But the one fish of all its fishes is the ayu. This is a sort of dwarf salmon, running in the spring and spawning in the rivers just as a salmon does. But it is smaller than any salmon, not larger than a smelt, and its flesh is white and tender, and so very delicate in its taste and odor that one who tastes it crisply fried or broiled feels that he has never tasted real fish before. In all its anatomy the ayu is a salmon, a dwarf of its kind, one which our ancestors in England would have called a "samlet." Its scientific name is _Plecoglossus altivelis_. _Plecoglossus_ means plaited tongue, and _altivelis_, having a high sail; for the skin of the tongue is plaited or folded in a curious way, and the dorsal fin is higher than that of the salmon, and one poetically inclined might, if he likes, call it a sail. The teeth of the ayu are very peculiar, for they constitute a series of saw-edged folds or plaits along the sides of the jaws, quite different from those of any other fish whatsoever. In size the ayu is not more than a foot to fifteen inches long. It is like a trout in build, and its scales are just as small. It is light yellowish or olive in color, growing silvery below. Behind its gills is a bar of bright shining yellow, and its adipose fin is edged with scarlet. The fins are yellow, and the dorsal fin shaded with black, while the anal fin is dashed with pale red. So much for the river and the ayu. It is time for us to go afishing. It is easy enough to find the place, for it is not more than ten miles out of Tokyo, on a fine old farm just by the ancient Temple of Tachikawa, with its famous inscribed stone, given by the emperor of China. At the farmhouse, commodious and hospitable, likewise clean and charming after the fashion of Japan, we send for the boy who brings our fishing-tackle. They come waddling into the yard, the three birds with which we are to do our fishing. Black cormorants they are, each with a white spot behind its eye, and a hoarse voice, come of standing in the water, with which it says _y-eugh_ whenever a stranger makes a friendly overture. The cormorants answer to the name of Ou, which in Japanese is something like the only word the cormorants can say. The boy puts them in a box together and we set off across the drifted gravel to the Tamagawa. Arrived at the stream, the boy takes the three cormorants out of the box and adjusts their fishing-harness. This consists of a tight ring about the bottom of the neck, of a loop under each wing, and a directing line.