FISHES. 
21 
through Glendale, and loses itself in the sluggish 
Till. 
‘‘In the parching summer of 1826, I frequently 
retired with a book to a shady little retreat on the 
bank of this river, to spend a few hours in con- 
templative indolence, where, by a mill-dam fifty 
feet wide, with a sloping shore of fine sand re- 
ceding into four feet depth of water, a little sort 
of fish-parlour was formed by a projecting willow, 
reaching several feet across the upper end. The 
spot I soon observed was tenanted by one large 
Trout, who played the tyrant to admiration, 
— saving that his sentences were alw’^ays either 
annihilation or banishment, for there was no tor- 
ture. When I sat quite still he did not ap- 
pear to see me, and came so near that I could 
count the crimson speckles on his side, and see 
the inhalations and exhalations of his gills. The 
grace of his motions, when he moved from his 
station to see what was disturbing the surface of 
the water (a fly, or bit of palm-down), was beauti- 
fully contrasted with the violence with which he 
repelled every intruder upon his imperial territory. 
He flew at the victim like a bull-dog ; but as I 
never saw him meet with his match, or one that 
would stand fight, I can form no opinion of his 
knight-errantry. He, however, allowed various 
sized Minnows to sport about the shore, his 
only food at this time appearing to be flies (who 
always fled at his approach to the shelter of the 
shore), and he did not condescend to eye these 
reserved victims of his appetite. This scene was 
repeated for many days together. But perhaps 
a more amusing one was that of a little Prickly- 
back [or Stickleback], a little knight armed cap- 
