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runs quietly; and an easy angler, if he has found where they lie, may catch forty or fifty, or sometimes twice so many, at a standing.

You must fish for him with a small red worm; and if you bait the ground with earth, it is excellent.

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BLEAK Cyprinus Alburnus. LINN EUS.

There is also a Bleak, or fresh water Sprat, a fish that is ever in motion, and therefore called by some the River Swallow; for just as you shall observe the swallow to be, most evenings in summer, ever in motion, making short and quick turns when he flies to catch flies, in the air, by which he lives; so does the Bleak at the top of the water. Ausonius would have him called Bleak, from his whitish colour; his back is of a pleasant sad or sea-water green; his belly, white and shining as the mountain snow. And doubtless, though he have the fortune, which virtue has in poor people, to be neglected, yet the Bleak ought to be much valued, though we want Allamot salt, and the skill that the Italians have, to turn them into anchovies. This fish may be caught with a Pater-noster line; that is, six or eight very small hooks tied along the line, one half a foot above the other: I have seen five caught thus at one time, and the bait has been gentles, than which none is better.

*

Or this fish may be caught with a fine small artificial fly, which is to be of a very sad brown colour, and very small, and the hook answerable. There is no better sport than whipping for Bleaks in a boat, or on a bank, in the swift water, in a summer's evening, with a hazel top about five or six foot long, and a line twice the length of the rod. I have heard Sir Henry Wotton say, that there be many that in Italy will catch swallows so, or especially martins; † this bird-angler standing on the top of a steeple to do it, and with a line twice

A rosary, or string of beads, is used by the Roman Catholic devotees, to assist them in numbering their pater-nosters, or prayers; a line with many hooks, at small distances from each other, though it little resembles a string of beads, is thence called a pater-noster line.

†This is a common practice in England also.

so long as I have spoken of. And let me tell you, scholar, that both martins and Bleaks be most excellent meat.

And let me tell you, that I have known a Hern, that did constantly frequent one place, caught with a hook baited with a big Minnow or a small Gudgeon. The line and hook must be strong and tied to some loose staff, so big as she cannot fly away with it: a line not exceeding two yards.

CHAPTER XVI.

IS OF NOTHING; OR, THAT WHICH IS NOTHING WORTH.

:

Piscator. My purpose was to give you some directions concerning Roach and Dace, and some other inferior fish which make the angler excellent sport; for you know there is more pleasure in hunting the hare than in eating her but I will forbear, at this time, to say any more, because you see yonder come our brother Peter and honest Coridon. But I will promise you, that as you and I fish and walk to-morrow towards London, if I have now forgotten any thing that I can then remember, I will not keep it from you.

Well met, gentlemen; this is lucky that we meet so just together at this very door. Come, hostess, where are you? is supper ready? Come, first give us drink; and be as quick as 301 can, for I believe we are all very hungry. Well, brother Peter and Coridon, to you both! Come, drink; and then tell me what luck of fish: we two have caught but ten Trouts, of which my scholar caught three: look! here's eight; and a brace we gave away. We have had a most pleasant day for fishing and taiking, and are returned home both weary and hungry; and now meat and rest will be pleasant.

Peter. And Coridon and I have not had an unpleasant day : and yet I have caught but five Trouts ; for, indeed, we went to a good honest alehouse, and there we played at shovel-board half the day; all the time that it rained we were there, and as merry as they that fished. And I am glad we are now with a dry house over our heads; for, hark! how it rains and blows. Come, hostess, give us more ale, and our supper with what haste you may and when we have supped, let us have your song, Piscator; and the catch that your scholar promised us ; or else Coridon will be dogged.

Piscator. Nay, I will not be worse than my word; you shall not want my song, and I hope I shall be perfect in it.

Venator. And I hope the like for my catch, which I have ready too and therefore let's go merrily to supper, and then

have a gentle touch at singing and drinking; but the last with moderation.

Coridon. Come, now for your song; for we have fed heartily. Come, hostess, lay a few more sticks on the fire.

sing when you will.

And now,

Piscator. Well then, here's to you, Coridon; and now for

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Oaths do fray

Fish away:
We sit still,

And watch our quill;
Fishers must not wrangle.

If the sun's excessive heat

Make our bodies swelter,
To an osier hedge we get
For a friendly shelter;
Where in a dike,
Perch or Pike,
Roach or Dace,
We do chase;
Bleak or Gudgeon,
Without grudging;

We are still contented.

Or we sometimes pass an hour
Under a green willow,
That defends us from a shower,
Making earth our pillow:
Where we may

Think and pray
Before death

Stops our breath:

Other joys

Are but toys,

And to be lamented. *

Jo. CHALKHill.

This, in its kind, is a good song. The following, taken from Cotton's Poems, 8vo. 1689, is to the same purpose, and well deserves a place here:

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Venator. Well sung, master! this day's fortune and pleasure, and this night's company and song, do all make me more more and more in love with angling. Gentlemen, my master

The boxes and books

For your lines and your hooks;

And, though not for strict need notwithstanding,

Your scissars and hone

To adjust your points on,

With a net to be sure of your landing.

All these being on,

'Tis high time we were gone,

Down and upward, that all may have pleasure,
Till, here meeting at night,

We shall have the delight

To discourse of our fortunes at leisure.

The day's not too bright,
And the wind hits us right

And all nature does seem to invite us
We have all things at will
For to second our skill,

As they all did conspire to delight us.

On stream now, or still,
A large pannier we 'll fill,

Trout and Grayling to rise are so willing;
I dare venture to say,

"Twill be a bloody day,

And we all shall be weary of killing.

Away, then, away,
We lose sport by delay;

But first, leave our sorrows behind us:
If Miss Fortune should come,
We are all gone from home,

And a-fishing she never can find us.

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