THE SALMON. 183 
ual loss, and eliciting naughty words from the not then 
gentle fisherman. 
And now, kind reader mine, I have told you swhither 
to pass in pursuit of your sport ; I have told you, so far 
as tell I can, how to rise, how to strike, how to kill, how 
to land your fish. 
Now I will tell you how to cook him—eat him, I doubt 
not, you can without my teaching. 
As soon as he is out of water stun him with a heavy 
blow on the head; then with a sharp knife crimp him, 
that is, gash him to the bone on both sides with a num- 
ber of parallel transvere cuts, parallel to the line of the 
gills, at about two inches asunder ; hold him up by the 
tail and let him bleed; cool him for ten minutes in the 
coldest spring or running water you can find at hand; 
carry him to the pot in which your salt and water— 
nearly strong enough to bear an egg—must be boiling 
like mad; in with him, and let him boil quantum suff. 
Then serve him up, with no sauce save a few spoonsful 
of the water in which he was cooked, and if you please, 
the squeeze of a lemon, or, better yet, a lime—but, “ an 
you love me, Hal,” eschew the lobster sauce, and the 
rich condiments, as Reading, Worcestershire or Soy, for 
he is rich enough without, and they will but kill his 
natural flavor, and undo his delicacy. 
And so adieu, and good luck to you! Take my ad- 
vice, and when night cometh you may boast that you 
have fished well, and dined supremely. 
