to the ledge of rock on which I stood, nothing daunted by my repeated attempts to seize him. The keeper took one of the largest, about the same weight, in her lap, and stroked and patted it, saying, 'Poor fellow! poor fellow!' just as if it had been a child, and she opened its mouth, and put in a mussel, which he swallowed with apparent gusto—at least so I interpreted a wriggle of his tail at that moment—and she then put him back again. I observed several gradations of tameness in the fish; some were quite tame, and came close up to the ledge on which I was kneeling; another class kept parading from right to left about two or three yards from me, but they readily partook of some food that was thrown to them: a third kept aloof altogether, and would have nothing at all to do with me; and others, which I did not see, kept themselves secluded from sight in the nooks and corners at the bottom of the pond, and were, I suppose, the 'Johnny Newcomes,' or 'Griffins,' of the place.
"It is a curious fact that fish when they remain long in this pond always become blind; and I was informed that this is owing to there not being sufficient shelter for them from the heat and glare of the sun, owing to the shallowness of the water compared to the depth of their usual haunts. Several which I saw in this state are fed entirely by hand, as they are unable to compete in obtaining food with those whose sight is unimpaired. Surely some remedy might be found for this. One large and blind fellow called 'Jack' is a great pet, and upon the keeper calling his name, he appeared to hear and understand her, for he came forward slowly, and she held a mussel to his
