THE MUSQUASH. 167 



If any of my readers have seen artillery practice at 

 a sea-mark, they will appreciate the protecting power 

 of the water. Even the enormous shot of the present 

 day, which are capable of being driven through the 

 thickest and strongest iron plates that have as yet 

 been made, go lightly skipping over the water in 

 almost a playful manner. They do not enter it, but 

 make a series of leaps over the surface, driving up at 

 each jump a perpendicular column of water, and not 

 sinking until the initial force is nearly expended. 



When I was a boy, I remember being present at a 

 pike-shooting party. There was a tolerably large sheet 

 of water, which might almost be dignified by the name 

 of a lake. On calm, warm summer days, the pike 

 with which it abounded were in the habit of floating* 

 at the surface, either asleep or basking in the sunshine. 

 Now and then the proprietor of the lake used to get 

 together a few friends, and have a few hours' sport in 

 shooting at the fish as they lay asleep presupposing 

 that fish ever do sleep, which some people think to be 

 doubtful. 



To shoot a sleeping fish may seem a very unsports- 

 manlike proceeding to those who are accustomed to 

 despise a " sitting " shot, but, in reality, a fish was 

 never hit without the utmost accuracy of aim on the 

 part of the marksman. Scarcely any part of the body 

 projects above the surface of the water, and unless that 

 part be struck, the fish escapes unhurt. I have often 

 seen the charge take effect all round the sleeping pike, 

 and yet, although the water was driven up in showers 

 by the shot, the fish escaped unhurt. 



As to the Musquash, when once it dives, the hunter 



