lO The Field Naturalist's Quarterly Feb. 



of its great appetite for herrings, hence its name " king of 

 the herrings." It is somewhat closely related to the sharks, 

 having their cartilaginous frame and scaleless skin, but it 

 differs from them in the poor equipment of teeth, as also 

 in the curious filament over the snout, a development that 

 takes the form of a great flap of skin in its southern cousin, 

 the elephant-fish {Callorhynchtis) of Antarctic seas. Its long 

 whiplike tail, on the other hand, suggests affinities with 

 the rays ; and even the male's claspers, while obviously 

 fulfilling the same function as those of the latter group, 

 are curiously modified and divided in sections. On the 

 whole, the rabbit-fish answers more literally to the descrip- 

 tion "uncommon" than any of the rest named in this 

 article, and man's opportunities of further studying its 

 peculiarities would seem to be as slight as his desire. To 

 the systematic ichthyologist there is, of course, something 

 fascinating in these rarities, but the field -naturalist will 

 aspire rather to a fuller knowledge of the more important 

 types that figure as economic factors in the fisheries, or 

 at any rate in the pastime of sea-fishing. 



With the Monk -fish (Rhina squatina) we come to the 

 shark family, and, though outwardly so like a ray, it is 

 really more closely allied to the sharks. Generally speaking, 

 however, it may be regarded as a link between the two 

 kindred groups of cartilaginous fishes, and this intermediate 

 anatomical position even seems to be recognised in such 

 of its popular names as "shark-ray" and "mongrel-skate." 

 Other local names of the fish have reference to its supposed 

 resemblance to a fiddle, a monk, and an angel — the last 

 named having also struck those who named it in both 

 French and German seas ; and there is, according to the 

 standpoint, something singularly cowl-like or wing-like in 

 the arrangement of the fins about the flattened head. The 

 eyes of the monk-fish are not conspicuous, but lie almost 

 buried in the skin. More noticeable are some small skinny 

 filaments just over the mouth, and it has been suggested 

 that these act in a manner analogous to that of the angler's 

 fishing-rod. Beyond, however, the fact of the obviously 

 slow movements of the monk-fish necessitating some such 

 provision for securing sufficient nourishment, there is no 



