HOW are you going to spend your holiday?” asked Edgar Williams of Charles Manly.
“I don’t know; how are you going to spend yours?”
“I’m going a-fishing; won’t you go with me?”
“No, I think not,” replied Manly.
“Why? It will be fine sport.”
But Manly shook his head, and replied,—
“I don’t think it such fine sport to hunt the little fishes. I’m sure I shouldn’t like a sharp hook in my mouth. Ugh! To think of being lifted up by a hook fastened in your tongue, or in the roof of your mouth!”
“You’re very tender-hearted all at once,” replied Edgar Williams. “I’ve seen you fishing, many a time.”
“No doubt of it. But I hardly think I shall go again. Father says it is cruel sport; and so it is. Suppose you don’t go, Edgar.”
“Oh yes, but I will. It’s delightful. I’m fond of it above everything.”
“I’ll tell you what I should like to do, if you would go with me,” said Charles Manly.
“Well?”
“I should like to go out into the woods and fields, to look for specimens for my cabinet.”
“A fig for specimens!” returned Williams. “No, indeed! I’m going a-fishing.”
The two lads had each some money given to him by his parents to spend. With his money, Edgar Williams bought a fishing-line, a rod, and some bait; and taking his dinner in a basket, started off alone to spend his day in fishing from the river-bank. During the morning the fish would not bite. Hour after hour he threw his line in vain. He did not get so much as a nibble. About mid-day, tired and disappointed, Edgar threw his rod upon the grass, and now beginning to feel hungry, he opened his lunch-basket and took therefrom his dinner, the eating of which he enjoyed much more than he had enjoyed his fishing. After this, he lay down under the shade of a tree and slept for an hour. When he awoke, he felt dull and heavy, and wished himself at home. But he had caught nothing, and did not want to go back with so poor an account of his doings. So he took up his rod and line, and again sought to take the life, for mere sport, of some fish, tempted, in the hope of obtaining food, to seize upon the murderous hook. But his red cork lay, as before, immovable upon the smooth surface of the river for a very long time. At last it suddenly disappeared, and Edgar gave his line a quick jerk, which brought up a bright little sunfish, that had hoped to get a good dinner, but was, alas! sadly disappointed. It was not more than three inches long, and beautiful to look upon as a fish could be, so thin, so delicately made, and so purely golden in its hue. Edgar caught the fluttering little creature in his hand, and tore the cruel hook from its bleeding mouth. Just at that moment he thought of what Charles Manly had said, about having a sharp hook in his tongue or tearing into the roof of his mouth, and for the first time in his life he felt pity for a fish. The quivering little animal was still in his hand, and he held it up and looked at its torn mouth, with the blood oozing therefrom, and sorrow for the pain he had occasioned touched his heart.
“It is cruel sport, as Charles said, sure enough,” he murmured to himself. “This little fish never did me any harm. And even if I were in want of food, which I am not, it is too small to eat. So I have no excuse for doing it this sad injury. Go, little fish!” he added, throwing it back again into the river. “I will not rob you of life, though I have seriously injured you.”
But the fish, instead of diving down out of sight into the deep water, turned upon its side and swam about unevenly upon the surface of the water. Edgar felt grieved when he saw this.
“Poor little sunfish,” he said; “I hope you will not die.”
Just then he observed a sudden rippling motion of the water, a short distance from where the sunfish was swimming about, and in an instant afterwards the little sufferer was seized by some larger fish and devoured.
“I’ll never fish again for sport!” said Edgar, throwing his rod and line into the water, and turning sadly away from the river-side.
It was nearly night when he arrived at home, tired and altogether dissatisfied with himself. More than an hour elapsed after he went to bed before he could close his eyes in sleep. The image of that beautiful little sunfish, with its torn and bleeding mouth, was too vividly present to his mind. During the night, he dreamed that he fell into the river, and was seized by some monster, as he had seen the sunfish seized. He awoke in terror, with the perspiration starting from every pore, and it was a long time before sleep visited his eyes again.
Sweeter far, and more peaceful, were the dreams of Charles Manly, who had gone with his sister to the museum, and spent his holiday there, examining the many curious and wonderful things in art and nature that it contained. His enjoyment had been innocent, and it had left his mind tranquil and peaceful.