NONSUCH 



there shot out thirteen fish, which rushed to the sur- 

 face and began their eternal dashing and counter- 

 dashing. I knew my thirteen, for one was larger than 

 the rest, one had a sore shoulder, two were very dark 

 and one had a damaged tail. So there seemed to be 

 a tempo of terror among these fish — a degree of 

 fear which was not assuaged by immersion among 

 a quieter crowd of its fellows, but which drove it out 

 again, as an explosion of rage will agitate another 

 type of organism for awhile and then leave it. And 

 so, little by little, we might build up the psychology 

 of this composite Being of fish, this Corpuscular 

 School which deserves to be a singular, capitalized, 

 personal noun. 



Play, among animals, is a much less certain sub- 

 ject than fear, for what to us appears complete re- 

 laxation may be far otherwise. Domestic animals 

 most certainly play, and it is difficult to ascribe 

 more serious motives to the occasional non-courtship, 

 non-feeding activities of dolphins, as well as the 

 apparent delight they take in swimming in the 

 forward push of water at the bow of a steamer. 



With a quiet school of Silversides, a wooden 

 match and a calm, cloudy day I can magic play out 

 of the usually serious, preoccupied little fish. A 

 sinking pebble bores through them, as I have said, 

 but a small splinter of wood or match thrown on 

 the surface above the school has almost no effect. 

 A few, directly beneath, may flinch slightly, but 

 after a minute one, two, several, will drift up to the 

 bit of wood and begin to leap over it. First one, 



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