The Common Bullhead; Horned Pout 



with red tassels in the straps, and a flask of Otard brandy in a side 

 pocket. Unless a man is got up in that style a speckled trout will 

 see him in Chicago first, and then it won't bite. The brook trout 

 is even more aristocratic than the whitefish, and should not be 

 propagated at public expense. 



" But there are fish that should be propagated in the interest of 

 the people. There is a species of fish that never looks at the 

 clothes of the man who throws in the bait, a fish that takes what- 

 ever is thrown to it, and when once hold of the hook never tries 

 to shake a friend, but submits to the inevitable, crosses its legs 

 and says, 'Now I lay me,' and comes out on the bank and seems 

 to enjoy being taken. It is a fish that is a friend of the poor, and 

 one that will sacrifice itself in the interest of humanity. That is the 

 fish that the State should adopt as its trade-mark, and cultivate 

 friendly relations with, and stand by. We allude to the bullhead. 



"The bullhead never went back on a friend. To catch the 

 bullhead it is not necessary to tempt his appetite with porter- 

 house steak, or to display an expensive lot of fishing tackle. A pin 

 hook, a piece of liver, and a cistern pole is all the capital required 

 to catch a bullhead. He lies upon the bottom of a stream or pond 

 in the mud, thinking. There is no fish that does more thinking, or 

 has a better head for grasping great questions, or chunks of liver, 

 than the bullhead. His brain is large, his heart beats for humanity, 

 and if he can't get liver, a piece of tin tomato can will make a meal 

 for him. It is an interesting study to watch a boy catch a bull- 

 head. The boy knows where the bullhead congregates, and 

 when he throws in his hook it is dollars to buttons that ' in the 

 near future ' he will get a bite. 



"The bullhead is democratic in all its instincts. If the boy's 

 shirt is sleeveless, his hat crownless, and his pantaloons a bottom- 

 less pit, the bullhead will bite just as well as though the boy is 

 dressed in purple and fine linen, with knee-breeches and plaid 

 stockings. The bullhead seems to be dozing on the muddy bottom, 

 and a stranger would say that he would not bite. But wait. There 

 is a movement of his continuation, and his cow-catcher moves 

 gently toward the piece of liver. He does not wait to smell of it, 

 and canvass in his mind whether the liver is fresh. It makes no 

 difference to him. He argues that here is a family out of meat. 

 ' My country calls and I must go,' says the bullhead to himself, 

 and he opens his mouth and the liver disappears. 



28 



