CHAPTER IV 



SLICKING FOR FLYINGFISHES 



AN old tale runs that a sailor returned to his 

 L mother with marvelous stories of what he had 

 seen in foreign places. " There be one country," 

 he said, *' where all the rivers run milk by day and 

 honey by night, and tobacco grows in thick squares 

 of bark all ready to be prised off and chewed." 



" My! My! Son, that do be wonderful. I would 

 like to see that land," answered his mother. 



" And there be waters where fish not only do leap 

 out about the bows of the ship but spread wings 

 and go flying over the water," continued the sailor. 



And with that the irate parent thrust her son out 

 of doors and bade him never come back, for any evil 

 being who could so insult her with such obvious lies 

 about impossible things was no son of hers. 



And this is the mood in which we should approach 

 our quest for flyingfish. Before we have ever seen 

 one alive we should, as I have advised in the case 

 of hummingbirds, active volcanoes and the rings of 

 Saturn, preserve a gentle skepticism. Not an active, 

 argumentative disbelief, but a childish doubt in 

 reading of them whether these things are not too 

 wonderful to be real. 



This produces two worthy results : It keeps alive 



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