Chapter XIV (2)

"_Physicus._--Like Ornither, I consider the destiny of this insect as desirable, and I cannot help regarding the end of human life as most happy, when terminated under the impulse of some strong energetic feeling, similar in its nature to an instinct. I should not wish to die like Attila, in a moment of gross sensual enjoyment; but the death of Epaminondas or Nelson, in the arms of victory, their whole attention absorbed in the love of glory, and of their country, I think really enviable.

"_Poietes._--I consider the death of the martyr or the saint as far more enviable; for, in this case, what may be considered as a Divine instinct of our nature is called into exertion, and pain is subdued, or destroyed, by a secure faith in the power and mercy of the Divinity. In such cases, man rises above mortality, and shows his true intellectual superiority. By intellectual superiority, I mean that of his spiritual nature, for I do not consider the results of reason as capable of being compared with those of faith. Reason is often a dead weight in life, destroying feeling, and substituting, for principle, calculation and caution; and, in the hour of death, it often produces fear or despondency, and is rather a bitter draught than nectar or ambrosia in the last meal of life.

"_Halieus._--I agree with Poietes. The higher and more intense the feeling under which death takes place, the happier it may be esteemed; and I think even Physicus will be of our opinion, when I recollect the conclusion of a conversation in Scotland. The immortal being never can quit life with so much pleasure as with the feeling of immortality secure, and the vision of celestial glory filling the mind, affected by no other passion than the pure and intense love of God."

We are not to suppose that, however soothing and consolatory such feelings and hopes may have been, they weaned him from the world, or diminished his natural love of life; on the contrary, no one would have more gratefully received the services of a Medea, as the following passage will sufficiently testify. "Ah! could I recover any thing like that freshness of mind which I possessed at twenty-five, and which, like the dew of the dawning morning, covered all objects and nourished all things that grew, and in which they were more beautiful even than in midday sunshine,--what would I not give! All that I have gained in an active and not unprofitable life. How well I remember that delightful season, when, full of power, I sought for power in others; and power was sympathy, and sympathy power;--when the dead and the unknown, the great of other ages and of distant places were made, by the force of the imagination, my companions and friends;--when every voice seemed one of praise and love;--when every flower had the bloom and odour of the rose; and every spray or plant seemed either the poet's laurel, or the civic oak--which appeared to offer themselves as wreaths to adorn my throbbing brow. But, alas! this cannot be.----"

After the example of the great Patriarch of Anglers, the author of Salmonia commences, through the assistance of the principal interlocutor of the dialogue, HALIEUS, to enumerate the delights of his art, and to vindicate it from the charge of cruelty.

"_Halieus._--The search after food is an instinct belonging to our nature; and from the savage in his rudest and most primitive state, who destroys a piece of game, or a fish, with a club or spear, to man in the most cultivated state of society, who employs artifice, machinery, and the resources of various other animals, to secure his object, the origin of the pleasure is similar, and its object the same: but that kind of it requiring most art may be said to characterize man in his highest or intellectual state; and the fisher for salmon and trout with the fly employs not only machinery to assist his physical powers, but applies sagacity to conquer difficulties; and the pleasure derived from ingenious resources and devices, as well as from active pursuit, belongs to this amusement. Then, as to its philosophical tendency, it is a pursuit of moral discipline, requiring patience, forbearance, and command of temper. As connected with natural science, it may be vaunted as demanding a knowledge of the habits of a considerable tribe of created beings,--fishes, and the animals that they prey upon, and an acquaintance with the signs and tokens of the weather, and its changes, the nature of waters, and of the atmosphere. As to its poetical relations, it carries us into the most wild and beautiful scenery of nature; amongst the mountain lakes, and the clear and lovely streams that gush from the higher ranges of elevated hills, or that make their way through the cavities of calcareous strata. How delightful in the early spring, after the dull and tedious time of winter, when the frosts disappear and the sunshine warms the earth and waters, to wander forth by some clear stream, to see the leaf bursting from the purple bud, to scent the odours of the bank perfumed by the violet, and enamelled, as it were, with the primrose and the daisy; to wander upon the fresh turf below the shade of trees, whose bright blossoms are filled with the music of the bee; and on the surface of the waters to view the gaudy flies sparkling like animated gems in the sunbeams, whilst the bright and beautiful trout is watching them from below; to hear the twittering of the water birds, who, alarmed at your approach, rapidly hide themselves beneath the flowers and leaves of the water-lily; and, as the season advances, to find all these objects changed for others of the same kind, but better and brighter, till the swallow and the trout contend, as it were, for the gaudy Mayfly, and till, in pursuing your amusement in the calm and balmy evening, you are serenaded by the songs of the cheerful thrush and melodious nightingale, performing the offices of paternal love, in thickets ornamented with the rose and woodbine."

On vindicating the pursuit from the charge of cruelty, he has advanced an argument that has not been commonly adduced upon this occasion. We have indeed all heard, that the operation of skinning is a matter of indifference to eels when they are used to it; but we are now told fish are so little annoyed by the hook, that though a trout has been hooked and played with for some minutes, he will often, after his escape with the artificial fly in his mouth, take the natural fly, and feed as if nothing had happened; having apparently learnt only from the experiment, that the artificial fly is not proper food. "I have caught pikes with four or five hooks in their mouths, and tackle which they had broken only a few minutes before; and the hooks seemed to have had no other effect than that of serving as a sort of _sauce piquante_, urging them to seize another morsel of the same kind."

Our author, however, takes a more special defence, by observing that, unlike old Isaac, he employs an artificial fly, instead of a living bait. Our notions about the cruelty of field sports is extremely capricious. Until the time of the Reformation, the canon law prohibited the use of the sanguinary recreations of hunting, hawking, and fowling, while the clergy, on account of their leisure, were allowed to exercise the harmless and humane art of angling. In later days, the indignation against this art has been excited by the supposed sufferings of the worm or bait, rather than by those of the fish; and thus far the author of Salmonia assumed a strong posture of defence; but he did not avail himself of all the advantages it commanded. He might have pleaded, that every fish he caught by his artificial fly was destined to prey upon an insect, and that by substituting a piece of silk for the latter, he would for every fish he might destroy, save from destruction many of those fairy beings that animate the air and sparkle in the sunbeam;--but it is, after all, folly to argue upon the subject of cruelty in our field sports. That animals should live by preying upon each other is the very basis of the scheme of creation; and in these days it is not necessary to expose the absurdities of the system of Samos and Indostan. Dr. Franklin, at one period of his life, entertained a sentimental abhorrence at eating any thing that had possessed life; and the reader may, perhaps, not object to be reminded of the manner in which he was cured of his prejudice. "I considered," says he, "the capture of every fish as a sort of murder, committed without provocation, since these animals had neither done, nor were capable of doing, the smallest injury to any one that should justify the measure. This mode of reasoning I conceived to be unanswerable. Meanwhile, I had formerly been extremely fond of fish; and when one of the cod was taken out of the frying-pan, I thought its flavour delicious. I hesitated some time between principle and inclination, till at last recollecting that, when the cod had been opened, some small fish were found in its belly, I said to myself, 'If you eat each other, I see no reason why we may not eat you,'--(His "wish was father to that thought")--I accordingly dined on the cod with no small degree of pleasure, and have since continued to eat like the rest of mankind."

HALIEUS is made to admit the danger of analysing too closely the moral character of any of our field sports; and yet, in the concluding chapter, he very unfairly and inconsistently attempts to ridicule the pursuit of a fox-hunter, "risking his neck to see the hounds destroy an animal which he preserves to be destroyed, and which is good for nothing." He who pursues a pleasure because it is rational, reasons because he cannot feel. "When the heart," says Sterne, "flies out before the understanding, it saves the judgment a world of pains."

Having, as the author thinks satisfactorily, settled the preliminary questions, HALIEUS, succeeds in persuading PHYSICUS to join him in fishing excursions; just as _Piscator_ is represented by old Isaac, as having enlisted _Venator_ into the brotherhood of the angle.

The dialogue now proceeds with great animation, during which the art and mystery of Piscatory tactics are unfolded with great skill; for the details of which the reader must be referred to the work itself. If, however, he be not already an angler, it may save him a world of pains to be informed, that to learn to fish by the book is little less absurd than "to make hay by the fair days in the almanack."

The manner in which he treats the various subjects of natural history necessarily connected with the pursuit is both amusing and instructive; and the whole work is studded and gemmed, as it were, with the most poetical descriptions.

In speaking of the swallow, _Poietes_ exclaims--"I delight in this living landscape! The swallow is one of my favourite birds, and a rival of the nightingale; for he cheers my sense of seeing as much as the other does my sense of hearing. He is the glad prophet of the year, the harbinger of the best season: he lives a life of enjoyment amongst the loveliest forms of nature: winter is unknown to him; and he leaves the green meadows of England in autumn, for the myrtle and orange groves of Italy, and for the palms of Africa: he has always objects of pursuit, and his success is secure. Even the beings selected for his prey are poetical, beautiful, and transient. The ephemeræ are saved by his means from a slow and lingering death in the evening, and killed in a moment, when they have known nothing of life but pleasure. He is the constant destroyer of insects--the friend of man; and, with the stork and the ibis, may be regarded as a sacred bird. His instinct, which gives him his appointed seasons, and teaches him always when and where to move, may be regarded as flowing from a divine source; and he belongs to the oracles of Nature, which speak the awful and intelligible language of a present Deity."

_Poietes_ considers a full and clear river as the most poetical object in Nature.--"I will not fail to obey your summons. Pliny has, as well as I recollect, compared a river to human life. I have never read the passage in his works; but I have been a hundred times struck with the analogy, particularly amidst mountain scenery. The river, small and clear in its origin, gushes forth from rocks, falls into deep glens, and wantons and meanders through a wild and picturesque country, nourishing only the uncultivated tree or flower by its dew or spray. In this, its state of infancy and youth, it may be compared to the human mind, in which fancy and strength of imagination are predominant--it is more beautiful than useful. When the different rills or torrents join, and descend into the plain, it becomes slow and stately in its motions; it is applied to move machinery, to irrigate meadows, and to bear upon its bosom the stately barge;--in this mature state it is deep, strong, and useful. As it flows on towards the sea, it loses its force and its motion, and at last, as it were, becomes lost, and mingled with the mighty abyss of waters."

_Halieus_ adds--"One might pursue the metaphor still farther, and say, that in its origin--its thundering and foam, when it carries down clay from the bank, and becomes impure, it resembles the youthful mind, affected by dangerous passions. And the influence of a lake, in calming and clearing the turbid water, may be compared to the effect of reason in more mature life, when the tranquil, deep, cool, and unimpassioned mind is freed from its fever, its troubles, bubbles, noise, and foam. And, above all, the sources of a river--which may be considered as belonging to the atmosphere--and its termination in the ocean, may be regarded as imaging the divine origin of the human mind, and its being ultimately returned to, and lost in, the infinite and eternal Intelligence from which it originally sprang."

_Halieus_ offers some curious observations with respect to the recollection of fish being associated with surrounding objects.

"I have known a fish that I have pricked retain his station in the river, and refuse the artificial fly, day after day, for weeks together; but his memory may have been kept awake by this practice, and the recollection seems local, and associated with surrounding objects; and if a pricked trout is chased into another pool, he will, I believe, soon again take the artificial fly. Or, if the objects around him are changed, as in autumn, by the decay of weeds, or by their being cut, the same thing happens; and a flood or a rough wind, I believe, assists the fly-fisher, not merely by obscuring the vision of the fish, but, in a river much fished, by changing the appearance of their haunts: large trouts almost always occupy particular stations, under, or close to, a large stone or tree; and probably, most of their recollected sensations are connected with this dwelling.

"_Physicus._--I think I understand you, that the memory of the danger and pain does not last long, unless there is a permanent sensation with which it can remain associated,--such as the station of the trout; and that the recollection of the mere form of the artificial fly, without this association, is evanescent.

"_Ornither._--You are diving into metaphysics; yet, I think, in fowling, I have observed that the memory of birds is local. A woodcock that has been much shot at and scared in a particular wood, runs to the side where he has usually escaped, the moment he hears the dogs; but if driven into a new wood, he seems to lose his acquired habits of caution, and becomes stupid."

In alluding to the migrations of fishes, _Physicus_ observes, "That he has always considered that the two great sources of change of place of animals, was the providing of food for themselves, and resting-places and food for their young. The great supposed migrations of herrings from the poles to the temperate zone appear to be only the approach of successive shoals from deep to shallow water, for the purpose of spawning. The migrations of salmon and trout are evidently for the purpose of depositing their ova, or of finding food after they have spawned."

In explaining the circumstances which render a migration into shallow water necessary for the developement of the ova, Davy evidently bears in mind the result of his very first experiment.[111]

[111] Vol. i. page 40.

"Carp, perch, and pike, deposit their ova in still water, in spring and summer, _when it is supplied with air by the growth of vegetables; and it is to the leaves of plants, which afford a continual supply of oxygen to the water, that the impregnated eggs usually adhere_." Again: "Fish in spawning-time always approach great shallows, or shores covered with weeds, _which, in the process of their growth, under the influence of the sunshine, constantly supply pure air to the water in contact with them_."

The following passage will afford a good specimen of the familiar dialogue, while it will convey to the reader some curious facts connected with the influence of sunshine.

"_Halieus._--Well, gentlemen, what sport?

"_Poietes._--The fish are rising every where; but though we have been throwing over them with all our skill for a quarter of an hour, yet not a single one will take; and I am afraid we shall return to breakfast without our prey.

"_Halieus._--I will try; but I shall go to the other side, where I see a very large fish rising--There!--I have him at the very first throw--Land this fish, and put him into the well. Now, I have another; and I have no doubt I could take half-a-dozen in this very place, where you have been so long in fishing without success.

"_Physicus._--You must have a different fly; or, have you some unguent or charm to tempt the fish?

"_Halieus._--No such thing. If any of you will give me your rod and fly, I will answer for it. I shall have the same success. I take your rod, Physicus--and lo! I have a fish!

"_Physicus._--What can be the reason of this? It is perfectly inexplicable to me. Yet Poietes seems to throw as light as you do, and as well as he did yesterday.

"_Halieus._--I am surprised that you, who are a philosopher, cannot discover the reason of this--Think a little.

"_All._--We cannot.

"_Halieus._--As you are my scholars, I believe I must teach you. The sun is bright, and you have been, naturally enough, fishing with your backs to the sun, which, not being very high, has thrown the shadows of your rods and yourselves upon the water, and you have alarmed the fish, wherever you have thrown a fly. You see, I have fished with my face towards the sun, and though inconvenienced by the light, have given no alarm. Follow my example, and you will soon have sport, as there is a breeze playing on the water.

"_Physicus._--Your sagacity puts me in mind of an anecdote which I remember to have heard respecting the late eloquent statesman, Charles James Fox; who, walking up Bond Street from one of the club-houses with an illustrious personage, laid him a wager, that he would see more cats than the Prince in his walk, and that he might take which side of the way he liked. When they got to the top, it was found, that Mr. Fox had seen thirteen cats, and the Prince not one. The Royal personage asked for an explanation of this apparent miracle, and Mr. Fox said, 'Your Royal Highness took, of course, the shady side of the way, as most agreeable; I knew that the sunny side would be left to me,--and cats always prefer the sunshine.'

"_Halieus._--There! Poietes, by following my advice, you have immediately hooked a fish; and while you are catching a brace, I will tell you an anecdote, which as much relates to fly-fishing as that of Physicus, and affords an elucidation of a particular effect of light.

"A manufacturer of carmine, who was aware of the superiority of the French colour, went to Lyons for the purpose of improving his process, and bargained with the most celebrated manufacturer in that capital for the acquisition of his secret, for which he was to pay a thousand pounds. He was shown all the processes, and saw a beautiful colour produced, yet he found not the least difference in the French mode of fabrication and that which he had constantly adopted. He appealed to the manufacturer, and insisted that he must have concealed something. The manufacturer assured him that he had not, and invited him to see the process a second time. He minutely examined the water and the materials, which were the same as his own, and, very much surprised, said, 'I have lost my labour and my money, for the air of England does not permit us to make good carmine.'--'Stay,' says the Frenchman, 'do not deceive yourself; what kind of weather is it now?'--'A bright, sunny day,' said the Englishman.--'And such are the days,' said the Frenchman, 'on which I make my colour. Were I to attempt to manufacture it on a dark or cloudy day, my result would be the same as yours. Let me advise you, my friend, always to make carmine on bright and sunny days.'--'I will,' says the Englishman, 'but I fear I shall make very little in London.'

"_Poietes._--Your anecdote is as much to the purpose as Physicus's; yet I am much obliged to you for the hint respecting the effect of shadow, for I have several times, in May and June, had to complain of too clear a sky, and wished, with Cotton, for

'A day with not too bright a beam;
A warm, but not a scorching sun.'"

A very amusing and philosophical conversation on those natural phenomena, which have been vulgarly viewed as prophetic of dry or wet weather, may be well adduced as illustrative of that genius which, by the aid of a light of its own, imparts to the most trite objects all the charms of novelty.

"_Poietes._--I hope we shall have another good day to-morrow, for the clouds are red in the west.

"_Physicus._--I have no doubt of it, for the red has a tint of purple.

"_Halieus._--Do you know why this tint portends fine weather?

"_Physicus._--The air when dry, I believe, refracts more red, or heat-making rays; and as dry air is not perfectly transparent, they are again reflected in the horizon. I have generally observed a coppery or yellow sunset to foretell rain; but, as an indication of wet weather approaching, nothing is more certain than a halo round the moon, which is produced by the precipitated water; and the larger the circle, the nearer the clouds, and consequently the more ready to fall.

"_Halieus._--I have often observed, that the old proverb is correct--

'A rainbow in the morning is the shepherd's warning;
A rainbow at night is the shepherd's delight.'

--Can you explain this omen?

"_Physicus._--A rainbow can only occur when the clouds containing or depositing the rain are opposite to the sun; and in the evening the rainbow is in the east, and in the morning in the west; and as our heavy rains in this climate are usually brought by the westerly wind, a rainbow in the west indicates that the bad weather is on the road, by the wind, to us; whereas the rainbow in the east proves, that the rain in these clouds is passing from us.

"_Poietes._--I have often observed, that when the swallows fly high, fine weather is to be expected or continued; but when they fly low and close to the ground, rain is almost surely approaching. Can you account for this?

"_Halieus._--Swallows follow the flies and gnats, and flies and gnats usually delight in warm strata of air; and as warm air is lighter, and usually moister than cold air, when the warm strata of air are high, there is less chance of moisture being thrown down from them by the mixture with cold air; but when the warm and moist air is close to the surface, it is almost certain, that as the cold air flows down into it, a deposition of water will take place.

"_Poietes._--I have often seen sea-gulls assemble on the land, and have almost always observed, that very stormy and rainy weather was approaching. I conclude that these animals, sensible of a current of air approaching from the ocean, retire to the land to shelter themselves from the storm.

"_Ornither._--No such thing. The storm is their element; and the little petrel enjoys the heaviest gale; because, living on the smaller sea insects, he is sure to find his food in the spray of a heavy wave. And you may see him flitting above the edge of the highest surge. I believe that the reason of the migration of sea-gulls and other sea birds to the land, is their security of finding food. They may be observed, at this time, feeding greedily on the earth worms and larvæ driven out of the ground by severe floods; and the fish on which they prey in fine weather in the sea, leave the surface when storms prevail, and go deeper. The search after food, as we agreed on a former occasion, is the principal cause why animals change their places. The different tribes of the wading birds always migrate when rain is about to take place; and I remember once in Italy having been long waiting, in the end of March, for the arrival of the double snipe in the Campagna of Rome: a great flight appeared on the 3rd of April, and the day after heavy rain set in, which greatly interfered with my sport. The vulture, upon the same principle, follows armies; and I have no doubt, that the augury of the ancients was a good deal founded upon the observation of the instincts of birds. There are many superstitions of the vulgar owing to the same source. For anglers, in spring, it is always unlucky to see _single_ magpies; but _two_ may be always regarded as a favourable omen; and the reason is, that in cold and stormy weather, one magpie alone leaves the nest in search of food, the other remaining sitting upon the eggs or the young ones; but when two go out together, the weather is warm and mild, and thus favourable for fishing.

"_Poietes._--The singular connexions of cause and effect, to which you have just referred, make superstition less to be wondered at, particularly amongst the vulgar; and when two facts, naturally unconnected, have been accidentally coincident, it is not singular that this coincidence should have been observed and registered, and that omens of the most absurd kind should be trusted in. In the West of England, half a century ago, a particular hollow noise on the sea-coast was referred to a spirit or goblin, called Bucca, and was supposed to foretell a shipwreck; the philosopher knows, that sound travels much faster than currents in the air--and the sound always foretold the approach of a very heavy storm, which seldom takes place on that wild and rocky coast, surrounded as it is by the Atlantic, without a shipwreck on some part of its extensive shores.[112]

[112] Davy might also have adduced an equally striking
superstition, in illustration of his subject, from the Cornish
mines. The miners not unfrequently hear the echo of their own
pickaxes, which they attribute to little fairies at work, and
consider it as a happy omen. They say upon such occasions, that
there will be good luck, as the Piskeys are at work. It is well
known that the echo depends upon some cavity in the vicinity of
the workmen,--and a cavity, or vogue, is always an indication of
subterranean wealth.

"_Physicus._--All the instances of omens you have mentioned are founded on reason; but how can you explain such absurdities as Friday being an unlucky day, the terror of spilling salt, or meeting an old woman? I knew a man of very high dignity, who was exceedingly moved by these omens, and who never went out shooting without a bittern's claw fastened to his button-hole by a riband--which he thought ensured him good luck.

"_Poietes._--These, as well as the omens of deathwatches, dreams, &c. are for the most part founded upon some accidental coincidences; but spilling of salt, on an uncommon occasion, may, as I have known it, arise from a disposition to apoplexy, shown by an incipient numbness in the hand, and may be a fatal symptom; and persons dispirited by bad omens sometimes prepare the way for evil fortune; for confidence in success is a great means of insuring it. The dream of Brutus, before the field of Philippi, probably produced a species of irresolution and despondency, which was the principal cause of his losing the battle; and I have heard, that the illustrious sportsman, to whom you referred just now, was always observed to shoot ill, because he shot carelessly, after one of his dispiriting omens.

"_Halieus._--I have in life met with a few things which I found it impossible to explain, either by chance, coincidences, or by natural connexions; and I have known minds of a very superior class affected by them,--persons in the habit of reasoning deeply and profoundly.

"_Physicus._--In my opinion, profound minds are the most likely to think lightly of the resources of human reason; it is the pert, superficial thinker who is generally strongest in every kind of unbelief. The deep philosopher sees chains of causes and effects so wonderfully and strangely linked together, that he is usually the last person to decide upon the impossibility of any two series of events being independent of each other; and in science, so many natural miracles, as it were, have been brought to light,--such as the fall of stones from meteors in the atmosphere, the disarming a thunder-cloud by a metallic point, the production of fire from ice by a metal white as silver, and referring certain laws of motion of the sea to the moon,--that the physical enquirer is seldom disposed to assert, confidently, on any abstruse subjects belonging to the order of natural things, and still less so on those relating to the more mysterious relations of moral events and intellectual natures."

Old Isaac Walton has amused us with a variety of absurd fables and superstitions: the author of Salmonia, on the other hand, touches, as with the spear of Ithuriel, the monsters and prodigies of the older writers, and they at once assume the forms of well-ascertained animals, or vegetables. The _sea snake_ seen by American and Norwegian captains, appears as a company of porpoises, which in their gambols, by rising and sinking in lines, would give somewhat the appearance of the coils of a snake. The _Kraken_, or island fish, is reduced into an assemblage of _urticæ marinæ_, or sea blubbers. The _Mermaid_, into the long-haired seal;[113] and lastly, the celebrated Caithness Mermaid assumes the unpoetical form of a stout young traveller;--but this story is far too amusing to be dismissed with a passing notice.

[113] A pretended Mermaid was exhibited some time since in
London, said to have been caught in the Chinese seas. It was soon
discovered to have been manufactured by joining together the head
and bust of two different apes to the lower part of a kipper
salmon, which had the fleshy fin, and all the distinct characters
of the _Salmo Salar_.

"A worthy Baronet, remarkable for his benevolent views and active spirit, has propagated a story of this kind, and he seems to claim for his native country the honour of possessing this extraordinary animal; but the mermaid of Caithness was certainly a _gentleman_, who happened to be travelling on that wild shore, and who was seen bathing by some young ladies at so great a distance, that not only _genus_ but gender was mistaken. I am acquainted with him, and have had the story from his own mouth. He is a young man, fond of geological pursuits, and one day in the middle of August, having fatigued and heated himself by climbing a rock to examine a particular appearance of granite, he gave his clothes to his Highland guide, who was taking care of his pony, and descended to the sea. The sun was just setting, and he amused himself for some time by swimming from rock to rock, and having unclipped hair and no cap, he sometimes threw aside his locks, and wrung the water from them on the rocks. He happened the year after to be at Harrowgate, and was sitting at table with two young ladies from Caithness, who were relating to a wondering audience the story of the mermaid they had seen, which had already been published in the newspapers: they described her, as she usually is described by poets, as a beautiful animal with remarkably fair skin and long green hair. The young gentleman took the liberty, as most of the rest of the company did, to put a few questions to the elder of the two ladies,--such as, on what day and precisely where this singular phenomenon had appeared. She had noted down not merely the day, but the hour and minute, and produced a map of the place. Our bather referred to his journal, and showed that a human animal was swimming in the very spot at that very time, who had some of the characters ascribed to the mermaid, but who laid no claim to others, particularly the green hair and fish's tail, but, being rather sallow in the face, was glad to have such testimony to the colour of his body beneath his garments."

With this story, I must conclude my review of "Salmonia,"--a work of considerable scientific and popular interest, and which cannot fail to become the favourite companion of the philosophical angler. The only production with which it can be at all compared is that of the "Complete Angler, by Izaac Walton." I agree with the critic who regards the two authors as pilgrims bound for the same shrine, resembling each other in their general habit--the scalloped hat, the dalmatique, and the knobbed and spiked staff--which equalize all who assume the character; yet, though alike in purpose, dress, and demeanour, the observant eye can doubtless discern an essential difference betwixt those devotees. The burgess does not make his approach to the shrine with the stately pace of a knight or a noble; the simple and uninformed rustic has not the contemplative step of the philosopher, or the quick glance of the poet. The palm of originality and of exquisite simplicity, which cannot perhaps be imitated with entire success, must remain with the common father of anglers--the patriarch Izaac; but it would be absurd to compare his work with the one written by the most distinguished philosopher of the nineteenth century, whose genius, like a sunbeam, illumined every recess which it penetrated, imparting to scarcely visible objects, definite forms and various colours.

If the advanced age of Walton was pleaded by himself as a sufficient reason for procuring "_a writ of ease_," the friends of Davy may surely claim at the hands of the critic an indulgent reception for a congenial work written in the hour of bodily lassitude and sickness. This benevolent feeling, however, did not penetrate every heart. A passage, which I shall presently quote, appears to have given great offence to the President of the Mechanics' Institute, and to have been considered by him as the indication of a covert hostility to the spread of knowledge. The earth had scarcely closed upon the remains of the philosopher, when, in his anniversary speech,[114] the Autocrat of all the Mechanics, availing himself of this pretext, assailed his character with the charge of "conceit, pride, and arrogance."

[114] See a Report of the President's speech, at the sixth
anniversary of the Mechanics' Institute, as reported in all the
journals of the day, December 5, 1829.

The following is the passage in Salmonia, which provoked this angry and unjust philippic.

"I am sorry to say, I think the system carried too far in England. God forbid, that any useful light should be extinguished! let the persons who wish for education receive it; but it appears to me that, in the great cities in England, it is, as it were, forced upon the population; and that sciences, which the lower classes can only very superficially acquire, are presented to them; in consequence of which they often become idle and conceited, and above their usual laborious occupations. The unripe fruit of the tree of knowledge is, I believe, always bitter or sour; and scepticism and discontentment--sicknesses of the mind--are often the result of devouring it."

Methinks I hear the reader exclaim--"How little could Davy imagine that his prophetic words would have been so soon fulfilled!"--But I would seriously recommend to the President of the Mechanics' Institute, an anecdote which, if properly applied, cannot fail to be instructive.--When Diogenes, trampling with his dirty feet on the embroidered couch of Plato, cried out--"_Thus do I trample on the pride of Plato!_" the philosopher shook his head, and replied--"_Truly, but with more pride thou dost it, good Diogenes._"