APPENDIX. 317 



History. Besides, the nature of his sport is essentially quiet, 

 contemplative, and favourable to thought and reflection. " Be- 

 cause," as an old English writer expresses himself, "hawking 

 and hunting are very laborious : much riding and many dangers 

 accompany them : but this is still and quiet : and if so be that 

 the angler catch no fish, yet hath he a wholesome walk to the 

 brook-side, and pleasant shade by the sweet silver streams. He 

 hath good aire and sweet smells of fine fresh meadow-flowers : he 

 heareth the melodious harmony of birds he sees the swans, 

 herons, ducks, water-hens, cootes, and many other fowle with 

 their brood ; which he thinks better than the noise of hounds or 

 blast of homes, and all the sport that they can make." * 



A salmon when first hooked by the angler makes the most 

 desperate efforts to escape, It darts away with prodigious velo- 

 city, spinning the reel merrily, and running out fifty, sixty, 

 or even a hundred yards of line. It then leaps madly and 

 repeatedly out of the water, shaking its head with great violence 

 to get rid of the barbed torment within its jaws. Failing in 

 this, it tries opposite tactics : descends to the bottom of the river, 

 and there attempts to accomplish the same object by rubbing 

 out the hook against the rocks. Next follows another course 

 of some half-dozen or dozen leaps out of the water, requiring 

 great care and tact on the part of the fisher to keep the line 

 taut during these convulsive struggles. It is at this time 

 that unskilful anglers generally lose their fish. If the salmon is 

 unsuccessful in all these attempts to liberate himself, he veiy 

 often, as a last effort, makes a rush down the stream. Luckily 

 for the fisher, but unfortunately for the poor fish, it is destitute of 

 the instinct of the pike, which prompts that voracious creature to 

 bite through the slender line to which he is a prisoner. The 

 capture of a large and active fish weighing thirty pounds, has 

 sometimes employed me more than two hours. 



* Anatomy of Melancholy. 



