THE GAME EISHES OF THE WOELD 



was so pure and white. Columella tells us that Marcius 

 Philippus taught the Eomans to take the bass as a fine 

 game fish. Horace wrote of the bass, and in keen satire said 

 to the ion vivants of his day, ' Whence is it that your palate can 

 distinguish between the Tiberne basse and those taken at sea ? ' 

 Aristotle praised this fish for its cunning. [It was difficult to 

 capture, and both Ovid and Aelian must have observed its 

 cleverness, as they refer to it as burrowing in the sand to evade 

 the net. With this appreciation of the bass the Eomans must 

 have been delighted when they landed in Britain to find that 

 the finest game fish of these waters was their own bass of the 

 Tiber, whose very name was given on account of its cunning. 



The average bass-taken by English anglers ranges from two 

 to four pounds, and ten and twelve pounders are not uncommon. 

 * John Bickerdyke ' mentions a twenty-seven pounder from 

 Brixham. The yare more frequently found in south and south- 

 western England, coming inshore ia May, the larger fish leaving 

 in October. The expert bass fisher finds it in the surf, off the 

 mouth of rivers, on sandy bars, off rocky points, showing that 

 it is a versatile fish. One charm of the bass is, that it will take a 

 fly. A volume could be written on it and its cousins in various 

 parts of the world, everywhere a good hard fighting game fish. 



Mr. Aflalo is loud in his praise of the bass, and one can read 

 his description of the catch he made one fair morning off Teign- 

 mouth of a thirty inch eleven and a fourth-pound bass that 

 fought a half hour before surrendering, and will heartily agree 

 with him that this is the king of game fishes of England's sea- 

 coast. Some of Mr. Aflalo's best bass weighed ten and one- 

 quarter pounds, eight and one-half, six, five and one-quarter, 

 four and one-half pounds. 



I had hoped to have some bass fishing at Teignmouth, par- 

 ticularly when I was at Bristol, knowing of a good ground in the 

 estuary of the Lyn where it reaches the Bristol Channel, the 

 little town reminding one of Italy, but I was dissuaded by 

 torrential rains. I was too late, buti 'stood on the highlands 

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