412 AMERICAN FISHES. 



are embalmed in the dramas, essays and poems of the old masters. Instead 

 of grouping these fishes in accordance with systematic relations, they shall 

 be taken up under their popular names and much in the same order in 

 which Piscator introduced them, or their representatives, to his pupil 

 Venator, two hundred and thirty-five years ago. 



There is a kind of pleasure known to English anglers which is cultivated 

 by but few of those who are called by the same name in America — the 

 quiet, peaceful delight of brook-fishing in the midst of the restful scenery 

 of the woods and the meadows. It is difficult to imagine a thorough dis- 

 ciple of Walton chumming for striped-bass in the surf at Newport or trolling 

 for Muskellunge among the Thousand Islands, drailing for Blue-fish in 

 the Vineyard Sound, or tugging at a tarpum-line in the Gulf of Mexico. 

 The muscular exertion, the excitement, the flurry and noise, make such 

 sports more akin to the fiercer pursuits of hunting than to the contemplative 

 man's recreation. The wisest, best and gentlest of anglers, those who 

 have made the literature of angling akin to poetry, have not, as a rule, 

 preferred to make a violent exercise of their fishing. 



In his charming essay on " Roach-fishing as a Fine Art," Edward Senior 

 makes some pertinent remarks upon this topic. " Notv.'ithstanding," says 

 he, " the Philistine sneer at the assertion that the beauties of nature are a 

 strong attraction for the angler, the fact remains. The meadows, woods, 

 birds, bees, dragon-flies, forget-me-nots, meadow-sweet, and even the 

 water-vole and the moorhen, enter into the vision which tempts the angler 

 to the water-side. A little angling with a good deal of the sweet sights 

 and sounds which it brings, is a boon to tens of thousands, who ought to 

 be ever grateful to the roach, which is their excuse and opportunity." 



This is the true Waltonian spirit, and the very same which inspired the 



angler's songs of old : 



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 fish and study too. 



I love not Angling (rude) on Seas — 



Fresh Streams my Inclination please, 



Whose sweet calm Course to Thought I call, 



And seek in Life to copy all ; 



In Bounds (like them) I fain would keep, 

 Like them, would (when I break them) weep. 



