human expression.  There is a look of interest mixed with curiosity, leading to the irresistible conclusion of a kindred nature.  No faithful hound or pet doe could express a franker interest in its eyes.  Curiosity, which I take to be expressly destructive of the now-exploded theory of instinct, is expressed not only by the eye, but by the movements.  As in man there is an eager passion to handle that which is novel, so these curious denizens of the sea are persistent in their efforts to touch the diver.  An instance of this occurred, attended with disagreeable results to one of the parties, and that not the fish.  The Eve of this investigation was a large catfish.  These fish are the true rovers of the water.  They have a large round black eye, full of intelligence and fire:  their warlike spines and gaff-topsails give them the true buccaneer build.  One of these, while the diver was engaged, incited by its fearless curiosity, slipped up and touched him with its cold nose.  The man involuntarily threw back his hand, and the soft palm striking the sharp gaff, it was driven into the flesh.  There was an instant’s struggle before the fish wrenched itself loose from the bleeding member, and then it only swung off a little, staring with its bold black eyes at the intruder, as if it wished to stay for further question.  It is hard to translate the expression of that look of curious wonder and surprise without appearing to exaggerate, but the impression produced was that if the fish did not speak to him, it was from no lack of intelligent emotions to be expressed in language.

A prolonged stay in one place gave a diver an opportunity to test this intelligence further, and to observe the trustful familiarity of this variety of marine life.  He was continually surrounded at his work by a school of gropers, averaging a foot in length.  An accident having identified one of them, he observed it was a daily visitor.  After the first curiosity the gropers apparently settled into the belief that the novel monster was harmless and clumsy, but useful in assisting them to their food.  The species feed on Crustacea and marine worms, which shelter under rocks, mosses and sunken objects at the sea-bottom.  In raising anything out of the ooze a dozen of these fish would thrust their heads into the hollow for their food before the diver’s hand was removed.  They would follow him about, eyeing his motions, dashing in advance or around in sport, and evidently with a liking for their new-found friend.  Pleased with such an unexpected familiarity, the man would bring them food and feed them from his hand, as one feeds a flock of chickens.  The resemblance, in their familiarity and some of their ways, to poultry was, in fact, very striking.  As a little chick will sometimes seize a large crumb and scurry off, followed by the flock, so a fish would sometimes snatch a morsel and fly, followed by the school.  If he dropped it or stopped to enjoy his bonne bouche, his