Part 29

Should have a hook, and a small trout to pull it.”

Another famous satirist of the old school defines angling as “a stick and a string, with a fish at one end and a fool at the other,” while a third, the well-known Peter Pindar, in closing a “Ballad to a Fish in the Brook,” takes occasion to say:

“Enjoy thy stream, oh, harmless fish,

“And when an angler for his dish,

Through gluttony’s vile sin,

Attempts—a wretch—to pull thee out,

God give thee strength, oh, gentle trout,

To pull the rascal in.”

All who love to go a-fishing can well afford to smile at the malicious flings of morbid critics, and while recreating both mind and body in casting the mimic fly along the dashing mountain stream, think of the deluded satirists in pity rather than condemnation.

Let us, then, in unison with the quaint and charming poet, Gay:

“Mark well the various seasons of the year,

How the succeeding insect race appear,

In their revolving moon one color reigns,

Which in the next the fickle trout disdains;

Oft have I seen a skilful angler try

The various colors of the treach’rous fly;

When he “with fruitless pain hath skim’d the brook,

And the coy fish rejects the skipping hook.

He shakes the boughs that on the margin grow,

Which o’er the stream a weaving forest throw;

When if an insect fall (his certain guide)

He gently takes him from the whirling tide;

Examines well his form with curious eyes,

His gaudy vest, his wings, his horns, his size.

Then round his hook the chosen fur he winds,

And on the back a speckled feather binds;

So just the colors shine through every part,

That nature seems to live again in art.”