CHAPTER IX. 



THE MURREL. 



"Ah me! what perils do environ 



"The man (?fish) that meddles with cold iron!" — 



Butler's Hudibras. 



X1ERE is another gentleman whose acquaintance is 

 worth your cultivating, but how to write his name is the 

 puzzler. Would that the mortal father of the immortal 

 Weller were at our elhow to give us orthographical direc- 

 tions, as lucid as those volunteered to the judge about 

 the spelling of his patronymic, in the memorable words 

 "Spell it with a we my lord, spell it with a we." The 

 Murrel, spelt also marral, murl, morrul, in the various 

 unaided efforts to transliterate the Hindustani name, is 

 the Ophiocephalus, or snakeheaded, of the Ichthyoligists, 

 and the Viral or Verarl of Tamil, and to make all sure 

 here's his honor's likeness. 



His acquaintance is worth cultivating, for he grows 

 to two and three feet in length, and is not bad eating. 

 He is as full of bones as a pike, but then he ought to 

 be brought to table as full of stuffing also, so that you 

 may be of a forgiving disposition. 



He is very like a pike in more ways than one. He 

 is long shaped like a pike; has a mouth full of teeth like 

 a pike; like him basks in the sun at the surface, though 



