from his swift swimming or gliding out of sight, more like a shadow or a ghost than a fish. Much more might be said both of his smell and taste, but I shall only tell you, that St. Ambrose, the glorious Bishop of Milan, who lived when the Church kept fasting-days, calls him the Flower-fish, or Flower of Fishes, and that he was so far in love with him, that he would not let him pass without the honour of a long discourse; but I must; and pass on to tell you how to take this dainty fish.

First, note, that he grows not to the bigness of a Trout; for the biggest of them do not usually exceed eighteen inches; he lives in such rivers as the Trout does, and is usually taken with the same baits as the Trout is, and after the same manner, for he will bite both at the Minnow, or Worm, or Fly; though he bites not often at the Minnow, and is very gamesome at the fly, and much simpler, and therefore bolder than a Trout; for he will rise twenty times at a fly, if you miss him, and yet rise again. He has been taken with a fly made of the

red feathers of a Parakita, a strange outlandish bird, and he will rise at a fly not unlike a gnat or a small moth, or indeed, at most flies that are not too big. He is a fish that lurks close all Winter, but is very pleasant and jolly after mid-April, and in May, and in the hot months: he is of a very fine shape, his flesh is white, his teeth, those little ones that he has, are in his throat, yet he has so tender a mouth, that he is oftener lost after an Angler has hooked him than any other fish. Though there be many of these fishes in the delicate river Dove, and in Trent, and some other smaller rivers, as that which runs by Salisbury, yet he is not so general a fish as the Trout, nor to me so good to eat or to angle for. And so I shall take my leave of him, and now come to some observations of the Salmon, and how to catch him.

CHAPTER VII.

Observations of the SALMON, with Directions how to fish for him.

PISCATOR.

THE Salmon is accounted the King of fresh-water fish, and is ever bred in rivers relating to the sea, yet so high or far from it as admits of no tincture of salt, or brackishness; he is said to breed or cast his spawn in most rivers, in the month of August: some say that then they dig a hole or grave in a safe place in the gravel, and there place their eggs or spawn, after the melter has done his natural office, and then hide it most cunningly, and cover it over with gravel and stones; and then leave it to their Creator's protection, who by a gentle heat, which he infuses into that cold element, makes it brood and beget life in the spawn, and to become Samlets early in the Spring next following.

The Salmons having spent their appointed time, and done this natural duty in the fresh waters, they then haste to the sea before Winter; both the melter and spawner: but, if they be stopped by flood-gates or wears, or lost in the fresh waters, then, those so left behind, by degrees grow sick, and lean, and unseasonable, and kipper; that is to say, have bony gristles grow out of their lower chaps, not unlike a hawk's beak, which hinder their feeding, and in time such fish so left behind, pine away and die. 'Tis observed, that he

may live thus one year from the sea; but he then grows insipid, and tasteless, and loses both his blood and strength, and pines and dies the second year. And 'tis noted, that those little Salmons called Skeggers, which abound in many rivers relating to the sea, are bred by such sick Salmons, that might not go to the sea, and that though they abound, yet they never thrive to any considerable bigness.

But if the old Salmon gets to the sea, then that gristle which shews him to be kipper, wears away, or is cast off, as the Eagle is said to cast his bill, and he recovers his strength, and comes next Summer to the same river, if it be possible, to enjoy the former pleasures that there possessed him; for, as one has wittily observed, he has, like some persons of honour and riches, which have both their Winter and Summer houses, the fresh rivers for Summer, and the salt-water for Winter, to spend his life in ; which is not, as Sir Francis Bacon hath observed in his History of Life and Death, above ten years: and it is to be observed, that though the Salmon does grow big in the sea, yet he grows not fat but in fresh rivers; and it is observed, that the farther they get from the sea, they be both the fatter and better.

Next, I shall tell you, that though they make very hard shift to get out of the fresh rivers into the sea; yet they will make harder shift to get out of the salt into the fresh rivers, to spawn, or possess the pleasures that they have formerly found in them: to which end, they will force themselves through flood

gates, or over wears, or hedges, or stops in the water, even to a height beyond common belief. Gesner speaks of such places as are known to be above eight feet high above water. And our Camden mentions in his Britannia the like wonder to be in Pembrokeshire, where the river Tivy falls into the sea, and that the fall is so down-right, and so high, that the people stand and wonder at the strength and sleight by which they see the Salmon use to get out of the sea into the said river; and the manner and height of the place is so notable, that it is known far by the name of the Salmon-leap; concerning which, take this also out of Michael Drayton, my honest old friend; as he tells it you in his Polyolbion. And when the Salmon seeks a fresher stream to find, Which hither from the Sea comes yearly by his kind; As he towards season grows, and stems the wat❜ry tract Where Tivy falling down, makes an high cataract, Forc'd by the rising rocks that there her course oppose, As though within her bounds they meant her to inclose; Here, when the labouring fish does at the foot arrive, And finds that by his strength he does but vainly strive; His tail takes in his mouth, and bending like a bow That's to full compass drawn, aloft himself doth throw, Then springing at his height, as doth a little wand, That bended end to end, and started from man's hand, Far off itself doth cast; so, does the Salmon vault, And if at first he fail, his second Summersault He instantly essays: and from his nimble ring, Still yerking, never leaves until himself he fling Above the opposing stream.