686 Gobioidei, Discocephali, and Tzniosomi | 
names—the ribbon-fish. The fortunate finder of this specimen 
could not be persuaded to give it up or sell it, and it was its : 
fate to be pasted upon a piece of board, dried in the sun as a ; 
‘curio,’ where, as if in retaliation at the desecration of so rare 
a specimen, it soon disappeared. 
‘This apparently was the first oarfish ever seen in the United : 
States, so at least Dr. G. Brown Goode wrote me at the time 
that it had not been reported. In 1899 another oarfish was | 
brought to me, evidently having been washed in after a storm 
and found within a few yards of the former at Avalon. The 
discoverer of this specimen also refused to allow it to be properly 
preserved, or to donate or sell it to any one who would have 
sent it to some museum, but, believing it valuable as a ‘curio,’ 
also impaled it, the delicate creature evaporating under the 
strong heat of the semitropic sun. ; 
“This, as stated, was the second fish discovered, and during 
the past winter (1900) a fine large specimen came in at New- : 
port Beach, being reported by H. J. Forgy, of Santa Ana. The ; 
newspapers announced that a Mexican had found a young sea- ] 
serpent at Newport, and investigation showed that, as in hun- : 
dreds of similar instances, the man had found a valuable prize 
without being aware of it. According to the account, the 
discoverer first saw the fish alive in the surf and hauled it 
ashore. Being ignorant of its value, he cut it up, bringing in 
a part of the scarlet fins and a slice of the flesh. This he showed 
to some men, and led the way to where lay the mutilated remains 
of one of the finest oar- or ribbon-fishes ever seen. The speci- 
men was twenty-one feet in length, and its weight estimated 
at five hundred pounds. The finder had so mutilated it that 
the fish was ruined for almost any purpose. If he had packed 
it in salt, the specimen would have returned him the equivalent 
of several months’ labor. Apparently the man had cut it up 
in wanton amusement. 
“This recalls a similar incident. I was on one occasion 
excavating at San Clemente Island, and had remarked that 
it was a singular fact that all the fine stone ollas were broken. 
‘Nothing strange about that,’ said a half-breed, one of the 
party. ‘I used to herd sheep here, and we smashed mortars 
and ollas to pass away time.’”’ 
