"FYSSHE AND FYSSHEYNGE." 119 



"A bite! Hurrah! the lengthening line extends! He mounts, he bends, and with resilient leap, 



Above the tugging fish the arched reel bends! Bounds into air! There see the dangler twirl, 



He struggles hard, and noble sport will yield Convulsive start, hang, curl, again uncurl, 



My liege, ere wearied out, he quits the field. Labor once more, like young Terpsichore 



See how he swims, up down and now athwart In giddy gyres above the sounding sea, 



The rapid stream now pausing as in thought; Till neared, you seize the prize with steady wrist, 



And now you force him from the azure deep; And grasp at last the bright funambulist." 



"Funambulist" is a good word. 



The writer evidently understood the risk of losing a fish when reaching out the 

 hand to take him in. There never was a hooked fish so nearly spent that he did 

 not shrink or start from the hand thrust toward him showing that he was not only 

 on the alert, even at the point of exhaustion, but that he was suspicious and appre- 

 hended the fisherman's motive. 



I can conceive of no better proof that fish have mental organization or instinct 

 equal to animals of apparently higher order. 



Do fish think? Do fish reason? 



Undoubtedly they do. They have their plans and method, and lay out their 

 schemes to capture their prey ; to outwit man ; to circumvent each other ; to avoid 

 or avert danger by precaution or flight ; to remember and avenge wrongs. Endeavors 

 are almost always made by some kinds of fish to bite the angler after they are 

 caught. The gapings of the jaws are not merely convulsive gasps and nervous 

 spasms of the death throes. I have watched the features of a pike and seen the 

 malignity and malice in his eye a genuine malice prepense. A monster muscalonge 

 alive in the bottom of a boat is almost as dangerous as an alligator of size would 

 be. Therefore anglers shoot them through the head with a pistol, or stun them 

 with a club, or sever the vertebral cord with a pointed knife, before they lift them 

 in. Sword fish, which have been struck with a harpoon, often attack tht boat which 

 has inflicted the injury. The salt water bluefish (temnodon Saltator) is one of the 

 most aggressive biters I know of. There is no doubt that their efforts to bite are 

 often prompted by an instinct of reprisal. They are evidences of mental organism. 



I have never seen one of the salmonidae attempt to bite, although their nervous 

 gasps are good imitations of his intention. I should as soon expect to be bitten by 

 a calf as by a trout. 



There are different dispositions in fishes as well as in animals, we all know. 

 Indeed, the ferocity and unrelenting pertinacy of some marine species far exceeds 

 those traits in any known land animal extant. 



Yet I will say this for a trout, that notwithstanding his meek and gentle dis- 

 position, he will hold his own against big odds. 



In the aquarium of Messenger Bros., in Boston, were placed an equal number 

 of trout and black bass, perhaps a dozen of each, graded to even sizes and weights 

 from a pound fish to a fingerling. At the close of the "circus" two of each remained 

 the two biggest trout and the two biggest bass. These did not fight any more, 

 nor attempt reprisals. The entente cordiale seemed perfect. Their complete resig- 

 nation to the conviction that neither was able to swallow the other was beautiful 

 to contemplate. In the tussle the bass had great odds, because they were armed 

 with scale armor, spiny fins and strong teeth, while trout had only velvet doublets, 

 no scales to speak of and delicate teeth. How a trout can swallow a bass half his 

 size seems an enigma. 



To grasp a big fish, even when he is quite exhausted by protracted exertions 

 to escape, requires nerve and dexterity. You must seize him by the nape of the 

 neck, and, with the thumb and finger firmly fixed behind the gill covers, lift him 

 out of his element. 



