THE BREAM. 279 



or middle. The whole fish is insipid in the extreme, and, 

 as Bloch says, " when taken out of muddy waters, has a 

 most detestable flavour." One writer has ventured to 

 name what this exact flavour really is, for, after saying 

 that the bream is in shape much like a pair of bellows, 

 he adds, "and much the same in flavour." How he 

 arrived at this conclusion I cannot say, unless he experi- 

 mented on bellows gastronomically, as enterprising toxi- 

 cologists take doses of poison ; but still I would engage 

 myself to serve up the well-stewed leather and even grated 

 wood of a pair of bellows (leaving out the brass nails) 

 with onions or curry, and present a more palatable dish 

 than a bream could ever be converted into. The truth 

 is, I have remarked heretofore, our tastes are much more 

 educated than those of our forefathers, and the time has 

 gone by, never to return, for a stewed carp to be regarded 

 as a dainty dish, as it was in the Tudor period, or for 

 bream to be kept in ponds or sluices as " welcomes " for 

 our friends. Fancy any sane man in this latter half of 

 the nineteenth century " welcoming " his friend and 

 " guest " with a dish of bream ! He would as surely 

 convert him into an enemy as would the wives of our 

 bosoms make the domestic mahogany to be abhorred of 

 us if they persisted in presenting us with " cold mutton 

 again " on Sundays. But as many an angler insists on 

 eating somewhat of the fish he takes, let him kill his 

 bream as soon as taken; let him behead it and "betail" 

 it, and lay it open from gills to vent, even unto the dorsal 

 fin ; let him clean it well with water, rub it with salt or 

 lemon, again clean it with water, wipe it with a dry cloth, 

 and then let it lie in the sun and air for the flesh to harden 

 somewhat and haply some of the evil humours to escape. 



