care for the beauty of a fish.
But I do. And for the sake of those who feel the same way I wish I could
paint him. But that seems impossible. For even while I gazed the fish
changed color. He should have been called the chameleon of the ocean. He
looked a quivering, shimmering, changeful creature, the color of
golden-rod. He was the personification of beautiful color alive. The
fact that he was dying made the changing hues. It gave me a pang--that I
should be the cause of the death of so beautiful a thing.

If I caught his appearance for one fleeting instant here it is: Vivid
green-gold, spotted in brilliant blue, and each blue spot was a circle
inclosing white. The long dorsal extending from nose to tail seemed
black and purple near the head, shading toward the tail to rich olive
green with splashes of blue. Just below the dorsal, on the background of
gold, was a line of black dots. The fins were pearly silver beneath, and
dark green above. All the upper body was gold shading to silver, and
this silver held exquisite turquoise-blue spots surrounded with white
rings, in strange contrast to those ringed dots above. There was even a
suggestion of pink glints. And the eyes were a deep purple with gold
iris.

The beauty of the dolphin resembled the mystery of the Gulf Stream--too
illusive for the eye of man.

* * * * *

More than once some benighted angler had mentioned bonefish to me. These
individuals always appeared to be quiet, retiring fishermen who
hesitated to enlarge upon what was manifestly close to their hearts. I
had never paid any attention to them. Who ever heard of a bonefish,
anyway? The name itself did not appeal to my euphonious ear.

But on this 1916 trip some faint glimmering must have penetrated the
density of my cranium. I had always prided myself upon my conviction
that I did not know it all, but, just the same, I had looked down from
my lofty height of tuna and swordfish rather to despise little
salt-water fish that could not pull me out of the boat. The waahoo and
the dolphin had opened my eyes. When some mild, quiet, soft-voiced
gentleman said bonefish to me again I listened. Not only did I listen, I
grew interested. Then I saw a couple of bonefish. They shone like
silver, were singularly graceful in build, felt heavy as lead, and
looked game all over. I made the mental observation that the man who had
named them bonefish should have had half of that name applied