Salmonia; Or, Days of Fly Fishing / In a series of conversations. With some account of the habits of fishes belonging to the genus Salmo

by Sir Humphry Davy

In Ireland there are some excellent rivers; and, what you will hardly believe possible, comparing the characters of the two nations, some of them are taken better care of than the Scotch river; which arises a good deal from the influence of the Catholic priests, when they are concerned in the interests of the proprietors, on the Catholic peasantry. I should place the Erne, at Ballyshannon, as now the first river, for salmon fishing from the banks with a rod, in the British dominions; and the excellent proprietor of it, Dr. Shiel, is liberal and courteous to all gentlemen fly fishers. The Moy, at Ballina, is likewise an admirable salmon river; and sport, I believe, may almost always be secured there in every state of the waters; but the best fishing can only be commanded by the use of a boat. I have taken in the Erne two or three large salmon in the morning; and in the Moy, three or four grilses, or, as they are called in Ireland, grauls; and this was in a very bad season for salmon fishing. The Bann, near Coleraine, abounds in salmon: but, in this river, except in close time, when it is unlawful to fish there, there are few good casts. In the Bush, a small river about seven miles to the east of the Bann, there is admirable salmon fishing, always after great floods; but in fine and dry weather it is of little use to try. I have hooked twenty fish in a day, after the first August floods, in this river; and, should sport fail, the celebrated Giant’s Causeway is within a mile of its mouth, and furnishes to the lovers of natural beauty, or of geological research, almost inexhaustible sources of interest. The Blackwater, at Lismore, is a very good salmon river: and the Shannon, above Limerick and at Castle Connel, whenever the water is tolerably high, offers many good casts to the fly fisher; but they can only be commanded by boats. But there is no considerable river along the northern or western coast,—with the exception of the Avoca, which has been spoiled by the copper mines,—that does not afford salmon, and if taken at the proper time, offer sport to the salmon fisher.—But it is time for us to return to our inn.

THE INN.

Poiet.—Should it be a fine day to-morrow, I think we shall have good sport: the high tide will bring up fish, and the rain and wind of yesterday will have enlarged the river.

Hal.—To-morrow we must not fish: it is the Lord’s day, and a day of rest. It ought likewise to be a day of worship and thanksgiving to the Great Cause of all the benefits and blessings we enjoy in this life, for which we can never sufficiently express our gratitude.

Poiet.—I cannot see what harm there can be in pursuing an amusement on a Sunday, which you yourself have called innocent, and which is apostolic: nor do I know a more appropriate way of returning thanks to the Almighty Cause of all being, than in examining and wondering at his works in that great temple of nature, whose canopy is the sky; and where all the beings and elements around us are as it were proclaiming the power and wisdom of Deity.

Hal.—I cannot see how the exercise of fishing can add to your devotional feelings; but, independent of this, you employ a servant to carry your net and gaff, and he, at least, has a right to rest on this one day. But even if you could perfectly satisfy yourself as to the abstracted correctness of the practice, the habits of the country in which we now are, form an insurmountable obstacle to the pursuit of the amusement: by indulging in it, you would excite the indignation of the Highland peasants, and might perhaps expiate the offence by a compulsory ablution in the river.

Poiet.—I give up the point: I make it a rule never to shock the prejudices of any person, even when they appear to me ridiculous; and I shall still less do so in a case where your authority is against me; and I have no taste for undergoing persecution, when the cause is a better one. I now remember, that I have often heard of the extreme severity with which the sabbath discipline is kept in Scotland. Can you give us the reason of this?

Hal.—I am not sufficiently read in the Church History of Scotland to give the cause historically; but I think it can hardly be doubted, that it is connected with the intense feelings of the early Covenanters, and their hatred with respect to all the forms and institutes of the church of Rome, the ritual of which makes the Sunday more a day of innocent recreation than severe discipline.

Phys.—Yet the disciples of Calvin, at Geneva, who, I suppose, must have hated the pope as much as their brethren of Scotland, do not so rigidly observe the Sunday; and I remember having been invited by a very religious and respectable Genevese to a shooting party on that day.

Hal.—I think climate and the imitative nature of man modify this cause abroad. Geneva is a little state, in a brighter climate than Scotland, almost surrounded by Catholics, and the habits of the French and Savoyards must influence the people. The Scotch, with more severity and simplicity of manners, have no such examples of bad neighbours, for the people of the north of England keep the Sunday much in the same way.