needwood, runs down to Burton, in the 
 same county ; thence it comes into this, where we now are, and 
 running by Swarkston and Dunnington, receives Derwent at 
 Wildon ; and, so, to Nottingham ; thence, to Newark ; and, by 
 Gainsborough, to Kingston-upon-Hull, where it takes the name 
 of Humber, and thence falls into the sea ; but that the map will 
 best inform you. 
 
 VlAT. Know you whence this river Trent derives its name ? 
 
 PiSC. No, indeed; and yet I have heard it often discouised 
 upon : when some have given its denomination from the fore- 
 named Trentham, though that seems rather a derivative from it; 
 others have said it is so called from thirty rivers that fall into it, 
 and there lose their names ; which cannot be, neither, because 
 it carries that name from its very fountain, before any other 
 rivers fall into it: others derive it from thirty several sorts of 
 fish that breed there ; and that is the most likely derivation : but 
 be it how it will, it is doubtless one of the finest rivers in the 
 woild, and the most abounding with excellent salmon, and all 
 sorts of delicate fish. 
 
 VlAT. Pardon me, sir^ for tempting you into this digression ; 
 
 13 
 
194 THE COMPLETE ANGLER. part ii. 
 
 and then proceed to your other rivers, for I am mightily 
 delighted with this discourse. 
 
 PiSC. It was no interruption, but a very seasonable question: 
 for Trent is not only one of our Derbyshire rivers, but the chief 
 of them, and into which all the rest pay the tribute of their 
 names, which I had, perhaps, forgot to insist upon, being got to 
 the other end of the county, had you not awoke my memory. 
 But I will now proceed. And the next river of note, for I will 
 take them as they lie eastward from us, is the river Wye; I say 
 of note, for we have two lesser betwixt us and it, namely, 
 Lathkin and Bradford ; of which Lathkin is, by many degrees, 
 the purest and most transparent stream that I ever yet saw, 
 either at home or abroad, and breeds, it is said, the reddest and 
 the best trouts in England: but neither of these are to be 
 reputed rivers, being no better than great springs. The river 
 Wye, then, has its source near unto Buxton, a town some ten 
 miles hence, famous for a warm bath, and which you are to ride 
 through in your way to Manchester; a black water, too, at the 
 fountain, but, by the same reason with Dove, becomes very 
 soon a most delicate, clear river, and breeds admirable trout 
 and grayling, reputed by those who, by living upon its banks, 
 are partial to it, the best of any; and this, running down 
 by Ashford, Bakewell, and Hadden, at a town a little lower, 
 called Rowsly, falls into Derwent, and there loses its name. 
 The next in order is Derwent, a black water, too, and that not 
 only from its fountain, but quite through its progress, not having 
 these crystal springs to wash and cleanse it which the two fore- 
 mentioned have ; but abounds with trout and grayling, such as 
 they are, towards its source, and with salmon below: and this 
 river, from the upper and utmost part of the county, where it 
 springs, taking its course by Chatsworth, Darley, Matlock, 
 Derby, Burrow-Ash, and Awberson, falls into Trent at a place 
 called Wildon, and there loses its name. The east -side of this 
 county of Derby is bounded by little inconsiderable rivers, as 
 Awber, Eroways, and the like, scarce worth naming, but trouty, 
 too ; and further we are not to enquire. But, sir, I have carried 
 you, as a man may say, by water, till we are now come to the 
 
CHAP. II. THE FIRST DAY. 195 
 
 descent of the formidable hill I told you of, at the foot of which 
 runs the river Dove, which I cannot but love above all the rest; 
 and therefore prepare yourself to be a little frighted. 
 
 VlAT. Sir, I see you would fortify me, that I should not 
 shame myself: but I dare follow where you please to lead me; 
 and I see no danger yet ; for the descent, methinks, is thus far 
 green, even, and easy. 
 
 PiSC. You will like it worse presently, when you come to the 
 brow of the hill; and now we are there, what think you? *.— 
 
 VlAT. What do I think? Why I think it is the strangest 
 place that ever, sure, men and horses went down ; and that, if 
 there be any safety at all, the safest way is to alight _^ 
 
 PiSC. I think so too, for you, who are mounted upon a 
 beast not acquainted with these slippery stones ; and though I 
 frequently ride down, I will alight, too, to bear you company, 
 and to lead you the way ; and, if you please, my man shall lead 
 your horse. 
 
 ViAT. Marry, sir, and thank you, too: for I am afraid I 
 shall have enough to do to look to myself; and, with my horse 
 in my hand should be in a double fear, both of breaking my 
 neck and my horse's faUing on me; for it is as steep as a 
 penthouse. \/^ 
 
 PiscT To look down from hence it appears so, I confess; 
 but the path winds and turns, and will not be found so trouble- 
 some. 
 
 ViAT. Would I were well down though ! Hoist thee ! there's 
 one fair 'scape ! these stones are so slippery I cannot stand ! 
 yet again ! I think I were best lay my heels in my neck, and 
 tumble down. 
 
 PiSC. If you think your heels will defend your neck, that is the 
 way to be soon at the bottom; but give me your hand at this 
 broad stone, and then the worst is past. 
 
 ViAT. I thank you, sir, I am now past it, I can go myself. 
 Wha t's here the sign of a bridge? Do you use to travel with \Jy(^ 
 whseTi wrows in this c ounlrvT ^ ' "^ ' " t^ 
 
 PiSC. Not that I ever saw, sir. Why do you ask that 
 question ? 
 
 M 
 
^y 
 
 ig6 THE COMPLETE ANGLER. part ii. 
 
 VlAT. Becaiiae— Lhis^bridge certainly;_was made_JxiiL nothing 
 el se ; why, a mousejcan__hardly_gQ,_QYer it : 'tjj^ not tw o^gers 
 
 PiSC. You are pleasant, and I am gladJo sge^ou soj but I 
 have rid over the bridge many a dark night. 
 
 VlAT. Why, according to the French proverb, and 'tis a good 
 one among a great many of worse sense and sound that language 
 ^ abounds in, Ce que Dieu garde, est bie?t gaj'de. " They _v\^hom 
 God takes car^ of are in safe protection : " but^Jfit-jme tell you, 
 Lwould not ride over it for a thousand pounds, nor fall off it for 
 t\voj and yet I think I dare venture on foot, though if you were 
 not by to laugh at me, I should do it on all fours. 
 
 PiSC. Well, sir, your mirth becomes you, and I am glad 
 to see you safe over ; and now you are welcome into Stafford- 
 shire. 
 
 VlAT. How, Staffordshire ! Wh at_ dpJL.the re^tro w ? tloereis 
 not_a^jvord-DJLS.tafi[brdshire in all my direction. 
 
 PiSC. You^eej^ou^re betrayed into it, but it shall be in order 
 to something that will make amends ; and 'tis but an ill mile or 
 two out of your way. "^ 
 
 ^VlAT. I believe all things, sir, and doubt nothing. Is this 
 your beloved river, Dove ? 'Tis clear and swift, indeed, but a 
 very little one. 
 
 PiSC. You see it here at the worst : we shall come to it anon 
 again, after two miles riding, and so near as to lie upon the very 
 banks. 
 
 ViAT. Would we were there once : but I hope we have no 
 more of these Alps to pass over. 
 
 PiSC. No, no, sir; only this ascent before you, which you see 
 is not very uneasy, and then you will no more quarrel with your 
 way. 
 
 ViAT. Well, if ever I come to London, of w hich many a man 
 there, if he were in my pTa^eT'would liiake a question. I wi ll 
 "* ^ sjt down and write my travels ; and,, like TomX priate, pri nt 
 .^ them at my own charge. Pray, what do you call this hill we 
 jT ca^jiie..down ! "~ -^ 
 
 Pisc. We call it Hanson Toot. 
 
di-^ *A^ 
 
 xjS^.SL^^>^ 
 
 CHAP. II. 
 
 THE FIRST DAY. 
 
 197 
 
 ViAT. Why, farewell. Hanso nTootJ^ I'll no more on thee: 
 ril go twenty mil es about first: P uh ! I sweat that my shirt 
 stT^ksTo'fn y Eac^T""^ 
 
 "n^.^Coine, sir, now we are up the hill; and now how do 
 you? 
 
 VlAT. Why, very well, I humbly thank you, sir; and warm 
 enough, I assure you. What have we here, a church ? As I'm 
 an honest man, a very pretty church ? Have you churches in 
 this country, sir ? 
 
 PiSC. You see we have : but had you seen none, why should 
 you make that doubt, sir ? 
 
 Vi AT. Whv^J fyou will not be -an^xv^JUl, tell you.: 1. thought . 
 mvself a stage or two bevond Christendom. 
 
 PiSC. Come, come, we'll reconcile you to our country before 
 we part with you, if showing you good sport with angling will 
 do it. 
 
 VlAT. My respect to you, and that together, may do much, 
 sir; otherwise, to be plain with you, I do not find myself much 
 inclined that way. 
 
 PiSC. Well, sir, your raillery upon our mountains has 
 brought us almost home ; and look you where the same river of 
 Dove has again met us to bid you welcome, and to invite you to 
 a dish of trouts to-morrow. 
 
 VlAT. Is this the same we saw at the foot of Penmen-Maure ? 
 It is a much finer river here. 
 
 PiSC. It will appear yet much finer to-morrow. But look 
 you, sir, here app e ars the house, that is now like to be your inn, 
 for wa nt of a better. ~ ~ 
 
 VlAT. It appears o n a s uddeo^bnt not hefnrp 'tw;^s^ loojced 
 for; it stands prettily, and here's wood about it too, but so 
 young, as appears to be of your own planting.' 
 
 T^rS^Tl t is so ; wnr it~ please youJo_ali| 
 
 iiiio, n,ii\u. Lvy ci,jjm.v^ j\ji^f i,lxcli. y \->Lt cii »^ mil ii i n^i y vv »^n^v^iijv^. y 
 
 ' VlAT. i"^ha nk you, sir , and am glad with all my heart I am ^^^'^l-O 
 ere ; foTTmdownrighrtruth, 1 anrexceedlng weary. ^^^^..^ 
 
 Pibc. Yoi Twili sleep s o^ much the better; you shall presently v. 
 
 permit me. a fter all your pams an^dangers, to take you in my^ 
 arms, and tcTassure you, t hatjyon are infinitely welcome. 
 
193 THE COMPLETE ANGLER. part ii. 
 
 have a ligh t supper, a nd to bed. Com^ ^irs, lay the cloth, an d 
 bnngwha t yoiTha^ presently, andlet the^ntleman's bed be 
 niadg^xg ady in the mean time, in my father Walton's chamber ; 
 and now, sir, here is my service to you, an d once more w el- 
 comE "" 
 
 ^^lAT. Ay jnarry, sir, this glassof good sack has Refresh ed 
 me, and I'll makejLsJbold with your jiieat^, for the trot^has got 
 m e~^rgood""sto mach. '~'~~~~" " 
 
 Fisc. C ome^ ^^^ !MLi2lJJl^^B:L-Z211 ^^^ "^y ^'^tle supper_Js 
 always^readxAYh^n i come homei and I'll make no stranger of 
 you. * 
 
 V^IAT. That your meal is so soon ready is a sig n your servan ts 
 know_yottr certain hours, sir; I confess I did not expect it so 
 soonj^butjaow 'tis here, you shall see I will make myself n o 
 stranger. 
 
 "PiSC. Much good do your heart, and I thank you for that 
 friendly word : and now, sir, my service to you in a cup 
 of More-Lands ale: for you are now in the More-Lands, but 
 within a spit and a stride of the Peak ; fill my friend his 
 glass. 
 
 ViAT. Believe me, you have good ale in the More-lands, far 
 better than that at Ashborn. 
 
 PiSC. Th at it may s oon be: for Ashborn Jias, which is a kind 
 o r_riddle».. a.l ways^m it the best malt, and tire 
 England. 
 
 ys_m it the best malt, and tlie^lvorsF^ale m 
 Come, take away, and bririg'us some pTpes7*and a, 
 bottle of ale, and go to your own suppers. Are you For TETs diet, 
 sir? """" 
 
 ViAT. Yes, sir, I am for one pipe of tobacco ; and I perceive 
 yours is very good by the smell. 
 
 PiSC. The best I can get in London, I assure you. But, sir, 
 now you have thus far complted with my designs, as to take a 
 troublesome journey into an ill country, only to satisfy me; how 
 long may I hope to enjoy you ? 
 
 VlAT. Why truly, sir, as long as I conveniently can; and 
 longer, I think, you would not have me. 
 
 PiSC. Not to your inconvenience by any means^ir : but I see 
 you are_weary, and therefore I will presently wait on you to your 
 
CHAP. II. TPIE FIRST DAY. tgg 
 
 cham ber, wher gj^take counsel of your pillow; and to-morrQW 
 resolve me. HereTlaJc^jdie lights -^ and pray follow them, sir: ^ 
 hereyou areTike' to lie; and now L Jjav e shQw_ed you you r 
 lo dgmgs, I beseech you, command any t1;iir>g y pu want, and so I 6^ . 
 w ish you g ood restT <__. 
 
 ViAT. Good-nig^ht, sir. 
 
200 
 
 .-^ 
 
 THE SECOND DAY, 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 CONFERENCE CONTAINING AN ACCOUNT OF MR. COTTON'S 
 FISHING-HOUSE. 
 
 PiSC. Good-morrow, sir ; what ! up and drest so early ? 
 
 ViAT. Yes, sir, I have been drest this half-hour; for I rested 
 so well, and have so great a mind either to take, or to see 
 a trout taken in your fine river, that I could no longer lie abed. 
 
 PiSC. I am so glad to see you so brisk this morning, and so 
 eager for sport; though I must tell you, this day proves so 
 calm, and the sun rises so bright, as promises no great success 
 to the angler ; but, however, we'll try, and, one way or other, 
 we shall sure do something. What will you have to your break- 
 fast, or what will you drink this morning ? 
 
 ViAT. For breakfast, I never eat any, and for drink a^_very 
 indifferent ;"T>QTTryou please to call for a glass of ale, I'm for 
 ymT; and let It bejijuic kly, if you please, for I long to see the 
 little^fishing^house you spoke of, and to be at myTessonl 
 ^Pr5cr^^ell7sTi7yoirseeThe^ale is come without calling; for 
 though I dcTlKJt^know yours, my people know my diet,. which is 
 always one'glass so soon as I am drest, and no more till dinn er : 
 anH~so my sei^vants^ have served you. 
 
 VTat. My thank's I AnH'now, if you please, let us look out 
 this fine morning. 
 
 PiSC. With all my heart. Boy, take the key of my fishing- 
 house, and carry down Tliose tw6~angle-rods intlieTiall wmdow, 
 
CHAP. III. 
 
 THE SECOND DAY. 
 
 thither, withjnyjfis h-pannier , pouch, and landing-ngl ? ^^^ sta y 
 y qu ther e till we co rnel ^ome, sir7~we'll walk ^fteiywhere, by 
 thevvaj^Iexpe£t_ vou should ^ajse all the excep tions ag ainst 
 our_country you can. 
 
 ViAT. Nay, sir^ jio not think me so i ll-naturednor ^so unci vil ; 
 I only ma dFa^iittie^ b old with it l ast night to divert y ou, and 
 was only in jest. 
 
 Pisc. You were then jn_as good earnest^as I am now with 
 y^ujjDut had you been really angry at it, I could not blame 1 
 you : for, to say the truth, it is not very taking at first sight. | 
 But look you, sir, now you are abroad, does not the sun shine 
 as bright here as in Essex, Middlesex, or Kent, or any of your 
 southern counties ? 
 
 VlAT. It is a delicate morning, indeed ; and I now think this 
 a marvellous pretty place. 
 
 PiSC. W>]ether_y^oii think gn^nr no, you cannot oblige me 
 mQre than_t o say so ^^gjuL^tboseT ot my Irien ds who loiow my 
 hum our, and are so kh id-as^ta comply w ith it^ u^ ualiv^HatteFlne 
 that way. But look you, sir, now you are at the^^Bnnk oTThe 
 fii!I7"""tTbw do you like my river, the vale it winds through like 
 a snake, and the situation of my little fishing-house ? 
 
 VlAT. Trust me, 'tis all very fine, and the house seems at this 
 distance a neat building. 
 
 PiSC. G ood enoughjorjthat^ purp ose : and here is a bowj jng- 
 greentog close" by i t : so, though I am myself no very good 
 bowler, I am not to tally devoted to my^wn pleasure, but that I 
 have also some regaj^^Ja_othei^jiTien's. i\nd now, sir, you are 
 c ome to t he_door^^pray walk in, and_there we will sit and talk' as 
 l ong as you p lease. 
 
 VlAT. St.ayal_what^s^Ji£j:g ^ver the door ? PISCATQRIBUS 
 Sacrum . Why then, I perceive 1 have sonie~Title here; for I 
 am one of them, though one of the worst ; and here below it is 
 the cypher too you speak of and 'tis prettily contrived. Has my 
 master Walton ever been here to see it, for it seems new built ? 
 
 PiSC. Yes, he saw it cut in the stone before it was set up ; but 
 never in the posture it now stands ; for the house was but build- 
 ing when he was last here, and not raised so high as the arch of 
 
202 THE COMPLETE ANGLER. part ii. 
 
 the door. And ^I am afraid he will not see it yet ; for he has 
 
 lately writ me word, he doubts his coming down this summer; 
 which, I do assure you, was the worst news he could possibly 
 h ave s ent me. . ' 
 
 VlAT. M£n must sometimes jnind their affairs_to make_ more 
 ro^omjbr their j)leasures; and 'tis odds he is as much displea^d 
 with^^h^^business that keeps him from you, as you are that he 
 comes not. But I am most pleased with thisirttle house of any 
 thing I "ever saw : it stands in a kind of peninsula too, with a 
 delicate clear river about it. I _dare hardly go in,i£^tXsliould 
 not like it so well within as without; but, by your ieay£j.lll__try. 
 Why, this is better and better, fine lights, fine waiix^CQte d, and 
 all exceeding neat, with a marble table and all in the^niiddle ! 
 
 PiSC. Enough, sir, enough; I have laid open to you the part 
 where I can worst defend myself, and now you attack me there. 
 Come, boy, set two chairs ; and whilst I am taking a pipe of 
 tobacco, which is always my breakfast, we will, if you please, 
 talk of some other subject. 
 
 ViAT. None fitter, then, sir, for the time and place, than those 
 instructions you promised. 
 
 PiSC. I begin to doubt, by something I discover in you, 
 whether I am able to instruct you or no; though, if you are 
 really a stranger to our clear northern rivers, I still think I can: 
 and therefore, since it is yet too early in the morning at this 
 time of the year, to-day being but the seventh of March, to cast 
 a fly upon the w^ater, if you will direct me what kind of fishing 
 for a trout I shall read you a lecture on, I am willing and ready 
 to obey you. 
 
 VlAT. Why,_5ijVJi yo^-i will so far oblige me, and that it may 
 not4 ie too tro ublesome to you, I would entreat you would_ run 
 through the whole body of it ; and I will not conceal from you 
 that L,?m so far in love with you, your courtesy, and pretty 
 More-Landrseaf,'as to resolve to stay with you long enough by 
 intervals, for I will not oppress you to hear all you can say upon 
 that subject. 
 
 PiSC. You cannot oblige me more than by such a promise : 
 and therefore, without more ceremony, I will begin to tell you 
 
CHAP. IV. THE SECOND DAY. 203 
 
 that my father Walton having read to you before, it would look 
 like a presumption in me (and, peradventure, would do so in 
 any other man) to pretend to give lessons for angling after him, 
 who, I do really believe, understands as much of it at least as 
 any man in England, did I not preacquaint you that I am not 
 tempted to it by any vain opinion of myself, that I am able to 
 give you better directions ; but having, from my childhood, 
 pursued the recreation of angling in very clear rivers, truly I 
 think by much, some of them at least, the clearest in this 
 kingdom, and the manner of angling here with us, by reason of 
 that exceeding clearness, being something different from the 
 method commonly used in others, which by being not near so 
 bright, admit of stronger tackle, and allow a nearer approach 
 to the stream ; I may peradventure give you some instructions 
 that may be of use, even m your own rivers, and shall bring you 
 acquainted with more flid's, and show you how to make them, 
 a nd with wh atdubbing too, th an he has taken notice of in his 
 Complete Afigler, 
 ViAT. I bes eech you, sir, do : and if you will lend me your 
 
 Steel^^IwiUJi ght a-pipp the while ; for^th nt^ff ^nmmnr>ly my 
 
 breakfastin a morning too. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 OF ANGLING FOR TROUT OR GRAYLING AT THE "TOP,'' AT 
 THE "MIDDLE," AND AT THE "BOTTOM." 
 
 PiSC. Why then, sir, to begin methodically, as a master in 
 any art should do ; and I will not deny but that I think myself 
 a master in this, I shall divide angling for trout or grayling into 
 these three ways: at the top, at the bottom, and in the middle. 
 W^hich three ways, though they are all of them, as I shall 
 hereafter endeavour to make it appear, in some sort common to 
 both those kinds of fish, yet are they not so generally and 
 absolutely so, but that they will necessarily require a distinction, 
 which, in due place, I will also give you. 
 
204 THE COMPLETE ANGLER. part ii. 
 
 That which we call angling at the top is with a fly ; at the 
 bottom, with a ground-bait; in the middle, with a minnow or 
 ground-bait. 
 
 Angling at the top is of two sorts ; with a quick fly, or with 
 an artificial fly. 
 
 That we call angling at the bottom is also of two sorts ; by 
 the hand, or with a cork or float. 
 
 That we call angling in the middle is also of two sorts ; with 
 a minnow for a trout, or with a ground-bait for a grayling. 
 
 Of all which several sorts of angling, I will, if you can have 
 the patience to hear me, give you the best account I can. 
 
 VlAT. The trouble will be yours, and mine the pleasure and 
 the obligation : I beseech you therefore to proceed. 
 
 PiSC. Why then, first of fly-fishing. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 OF FLY-FISHING AND FLY-MAKING. 
 
 PiSC. Fly-fishing, or fishing at the top, is, as I said before, of 
 two sorts ; with a natural and living fly, or with an artificial and 
 made fly. 
 
 First, then, of the natural fly : of which we generally use but 
 two sorts ; and those but in the two months of May and June 
 only ; namely, the green drake and the stone-fly : though I have 
 made use of a third, that way, called the camlet-fly, with very 
 good success, for grayling, but never saw it angled with by any 
 other, after this manner, my master only excepted, who died 
 many years ago, and was one of the best anglers that ever I 
 knew. 
 
 These are to be angled with, with a short line, not much 
 more than half the length of your rod, if the air be still ; or with 
 a longer, very near, or all out, as long as your rod, if you have 
 any wind to carry it from you. And this way of fishing we call 
 daping, dabbing, or dibbing; wherein you are always to have your 
 
CHAP. V. THE SECOND DAY. 205 
 
 line flying before you up or down the river, as the wind serves, and 
 to angle as near as you can to the bank of the same side whereon 
 you stand, though where you see a fish rise near you you may 
 guide your quick fly over him, whether in the middle, or on 
 the contrary side; and if you are pretty well out of sight, 
 either by kneeling or the interposition of a bank or bush, you 
 may almost be sure to raise, arid take him too, if it be presently 
 done ; the fish will, otherwise, peradventure be removed to some 
 other place, if it be in the still deeps, where he is always in 
 motion, and roving up and down to look for prey, though, in a 
 stream, you may always almost, especially if there be a good 
 stone near, find him in the same place. Your line ought in this 
 case to be three good hairs next the hook, both by reason you are 
 in this kind of angling to expect the biggest fish, and also that 
 wanting length to give him line after he is struck, you must be 
 forced to tug for it ; to which I will also add that not an inch of 
 your fine being to be suffered to touch the water in dibbing, it 
 may be allowed to be the stronger. I should now give you a 
 description of those flies, their shape and colour, and then give 
 you an account of their breeding, and withal show you how to 
 keep and use them; but shall defer them to their proper place 
 and season. 
 
 ViAT. In earnest, sir, you discourse very rationally of this 
 aflair, and I am glad to find myself mistaken in you ; for in 
 truth I did not expect so much from you. 
 
 PiSC. Nay, sir, I can tell you a great deal more than this, and 
 will conceal nothing from you. But I must now come to the 
 second way of angling at the top, which is with an artificial fly, 
 which also I will show you how to make before I have done, but 
 first shall acquaint you, that with this you are to angle with a 
 line longer by a yard and a half, or sometimes two yards, than 
 your rod ; and with both this and the other, in a still day in the 
 streams, in a breeze that curls the water in the still deeps, where 
 (excepting in May and June, that the best trouts will lie in 
 shallow streams to watch for prey, and even then too) you are 
 like to hit the best fish. 
 
 For the length of your rod, you are always to be governed by 
 
2o6 THE COMPLETE ANGLER. part ii. 
 
 the breadth of the river you shall chuse to angle at; and for 
 a trout-river, one of five or six yards long is commonly enough; 
 and longer, though never so neatly and artificially made, it 
 ought not to be, if you intend to fish at ease ; and if otherwise, 
 where lies the sport ? 
 
 Of these, the best that ever I saw are made in Yorkshire, 
 which are all of one piece ; that is to say, of several, six, eight, 
 ten, or twelve pieces, so neatly pieced and tied together with 
 fine thread below, and silk above, as to make it taper like a 
 switch, and to ply with a true bent to your hand ; and these too 
 are light, being made of fir-wood for two or three lengths 
 nearest to the hand, and of other wood nearer to the top, that 
 a man might very easily manage the longest of them that ever 
 I saw with one hand ; and these, when you have given over 
 angling for a season, being taken to pieces, and laid up in some 
 dry place, may afterwards be set together again in their former 
 postures, and will be as straight, sound, and good as the first 
 hour they were made ; and being laid in oil and colour, 
 according to your master Walton's direction, will last many 
 years. 
 
 The length of your line, to a man that knows how to handle 
 his rod, and to cast it, is no manner of incumbrance, excepting 
 in woody places, and in landing of a fish, which every one that 
 can afford to angle for pleasure, has somebody to do for him ; 
 and the length of line is a mighty advantage to the fishing at a 
 distance; and to fish fine, and far ofT, is the first and principal 
 rule for trout-angling. 
 
 Your line in this case should never be less, nor ever exceed 
 two hairs next to the hook; for one (though some, I know, will 
 pretend to more art than their fellows) is indeed too few, the 
 least accident, with the finest hand, being sufficient to break it : 
 but he that cannot kill a trout of twenty inches long with two, in 
 a river clear of wood and weeds, as this and some others of ours 
 are, deserves not the name of an angler. 
 
 Now, to have your whole line as it ought to be, two of the 
 first lengths nearest the hook should be of two hairs a-piece ; the 
 next three lengths above them of three ; the next three above 
 
CHAP. V. THE SFXOND DAY. 207 
 
 them of four; and so of five, and six, and seven, to the very top : 
 by which means your rod and tackle will, in a manner, be taper 
 from your very hand to your hook ; your line will fall much 
 better and straighter, and cast your fly to any certain place, to 
 which the hand and eye shall direct it, with less weight and 
 violence, than would otherwise circle the water, and fright away 
 the fish. 
 
 In casting your line, do it always before you, and so that your 
 fly may first fall upon the water, and as little of your line with it 
 as is possible; though if the wind be stiff, you will then of 
 necessity be compelled to drown a good part of your line to keep 
 your fly in the water : and in casting your fly, you must aim at 
 the further or nearer bank as the wind serves your turn, which 
 also will be with and against you, on the same side, severr.^, 
 times in an hour, as the river winds in its course, and you will be 
 forced to angle up and down by turns accordingly, but en- 
 deavour, as much as you can, to have the wind, evermore, on 
 your back. And always be sure to stand as far off the bank as 
 your length will give you leave when you throw to the contrary 
 side : though when the wind will not permit you so to do, and 
 that you are constrained to angle on the same side whereon you 
 stand, you must then stand on the very brink of the river, and 
 cast your fly to the utmost length of your rod and line, up or 
 down the river, as the gale serves. 
 
 It only remains, touching your line, to inquire whether your 
 two hairs next to the hook are better twisted or open ? And for 
 that I should declare that I think the open way the better, 
 because it makes less show in the water, but that I have found 
 an inconvenience, or two, or three, that have made me almos: 
 weary of that way; of which, one is, that, without dispute, they 
 are not so strong open as twisted ; another, that they are not 
 easily to be fastened of so exact an equal length in the arming 
 that the one will not cause the other to bag, by which means a 
 man has but one hair upon the matter to trust to ; and the last 
 is that these loose flying hairs are not only more apt to catch 
 upon every twig or bent they meet with, but, moreover, the hook, 
 in falling upon the water, will, very often, rebound and fly back 
 
2o8 THE COMPLETE ANGLER. part ii. 
 
 betwixt the hairs, and there stick (which, in a rough water 
 especially, is not presently to be discerned by the angler), so as 
 the point of the hook shall stand reversed ; by which means your 
 fly swims backward, makes a much greater circle in the water, 
 and till taken home to you and set right, will never raise any 
 fish, or, if it should, I am sure, but by a very extraordinary 
 chance, can hit none. 
 
 Having done with both these ways of fishing at the top, the 
 length of your rod, and line and all, I am next to teach you how 
 to make a fly; and afterwards of what dubbing you are to make 
 the several flies I shall hereafter name to you. 
 
 In making a fly then, which is not a hackle or palmer-fly (for 
 of those, and their several kinds, we shall have occasion to speak 
 every month in the year), you are first to hold your hook fast 
 betwixt the fore-finger and thumb of your left hand, with the 
 back of the shank upwards, and the point towards your finger's 
 ends; then take a strong small silk, of the colour of the fly you 
 intend to make, wax it well with wax of the same colour too (to 
 which end you are always, by the way, to h^ve wax of all colours 
 about you), and draw it betwixt your finger and thumb, to the 
 head of the shank, and then whip it twice or thrice about the 
 bare hook, which you must know is done, both to prevent 
 slipping, and also that the shank of the hook may not cut 
 the hairs of your towght, which sometimes it will otherwise 
 do: which being done, take your line, and draw it likewise 
 betwixt your finger and thumb, holding the hook so fast as 
 only to suffer it to pass by, until you have the knot of your 
 towght almost to the middle of the shank of your hook, on the 
 inside of it ; then whip your silk twice or thrice about both hook 
 and line, as hard as the strength of the silk will permit ; which 
 being done, strip the feather for the wings proportionable to the 
 bigness of your fly, placing that side downwards which grew 
 uppermost before, upon the back of the hook, leaving so much 
 only as to serve for the length of the wing of the point of the 
 plume, lying reversed from the end of the shank upwards; 
 then whip your silk twice or thrice about the root-end of the 
 feather, hook, and towght; which being done, clip off the root- 
 
CHAP. V. THE SECOND DAY. 209 
 
 end of the feather close by the arming, and then whip the silk 
 fast and firm about the hook and towght, until you come to the 
 bend of the hook, but not further, as you do at London, and so 
 make a very unhandsome, and, in plain English, a very un- 
 natural and shapeless fly; which being done, cut away the end 
 of your towght, and fasten it, and then take your dubbing, which 
 is to make the body of your fly, as much as you think convenient, 
 and holding it lightly with your hook betwixt the finger and 
 thumb of your left hand, take your silk with the right, and 
 twisting it betwixt the finger and thumb of that hand, the 
 dubbing will spin itself about the silk, which when it has done, 
 whip it about the armed hook backward, till you come to the 
 setting on of the wings, and then take the feather for the wings, 
 and divide it equally into two parts, and turn them back towards 
 the bend of the hook, the one on the one side and the other on 
 the other of the shank, holding them fast in that posture betwixt 
 the fore-finger and thumb of your left hand ; which done, warp 
 them so down as to stand and slope towards the bend of the 
 hook ; and having warped up to the end of the shank, hold the 
 fly fast betwixt the finger and thumb of your left hand, and 
 then take the silk betwixt the finger and thumb of your right 
 hand, and where the warping ends, pinch or nip it with your 
 thumb-nail against your finger, and strip away the remainder of 
 your dubbing from the silk, and then with the bare silk whip it 
 once or twice about, make the wings to stand in due order, fasten, 
 and cut it ofl"; after which, with the point of a needle, raise up 
 the dubbing gently from the warp, twitch off the superfluous 
 hairs of your dubbing; leave the wings of an equal length, your 
 fly will never else swim true, and the work is done. And this 
 way of making a fly, which is certainly the best of all other, was 
 taught me by a kinsman of mine, one Captain Henry Jackson, 
 a near neighbour, an admirable fly-angler, by many degrees the 
 best fly-maker that ever I yet met with. And now that I have 
 told you how a fly is to be made, you shall presently see me 
 make one, with which you may peradventure take a trout this 
 morning, notwithstanding the unlikeliness of the day; for it is 
 now nine of the clock, and fish will begin to rise, if they will rise 
 
 14 
 
2IO THE COMPLETE ANGLER. part ii. 
 
 to-day : I will walk along by you, and look on, and after dinner 
 I will proceed in my lecture of fly-fishing-. 
 
 VlAT. I confess I long to be at the river, and yet I could sit 
 here all day to hear you : but some of the one, and some of the 
 other, will do well; and I have a mighty ambition to take a 
 trout in your river Dove. 
 
 PiSC. I warrant you shall : I would not for more than I will 
 speak of but you should, seeing I have so extolled my river to 
 you : nay, I will keep you here a month, but you shall have one 
 good day of sport before you go. 
 
 ViAT. You will find me, I doubt, too tractable that way ; for 
 in good earnest, if business would give me leave, and that it 
 were fit, I could find in my heart to stay with you for ever. 
 
 PiSC. I thank you, sir, for that kind expression; and now let 
 me look out my things to make this fly. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 A PRACTICAL LESSON IN FLY-FISHING FOR TROUT 
 AND GRAYLING. 
 
 PiSC. Boy, come, give me my dubbing-bag here presently; 
 and now, sir, since I find you so honest a man, I will make no 
 scruple to lay open my treasure before you. 
 
 ViAT. Did ever any one see the like ! What a heap of 
 trumpery is here ! Certainly never an angler in Europe has 
 his shop half so well furnished as you have. 
 
 PiSC. You, perhaps, may think now, that I rake together this 
 trumpery, as you call it, for show only ; to the end that such as 
 see it, which are not many I assure you, may think me a great 
 master in the art of angling : but, let me tell you, here are some 
 colours, as contemptible as they seem here, that are very hard 
 to be got; and scarce any one of them which, if it should be 
 lost, I should not miss, and be concerned about the loss of it, 
 too, once in the year. But look you, sir, amongst all these I 
 
CHAP. VI. THE SECOND DAY. 211 
 
 will choose out these two colours only, of which this is bear's 
 hair, this darker, no great matter what; but I am sure I have 
 killed a great deal of fish with it; and with one or both of these 
 you shall take trout or grayling this very day, notwithstanding 
 all disadvantages, or my art shall fail me. 
 
 ViAT. You promise comfortably, and I have a great deal of 
 reason to believe everything you say; but I wish the fly were 
 made that we were at it. 
 
 PiSC. That will not be long in doing: and pray observe then. 
 You see first how I hold my hook, and thus I begin. Look 
 you, here are my first two or three whips about the bare hook ; 
 thus I join hook and line ; thus I put on my wings ; thus I twirl 
 and lap on my dubbing ; thus I work it up towards the head ; 
 thus I part my wings ; thus I nip my superfluous dubbing from 
 my silk ; thus fasten ; thus trim and adjust my fly ; and there's 
 a fly made ; and now how do you like it ? 
 
 ViAT. In earnest, admirably well, and it resembles a fly : but 
 we about London make the bodies of our flies both much bigger 
 and longer, so long as even almost to the very beard of the 
 hook, 
 
 PiSC. I know it very well, and had one of those flies given ^ 
 
 me by an honest gentlem an, who came with my fathe r Walton yW) ^ 
 to give me a visit ; which (to ^tell you the tj iithj_rhung in my \^ 
 p artnur ;^indo \v to laugh "aTLJbut^ sir, you know the proverb, 
 "Those who go to Rome mustjio. as they at Rome do;" and 
 believe me, you must here make your flies after this fashion, or 
 you will take no fish. Come, I will look you out a line, and you 
 shall put it on, and try it. There, sir, I think you are fitted ; and 
 now beyond the further end of the walk you shall begin : I see, K> 
 at that bend of the water above, the^aircris2s_thewater a little : ^ nj 
 knit your line first here, and then goup thither, and see what 
 you can do. ^ 
 
 ViAT. Did you see that, sir ? 
 
 PiSC. Yes, I saw the fish : and he saw you too, which made 
 him turn short. You must fish further off", if you intend to have 
 any sport here ; this is no New River, let me tell you. That 
 was a good trout, believe me : did you touch him ? 
 
 ■^ 
 
 AfJ 
 
212 THE COMPLETE ANGLER. part ii. 
 
 ViAT. No, I would 1 had, we would not have parted so. Look 
 you, there is another ; this is an excellent fly. 
 
 Pisa That fly I am sure would kill fish, if the day were right: 
 but they only chew at it, I see, and will not take it. Come, 
 sir, let us return back to the fishing-house : this still water, I 
 see, will not do our business to-day : you shall now, if you please, 
 make a fly yourself, and try what you can do in the streams with 
 that : and I know a trout taken with a fly of your own making 
 will please you better than twenty -sr^th one of mine. Give me 
 that bag again, sirrah : look you, sir, there is a hook, towght, 
 silk, and a feather for the wings : be doing with those, and I will 
 look you out a dubbing that I think will do. 
 
 ViAT. This is a very little hook. 
 
 PiSC. That may serve to inform you that it is for a very little 
 fly, and you must make your wings accordingly ; for as the case 
 stands, it must be a little fly, and a very little one too, that must 
 do your business. Well said ! believe me, you shift your fingers 
 very handsomely ; I doubt I have taken upon me to teach my 
 master. So here's your dubbing now. 
 
 VlAT. This dubbing is very black. 
 
 PiSC. It appears so in hand ; but step to the door and hold 
 it up betwixt your eye and the sun, and it will appear a shining 
 red ; let me tell you, never a man in England can discern the 
 true colour of a dubbing any way but that, and therefore chuse 
 always to make your flies on such a bright sunshine day as this, 
 which also you may the better do, because it is worth nothing to 
 fish in : here, put it on, and be sure to make the body of your fly 
 as tender as you can. Very good ! upon my word you have made 
 a marvellous handsome fly. 
 
 ViAT. I am very glad to hear it ; it is the first that ever I 
 made of this kind in my life. 
 
 PiSC. Away, awaj ! you are a doctor at it ; but I will not c om- 
 mend youloo^much,~lesrTmake_yoii_proud! Cohie, put it on, 
 and yoiPshaH how go downward to some streams betwixt the 
 rocks below the little foot bridge you see there, and try your 
 fortune. Take heed of slipping into the water as you follow me 
 under this rock: so, now you are over, and now throw in. 
 
CHAP. VI. THE SECOND DAY. 213 
 
 ViAT. This is a fine stream indeed .-—there's one! I have 
 him. 
 
 Pisc. And a precious catch you have of him : pull him out ! 
 I see you have a tender hand: this is a diminutive gentleman, 
 e'en throw him in again, and let him grow till he be more worthy 
 your anger. 
 
 ViAT. Pardon me, sir, all's fish that comes to thejiookjyith 
 me now. — AnotTier7~ ' " 
 
 PiSC. And of the same standing. 
 
 ViAT. I see I shall have good sport now : another ! and a 
 grayling. Why, you have fish here at will. 
 
 PiSC. Come, come, cross the bridge, and go down the other 
 side lower, where you will find finer streams and better sport, I 
 hope, than this. Look you, sir, here is a fine stream now, you 
 have length enough, stand a little further off, let me entreat you, 
 and do but fish this stream like an artist, and peradventure a 
 good fish may fall to your share. — How now 1 what ! is all gone ? 
 
 VlAT. No, but I touched him; but that was a fish worth 
 taking. 
 
 PiSC. Why now, let me tell you you lost that fish by your own 
 fault, and through your own eagerness and haste ; for you are 
 never to offer to strike a good fish, if he do not strike himself, 
 till you first see him turn his head after he has taken your fly, 
 and then you can never strain your tackle in the striking, if you 
 strike with any manner of moderation. Come, throw in once 
 again, and fish me this stream by inches ; for I assure you here 
 are very good fish ; both trout and grayling lie here ; and at that 
 great stone on the other side, it is ten to one a good trout gives 
 you the meeting. 
 
 VlAT. I have him now, but he is gone down towards the 
 bottom : I cannot see what he is, yet he should be a good fish 
 by his weight ; but he makes no great stir. 
 
 PiSC. Why then, by what you say, I dare venture to assure 
 you it is a grayling, who is one of the deadest-hearted fishes in 
 the world, and the bigger he is, the more easily taken. Look 
 you, now you see him plain ; I told you what he was : bring 
 hither that landing-net, boy : and now, sir, he is your own ; and 
 
214 THE COMPLETE ANGLER. part ii. 
 
 believe me a good one, sixteen inches long, I warrant him : I 
 have taken none such this year. 
 
 ViAT. I never saw a grayling before look so black. 
 
 PiSC. Did you not ? Why then, let me tell you, that you 
 never saw one before in right season ; for then a grayling is very 
 black about his head, gills, and down his back, and has his 
 belly of a dark grey, dappled with black spots, as you see this 
 is ; and I am apt to conclude that from thence he derives his 
 name of umber. Though I must tell you this fish is past his 
 prime, and begins to decline, and was in better season at Christ- 
 mas than he is now. But move on : for it grows towards dinner- 
 time ; and there is a very great and fine stream below, under that 
 rock, that fills the deepest pool in all the river, where you are 
 almost sure of a good fish. 
 
 VlAT. L ^t him come, I'll try a fall with him. But I had 
 thought thatTh^~gri3TingTii^~been^ season with the 
 
 trout, and had come in and gone out with him. 
 
 PiSC. Oh, no ! assure yourself a grayling is a winter fish; but 
 such a one as would deceive any but such as know him very well 
 indeed ; for his flesh, even in his worst season, is so firm, and 
 will so easily calver, that in plain truth he is very good meat at 
 all times ; but in his perfect season (which, by the way, none but 
 an overgrown grayling will ever be), I think him so good a fish, 
 as to be little inferior to the best trout that ever I tasted in my 
 life. 
 
 VlAT. Here's another skipjack ; and I have raised five or six 
 more at least while you were speaking. Well, go thy way, little 
 Dove ! thou art the finest river that ever I saw, and the fullest 
 offish. Indeed, sir, I like it so well that I am afraid you will be 
 troubled with me once a year, so long as we two live. 
 
 PiSC. I am afraid I shall not, sir: but were you once here a 
 May or a June, if good sport would tempt you, I should then 
 expect you would sometimes see me; for you would then say it 
 was a fine river indeed, if you had once seen the sport at the 
 height. 
 
 ViAT. Which I will do, if I live, and that you please to give 
 me leave. There was one, and there another. 
 
CHAP. VI, THE SECOND DAY. ^ig 
 
 PiSC. And all this in a strange river, and with a fly of your 
 own making I why, what a dangerous man are you ! 
 
 VlAT. I, sir: but who taught me? and as Damastas says 
 by his man Dorus, so you may say by me — 
 
 " If any man such praises have, 
 
 Wliat then have I, that taught the knave !" 
 
 But what have we got here ? a rock springing up in the middle 
 of the river ! this is one of the oddest sights that ever I saw. 
 
 PiSC. Wli^[,_sii:,jQx)mJhat pike that you see standing up there J 
 
 distantjxom. the rock, thiTis^ called PTkePool. And young Mr. ^/f 
 
 IzaakJWalton was so pleased with it, as to draw it in landscape, /, j 
 
 in blackand white, in a blank book I have at home,_ as he has ^^Co» 
 
 done s everal _^-os^ect s of m y house also, which I keep for a C4r^ 
 m ^iorial of h is f avour, and w ill show you when we come up to 
 
 d inne r. ^^.^ 
 
 VlAT. Ha^j7nrmgr_n2astn- TZRP^ Walfnn hfpp V|f^rP^Jhnn P vA^d^^fc'^ 
 
 PiSC. Yes, marry has he, sir, and that again and aga'in, too, 
 a nd in France since, and at Rome, and at Venice, and I can't «^ 
 
 tell wHer^Ttniri intend to ask him a great many hard ques- 
 ti ons jo soon^ ^Tcan see him, which will be, God willing, next y "^ 
 rnontlL___Jji-the meantime, sir, to come to this fine stream at the 
 head ^f thi s great pool, you must venture over these slippery, 
 cobbli^g^stones ; believe me, sir, there you were nimble, or else 
 you had been down ; but now you are got over, look to your- 
 self : for, on my word, if a fish rise here, he is like to be such 
 a one as will endanger your tackle : how now ! 
 
 VlAT. I think you have such command here over the fishes, 
 that you can raise them by your word, as they say conjurers can 
 do spirits, and afterward make them do what you bid them, 
 for here's a trout has taken my fly, I had rather have lost a 
 crown. What luck's this ! he was a lovely fish, and turned up 
 a side like a salmon. 
 
 PlSC. O, sir, t his i s^ a_\4:2X-Avhere you sometimes win, and -^jfy 
 
 must sometimes expectloJos_e. Never concern yourself for the (T J< 
 loss oT^^ouPfl^ for ten to one I teach you jo mak e a better* ^ 
 WKoTthat calls ? ^^^ > 
 
 :3 
 
2i6 THE COMPLETE ANGLER. part ii, 
 
 Serv. ^Srrj^will^it^ please you to come to dinner i* 
 
 PiSC. We come, ^^ixjiear, sir; we are called, and now take 
 yoiir_choice^ whether you will climb this steep hill before jou, 
 frpm^the top of which you will go directly into the house, or 
 b ack again o ver these stepping-stones, and about by the bridge. 
 
 VlAT. Nay^ure, the nearest way is best ; at least my stornach 
 tells me so; and I am now so well_acq^uaint ed with your rocks 
 that I fear them not. 
 
 PiSC. Come, then, follow me ; and so soon as we have dined, 
 we will down again to the little house, where I will begin at the 
 place I left off about fly-fishing, and read you another lecture; 
 for I have a great deal more to say upon that subject. 
 
 ViAT. The more the better ; I could never have met with a 
 more obliging master, my first excepted ; nor such sport can all 
 the rivers about London ever afford, as is to be found in this 
 pretty river. 
 
 PiSC. You deserve to have better, both because I see you are 
 willing to take pains, and for liking this little so well; and 
 better I hope to show you before we part. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 OF ARTIFICIAL FLIES FOR THE MONTHS OF JANUARY, 
 FEBRUARY, MARCH, APRIL, AND MAY; SHOWING ALSO 
 HOW TO DIB OR DAPE WITH THE GREEN-DRAKE OR 
 MAY-FLY, AND HOW TO MAKE THAT FAMOUS FLY 
 ARTIFICIALLY. 
 
 ViAT. Come, sir, having now well dined, and being again set 
 in your little house, I will now challenge your promise, and 
 entreat you to proceed in your instruction for fly-fishing ; which 
 that you may be the better encouraged to do, I will assure you 
 that I have not lost, I think, one syllable of what you have told 
 me ; but very well retain all your directions, both for the rod, 
 line, and making a fly ; and now desire an account of the flies 
 themselves. 
 
CHAP. VII. THE SECOND DAY. 217 
 
 PiSC. Why, sir, I am ready to give it you, and shall have the 
 whole afternoon to do it in, if nobody come in to interrupt us ; 
 for you must know (besides the unfitness of the day) that the 
 afternoons, so early in March, signify very little for angling 
 with a fly, though with a minnow, or a worm, something might 
 (I confess) be done. 
 
 To begin, then, where I left off, my father Walton tells us of 
 but twelve artificial flies only, to angle with at the top, and 
 gives their names ; of which some are common with us here ; 
 and I think I guess at most of them by his description, and I 
 believe they all breed and are taken in our rivers, though we do 
 not make them either of the same dubbing or fashion. And it 
 may be in the rivers about London, which I presume he has 
 most frequented, and wdiere it is likely he has done most 
 execution, there is not much notice taken of many more . but 
 we are acquainted with several others here, though perhaps I 
 may reckon some of his by other names, too; but if I do, I 
 shall make you amends by an addition to his catalogue. And 
 although the forenamed great master in the art of angling, for 
 so in truth he is, tells you that no man should, in honesty, catch 
 a trout in the middle of March, yet I hope he will give a man 
 leave sooner to take a grayling, which, as I told you, is m the 
 dead months in his best season . and do assure you (which I 
 remember by a very remarkable token), I did once take, upon 
 the sixth day of December, one, and only one, of the biggest 
 graylings, and the best in season, that ever I yet saw or tasted ; 
 and do usually take trouts too, and with a fly, not only before 
 the middle of this month, h/jt almost every year in February, 
 unless it be a very ill sprwig indeed; and have sometimes in 
 January, so early as New/year's tide, and in frost and snow, 
 taken grayling in a warm sunshine day for an hour or two about 
 noon ; and to fish for him with a grub, it is then the best time 
 of all. 
 
 I shall therefore begin my fly-fishing with that month, though 
 1 confess very few begin so soon, and that such as are so 
 fond of the sport as to embrace all opportunities, can rarely in 
 that month find a day fit for their purpose ; and tell you, that 
 
2i8 THE COMPLETE ANGLER. part ii. 
 
 upon my knowledge these flies in a warm sun, for an hour or 
 two in the day, are certainly taken. 
 
 JANUARY. 
 
 1. A Red Brown, with wings of the male of a mallard 
 almost white: the dubbing of the tail of a black long-coated 
 cur, such as they commonly make muffs of; for the hair on the 
 tail of such a dog dies and turns to a red-brown, but the hair of 
 a smooth-coated dog of the same colour will not do, because it 
 will not die, but retains its natural colour, and this fly is taken 
 in a warm sun, this whole month through. 
 
 2. There is also a very little BRIGHT DUN Gnat, as Httle as 
 can possibly be made, so little as never to be fished with, with 
 above one hair next the hook; and this is to be made of a 
 mixed dubbing of marten's fur, and the white of a hare's scut, 
 with a very white and small wing; and it is no great matter 
 how fine you fish, for nothing will rise in this month, but a 
 grayhng; and of them 1 never, at this season, saw any taken 
 with a fly, of above a foot long in my life : but of little ones 
 about the bigness of a smelt, in a warm day, and a glowing sun, 
 you may take enough with these two flies, and they are both 
 taken the whole month through. 
 
 FEBRUARY. 
 
 1. Where the red-brown of the last month ends, another 
 almost of the same colour begins, with this saving, that the 
 dubbing of this must be of something a blacker colour, and 
 both of them wrapped on with red silk. The dubbing that 
 should make this fly, and that is the truest colour, is to be got 
 off the black spot off a hog's ear : not that a black spot in any 
 part of the hog will not afford the same colour, but that the hair 
 in that place is, by many degrees, softer, and more fit for the 
 purpose. His wing must be as the other [i. in January]; and 
 this kills all this month, and is called the lesser red-brown. 
 
 2. This month, also, a plain hackle, or palmer-fly, made with 
 a rough black body, either of black spaniel's fur, or the whirl of 
 
CHAP. VII. THE SECOND DAY. 219 
 
 an ostrich feather, and the red hackle of a capon over all, will 
 kill, and, if the weather be right, make very good sport. 
 
 3. Also a lesser hackle, with a black body, also silver twist 
 over that, and a red feather over all, will fill your pannier, if the 
 month be open, and not bound up in ice and snow, with very 
 good fish ; but, in case of a frost and snow, you are to angle 
 only with the smallest gnats, browns, and duns you can make; 
 and with those are only to expect graylings no bigger than sprats. 
 
 4. In this month, upon a whirling round water, we have a 
 great hackle, the body black, and wrapped with a red feather of 
 a capon untrimmed; that is, the whole length of the hackle 
 staring out (for we sometimes barb the hackle-feather short all 
 over; sometimes barb it only a little, and sometimes barb it 
 close underneath), leaving the whole length of the feather on 
 the top or back of the fly, which makes it swim better, and, as 
 occasion serves, kills very great fish. 
 
 5. We make use, also, in this month, of another great hackle, 
 the body black, and ribbed over with gold twist and a red 
 feather over all; which also does great execution. 
 
 6. Also a great dun, made with dun bear's hair, and the wings 
 of the grey feather of a mallard near unto his tail ; which is 
 absolutely the best fly can be thrown upon a river this month, 
 and with which an angler shall have admirable sport. 
 
 7. We have also this month the great blue dun, the dubbing 
 of the bottom of bear's hair next to the roots, mixed with a little 
 blue camlet, the wings of a dark grey feather of a mallard. 
 
 8. We have also this month a dark-brown, the dubbing of the 
 brown hair off" the flank of a brended cow, and the wings of the 
 grey drake's feather. 
 
 And note, that these several hackles, or palmer-flies, are 
 some for one water and one sky, and some for another ; and, 
 according to the change of those, we alter their size and 
 colour ; and note also, that both in this, and all other months 
 of the year, when you do not certainly know what fly is taken, 
 or cannot see any fish to rise, you are then to put on a small 
 hackle, if the water be clear, or a bigger if something dark, 
 until you have taken one; and then thrusting your finger 
 
220 THE COMPLETE ANGLER. part ii. 
 
 through his gills, to pull out his gorge, which being opened 
 with your knife, you will then discover what fly is taken, and 
 may fit yourself accordingly. 
 
 For the making of a hackle, or palmer-fly, my father Walton 
 has already given you sufficient direction. 
 
 MARCH. 
 
 For this month you are to use all the same hackles and flies 
 with the other; but you are to make them less. 
 
 1. We have, besides, for this month, a little dun, called a 
 whirling dun (though it is not the whirling dun, indeed, which 
 is one of the best flies we have) ; and for this the dubbing must 
 be of the bottom fur of a squirrel's tail ; and the wing, of the grey 
 feather of a drake. 
 
 2. Also a bright brown ; the dubbing either of the brown of a 
 spaniel, or that of a red cow's flank, with a grey wing. 
 
 3. Also a whitish dun; made of the roots of camel's hair; and 
 the wings, of the grey feather of a mallard. 
 
 4. There is also for this month a fly called the thorn-tree fly; 
 the dubbing an absolute black, mixed with eight or ten hairs of 
 Isabella-coloured mohair; the body as little as can be made; 
 of a bright mallard's feather. An admirable fly, and in great 
 repute amongst us for a killer. 
 
 5. There is, besides this, another Blue Dun, the dubbing of 
 which it is made being thus to be got. Take a small-tooth 
 comb, and with it comb the neck of a black greyhound, and the 
 down that sticks in the teeth will be the finest blue that ever you 
 saw. The wings of this fly can hardly be too white, and he is 
 taken about the tenth of this month, and lasteth till the four-and- 
 twentieth. 
 
 6. From the tenth of this month also, till towards the end, is 
 taken a little Black Gnat; the dubbing either of the fur of a 
 black water-dog, or the down of a young black water-coot, the 
 wing of the male of a mallard as white as may be, the body as 
 little as you possibly can make it, and the wings as short as his 
 body. 
 
CHAP. VII. THE SECOND DAY. 221 
 
 7. From the sixteenth of this month also to the end of it, we 
 use a Bright Brown ; the dubbing for which is to be had out 
 of a skinner's Hme-pits, and of the hair of an abortive calf, which 
 the lime will turn to be so bright as to shme like gold: for the 
 wings of this fly, the feather of a brown hen is best, which fly is 
 taken till the tenth of April. 
 
 APRIL. 
 
 All the same hackles and flies that were taken in March will 
 be taken in this month also, with this distinction only concerning 
 the flies, that all the browns be lapped with red silk, and the 
 duns with yellow. 
 
 1. To these a small BRIGHT Brown, made of spaniel's fur, 
 with a light grey wing, in a bright day, and a clear water, is 
 very well taken. 
 
 2. We have too a little Dark Brown, the dubbing of that 
 colour, and some violet camlet mixed, and the wing, of the grey 
 feather of a mallard. 
 
 3. From the sixth of this month to the tenth, we have also 
 a fly called the Violet Fly, made of a dark violet stuff, with 
 the wings of the grey feather of a mallard. 
 
 4. About the twelfth of this month comes in the fly called the 
 Whirling Dun, which is taken every day, about the midtime 
 of day, all this month through, and, by fits, from thence to the 
 end of June, and is commonly made of the down of the fox-cub, 
 which is of an ash colour at the roots next the skin, and ribbed 
 about with yellow silk; the wings, of the pale grey feather of a 
 mallard. 
 
 5. There is also a Yellow Dun, the dubbing of camel's hair, 
 and yellow camlet or wool, mixed, and a white-grey wing. 
 
 6. There is also this month another Little Brown, besides 
 that mentioned before, made with a very slender body, the 
 dubbing of dark brown and violet camlet, mixed, and a grey 
 wing, which, though the direction for the making be near the 
 other, is yet another fly, and will take when the other will not, 
 especially in a bright day and a clear water. 
 
222 THE COMPLETE ANGLER. part ii. 
 
 7. About the twentieth of this month comes in a fly called 
 Horse-flesh-fly ; the dubbing of which is a blue mohair, 
 with pink- coloured and red tammy mixed, a light coloured wing, 
 and a dark brown head. This fly is taken best in an evening, 
 and kills from two hours before sunset till twilight, and is taken 
 the month through. 
 
 MAY. 
 
 And now, sir, that we are entering into the month of May, I 
 think it requisite to beg not only your attention, but also your 
 best patience ; for I must now be a Httle tedious with you, and 
 dwell upon this month longer than ordinary; which, that you 
 may the better endure, I must tell you, this month deserves and 
 requires to be insisted on ; forasmuch as it alone, and the next 
 following, afford more pleasure to the fly-angler than all the rest : 
 and here it is, that you are to expect an account of the green- 
 drake, and stone-fly, promised you so long ago, and some others 
 that are peculiar to this month, and part of the month following ; 
 and that, though not so great either in bulk or name, do yet 
 stand in competition with the two before-named ; and so, that it 
 is yet undecided amongst the anglers, to which of the pre- 
 tenders to the title of the May-fly it does properly and duly 
 belong ; neither dare I, where so many of the learned in this art 
 of angling are got in dispute about the controversy, take upon 
 me to determine ; but I think I ought to have a vote amongst 
 them, and according to that privilege, shall give you my free 
 opinion ; and peradventure when I have told you all, you may 
 incline to think me in the right. 
 
 VlAT. I have so great a deference to your judgment in these 
 matters, that I must always be of your opinion ; and the more 
 you speak, the faster I grow to my attention, for I can never be 
 weary of hearing you upon this subject. 
 
 Plsc. Why that's encouragement enough ; and now prepare 
 yourself for a tedious lecture; but I will first begin with the flies 
 of less esteem, though almost anything will take a trout in May, 
 that I may afterwards insist the longer upon those of greater 
 
CHAP. VII. THE SECOND DAY. 223 
 
 note and reputation ; know therefore, that the first fly we take 
 notice of in this month, is called 
 
 1. The Turkey-fly, the dubbing ravelled out of some blue 
 stuff, and lapt about with yellow silk; the wings, of a grey 
 mallard's feather. 
 
 2. Next, a Great Hackle or Palmer-fly, with a yellow 
 body ribbed with gold twist, and large wings, of a mallard's 
 feather dyed yellow, with a red capon's hackle over all. 
 
 3. Then a Black Fly, the dubbing of a black spaniel's fur; 
 and the wings, of a grey mallard's feather. 
 
 4. After that, a Light Brown, with a slender body, the 
 dubbing twirled upon small red silk, and raised with the point 
 of a needle, that the ribs or rows of silk may appear through ; 
 the wings, of the grey feather of the mallard. 
 
 5. Next, a Little Dun, the dubbing of a bear's dun whirled 
 upon yellow silk ; the wings, of the grey feather of a mallard. 
 
 6. Then a White Gnat, with a pale wing, and a black head. 
 
 7. There is also in this month, a fly called the Peacock-FLY : 
 the body made of a whirl of a peacock's feather, with a red 
 head; and wings, of a mallard's feather. 
 
 8. We have then another very killing fly, known by the name 
 of the Dun-cut ; the dubbing of which is a bears dun, with a 
 little blue and yellow mixed with it ; a large dun wing, and two 
 horns at the head, made of the hairs of a squirrel's tail. 
 
 9. The next, is a Cow- lady, a little fly; the body, of a 
 peacock's feather ; the wing, of a red feather, or strips of the 
 red hackle of a cock. 
 
 10. We have then, the Cow-DUNG-FLY ; the dubbing, light 
 brown and yellow mixed; the wing, the dark grey feather of 
 a mallard. And note, that besides these above mentioned, all 
 the same hackles and flies, the hackles only brighter, and the 
 flies smaller, that are taken in April, will also be taken this 
 month, as all browns and duns : and now I come to my Stone- 
 FLY and Green-drake, which are the matadores for trout and 
 grayling, and in their season kill more fish in our Derbyshire 
 rivers than all the rest, past and to come, in the whole year 
 besides. 
 
224 THE COMPLETE ANGLER. part ii. 
 
 But first I am to tell you, that we have four several flies 
 which contend for the title of the May-fly; namely, — 
 
 The Green-drake. 
 The Stone-fly. 
 The Black- FLY, and 
 The little yellow May-fly. 
 
 And all these have their champions and advocates to dispute 
 and plead their priority; though I do not understand why the 
 two last-named should ; the first two having so manifestly the 
 advantage, both in their beauty, and the wonderful execution 
 they do in their season. 
 
 II. Of these the Green-drake comes in about the twentieth 
 of this month, or betwixt that and the latter end; for they are 
 sometimes sooner, and sometimes later, according to the quality 
 of the year; but never well taken till towards the end of this 
 month, and the beginning of June. The Stone-FLY comes 
 much sooner, so early as the middle of April; but is never well 
 taken till towards the middle of May, and continues to kill much 
 longer than the Green-drake stays with us, so long as to 
 the end almost of June ; and indeed, so long as there are any of 
 them to be seen upon the water; and sometimes in an artificial 
 fly, and late at night, or before sunrise in the morning, longer. 
 
 Now both these flies, and I believe many others, though I 
 think not all, are certainly and demonstratively bred in the very 
 rivers where they are taken : our cadis or cod-bait which lie 
 under ones in the bottom of the water, most of them turning 
 into those two flies, and being gathered in the husk, or crust, 
 near the time of their maturity, are very easily known and 
 distinguished, and are, of all other, the most remarkable, both 
 for their size, as being of all other the biggest, the shortest of 
 them being a full inch long or more ; and for the execution they 
 do, the trout and grayling being much more greedy of them 
 than of any others; and indeed the trout never feeds fat, nor 
 comes into his perfect season, till these flies come in. 
 
 Of these the GRn:EN-DRAKE never discloses from his husk, 
 till he be first there grown to full maturity, body, wings, and 
 
CHAP. VII. THE SECOND DAY, 225 
 
 all; and then he creeps out of his cell, but with his wings 
 so crimpt and ruffled, by being prest together in that narrow 
 room, that they are, for some hours, totally useless to him ; by 
 which means he is compelled either to creep upon the flags, 
 sedges, and blades of grass, if his first rising from the bottom 
 of the water be near the banks of the river, till the air and sun 
 stiffen and smooth them • or, if his first appearance above water 
 happen to be in the middle, he then lies upon the surface of the 
 water like a ship at hull ; for his feet are totally useless to him 
 there, and he cannot creep upon the water as the Stone-fly 
 can, until his wings have got stiffness to fly with (if by some 
 trout or grayling he be not taken in the interim, which ten to 
 one he is), and then his wings stand high, and closed exact 
 upon his back, like the butterfly, and his motion in flying is the 
 same. His body is, in some, of a paler, in others, of a darker 
 yellow; for they are not all exactly of a colour, ribbed with 
 rows of green, long, slender, and growing sharp towards the 
 tail, at the end of which he has three long small whisks of a 
 very dark colour, almost black, and his tail turns up towards 
 his back like a mallard ; from whence, questionless, he has his 
 name of the Green-drake. These, as I think I told you 
 before, we commonly dape, or dibble with, and having gathered 
 great store of them into a long draw-box, with holes in the 
 cover to give them air (where also they will continue fresh and 
 vigorous a night or more), we take them out thence by the 
 wings, and bait them thus upon the hook. We first take one 
 (for we commonly fish with two of them at a time), and putting 
 the point of the hook into the thickest part of his body, under 
 one of his wings, run it directly through, and out at the other 
 side, leaving him spitted cross upon the hook ; and then taking 
 the other, put him on after the same manner, but with his head 
 the contrary way : in which posture they will live upon the hook, 
 and play with their wings, for a quarter of an hour or more ; 
 but you must have a care to keep their wings dry, both from the 
 water, and also that your fingers be not wet when you take them 
 out to bait them, for then your bait is spoiled. 
 
 Having now told you how to angle with this fly alive, I am 
 
 15 
 
2 26 THE COMPLETE ANGLER. part ii. 
 
 now to tell you next how to make an artificial fly, that will so 
 perfectly resemble him, as to be taken in a rough windy day, 
 when no flies can lie upon the water, nor are to be found 
 about the banks and sides of the river, to a wonder ; and 
 with which you shall certainly kill the best trout and grayling 
 in the river. 
 
 The artificial Green-drake, then, is made upon a large 
 hook, the dubbing, camel's hair, bright bear's hair, the soft down 
 that is combed from a hog's bristles, and yellow camlet, well 
 mixed together ; the body long, and ribbed about with green 
 silk, or rather yellow, waxed with green wax ; the whisks of the 
 tail, of the long hairs of sables, or fitchet ; and the wings, of a 
 white-grey feather of a mallard, dyed yellow, which is also to be 
 dyed thus : — 
 
 Take the root of a barbary tree, and shave it, and put to it 
 woody viss, with as much alum as a walnut, and boil your 
 feathers in it with rain water ; and they will be of a very fine 
 yellow. 
 
 I have now done with the Green-drake, excepting to tell you, 
 that he is taken at all hours during his season, whilst there is 
 any day upon the sky ; and with a made-fly I once took, ten 
 days after he was absolutely gone, in a cloudy day, after a 
 shower, and in a whistling wind, five-and-thirty very great 
 trout and graylings, between five and eight of the clock in the 
 evening, and had no less than five or six flies, with three good 
 hairs a-piece, taken from me in despite of my heart, besides. 
 
 12. I should now come next to the Stone-fly, but there is 
 another gentleman in my way, that must of necessity come in 
 between, and that is the Grey-drake, which in all shapes and 
 dimensions is perfectly the same with the other, but quite almost 
 of another colour, being of a paler and more livid yellow and 
 green, and ribbed with black quite down his body, with black 
 shining wings, and so diaphanous and tender, cob-web like, that 
 they are of no manner of use for daping ; but come in, and are 
 taken after the Green-drake, and in an artificial fly kill very 
 well ; which fly is thus made, the dubbing of the down of a hog's 
 bristles, and black spaniel's fur, mixed, and ribbed down the 
 
CHAP. VIII. THE SECOND DAY. 227 
 
 body with black silk, the whisks of the hairs of the beard of a 
 black cat, and the wings of the black-grey feather of a mallard. 
 
 And now I come to the Stone-fly; but I am afraid I have 
 already wearied your patience ; which if I have, I beseech you 
 freely tell me so, and I will defer the remaining instructions for 
 fly angling till some other time. 
 
 ViAT. No, truly, sir, I can never be weary of hearing you. 
 But if you think fit, because I am afraid I am too troublesome, 
 to refresh yourself with a glass and a pipe, you may afterwards 
 proceed, and I shall be exceedingly pleased to hear you. 
 
 PiSC. I thank you, sir, for that motion : for, believe me, I am 
 diy with talking : here, boy ! give us here a bottle and a glass ; 
 and, sir, my service to you, and to all our friends in the south. 
 
 VlAT. Your servant, sir; and I'll pledge you as heartily; for 
 the good powdered beef I eat at dinner, or something else, has 
 made me thirsty. 
 
 CHAPTER VIH. 
 
 OF THE STONE-FLY ; ALSO A LIST OF FLIES FOR JUNE, JULY, 
 AUGUST, SEPTEMBER, OCTOBER, NOVEMBER, AND DECEMBER; 
 WITH SOME REMARKS ON THE GREEN-DRAKE AND STONE- 
 FLY, AND ON POACHING. 
 
 ViAT. So, sir, I am now ready for another lesson, so soon as 
 you please to give it me. 
 
 PiSC. And I, sir, as ready to give you the best I can. Having 
 told you the time of the Stone-fly's coming in, and that he is 
 bred of a cadis in the very river where he is taken, I am next 
 to tell you that, 
 
 13. This same Stone-fly has not the patience to continue 
 in his crust, or husk, till his wings be full grown ; but so soon 
 as ever they begin to put out, that he feels himself strong (at 
 which time we call him a jack), squeezes himself out of prison, 
 and crawls to the top of some stone, where, if he can find a 
 chink that will receive him, or can creep betwixt two stones, the 
 
228 THE COMPI.ETE ANGLER. part ii. 
 
 one lying hollow upon the other, which, by the way, we also lay 
 so purposely to find them, he there lurks till his wings be full 
 grown, and there is your only place to find him, and from thence 
 doubtless he derives his name ; though, for want of such con- 
 venience, he will make shift with the hollow of a bank, or 
 any other place where the wind cannot come to fetch him off. 
 His body is long, and pretty thick, and as broad at the tail 
 almost as in the middle; his colour a very fine brown, ribbed 
 with yellow, and much yellower on the belly than the back ; he 
 has two or three whisks also at the tag of his tail, and two little 
 horns upon his head ; his wings, when full grown, are double, 
 and flat down his back, of the same colour, but rather darker 
 than his body, and longer than it, though he makes but little 
 use of them; for you shall rarely see him flying, though often 
 swimming and paddling with several feet he has under his 
 belly, upon the water, without stirring a wing: but the Drake 
 will mount steeple-high into the air, though he is to be found 
 among flags and grass, too, and indeed everywhere high and 
 low, near the river; there being so many of them in their season, 
 as, were they not a very inoffensive insect, would look like a 
 plague ; and these drakes, since I forgot to tell you before, I will 
 tell you here, are taken by the fish to that incredible degree, 
 that, upon a calm day, you shall see the still deeps continually 
 all over circles by the fishes rising, who will gorge themselves 
 with those flies, till they purge again out of their gills ; and the 
 trouts are at that time so lusty and strong, that one of eight or 
 ten inches long, will then more struggle, and tug, and more 
 endanger your tackle, than one twice as big in winter; but 
 pardon this digression. 
 
 This Stone-fly then, we dape or dibble with, as with the 
 Drake, but with this difference, that whereas the Green- 
 drake is common both to stream and still, and to all hours 
 of the day, we seldom dape with this but in the streams (for in 
 a whistling wind a made-fly in the deep is better), and rarely, 
 but early and late, it not being so proper for the midtime of the 
 day ; though a great grayling will then take it very well in a 
 sharp stream, and here and there, a trout too, but much better 
 
CHAP, viii, THE SECOND DAY. 229 
 
 towards eight, nine, ten, or eleven of the clock at night, at 
 v/hich time also the best fish rise, and the later the better^ 
 provided you can see your fly ; and when you cannot, a made- 
 fly will murder, which is to be made thus : the dubbing of bear's 
 dun, with a little brown and yellow camlet very well mixed, but 
 so placed that your fly may be more yellow on the belly and 
 towards the tail, underneath, than in any other part; and you 
 are to place two or three hairs of a black cat's beard on the top 
 of the hook, in your arming, so as to be turned up when you 
 warp on your dubbing, and to stand almost upright, and staring 
 one from another ; and note, that your fly is to be ribbed with 
 yellow silk; and the wings long and very large, of the dark 
 grey feather of a mallard. 
 
 14. The next May-fly is the Black-fly ; made with a black 
 body, of the whirl of an ostrich-feather, ribbed with silver-twist, 
 and the black hackle of a cock over all ; and is a killing fly, but 
 not to be named with either of the other. 
 
 15. The last May-fly (that is, of the four pretenders) is the 
 little Yellow May-fly ; in shape exactly the same with the 
 Green-drake, but a very little one, and of as bright a yellow 
 as can be seen; which is made of a bright yellow camlet, and 
 the wings of a white-grey feather dyed yellow. 
 
 16. The last fly for this month (and which continues all June, 
 though it comes in the middle of May) is the fly called the 
 Camlet-fly, in shape like a moth, with fine diapered or water 
 wings, and with which, as I told you before, I sometimes used to 
 dibble; and grayhng will rise mightily at it. But the artificial 
 fly — which is only in use amongst our anglers — is made of a 
 dark brown shining camlet, ribbed over with a very small light 
 green silk, the wings of the double grey feather of a mallard ; 
 and it is a killing fly for small fish ; and so much for May. 
 
 JUNE. 
 
 From the first to the four-and-twentieth, the Green-DRAKE 
 and Stone-fly are taken, as I told you before. 
 
 I. From the twelfth to the four-and-twentieth, late at night, is 
 
230 THE COMPLETE ANGLER. part ii. 
 
 taken a fly, called the OwL-FLY, the dubbing of a white weasel's 
 tail, and a white grey wing. 
 
 2. We have then another dun, called the Barm-fly, from its 
 yeasty colour, the dubbing of the fur of a yellow-dun cat, and a 
 grey wing of a mallard's feather. 
 
 3. We have also a Hackle with a purple body, whipt about 
 with a red capon's feather. 
 
 4. As also a GoLD-TWiST Hackle with a purple body, 
 whipt about with a red capon's feather. 
 
 5. To these we have this month a Flesh-fly, the dubbing of 
 a black spaniel's fur, and blue wool mixed, and a grey wing. 
 
 6. Also another little flesh-fly, the body made of the whirl 
 of a peacock's feather, and the wings of the grey feather of a 
 drake. 
 
 7. We have then the Peacock-fly, the body and wing both 
 made of the feather of that bird. 
 
 8. There is also the flying-ant or Ant-fly, the dubbing of 
 brown and red camlet mixed, with a light grey wing. 
 
 9. We have likewise a Brown Gnat, with a very slender 
 body of brown and violet camlet well mixed, and a light grey 
 wing. 
 
 10. And another little Black Gnat, the dubbing of black 
 mohair, and a white grey wing. 
 
 11. As also a Green Grasshopper, the dubbing of green 
 and yellow wool mixed, ribbed over with green silk, and a red 
 capon's feather over all. 
 
 12. And, lastly, a httle DuN Grasshopper ; the body slender, 
 made of a dun camlet and a dun hackle at the top. 
 
 JULY. 
 
 First, all the small flies that were taken in June are also taken 
 in this month. 
 
 1. We have then the Orange-FLY; the dubbing of orange 
 wool, and the wing of a black feather. 
 
 2. Also a little White- DUN; the body made of white mohair, 
 and the wings blue, of a heron's feather. 
 
CHAP. VIII. THE SECOND DAY. 231 
 
 3. We have likewise this month a Wasp-FLY ; made either of 
 a dark brown dubbing, or else the fur of a black cat's tail, 
 ribbed about with yellow silk; and the wing, of the grey feather 
 of a mallard. 
 
 4. Another fly taken this month is a Black Hackle; the 
 body made of the whirl of a peacock's feather, and a black 
 hackle-feather on the top. 
 
 5. We have also another, made of a peacock's whirl, without 
 wings. 
 
 6. Another fly also is taken this month, called the Shell- 
 FLY; the dubbing of yellow-green Jersey wool, and a little white 
 hog's-hair mixed, which I call the Palm-fly, and do believe it 
 is taken for a palm, that drops off the willows into the water ; 
 for this fly I have seen trouts take little pieces of moss, as they 
 have swam down the river ; by which I consider that the best 
 way to hit the right colour is to compare your dubbing with the 
 moss, and mix the colours as near as you can. 
 
 7. There is also taken, this month, a Black-blue Dun; the 
 dubbing of the fur of a black rabbit mixed with a little yellow ; 
 the wings, of the feather of a blue pigeon's wing. 
 
 august. 
 
 The same flies with July. 
 
 1. Then another Ant-FLY, the dubbing of the black brown 
 hair of a cow, some red wrapt in for the tug of his tail, and a 
 dark wing ; a killing fly. 
 
 2. Next a fly called the Fern-fly, the dubbing of the fur of 
 a hare's neck, that is, of the colour of fern, or bracken, with a 
 darkish grey wing of a mallard's feather ; a killer, too. 
 
 3. Besides these we have a White Hackle, the body of 
 white mohair, and wrapped about with a white hackle-feather, 
 and this is assuredly taken for thistle-down. 
 
 4. We have also this month a Harry-long-legs, the body 
 made of bear's dun, and blue wool mixed, and a brown hackle- 
 feather over all. 
 
 Lastly. In this month all the same Browns and Duns are 
 taken that were taken in May. 
 
232 THE COMPLETE ANGLER. part ii. 
 
 SEPTEINIBER. 
 
 This month the same flies are taken that are taken in April 
 
 1. To which I shall only add a Camel-BROWN-fly, the 
 dubbing pulled out of the lime of a wall, whipped about with 
 red silk, and a darkish grey mallard's feather for the wing. 
 
 2. And one other for which we have no name ; but it is made 
 of the black hair of a badger's skin, mixed with the yellow 
 softest down of a sanded hog. 
 
 OCTOBER. 
 
 The same flies are taken this month as were taken in March. 
 
 NOVEMBER. 
 
 The same flies that were taken in February are taken this 
 month also. 
 
 DECEMBER. 
 
 Few men angle with the fly this month, no more than they do 
 in January; but yet, if the weather be warm (as I have known 
 it sometimes in my life to be, even in this cold country, where it 
 is least expected), then a Brown, that looks red in the hand, 
 and yellowish betwixt your eye and the sun, will both raise and 
 kill in a clear water and free from snow-broth ; but, at the best, 
 it is hardly worth a man's labour. 
 
 And now, sir, I have done with fly-fishing, or angling at the 
 top, excepting once more, to tell you, that of all these (and I 
 have named you a great many very killing flies) none are fit 
 to be compared with the Drake and Stone-fly, both for 
 many and for very great fish ; and yet there are some days that 
 are by no means proper for the sport. And in a calm you shall 
 not have near so much sport, even with daping, as in a whistling 
 gale of wind, for two reasons, both because you are not then so 
 easily discovered by the fish, and also because there are then 
 but few flies that can lie upon the water; for where they have 
 so much choice, you may easily imagine they will not be so 
 eager and forward to rise at a bait, that both the shadow of your 
 
CHAP. VIII. THE SECOND DAY. 233 
 
 body, and that of your rod, nay of your very line, in a hot cahn 
 day, will, in spite of your best caution, render suspected to them ; 
 but even then, in swift streams, or by sitting down patiently 
 behind a willow bush, you shall do more execution than at 
 almost any other time of the year with any other fly ; though 
 one may sometimes hit of a day, when he shall come home very 
 well satisfied with sport with several other flies: but with these 
 two, the Green-drake and the Stone-fly, I do verily believe 
 I could, some days in my life, had I not been weary of slaughter, 
 have loaden a lusty boy; and have sometimes, I do honestly 
 assure you, given over upon the mere account of satiety of 
 sport; which will be no hard matter to believe, when I like- 
 wise assure you, that with this very fly, I have in this very river 
 that runs by us, in three or four hours taken thirty, five-and- 
 thirty, and forty of the best trouts in the river. What shame 
 and pity it is, then, that such a river should be destroyed by the 
 basest sort of people, by those unlawful ways of fire and netting 
 in the night, and of damming, groping, spearing, hanging, and 
 hooking by day, which are now grown so common, that, though 
 we have very good laws to punish such ofifenders, every rascal 
 does it, for ought I see, impime. 
 
 To conclude, I cannot now in honesty but frankly tell you, that 
 many of these flies I have named, as least so made as we make 
 them here, will peradventure do you no great service in your 
 southern rivers; and will not conceal from you, but that I have 
 sent flies to several friends in London, that for ought I could 
 eve TTrgar, ne ver did any great feats with them ; and therefore if 
 you intend to profi t SyHiiy instructions, you must come to angle 
 with me here m tlie feak ; and so, if you please, let us walk up 
 
 to supper, andtb-mbrfow, if the day be windy, as our days here 
 commonly are, 'tis ten to one but we shall take a good dish of 
 fish for dinner. ^ 
 
234 
 
 THIRD DAY. 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 PiSC. A good day to you, sir ; I see you will always be 
 stirring before me. 
 
 ViAT. Why, to tell you the truth, I am so allured with the 
 sport I had yesterday, that I long to be at the river again ; and 
 when I heard the wind sing in my chamber window, could for- 
 bear no longer, but leapt out of bed, and had just made an end 
 of dressing myself as you came in. 
 
 PiSC. Well, I am both glad you are so ready for the day, and 
 that the day is so fit for you ; and look you, I have made you 
 three or four flies this morning ; this silver-twist hackle, this 
 bear's dun, this light brown, and this dark brown, any of which 
 I dare say will do ; but you may try them all, and see which does 
 best ; only I must ask your pardon that I cannot wait upon you 
 this morning, a little business being fallen out, that for two or 
 three hours will deprive me of your company: but Pll come and 
 call you home to dinner, and my man shall attend you. 
 
 VlAT. Oh, sir, mind your affairs by all means. Do but lend 
 me a little of your skill to these fine flies, and, unless it have 
 forsaken me since yesterday, I shall find luck of my own, I hope, 
 to do something. 
 
 PiSC. The best instruction I can give you is, that seeing the 
 wind curls the water, and blows the right way, you would now 
 angle up the still deep to-day y for betwixt the rocks where the 
 streams are, you will find it now too brisk ; and besides, I would 
 have you take fish in both waters. 
 
CHAP. X. THE THIRD DAY. 235 
 
 VlAT. ril obey your direction, and so good morning to you. 
 Come, young man, let you and I walk together. But hark you, 
 sir, I have not done with you yet ; I expect another lesson for 
 angling at the bottom, in the afternoon. 
 
 PiSC. Well, sir, I'll be ready for you. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 DIRECTIONS HOW TO DRESS A TROUT OR GRAYLING. 
 
 PiSC. Oh, sir, are you returned ? you have but just prevented 
 me. I was coming to call you. 
 
 ViAT. I am glad then I have saved you the labour. 
 
 PiSC. And how have you sped ? 
 
 VlAT. You shall see that, sir, presently; look you, sir, here 
 are three brace of trouts, one of them the biggest but one that 
 ever I killed with a fly in my life ; and yet I lost a bigger than 
 that, with my fly to boot ; and here are three graylings, and one 
 of them longer by some inches than that I took yesterday, and 
 yet I thought that a good one, too. 
 
 PiSC. Why you have made a pretty good morning's work on't ; 
 and now, sir, what think you of our river Dove ? 
 
 VlAT. I think it to be the best trout river in England ; and 
 am so far in love with it, that if it were mine, and that I could 
 keep it to myself, I would not exchange that water for all the 
 land it runs over, to be totally debarred from it. 
 
 PiSC. That compliment to the river speaks you a true lover 
 of the art of angling ; a nd now, sir, to make part of amends for 
 sending you so uncivilly out alone this morning, I will myself 
 dress youTETs dTs"h orTTsh for your dinner ; walk but into the 
 parlour, you will find one book or other in the window to enter- 
 t am you the while, and you shall have it presently. 
 
 VlAT. Well, sir, I obey you. 
 
 PiSC. Look you, sir, have I not made haste ? 
 
 VlAT. Believe me, sir, that you have ; and it looks so well, I 
 long to be at it. 
 
 M 
 
236 THE COMPLETE ANGLER. part ii. * 
 
 PiSC. Fall to, then ; now, sir, what say you, am I a tolerable 
 cook or no ? 
 
 ViAT. So good a one, that I did never eat so good fish in my 
 life. This fish is infinitely better than any I ever tasted of the 
 kind in my life ; 'tis quite another thing than our trouts about 
 London. 
 
 PiSC. You would say so, if that trout you eat of were in right 
 season : but pray eat of the grayling, which upon my word, at 
 this season is by much the better fish. 
 
 ViAT. In earnest and so it is : and 1 have one request to 
 make to you, which is, that as you have taught me to catch trout 
 and grayling, you will now teach me how to dress them as these 
 are dressed, which questionless is of all other the best way. 
 
 PiSC. That I will, sir, with all my heart, and am glad you like 
 them so well as to make that request, and they are dressed 
 thus : 
 
 Take your trout, wash, and dry him with a clean napkin ; then 
 open him, and having taken out his guts, and all the blood, wipe 
 him very clean within, but wash him not, and give him three 
 scotches with a knife to the bone, on one side only. After which 
 take a clean kettle, and put in as much hard stale beer (but it 
 must not be* dead), vinegar, and a little white wine and water as 
 will cover the fish you intend to boil; then throw into the liquor 
 a good quantity of salt, the rind of a lemon, a handful of shced 
 horse-radish root, with a handsome light faggot of rosemary, 
 thyme, and winter savory. Then set your kettle upon a quick 
 fire of wood ; and let your liquor boil up to the height before 
 you put in your fish ; and then, if there be many, put them in 
 one by one, that they may not so cool the liquor as to make it 
 fall. And whilst your fish is boiling, beat up the batter for your 
 sauce with a ladleful or two of the liquor it is boiling in. And 
 being boiled enough, immediately pour the liquor from the fish ; 
 and being laid in a dish, pour your butter upon it ; and strewing 
 it plentifully over with shaved horse-radish, and a little pounded 
 ginger, garnish the sides of your dish, and the fish itself, with a 
 sliced lemon or two, and serve it up. 
 
 A grayling is also to be dressed exactly after the same 
 
CHAP. XL THE THIRD DAY. 237 
 
 manner, saving that he is to be scaled, which a trout never is : 
 and that must be done either with one's nails, or very lightly and 
 carefully with a knife, for fear of bruising the fish. And note, 
 that these kinds of fish, a trout especially, if he is not eaten 
 within four or five hours after he be taken, is worth nothing. 
 
 But come, sir, I see you have dined ; and therefore, if you 
 please, we will walk down again to the little house, and there I 
 will read you a lecture of angling at the bottom. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 OF ANGLING AT THE BOTTOM FOR TROUT OR GRAYLING. 
 
 ViAT. So, sir, now we are here, and set, let me have my 
 instructions for angling for trout and grayling at the bottom; 
 which though not so easy, so cleanly, nor (as 'tis said) so genteel 
 a way of fishing as with a fly, is yet, if I mistake not, a good 
 holding way, and takes fish when nothing else will. 
 
 PiSC. You are in the right, it does so : and a worm is so sure 
 a bait at all times, that, excepting in a flood, I would I had laid 
 a thousand pounds that I killed fish, more or less with it, 
 winter or summer, every day throughout the year ; those days 
 always excepted, that upon a more serious account always ought 
 so to be. But not longer to delay you, I will begin, and tell 
 you, that angling at the bottom is also commonly of two sorts; 
 and yet there is a third way of angling with a ground-bait, and 
 to very great effect too, as shall be said hereafter ; namely, by 
 hand, or with a cork or float. 
 
 That we call angling by hand is of three sorts. 
 
 The first, with a line about half the length of the rod, a good 
 weighty plumb, and three hairs next the hook, which we call a 
 running-line, and with one large brandling, or a dew-worm of a 
 moderate size, or two small ones of the first, or any other sort, 
 proper for a trout, of which my father Walton has already given 
 you the names, and saved me labour; or, indeed, almost any 
 
238 THE COMPLETE ANGLER. part il 
 
 worm whatever; for if a trout be in the humour to bite, it must 
 be such a worm as I never yet saw, that he will refuse ; and if 
 you fish with two, you are then to bait your hook thus. You 
 are first to run the point of your hook in at the very head of your 
 first worm, and so down through his body, till he be past the 
 knot, and then let it out, and strip the worm above the arming, 
 that you may not bruise it with your fingers till you have put on 
 the other, by running the point of the hook in below the knot, 
 upwards through his body towards his head, till it be just 
 covered with the head ; which being done, you are then to slip 
 the first worm down over the arming again, till the knots of 
 both worms meet together. 
 
 The second way of angling by hand, and with a running line, 
 is with a line something longer than the former, and with tackle 
 made after this same manner. At the utmost extremity of your 
 line, where the hook is always placed in all other ways of 
 anghng," you are to have a large m stol or carabine bullet, into 
 which the end of your line is to bela^stened with a peg^or pin, 
 even and close with the bullet ; and, about half a foot above 
 that, a branch of line, of two or three handfuls long, or more for 
 a swift stream, with a hook at the end thereof, baited with some 
 of the fore-named worms, and half a foot above that, another 
 armed and baited after the same manner, but with another sort 
 of worm, without any lead at all above : by which means you 
 will always certainly find the true bottom in all depths ; which 
 with the plumbs upon your line above you can never do, but 
 that your bait must always drag whilst you are sounding (which 
 in this way of angling must be continually), by which means 
 you are like to have more trouble, and peradventure worse 
 success. And both these ways of angling at the bottom are 
 most proper for a dark and muddy water, by reason, that in 
 such a condition of the stream, a man may stand as near as he 
 will, and neither his own shadow nor the roundness of his tackle 
 will hinder his sport. 
 
 The third way of angling by hand with a ground-bait, and by 
 much the best of all other, is, with a line full as long, or a yard 
 and a half longer, than your rod ; with no more than one hair 
 
CHAP. XI. THE THIRD DAY. 239 
 
 next the hook, and for two or three lengths above it ; and no 
 more than one small pellet or shot for your plumb ; your hook, 
 little ; your worms of the smaller brandHngs, very well secured, 
 and only one upon your hook at a time; which is thus to be 
 baited. The point of your hook is to be put in at the very tag 
 of his tail, and run up his body quite over all the arming, and still 
 stripped on an inch at least upon the hair, the head and remain- 
 ing part hanging downward: and with this line and hook thus 
 baited you are evermore to angle in the streams, always in a 
 clear rather than a troubled water, and always up the river, still 
 casting out your worm before you with a light one-handed rod, 
 like an artificial fly ; where it will be taken sometimes at the top, 
 or within a very little of the superficies of the water, and almost 
 always before that light plumb can sink it to the bottom, both by 
 reason of the stream, and also, that you must always keep your 
 worm in motion by drawing still back towards you, as if you 
 were angling with a fly: and believe me, whoever will try it, 
 shall find this the best way of all other to angle with a worm, in 
 a bright water especially; but then his rod must be very light 
 and pliant, and very true and finely made, which, with a skilful 
 hand, will do wonders, and m a clear stream is undoubtedly the 
 best way of angling for a trout or grayling with a worm, by many 
 degrees, that any man can make choice of, and of most ease and 
 delight to the angler. To which, let me add, that if the angler 
 be of a constitution that will suffer him to wade, and will slip 
 into the tail of a shallow stream, to the calf of the leg, or the 
 knee, and so keep off the bank, he shall almost take what fish 
 he pleases. 
 
 The second way of angling at the bottom is with a cork or 
 float ; and that is also of two sorts ; with a worm, or with a grub 
 or cadis. 
 
 With a worm, you are to have your line within a foot, or a 
 foot and a half as long as your rod ; in a dark water, with two, 
 or if you will with three, but in a clear water never with above 
 one hair next the hook, and two or three for four or five lengths 
 above it, and a worm of what size you please, your plumbs fitted 
 to your cork, your cork to the condition of the river, that is, to 
 
240 THE COMPLETE ANGLER. part ii. 
 
 the swiftness or slowness of it ; and both, when the water is very 
 clear, as fine as you can ; and then you are never to bait with 
 above one of the lesser sort of brandlings ; or, if they are very 
 little ones indeed, you may then bait with two, after the manner 
 before directed. 
 
 When you angle for a trout, you are to do it as deep, that is, 
 as near the bottom as you can, provided your bait do not drag ; or 
 if it do, a trout will sometimes take it in at that posture • if for 
 a grayling, you are then to fish further from the bottom, he 
 being a fish that usually swims nearer the middle of the water, 
 and lies always loose ; or however, is more apt to rise than a 
 trout, and more inclined to rise than to descend even to a 
 ground-bait. 
 
 With a grub or cadis, you are to angle with the same length 
 of line, or if it be all out as long as your rod it is not the worse, 
 with never above one hair, for two or three lengths next the 
 hook, and with the smallest cork or float, and the least weight 
 of plumb you can that will but sink, and that the swiftness of 
 your stream will allow ; which also you may help, and avoid the 
 violence of the current, by angling in the returns of a stream, 
 or the eddies betwixt two streams, which also are the most 
 likely places wherein to kill a fish in a stream, either at the top 
 or bottom. 
 
 Of grubs for a grayling, the ash-grub, which is plump, milk- 
 white, bent round from head to tail, and exceeding tender, with 
 a red head, or the dock-worm, or grub of a pale yellow, longer, 
 lanker, and tougher than the other, with rows of feet all down 
 his belly, and a red head also, are the best ; I say, for a gray- 
 ling, because, although a trout will take both these, the ash- 
 grub especially, yet he does not .do it so freely as the other, 
 and I have usually taken ten graylings for one trout with that 
 bait ; though if a trout come, I have observed that he is com- 
 monly a very good one. 
 
 These baits we usually keep in bran, in which an ash-grub 
 commonly grows tougher, and will better endure baiting; though 
 he is yet so tender, that it will be necessary to warp in a piece 
 of a stiff hair with your arming, leaving it standing out about a 
 
CHAP. XL THE THIRD DAY. 241 
 
 straw-breadth at the head of your hook, so as to keep the grub 
 either from slipping totally off when baited, or at least down to 
 the point of the hook ; by which means your arming will be left 
 wholly naked and bare, which is neither so sightly, nor so likely 
 to be taken : though to help that, which will however very oft 
 fall out, I always arm the hook I design for this bait with the 
 whitest horse-hair I can chuse, which itself will resemble, and 
 shine like that bait, and consequently will do more good, or less 
 harm, than an arming of any other colour. These grubs are to 
 be baited thus : the hook is to be put under the head or chaps 
 of the bait, and guided down the middle of the belly — without 
 suffering it to peep out by the way, for then the ash-grub especi- 
 ally will issue out water and milk, till nothing but the skin shall 
 remain, and the bend of the hook will appear black, through it, 
 — till the point of your hook come so low that the head of your 
 bait may rest, and stick upon the hair that stands out to hold it; 
 by which means it can neither slip of itself, neither will the force 
 of the stream, nor quick pulling out, upon any mistake, strip it 
 off 
 
 Now the cadis, or cod-bait, which is a sure killing bait, and, 
 for the most part, by much surer than either of the other, may 
 be put upon the hook, two or three together, and is sometimes, 
 to very great effect, joined to a worm, and sometimes to an 
 artificial fly, to cover the joint of your hook ; but is always to be 
 angled with at the bottom, when by itself especially, with the 
 finest tackle ; and is, for all times of the year, the most holding 
 bait of all other whatever, both for trout and grayling. 
 
 There are several other baits besides these few I have named 
 you, which also do very great execution at the bottom, and some 
 that are peculiar to certain countries and rivers, of which every 
 angler may in his own place make his own observation ; and 
 some others that I do not think fit to put you in mind of, because 
 I would not corrupt you, and would have you, as in all things 
 else I observe you to be a very honest gentleman, a fair angler. 
 And so much for the second sort of angling for a trout at the 
 bottom. 
 
 VlAT. But, sir, I beseech you give me leave to ask you one 
 
 16 
 
242 THE COMPLETE ANGLER. part ii. 
 
 question: is there no art to be used to worms, to make them 
 allure the fish, and in a manner compel them to bite at the bait? 
 
 PiSC. Not that I know of; or did I know any such secret, I 
 wouFd not use it myself, and therefore would not teach it you. 
 Though I will not deny to you, that in my younger days, I have 
 made trial of oil of osprey, oil of ivy, camphire, asafcetida, juice 
 of nettles, and several other devices that I was taught by several 
 anglers I met with; but could never find any advantage by 
 them ; and can scarce believe there is anything to be done that 
 way; though I must tell you, I have seen some men who I 
 thought went to work no more artificially than I, and have yet, 
 with the same kind of worms I had, in my own sight taken five, 
 and sometimes ten to one. But we'll let that business alone, if 
 you please ; and because we have time enough, and that I would 
 deliver you from the trouble of any more lectures, I will, if you 
 please, proceed to the last way of angling for a trout or grayling, 
 which is in the middle; after which I shall have no more to 
 trouble you with. 
 
 VlAT. 'Tis no trouble, sir, but the greatest satisfaction that 
 can be : and* I attend you. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 OF ANGLING AT THE MIDDLE FOR TROUT OR GRAYLING; 
 FAREWELL OF VIATOR WITH PISCATOR JUNIOR. 
 
 PiSC. Angling in the middle, then, for a trout or grayling, is 
 of two sorts : with a penk or minnow for a trout ; or with a worm, 
 grub, or cadis, for a grayling. 
 
 For the first. It is with a minnow, half a foot or a foot within 
 the superficies of the water. And as to the rest that concerns 
 this sort of angling, I shall wholly refer you to Mr. Walton's 
 directions, who is undoubtedly the best angler with a minnow 
 in England ; only, in plain truth, I do not approve of those baits 
 he keeps in salt, unless where the living ones are not possibly 
 to be had (though I know he frequently kills with them, and 
 
CHAP. XII. THE THIRD DAY. 243 
 
 peradventure, more than with any other; nay, I have seen 'him 
 refuse a living one for one of them); and much less of his 
 artificial one; for though we do it with a counterfeit fly, me- 
 thinks it should hardly be expected that a man should deceive 
 a fish with a counterfeit fish. Which having said, I shall only 
 add (and that out of my own experience), that I do believe a 
 bull-head, with his gill-fins cut off (at some times of the year 
 especially), to be a much better bait for a trout than a minnow, 
 and a loach much better than that : to prove which I shall only 
 tell you, that I have much oftener taken trouts with a bull-head 
 or a loach in their throats, for there a trout has questionless his 
 first digestion, than a minnow; and that one day especially, 
 having angled a good part of the day with a minnow, and that 
 in as hopeful a day, and as fit a water, as could be wished for 
 that purpose, without raising any one fish ; I at last fell to with 
 the worm, and with that took fourteen in a very -short space: 
 amongst all which there was not, to my remembrance, so much 
 as one that had not a loach or two, and some of them three, 
 four, five, and six loaches, in hi*s tliToat and stomach; from 
 whence I concluded, that had I angled with that bait, I had 
 made a notable day's work of it. 
 
 But after all, there is a better way of angling with a minnow, 
 than perhaps is fit either to teach or to practise ; to which I 
 shall only add, that a grayling will certainly rise at, and some- 
 times take a minnow, though it will be hard to be believed by 
 any one, who shall consider the littleness of that fish's mouth, 
 very unfit to take so great a bait : but it is affirmed by many, 
 that he will sometimes do it ; and I myself know it to be true ; 
 for though I never took a grayling so, yet a man of mine once 
 did, and within so few paces of me, that I am as certain of it, as 
 I can be of anything I did not see, and, which made it appear 
 the more strange, the grayling was not above eleven inches long. 
 
 I must here also beg leave of your master, and mine, not 
 to controvert, but to tell him that 1 cannot consent to his way 
 of throwing in his rod to an over-grown trout, and afterwards 
 recovering his fish with his tackle. For though I am satisfied 
 he has sometimes done it, because he says so, yet I have found 
 
244 THE COMPLETE ANGLER. part ii. 
 
 it quite otherwise; and though I have taken with the angle, 
 I may safely say, some thousands of trouts in my life, my top 
 never snapt (though my line still continued fast to the remain- 
 ing part of my rod by some lengths of line curled round about 
 my top, and there fastened, with waxed silk, against such an 
 accident), nor my hand never slacked, or slipped by any other 
 chance, but I almost always infallibly lost my fish, whether 
 great or little, though my hook came home again. And I have 
 often wondered how a trout should so suddenly disengage him- 
 self from so great a hook as that we bait with a minnow, and so 
 deep bearded as those hooks commonly are, when I have seen 
 by the forenamed accidents or the sHpping of a knot in the 
 upper part of the line, by sudden and hard striking, that though 
 the line has immediately been recovered, almost before it could 
 be all drawn into the water, the fish cleared and gone in a 
 moment. And yet, to justify what he says, I have sometimes 
 known a trout, having carried away a whole line, found dead 
 three or four days after with the hook fast sticking in him; and 
 then it is to be supposed he had gorged it, which a trout will do 
 if you be not too quick with him when he comes at a minnow, 
 as sure and much sooner than a pike : and I myself have also, 
 once or twice in my life, taken the same fish, with my own fly 
 sticking in his chaps, that he had taken from me the day before, 
 by the slipping of a hook in the arming. But I am very confi- 
 dent a trout will not be troubled two hours with any hook that 
 has so much as one handful of Hne left behind with it, or that is 
 not struck through a bone, if it be in any part of his mouth only: 
 nay, I do certainly know that a trout, so soon as ever he feels 
 himself pricked, if he carries away the hook, goes immediately 
 to the bottom, and will there root, like a hog upon the gravel, 
 till he either rub out or break the hook in the middle. And so 
 much for this sort of angling in the middle for a trout. 
 
 The second way of angling in the middle is with a worm, 
 grub, cadis, or any other ground-bait for a grayling; and that 
 is with a cork, and a foot from the bottom, a grayling taking it 
 much better there than at the bottom, as has been said before ; 
 and this always in a clear water, and with the finest tackle. 
 
CHAP. XII. THE THIRD DAY. 245 
 
 To which we may also, and with very good reason, add the 
 third way of anghng by hand with a ground-bait, as a third 
 way of fishing in the middle, which is common to both trout 
 and grayling, and, as I said before, the best way of angling 
 with a worm, of all other I ever tried whatever. 
 
 And now, sir, I have said all I can at present think of con- 
 cerning angling for a trout and grayling, and I doubt not have 
 tired you sufficiently ; but I will give you no more trouble of 
 this kind, whilst you stay, which I hope will be a good while 
 longer. 
 
 ViAT. That will not be above a day longer; but if I live till 
 May come twelvemonth, you are sure of me again, either with 
 my master Walton, or without him ; and in the meantime shall 
 acquaint him how much you have made of me for his sake, and 
 I hope he loves me well enough to thank you for it. 
 
 PiSC. I shall be glad, sir, of your good company at the time 
 you speak of, and shall be loath to part with you now ; but when 
 you tell me you must go, I will then wait upon you more miles 
 on your way than I have tempted you out of it, and heartily 
 wish you a good journey. 
 
 TIIR WAT.TKK SCUTT PIIKSS, NEWCASTLK-ON-TY.N K. 
 
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 ITS NATURE, AIMS, AND CONDITIONS. 
 
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 PeerGynt: A Dramatic Poem 
 
 Bv PIENRIK IBSEN 
 
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 This Translation^ though unrhynied, f reserves throughout 
 the various rhythms of the Original, 
 
 *To English readers this will not merely be a new work of 
 the Norwegian poet, dramatist, and satirist, but it will also be 
 a new Ibsen. . . . Here is the imaginative Ibsen, indeed, the 
 Ibsen of such a boisterous, irresistible fertility of fancy that one 
 breathes with difficulty as one follows him on his headlong 
 course. . . . "Peer Gynt" is a fantastical satirical drama of 
 enormous interest, and the present translation of it is a master- 
 piece of fluent, powerful, graceful, and literal rendering.' — 
 The Daily Chronicle. 
 
 Croitm Svo, Cloth 55. 
 
 The Strike at Arlingford 
 
 (I LVY IN Three Acts.) 
 By GEORGE MOORE 
 
 * It has the large simplicity of really great drama, and 
 Mr. Moore, in conceiving it, has shown the truest instinct for 
 the art he is for the first time essaying.' — W. A. in The World. 
 
 LONDON: Walter Scott, Ltd., Paternoster Square. 
 
Crown %vo^ Ciolh, Price 6s, 
 
 MODERN PAINTING. 
 
 By GEORGE MOORE. 
 
 SOME PRESS NOTICES, 
 
 " Of the very few books on art that painters and critics should on no 
 account leave unread this is surely one." — Phe Studio, 
 
 " His book is one of the best books about pictures that have come 
 into our hands for some years." — St. Jameses Gazette. 
 
 ** If there is an art critic who knows exactly what he means and says 
 it with exemplary lucidity, it is * G. M.'" — The Sketch, 
 
 "A more original, a belter informed, a more suggestive, and let us 
 add, a more amusing work on the art of to-day, we have never read 
 than this volume." — Glasgow Herald. 
 
 "Impressionism, to use that word, in the absence of any fitter 
 one, — the impressionism which makes his own writing on art in this 
 volume so effective, is, in short, the secret both of his likes and 
 dislikes, his hatred of what he thinks conventional and mechanic, 
 together with his very alert and careful evaluation of what comes home 
 to him as straightforward, whether in Reynolds, or Rubjns, or Ruysdael, 
 in Japan, in Paris, or in modern England." — Mr. Pater in The 
 Chronicle. 
 
 " As an art critic Mr. George Moore certainly has some signal 
 advantages. He is never dull, he is frankly personal, he is untroubled 
 by tradition " — Westminster Gazette. 
 
 " Mr. Moore, in spite of the impediments that he puts in the way of 
 his own eflectiveness, is one of the most competent writers on paintino- 
 that we have." — Manchester Guardian. 
 
 *' His [Mr. Moore's] book is one that cannot fail to be much talked 
 about ; and everyone who is interested in modern painting will do well 
 to make acquaintance with its views." — Scottish Leader. 
 
 " As everybody knows by this time, Mr. Moore is a person of strong 
 opinions and strong dislikes, and has the gift of expressing both in 
 pungent language." — The 'Times. 
 
 **0f his [Mr. Moore's] sincerity, of his courage, and of his candour 
 there can be no doubt. . . . One of the most interesting writers on art 
 that we have." — Pall Mall Gazette. 
 
NEW EDITION IN NEW BINDING. 
 
 In the new edition there are added about forty reproductions 
 in (ac-simile of autographs of distinguished singers and instru- 
 mentalists, including Sarasate, Joachim, Sir Charles Halle, 
 Stavenhagen, Henschel, Trebelli, Miss Macintyre, Jean 
 Gerardy, etc. 
 
 Quarto^ cloth elegant ^ gilt edges, emblematic design on cover ^ ds. 
 May also be had in a variety of Fancy Bindings. 
 
 The Music of the Poets : 
 
 A MUSICIANS' BIRTHDAY BOOK. 
 Edited by Eleonore D'Esterre Keeling. 
 
 This is a unique Birthday Book. Against each date are given 
 the names of musicians whose birthday it is, together with a 
 verse-quotation appropriate to the character of their different 
 compositions or performances. A special feature of the book 
 consists in the reproduction in fac-simile of autographs, and 
 autographic music, of living composers. The selections of verse 
 (from before Chaucer to the present time) have been made with 
 admirable critical insight. English verse is rich in utterances 
 of the poets about music, and merely as a volume of poetry 
 about music this book makes a charming anthology. Three 
 sonnets by Mr. Theodore Watts, on the '*Fausts" of Berlioz, 
 Schumann, and Gounod, have been written specially for this 
 volume. It is illustrated with designs of various musical in- 
 struments, etc. ; autographs of Rubenstein, Dvorak, Greig, 
 Mackenzie, Villiers Stanford, etc., etc. 
 
 *'To musical amateurs this will certainly prove the most 
 attractive birthday book ever published." — Manchester 
 Guardian. 
 
 LONDON: Walter Scott, Ltd., Paternoster Square. 
 
The Scott Library. 
 
 Cloth, Uncut Edges, Gilt Top. Price is. 6d. per Volume. 
 
 VOLUMES ALREADY ISSUED- 
 
 1 MALORY'S ROMANCE OF KING ARTHUR AND THE 
 
 Quest of the Holy Grail. Edited by Ernest Rhys. 
 
 2 THOREAU'S WALDEN. WITH INTRODUCTORY NOTE 
 
 by Will H. Dircks. 
 
 3 THOREAU'S **WEEK." WITH PREFATORY NOTE BY 
 
 Will H. Dircks. 
 
 4 THOREAU'S ESSAYS. EDITED, WITH AN INTRO- 
 
 duction, by Will H. Dircks. 
 
 5 CONFESSIONS OF AN ENGLISH OPIUM-EATER, ETC. 
 
 By Thomas De Quincey. With Introductory Note by William Sharp. 
 
 6 LANDOR'S IMAGINARY CONVERSATIONS. SELECTED, 
 
 with Introduction, by Havelock Eliis. 
 
 7 PLUTARCH'S LIVES (LANGHORNE). WITH INTRO- 
 
 ductory Note by B. J. Snell, M.A. 
 
 8 BROWNE'S RELIGIO MEDICI, ETC. WITH INTRO- 
 
 duction by J. Addington Symonds. , 
 
 9 SHELLEY'S ESSAYS AND LETTERS. EDITED, WITH 
 
 Introductory Note, by Ernest Rhys. 
 
 10 SWIFT'S PROSE WRITINGS. CHOSEN AND ARRANGED, 
 
 with Introduction, by Walter Lewin. 
 
 11 MY STUDY WINDOWS. BY JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL. 
 
 With Introduction by R. Garnett, LL.D. 
 
 12 LOWELL'S ESSAYS ON THE ENGLISH POETS. WITH 
 
 a new Introduction by Mr. Lowell. 
 
 13 THE BIGLOW PAPERS. BY JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL. 
 
 With a Prefatory Note by Ernest Rhys. 
 
 14 GREAT ENGLISH PAINTERS. SELECTED FROxM 
 
 Cunningham's Lives. Edited by William Sharp, 
 
 LONDON : Walter Scott, Paternoster Square. 
 
THE SCOTT LIBRARY-continued. 
 
 15 BYRON'S LETTERS AND JOURNALS. SELECTED, 
 
 with Introduction, by Mathilde Blind. 
 
 16 LEIGH HUNT'S ESSAYS. WITH INTRODUCTION AND 
 
 Notes by Arthur Symons. 
 
 17 LONGFELLOW'S *^ HYPERION," "KAVANAGH," AND 
 
 "The Trouveres." With Introduction by W. Tirebuck. 
 
 18 GREAT MUSICAL COMPOSERS. BY G. F. FERRIS. 
 
 Kditefl, with Introduction, by Mrs. William Sharp. 
 
 19 THE MEDITATIONS OF MARCUS AURELIUS. EDITED 
 
 by Alice Ziramern. 
 
 20 THE TEACHING OF EPICTETUS. TRANSLATED FROM 
 
 the Greek, with Introduction and Notes, by T. W. Rollentoii. 
 
 21 SELECTIONS FROM SENECA WITH INTRODUCTION 
 
 by AValter Clode. 
 
 22 SPECIMEN DAYS IN AMERICA. BY WALT WHITMAN. 
 
 Revised by the Author, with fresh Preface. 
 
 23 DEMOCRATIC VISTAS, AND OTPIER PAPERS. BY 
 
 Walt Whitman. (Published by arrangement with the Author.) 
 
 24 WHITE'S NATURAL HISTORY OF SELBORNE. WITH 
 
 a Preface by Richard Jefferies. 
 
 25 DEFOE'S CAPTAIN SINGLETON. EDITED, WITH 
 
 Introduction, by H. Halliday Sparling. 
 
 26 MAZZINI'S ESSAYS : LITERARY, POLITICAL, AND 
 
 Religious. With Introduction by William Clarke. 
 
 27 PROSE WRITINGS OF HEINE. WITH INTRODUCTION 
 
 by Havelock Ellis. 
 
 28 REYNOLDS'S DISCOURSES. WITPI INTRODUCTION 
 
 by Helen Zimmern, 
 
 29 PAPERS OF STEELE AND ADDISON. EDITED BY 
 
 Walter Lewin. 
 
 30 BURNS'S LETTERS. SELECTED AND ARRANGED, 
 
 with Introduction, by J. Logie Robertson, M.A. 
 
 31 VOLSUNGA SAGA. William Morris. WITH INTRO- 
 
 duction by H. H. Sparling. 
 
 LONDON : Walter Scot'j-, Paternost^ Square. 
 
THE SCOTT LIBRARY-continued. 
 
 32 SARTOR RESARTUS. BY THOxMAS CARLYLE. WITH 
 
 Introduction by Ernest Rhys. 
 
 33 SELECT WRITINGS OF EMERSON. WITH INTRO- 
 
 duction by Percival Chubb. 
 
 34 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF LORD HERBERT. EDITED, 
 
 with an Introduction, by Will H. Dircks. 
 
 35 ENGLISH PROSE, FROM MAUNDEVILLE TO 
 
 Thackeray. Chosen and Edited by Arthur Galton. 
 
 36 THE PILLARS OF SOCIETY, AND OTHER PLAYS. BY 
 
 Ilenrik Ibsen. Edited, with an Introduction, by Havelock Ellis. 
 
 37 IRISH FAIRY AND EOLK TALES. EDITED AND 
 
 Selected by W. B. Yeats. 
 
 38 ESSAYS OF DR. JOHNSON, WITPI BIOGRAPPHCAL 
 
 Introduction and Notes by Stuart J. Reid. 
 
 39 ESSAYS OF WILLIAM HAZLITT. SELECTED AND 
 
 Edited, with Introduction and Notes, by Frank Carr. 
 
 40 LANDOR'S PENTAME'RON, AND OTHER IMAGINARY 
 
 Conversations. Edited, with a Preface, by H. Ellis. 
 
 41 POE'S TALES* AND ESSAYS. EDITED, WITH INTRO- 
 
 duction, by Ernest Rhys. 
 
 42 VICAR OF WAKEFIELD. BY OWVER GOLDSMITH. 
 
 Edited, with Preface, by Ernest Rhys. 
 
 43 POLITICAL ORATIONS, FROxM WENTW^ORTH TO 
 
 Macaulay. Edited, with Introduction, by William Clarke. 
 
 44 TPIE AUTOCRAT OF THE BREAKFAST-TABLE. BY 
 
 Oliver Wendell Hohnes. 
 
 45 THE POET AT THE BREAKFAST-TABLE. BY OLIVER 
 
 Wendell Holmes. 
 
 46 THE PROFESSOR AT TFEE BREAKFAST-TABLE. BY 
 
 Oliver Wendell Holmes. 
 
 47 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS TO HIS SON. 
 
 Selected, with Introduction, by Charles Sayle. 
 
 48 STORIES FROM CARLETON. SELECTED, WITH INTRO- 
 
 duction, by W. Yeats. 
 
 LONDON : Walter Scott, Paternoster Square. 
 
THE SCOTT LIBRARY-continued. 
 
 49 JANE EYRE. BY CHARLOTTE BRONTE. EDITED BY 
 
 Clement K. Shorter. 
 
 50 ELIZABETHAN ENGLAND. EDITED BY LOTHROP 
 
 Withington, with a Preface by Dr. Furnivall. 
 
 51 THE PROSE WRITINGS OF THOMAS DAVIS. EDITED 
 
 by T. W. Rolleaton. 
 
 52 SPENCE'S ANECDOTES. A SELECTION. EDITED, 
 
 with an Introduction and Notes, by John Underbill. 
 
 53 MORE'S UTOPIA, AND LIFE OF EDWARD V. EDITED, 
 
 with an Introduction, by Maurice Adams. 
 
 54 SADI'S GULISTAN, OR FLOWER GARDEN. TRANS- 
 
 lated, with an Essay, by James Ross. 
 
 55 ENGLISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES. EDITED BY 
 
 E. Sidney Hartland. 
 
 56 NORTHERN STUDIES. BY EDMUND GOSSE. WITH 
 
 a Note by Ernest Rhys. 
 
 57 EARLY REVIEWS^ OF GREAT WRITERS. EDITED BY 
 
 E. Stevenson. 
 
 58 ARISTOTLE'S ETHICS. WITH GEORGE HENRY 
 
 Lewes's Essay on Aristotle prefixed. 
 
 59 LANDOR'S PERICLES AND ASPASIA. EDITED, WITH 
 
 an Introduction, by Havelock Ellis. 
 
 60 ANNALS OF TACITUS. THOMAS GORDON^S TRANS- 
 
 lation. Edited, with an Introduction, by Arthur Galton. 
 
 61 ESSAYS OF ELIA. BY CHARLES LAMB. EDITED, 
 
 with an Introduction, by Ernest Rhys. 
 
 62 BALZAC'S SHORTER STORIES. TRANSLATED BY 
 
 William Wilson and the Count Stenbock. 
 
 63 COMEDIES OF DE MUSSET. EDITED, WITH AN 
 
 Introductory Note, by S. L. Gvvynn. 
 
 64 CORAL REEFS. BY CHARLES DARWIN. EDITED, 
 
 with an Introduction, by Dr. J, W. Williams. 
 
 65 SHERIDAN'S PLAYS. EDITED, WITH AN INTRO- 
 
 duction, by Rudolf Dircks. 
 
 LONDON : Waltkr Scott, Paternoster Square. 
 
THE SCOTT LIBRARY-continued. 
 
 66 OUR VILLAGE. BY MISS MITFORD. EDITED, WITH 
 
 an Introduction, by Ernest Rhys. 
 
 67 MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK, AND OTHER STORIES. 
 
 By Charles Dickens. With Introduction by Frank T. Maizials. 
 
 68 TALES FROM WONDERLAND. BY RUDOLPH 
 
 i>aumbach. Translated by Helen B. Dole. 
 
 69 ESSAYS AND PAPERS BY DOUGLAS JERROLD. EDITED 
 
 by Walter Jerrold. 
 
 70 VINDICATION OF THE RIGHTS OF WOMAN. BY 
 
 ^lary Wolistonecraft Introduction by Mrs. E. Robins Pennell. 
 
 71 '*TPIE ATHENIAN ORACLE." A SELECTION. EDITED 
 
 by John Underbill, with Prefatory Note by Walter Besant. 
 
 72 ESSAYS OF SAINTE-BEUVE. TRANSLATED AND 
 
 Edited, with an Introduction, by Elizabeth Lee. 
 
 73 SELECTIONS FROM PLATO. FROM THE TRANS- 
 
 lation of Sydenham and Taylor. Edited by T. W. Rolloston. 
 
 74 HEINE'S ITALIAN TRAVEL SKETCHES, ETC. TRANS- 
 
 lated by Elizabeth A. Sharp. With an Introduction from the French of 
 Theophile Gautier. 
 
 75 SCHILLER'S MAID OF ORLEANS. TRANSLATED, 
 
 with an Introduction, by Major-General Patrick Maxwell. 
 
 76 SELECTIONS FROM SYDNEY SMITH. EDITED, WITH 
 
 an Introduction, by Ernest Rhys. 
 
 77 THE NEW SPIRIT. BY HAVELOCK ELLIS. 
 
 78 THE BOOK OF MARVELLOUS ADVENTURES. FROM 
 
 the "Morte d' Arthur," Edited by Ernest Rhys. [This, together with 
 No. 1, forms the complete " Morte d' Arthur. "J 
 
 79 ESSAYS AND APHORISMS. BY SIR ARTHUR HELPS. 
 
 With an Introduction by E. A. Helps. 
 
 80 ESSAYS OF MONTAIGNE. SELECTED, WITH A 
 
 Prefatory Note, by Percival Chubb. 
 
 81 THE LUCK OF BARRY LYNDON. BY W. M. 
 
 Thackeray. Edited by F. T. Marzials. 
 
 82 SCHILLER'S WILLIAM TELL. TRANSLATED, WITH 
 
 an Introduction, by Major-General I'atrick Maxwell. 
 
 LONDON : Walter Scott, Paternoster Square. 
 
THE SCOTT LIBRARY-confuuied. 
 
 S3 CARLYLE'S ESSAYS ON GERMAN LITERxVTURE. 
 With an Introduction by Ernest Rhys. 
 
 84 PLAYS AND DRAMATIC ESSAYS OF CHARLES LAMB. 
 
 Edited, with an Introduction, by Rudolf Dircks. 
 
 85 THE PROSE OF WORDSWORTH. SELECTED AND 
 
 Edited, with an Introduction, by Professor William Knight. 
 
 86 ESSAYS, DIALOGUES, AND THOUGHTS OF COUNT 
 
 Giacomo Leopardi. Translated, with an Introduction and Notes, by 
 Major-General Patrick Maxwell. 
 
 87 THE INSPECTOR-GENERAL. A RUSSIAN COMEDY. 
 
 By Nikolai V. Go,g:o1. Translated from the original, with an Introduction 
 and Notes, by Arthur A. JSykes. 
 
 88 ESSAYS AND APOTHEGMS OF FRANCIS, LORD BACON. 
 
 Edited, with an Introduction, by John Buchan. 
 
 89 PROSE OF MILTON. SELECTED AND EDITED, WITH 
 
 an Introduction, by Richard Garnett, LL.D. 
 
 90 THE REPUBLIC OF PLATO. TRANSLATED BY 
 
 Thomas Taylor, with an Introduction by Theodore Wratislaw. 
 
 91 PASSAGES FROM FROISSART. WITH AN INTRO- 
 
 duction by Frank T. Marzials, 
 
 92 THE PROSE AND TABLE TALK OF COLERIDGE. 
 
 Edited by WUl H. Dircks. 
 
 93 HEINE IN ART AND LETTERS. TRANSLATED BY 
 
 Elizabeth A. Sharp. 
 
 94 SELECTED ESSAYS OF DE QUINCEY. WITH AN 
 
 Introduction by Sir George Douglas, Bart. 
 
 95 VASARI'S LIVES OF ITALIAN PAINTERS. SELECTED 
 
 and Prefaced by Havelock Ellis. 
 
 96 LAOCOON, AND OTHER PROSE WRITINGS OF 
 
 LESSING. A new Translation by W. B. Ronnfeldt. 
 
 97 PELLEAS AND MELISANDA, AND THE SIGHTLESS. 
 
 Two Plays by Maurice Maeterlinck. Translated from the French by 
 Laurence Alma Tadema. 
 
 98 THE COMPLETE ANGLER OF WALTON AND COTTON. 
 
 Edited, with an Introduction, by Charles llill Dick. 
 
 LONDON ! Walter Scott, Paternoster Square. 
 
THE SCOTT LIBRARY-continued. 
 
 99 LESSING'S NATHAN THE WISE. TRANSLATED BY 
 
 Major-General Patrick Maxwell. 
 
 100 THE POETRY OF THE CELTIC RACES, AND OTHER 
 Essays of Ernest Renan. Translated by W. G. Hutchi.son. 
 
 loi CRITICISMS, REFLECTIONS, AND MAXIMS OF GOETHE. 
 Translated, with an Introduction, by W. B. Ronnfeldt. 
 
 102 ESSAYS OF SCHOPENHAUER. TRANSLATED BY 
 
 Mrs. Rudolf Dircks. With an Introduction. 
 
 103 RENAN'S LIFE OF JESUS. TRANSLATED, WITH AN 
 
 Introduction, by William G. Hutchison. 
 
 104 THE CONFESSIONS OF SAINT AUGUSTINE. EDITED, 
 
 with an Introduction, by Arthur Symons. 
 
 105 THE PRINCIPLES OF SUCCESS IN LITERATURE. 
 
 By George Henry Lewes. Edited, with an Introduction, by T. Sharper 
 Knowlson. 
 
 106 THE LIVES OF DR. JOHN DONNE, SIR HENRY WOTTON, 
 
 Mr. Richard Hooker. Mr. George Herbert, and Dr. Robert Sanderson. 
 By Izaac \Valton. Edited, with an Introduction, by Charles Hill Dick. 
 
 107 WHAT IS ART? BY LEO TOLSTOY. TRANSLATED 
 
 from the Original Russian MS., with an Introduction, by Aylmer 
 Maude. 
 
 108 RENAN'S ANTICHRIST. TRANSLATED, WITH AN 
 
 Introduction, by W. G. Hutchison. 
 
 109 ORATIONS OF CICERO. SELECTED AND EDITED, 
 
 with an Introduction, by Fred. W. Norris. 
 
 no REFLECTIONS ON THE REVOLUTION IN FRANCE. 
 By Eduuind Burke. With an Introduction by George Sampson. 
 
 111 THE LETTERS OF THE YOUNGER PLINY. SERIES L 
 
 Translated, with an Introductory Essay, by John B. Firth, B.A., Late 
 Scholar of Queen's College, Oxford. 
 
 112 THE LETTERS OF THE YOUNGER PLINY. SERIES IL 
 
 Translated by John B. Firth, B.A. 
 
 113 SELECTED THOUGHTS OF BLAISE PASCAL. TRANS- 
 
 lated and Edited, with an Introduction and Notes, by Gertrude Burfoid 
 Rawlings. 
 
 114 SCOTS ESSAYISTS: FROM STIRLING TO STEVENSON. 
 
 Edited, with an Introduction, by Oliphant Snieaton. 
 
 LONDON : Walter Scott, Paternoster Square. 
 
MANUALS OF EMPLOYMENT FOR 
 EDUCATED WOMEN. 
 
 Edited by CHRISTABEL OSBORN. 
 
 The object of this series of manuals will be to give to girls, more 
 particularly to those belonging to the educated classes, who from 
 inclination or necessity are looking forward to earning their own 
 living, some assistance with reference to the choice of a profession, 
 and to the best method of preparing for it when chosen. Of late years 
 a great deal of attention has been directed to the subject of women's 
 employment, and a considerable amount of useful information has been 
 published with regard to different occupations, but it can hardly be 
 said to have yet appeared in any form rendering it generally accessible 
 to that portion of the public for whom it is specially intended. 
 
 Volumes already Issued. 
 
 Foolscap 8vo, Stiff Paper Cover, Price is.; or in Limp Cloth, is. 6d. 
 
 I.— SECONDARY TEACHING. 
 
 By CHRISTABEL OSBORN and FLORENCE B. LOW. 
 
 With an Introduction by 
 Miss E. P. HUGHES, Associate of Newnham College, Camb. 
 
 This manual contains particulars of the qualifications necessary for a 
 secondary teacher, v»ith a list of the colleges and universities where train- 
 ing may be had, the cost of training, and the prospect of employment 
 when trained. 
 
 II.— ELEMENTARY TEACHING. 
 
 By CHRISTABEL OSBORN. 
 
 With an Introduction by SiR JOSHUA FITCH, LL.D. 
 
 This manual sums up clearly the chief facts which need to be known 
 respecting the vv^ork to be done in elementary schools, and the conditions 
 under which women may take a share in such work. 
 
 III.— SICK NURSING. 
 
 By CHRISTABEL OSBORN. 
 
 This manual contains useful information with regard to every branch of 
 Nursing — Hospital, District, Private, and Mental Nursing, and Nursing in 
 the Army and Navy and in Poor Law Institutions, with particulars of the 
 best method of training, the usual salaries given, and the prospect of em- 
 ployment, with some account of the general advantages and drawbacks of 
 the work. 
 
 Other Volumes in Preparation. 
 LONDON : Walter Scott, Paternoster bquare. 
 
IBSEN'S PROSE DRAMAS. 
 
 Edited by WILLIAM ARCHER. 
 
 Complete in Five Vols. Crown 8vo, Cloth, Price 3/6 each. 
 
 Set of Five Vols., in Case, 17/6; In Half Morocco, in Case, 32/6. 
 
 ** We seem at last to he shown men and women as they are ; and at first it 
 is more than zve can endure. . . . All Ibsen* s chafacters speak and act as if 
 they %vere hypnotised^ and under their creator^s imperious demand to reveal 
 themselves. There never was such a mirror held up to nature before: <t is 
 too terrible. . . , Yet we must rettirn to Ibsen^ with his remorseless surgery^ 
 his remorseless electric-light^ until %ve^ toOy have grown strong and learned /<? 
 face the naked — if necessary^ the flayed and blceding-^reality,** — Speaker 
 (London). 
 
 Vol. L "A DOLUS HOUSE," "THE LEAGUE OF 
 YOUTH," and "THE PILLARS OF SOCIETY." With 
 Portrait of the Author, and Biographical Introduction by 
 William Archer. 
 
 Vol. n. *' GHOSTS,'* "AN ENEMY OF THE PEOPLE," 
 and "THE WILD DUCK." With an Introductory Note. 
 
 Vol. HL "LADY INGER OF OSTRAT," "THE VIKINGS 
 AT HELGELAND," "THE PRETENDERS." With an 
 Introductory Note and Portrait of Ibsen. 
 
 Vol. IV. "EMPEROR AND GALILEAN." With an 
 
 Introductory Note by William Archer. 
 
 Vol. V. " ROSMERSHOLM," "THE LADY FROM THE 
 SEA," *'HEDDA GABLER." Translated by William 
 Archer. With an Introductory Note. 
 
 The sequence of the plays in each volwne is chronological ; the complete 
 set of volumes comprising the dramas thus presents them in chronological 
 order. 
 
 "The art of prose translation does not perhaps enjoy a very high literary 
 status in England, but we have no hesitation in numbering the p'resent 
 version of Ibsen, so far as it has gone (Vols. I. and II.), among the very 
 best achievements, in that kind, of our generation." — Academy, 
 
 ** We have seldom, if ever, met with a translation so absolutely 
 
 idiomatic." — Clasgoiu Herald. 
 
 LONDON : Walter Scott, Paternoster Square. 
 
COMPACT AND PRACTICAL. 
 
 In Limp doth ; for the Pocket. Price One Shilling. 
 
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 CONVERSATION BOOKS, 
 
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 NORWEGIAN 
 
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 and Disembarking — Excursion by Carriage — Enquiries as to 
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 The contents of these little handljfloW are so arranged as to 
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Crown 8vo, about 350 pp. each, Cloth Cover, 2/6 per Vol.; 
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 Count Tolstoy's Works. 
 
 The following Volumes are already issued — 
 
 A RUSSIAN PROPRIETOR. 
 
 THE COSSACKS. 
 
 IVAN ILYITCH, AND OTHER 
 
 STORIES. 
 MY RELIGION. 
 LIFE. 
 
 MY CONFESSION. 
 CHILDHOOD, BOYHOOD, 
 
 YOUTH. 
 THE PHYSIOLOGY OF WAR. 
 ANNA KAR^NINA. 3/6. 
 
 WHAT TO DO? 
 
 WAR AND PEACE. (4 vols.) 
 
 THE LONG EXILE, ETC. 
 
 SEVASTOPOL. 
 
 THE KREUTZER SONATA, AND 
 
 FAMILY HAPPINESS. 
 THE KINGDOM OF GOD IS 
 
 WITHIN YOU. 
 WORK WHILE YE HAVE THE 
 
 LIGHT. 
 THE GOSPEL IN BRIEF. 
 
 Uniform with the above — 
 
 IMPRESSIONS OF RUSSIA. By Dr. Georg Brandes. 
 
 Post 4to, Cloth, Price is. 
 
 PATRIOTISM AND CHRISTIANITY. 
 
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 WHERE LOVE IS, THERE GOD 
 
 IS ALSO. 
 THE TWO PILGRIMS. 
 WHAT MEN LIVE BY. 
 
 THE GODSON. 
 
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 WHAT SHALL IT PROFIT A MAN ? 
 
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 Volume I. contains — 
 
 WHERE LOVE IS, THERE GOD 
 
 IS ALSO. 
 THE GODSON. 
 
 Volume II. contains — 
 
 WHAT MEN LIVE BY. 
 
 WHAT SHALL IT PROFIT A 
 
 MAN ? 
 
 Volume III. contains — 
 
 THE TWO PILGRIMS. 
 IF YOU NEGLECT THE FIRE, 
 YOU don't put IT OUT. 
 Volume IV. contains — 
 
 MASTER AND MAN. 
 
 Volume V. contains — 
 
 TOLSTOY'S PARABLES. 
 
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 ILach Volume with a Frontispiece in Photogravure^ 
 
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 THE SCARLET LETTER. 
 
 THE HOUSE OF THE SEVEN GABLES. 
 
 THE BLITHEDALE ROMANCE. 
 
 TANGLEWOOD TALES. 
 
 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 A WONDER-BOOK FOR GIRLS AND BOYS. 
 
 OUR OLD HOME. 
 
 MOSSES FROM AN OLD MANSE. 
 
 THE SNOW IMAGE. 
 
 TRUE STORIES FROM HISTORY AND BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 THE NEW ADAM AND EVE. 
 
 LEGENDS OF THE PROVINCE HOUSE. 
 
 By OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES. 
 
 THE AUTOCRAT OF THE BREAKFAST-TABLE. 
 THE PROFESSOR AT THE BREAKFAST-TABLE. . 
 THE POET AT THE BREAKFAST-TABLE. 
 ELSIE VENNER. 
 
 By HENRY THOREAU. 
 
 ESSAYS AND OTHER WRITINGS. 
 WALDEN; OR, LIFE IN THE WOODS. 
 A WEEK ON THE CONCORD. 
 
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