Short Summer Days. 143 



that play was their object, and not some prosy 

 effort to obtain food. I know it is denied to 

 them, but why should not fishes have their 

 measure of pure enjoyment? No angler of 

 experience ever called a gamy fish a fool. 

 That the angler fools them is not to the point. 

 How very little we know of our common fishes 

 beyond their anatomy ; the secret of their lives 

 from season to season has baffled our natural- 

 ists, and their history has yet to be written. 

 Whether our present ignorance arises from in- 

 difference or the inability to overcome their 

 cunning at concealment, I do not know, but 

 to scoop a dozen from the water and give them 

 long Latin names seems to have satisfied our 

 ichthyologists to date, and yet the humblest 

 minnow of a weedy brook can readily con- 

 found philosophers. Happily, the day of "new 

 species" is over, but that of species new to a 

 locality will continue to the end of time. A 

 September ramble this year may be inch for 

 inch as last year so far as the paths you follow 

 are concerned, but there will not be quite the 

 same sights and sounds. It is the certainty of 

 this difference that makes our strolling an un- 



