THE EEL. 353 



seasons, but especially during the summer solstice," say they in their 

 dietetic code, and, says Dr. Badham, "in their leonine verses, they go 

 the length of declaring that to live on eels is a sure recipe for spoiling 

 the voice." 



Vocilen anguillse praree sunt comedantur, 

 Qui physice non ignorant hoc testificantur. 



Pliny also held this opinion, but says, "Singular are they holden to be 

 for to cleanse the humours, either cholericke or phlegmaticke, likewise to 

 cure the infirmities of the spleen ; only they be hurtful to the throat, and 

 make a man to lose his voice this is all the harme they do." 



For mine own part, I am like the " lady " of Sir Thomas, in Ingoldsby's 

 before-quoted poem, and own to being particularly fond of the eel, if 

 cooked properly. I would, however, adopt one sentiment from Canne's 

 " Recipes for cooking fish," paraphrased in Barham's verses : 



One more piece of advice, and I close my appeals : 



That is, if you chance to be partial to eels, 



Then credo experto trust one who has tried, 



Have them spitch-cooked or stewed ; they're oily when fried. 



Of course, if, as I before said, eels are not cleansed after capture from 

 unpleasant localities, injury may ensue to the eater. For example, 

 Juvenal's eel is thus described : 



Now comes the dish for thy repast desired : 

 A snake-like eel, of that unwholesome breed 

 Which fattens where Cloaca's torrents foam, 

 And sports in Tiber's flood his native shore. 

 Amidst the drains that in Suburra flow 

 Swims the foul streams which fill the crypt below. 



But a Colne, Witham, or Thames eel, kept in a stew and fed on minnows 

 for a few weeks, is one of the finest treats of which I know. One of the 

 old epicureans, we are told, held similar views, in that he averred that 

 any man who could tear himself away from the spot where eels were 

 being cooked must either have brazen nostrils, or no nose at all ; and to 

 be rich and yet not have tasted an eel, Philiteus thought should be num- 

 bered amongst the misfortunes of life. 



Before passing on to a consideration of the eel trade as an industry, I 

 may, perhaps, be allowed to jot down a few prescriptions in which eels 

 take a prominent part. The following is a recipe for " weak nerves " : 



Take wormwood root, 



And gall of trout, 

 And place them on the fire, 



With brain of pike, 



Or, if you like, 

 Take dung out of the bire. 



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