A GAME TROUT. 1 55 



together fishing a tributary of the Shannon, not many 

 miles distant from Parsonstown, where I happened 

 to be stationed with the depot of my regiment. 



It was about the middle of August. The water 

 was in rare fettle, and both of us had had good sport. 

 My associate was, if possible, a keener hand than 

 myself, so while I was taking my rod to pieces he 

 continued whipping the water. At length he sung 

 out to me that he was fast "in a grand fish." 

 There was no necessity to tell me that ; the bend 

 of his rod and screech of his reel spoke plainer 

 than did any selection of words to be found in 

 the English tongue. It was almost dark before I 

 got the landing-net under the captive. On examin- 

 ing the prize it was found that at least an inch and 

 a half in length of firm flesh, and going deep enough 

 to almost expose the vertebrae, had been bitten out 

 of its shoulder immediately behind the head. 

 Doubtless this injury was the work of an otter. 

 This was not all the gallant fish suffered from, for in 

 its lower jaw was a fly with quite three feet of gut 

 attached to it. With all these disadvantages, this 

 game trout (Salmo fario) fed freely, and made a 

 brave resistance before it was taken from its natural 

 element. 



Since the above episode occurred, I have been 

 disposed to think that cold-blooded animals such as 

 fish do not suffer pain in the same ratio as do 

 terrestrial ones. 



