Piscator. I am afraid I shall not, sir: but were you once here a May or a June, if good sport would tempt you, I should then expect you would sometimes see me; for you would then say it were a fine river indeed, if you had once seen the sport at the height.

Viator. Which I will do, if I live, and that you please to give me leave. There was one, and there another.

Piscator. And all this in a strange river, and with a fly of your own making! Why, what a dangerous man are you? Viator. I, sir! but who taught me? and as Dametas says by his man Dorus, so you may say by me,

If my man such praises have,

What then have I that taught the knave? *

But what have we got here? a rock springing up in the middle of the river! this is one of the oddest sights that ever I saw.

Piscator. Why, sir, from that Pike † that you see standing up there distant from the rock, this is called Pike Pool. And young Mr Izaak Walton was so pleased with it, as to draw it in landscape, in black and white, in a blank book I have at home, as he has done several prospects of my house also, which I keep for a memorial of his favour, and will shew you when we come up to dinner.

Viator. Has young master Izaak Walton been here, too?

Piscator. Yes, marry has he, sir, and that again and again, too; and in France since, and at Rome, and at Venice, and I can't tell where; but I intend to ask him a great many hard questions so soon as I can see him, which will be, God willing, next month. In the meantime, sir, to come to this fine stream at the head of this great pool, you must venture over these slippery cobbling stones. Believe me, sir, there you were nimble, or else you had been down. But now you are got over, look to yourself; for, on my word, if a fish rise here, he is like to be such a one as will endanger your tackle. How now!

Sidney's Arcadia.

It is a rock, in the fashion of a spire-steeple, and almost as big. It stands in the midst of the river Dove, and not far from Mr Cotton's house, below which place this delicate river takes a swift career betwixt many mighty rocks, much higher and bigger than St Paul's church before it was burnt. And this Dove being opposed by one of the highest of them, has, at last, forced itself a way through it; and after a mile's concealment, appears again with more glory and beauty than before that opposition, running through the most pleasant valleys and most fruitful meadows that this nation can justly boast of.-W.

* About the height of some hundred feet, as it appeared to me in 1817; but I only measured it by the eye.-J. R.

Viator. I think you have such command here over the fishes, that you can raise them by your word, as they say conjurors can do spirits, and afterward make them do what you bid them; for here's a Trout has taken my fly, I had rather have lost a crown. What luck's this! he was a lovely fish, and turned up a side like a Salmon.

Piscator. Oh, sir, this is a war where you sometimes win, and must sometimes expect to lose. Never concern yourself for the loss of your fly; for ten to one I teach you to make a better. Who's that calls?

Servant. Sir, will it please you to come to dinner?

Piscator. We come. You hear, sir, we are called: and now take your choice, whether you will climb this steep hill before you, from the top of which you will go directly into the house, or back again, over these stepping stones, and about by the bridge.

Viator. Nay, sure the nearest way is best; at least my stomach tells me so; and I am now so well acquainted with your rocks that I fear them not.

Piscator. Come, then, follow me. And so soon as we have dined, we will down again to the little house, where I will begin, at the place I left off, about fly-fishing, and read you another lecture; for I have a great deal more to say upon that subject.

Viator. The more the better; I could never have met with a more obliging master, my first excepted. Nor such sport can all the rivers about London ever afford, as is to be found in this pretty river.

Piscator. You deserve to have better: both because I see you are willing to take pains, and for liking this little so well; and better I hope to shew you before we part.

CHAPTER VII.

FISHING AT THE TOP. FLIES FOR THE MONTHS OF JANUARY, FEBRUARY, MARCH, APRIL, AND PART OF MAY; INCLUDING UNDER MAY, PARTICULAR DIRECTIONS FOR BAITING WITH THE GREEN DRAKE.

Viator. COME, sir, having now well dined, and being again set in your little house, I will now challenge your promise, and entreat you proceed in your instruction for fly-fishing: which, that you may be the better encouraged to do, I will assure you, that I have not lost, I think, one syllable of what you have told me; but very well retain all your directions, both for the rod,

line, and making a fly, and now desire an account of the flies themselves.

Piscator. Why, sir, I am ready to give it you, and shall have the whole afternoon to do it in, if nobody come in to interrupt us; for you must know, (besides the unfitness of the day,) that the afternoons, so early in March, signify very little to angling with a fly, though with a Minnow, or a worm, something might, I confess, be done.

To begin, then, where I left off :- My father Walton tells us but of twelve artificial flies to angle with at the top, and gives their names; of which some are common with us here; and I think I guess at most of them by his description, and I believe they all breed and are taken in our rivers, though we do not make them either of the same dubbing or fashion. And it may be in the rivers about London, which I presume he has most frequented, and where it is likely he has done most execution, there is not much notice taken of many more: but we are acquainted with several others here, though perhaps I may reckon some of his by other names too; but if I do, I shall make you amends by an addition to his catalogue. And although the forenamed great master in the art of angling-for so in truth he is tells you that no man should, in honesty, catch a Trout till the middle of March, yet I hope he will give a man leave sooner to take a Grayling, which, as I told you, is in the dead months in his best season: and do assure you (which I remember by a very remarkable token) I did once take, upon the sixth day of December, one, and only one, of the biggest Graylings, and the best in season, that ever I yet saw or tasted; and do usually take Trouts too, and with a fly, not only before the middle of this month, but almost every year in February, unless it be a very ill spring indeed; and have sometimes in January, so early as New-year's tide, and in frost and snow, taken Grayling in a warm sunshine day for an hour or two about noon; and to fish for him with a grub, it is then the best time of all.

I shall therefore begin my fly-fishing with that month, (though, I confess, very few begin so soon, and that such as are so fond of the sport as to embrace all opportunities can rarely in that month find a day fit for their purpose,) and tell you, that, upon my knowledge, these flies, in a warm sun, for an hour or two, in the day, are certainly taken.

JANUARY.

1. A red brown, with wings of the male of a mallard, almost white; the dubbing of the tail of a black long-coated cur, such as they commonly make muffs of; for the hair on the tail of such a dog dyes, and turns to a red brown, but the hair of a

smooth-coated dog of the same colour will not do, because it will not dye, but retains its natural colour.* And this fly is taken in a warm sun, this whole month through.

2. There is also a very little bright dun gnat, as little as can possibly be made, so little as never to be fished with, with above one hair next the hook; and this is to be made of a mixed dubbing of marten's fur, and the white of a hare's scut, with a very white and small wing; and it is no great matter how fine you fish, for nothing will rise in this month but a Grayling; and of them I never, at this season, saw any taken with a fly, of above a foot long, in my life: but of little ones about the bigness of a smelt, in a warm day, and a glowing sun, you may take enough with these two flies; and they are both taken the whole month through.

FEBRUARY.

1. Where the red brown of the last month ends, another, almost of the same colour, begins with this: saving that the dubbing of this must be of something a blacker colour, and both of them warpt on with red silk. The dubbing that should make this fly, and that is the truest colour, is to be got off the black spot of a hog's ear: not that a black spot in any part of the hog will not afford the same colour, but that the hair in that place is, by many degrees, softer, and more fit for the purpose. His wing must be as the other, [1. in January ;] and this kills all this month, and is called the lesser red-brown.

2. This month, also, a plain hackle,† or palmer-fly, made with a rough black body, either of black spaniel's fur, or the whirl of an ostrich feather, and the red hackle of a capon over all, will kill, and, if the weather be right, make very good sport.

3. Also a lesser hackle, with a black body also, silver twist over that, and a red feather over all, will fill your pannier, if the month be open, and not bound up in ice and snow, with very good fish; but, in case of a frost and snow, you are to angle only with the smallest gnats, browns, and duns you can make; and with those are only to expect Graylings no bigger than sprats.

4. In this month, upon a whirling round water, we have a great hackle, the body black, and wrapped with a red feather of a capon untrimmed; that is, the whole length of the hackle

The dubbing is to be warped on as No. 1. in February, infra.

The author is now in the month of February; during which are taken, the plain hackle, which we should recommend to be made of black ostrich herl, warped, or tied down, to the dubbing with red silk, and a red cock's hackle over all.

staring out, (for we sometimes barb the hackle-feather short all over, sometimes barb it only a little, and sometimes barb it close underneath,) leaving the whole length of the feather on the top or back of the fly, which makes it swim better, and, as occasion serves, kills very great fish.

5. We make use, also, in this month, of another great hackle, the body black, and ribbed over with gold twist, and a red feather over all; which also does great execution.*

6. Also a great dun, made with dun bear's hair, and the wings of the gray feather of a mallard near unto his tail; which is absolutely the best fly can be thrown upon a river this month, and with which an angler shall have admirable sport.

7. We have also this month the great blue dun, the dubbing of the bottom of bear's hair next to the roots, mixed with a little blue camlet; the wings, of the dark gray feather of ́a mallard.

8. We have also this month a dark brown, the dubbing of a brown hair off the flank of a brended cow; and the wings of the gray drake's feather.

:

And note, that these several hackles, or palmer-flies, are some for one water and one sky, and some for another and according to the change of those, we alter their size and colour. And note also that, both in this and all other months of the year, when you do not certainly know what fly is taken, or cannot see any fish to rise, you are then to put on a small hackle, if the water be clear, or a bigger, if something dark, until you have taken one; and, then thrusting your finger through his gills, to pull out his gorge, which, being opened with your knife, you will then discover what fly is taken, and may fit yourself accordingly.†

*Gold twist hackle; the same dubbing, warping, and hackle; with gold twist.

These hackles are taken chiefly from nine to eleven in the morning, and from one to three in the afternoon. They will do for any month in the year, and upon any water.

You may also observe, that the fish never rise eagerly and freely at any sort of fly, until that kind come to the water's side; for though I have often, at the first coming in of some flies, (which I judged they loved best,) gotten several of them, yet I could never find that they did much, if at all, value them, until those sorts of flies began to flock to the river's side, and were to be found on the trees and bushes there in great numbers. Venables, p. 15.

When you first come to the river in the morning, with your rod beat upon the bushes or boughs which hang over the waters; and by their falling upon the waters, you will see what sorts of flies are there in greatest numbers; if divers sorts, and equal in number, try them all, and you will quickly find which they most desire. Sometimes they change their fly (but it's not very usual) twice or thrice in one day; but, ordinarily, they seek not for another sort of fly, till they have, for some days, even glutted themselves with a former kind, which is commonly when those flies die and go out. — Ibid. p. 16.*

Both these extracts from Venables are founded upon the notion that the fish can discriminate the species of flies, than which nothing can be more unfounded, for the angler's flies are not like any species.-J. R.

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