It is difficult, to be sure, not to think of
human nature when we hear of quarrels and
heart-burnings, violent passions, fierce loves
and mortal hatreds, beneath the water as well
as above it; but fish, it appears, have their
weak points as well as ourselves. If not so
humanly-erring, why should Pliny have
written these words: " The mullet," he says,
"and the sea-pike hate one another and be
ever at deadlie warre; likewise the congre
and the lamprey, insomuch as they gnaw off
one another's taile. The lobster is so afraid
of the polype, or pourcuttell, that if he spie
him neere, he evermore dieth for very woe.
The lobstrers are readie to scratche, and teare
the congre; the congres, againe, doe as much
for the polype.  Nigodius relateth that the
sea-pike biteth off the mullet's taile; and yet
the same fishes in certaine set months are
good friends, and agree well enough."  Had
Pliny been a satirist he could scarcely have
given a better picture of the society in
which he was in the habit of mixing. Or,
to descend to baser attributes, where do you
find craft and cunning more astutely
developed than in the artful dodgers, concerning
whom what follows is set forth: "The nacre,
also called pinnæ, is of the kind of
shell-fishes. It is always found and caught in
muddie places, but never without a
companion, which they call pinnotes or
pinnophylax. And it is no other than a little
shrimpe, or in some places the smallest
crabbe, which beareth the nacre companie,
and waiteth upon him to get some victuals.
The nature of the nacre is to gape wide and
showe unto the little fishes her scalie bodie,
without any eie at all. They come leaping
by and by close unto her; and, seeing they
have good leave, grow so hardie and bold as
to skip into her shell and fill it full. The
shrimp lying in spiall, seeing this good time
and opportunitie, giveth token thereof to
the nacre secretly with a little pinch. She
hath no sooner this signall " (rather stupid
in her to be obliged to wait for the shrimp's
reminder) " but she shuts her mouth"
(like a late illustrious prince), "and
whatsoever was within, crusheth and killeth
it presently; and then she divides the
bootie with the little crabbe or shrimpe,
his sentinell and companion. I marvell,
therefore, the more at those who are of
opinion that fishes and beasts in the water
have no sense. Why, the very crampe-fish,
torped, knoweth her own force and power;
and being herself not benummed, is able to
astonish others. She lieth hidden over head
and ears within the mud unseene, readie to
catch those fishes, which, as they swim over
her, be taken with a nummednesse, as if they
were dead." In the midst of this philosophy
Pliny can't help betraying the gourmand:
" There is no meat in delicate tendernesse
preferred before the liver of this fish."
He goes on, however, with his illustrations:
"Also the fish called the sea-frog-  and of

others the sea-fishes- is as craftie every whit
as the other.  It puddereth in the mud and
troubleth the water, that it might not be
seene; and when the little scaly fishes come
a skipping about her, then she puts out her
little horns or barbils which she hath bearing
forth under her eies, and, by little and
little, tilleth and tolleth them so neere, that
she can easily seaze upon them.  In like
manner the skate and the turbot lie secret
under the mud, putting out their finnes,
which stir and crawle as if it were some
little wormes, and all to draw them" (who?)
"neere, that she might entrap them. Even
so doth the ray-fish or thornebacke. As
for the puffen, or fork-fish, hee lieth in
await like a theefe in a corner, readie to
strike the fishes that passe by with a
sharp rod or perche that he hath, which is
his weapon."

But there are some fish that have agreeable
characteristics. The most amiable, perhaps,
are the dolphins. Pliny tells a great many
stories of their friendliness and tractability.
Here is one of the most notable:

"Their voice resembleth the pitifull
groning of a man; they are saddle-backed"
(ready for the first sea-horseman?) "and
their snout is camoise" (short) "and fat,
turning up.  And this is the cause that
all know them- after a wonderfull sort-
know the name Simo, and take great
pleasure that men should so call them."
After describing their love of music and
ready attachment to man, he continues: " In
the daies of Augustus Cæsar, the emperour,
there was a dolphin entred the gulfe or poole
Lucrinus, which loved wonderous well a
certain boy, a poore man's sonne, who, using
to go every day to schoole from Baianum to
Puteoli, was wont also about noonetide to
stay at the water-side, and to call unto the
dolphin ' Simo, Simo; ' and many times
would give him fragments of bread, which of
purpose hee ever brought with him, and by
this means allured the dolphin to come
ordinarily unto him at his call. Well, in
process of time, at what hour soever of the day,
this boy lured for him, and called Simo,
were the dolphin never so close hidden in
any secret and blind corner, out he would,
and come abroad- yea, and skud amaine to
this lad; and, taking bread and other
victuals at his hand, would gently offer him
his back to mount upon, and then downe
went the sharpe-pointed prickles of his
finnes, which he would put up, as it were,
within a sheathe, for fear of hurting the boy.
Thus, when he had him once on his back, he
would carrie him over the broad arme of the
sea as farre as Puteoli to schoole, and in like
manner convey him back againe home; and
there he continued for many years together,
so long as the child lived. But when the
boy was falne sicke and dead, yet the
dolphin gave not over his haunt, but usually
came to the wonted place, and, missing