The fish is transferred from his native element to the deck; the granes is disengaged from the quivering muscles, and again passed to the officer, who, it may be, soon adds another to the killed. It is sometimes the case that half a dozen dolphin are captured in this way in a few minutes. A hook and line over the stern, with a flying-fish for bait, will often prove a successful means of capturing the beautiful inhabitants of the deep. The dolphin is a fine-looking fish. Its shape is symmetry itself, and has furnished a valuable hint for the model of fast-sailing vessels. It is usually from two to three feet in length, and is sometimes met with of nearly twice that size, and weighing seventy-five or a hundred pounds. One of the properties for which the dolphin is celebrated is that of changing its color when dying. By many this is considered fabulous; but it is strictly true. After the fish is captured, and while struggling in the scuppers, the changes constantly taking place in its color are truly remarkable. The hues which predominate are blue, green, and yellow, with their various combinations: but when the fish is dead, the beauty of its external appearance, caused by the brilliancy of its hues, no longer exists. Falconer, the sailor poet, in his interesting poem of "The Shipwreck," thus describes this singular phenomenon: "But while his heart the fatal javelin thrills, And flitting life escapes in sanguine rills, What radiant changes strike the astonished sight! What glowing hues of mingled shade and light! Not equal beauties gild the lucid west, With parting beams all o'er profusely drest; Not lovelier colors paint the vernal dawn, When orient dews impearl the enamelled lawn, Than from his sides in bright suffusion flow, That now with gold empyreal seem to glow; Now in pellucid sapphires meet the view, And emulate the soft, celestial hue; Now beam a flaming crimson in the eye, And now assume the purple's deeper dye." The second mate of the Clarissa, Mr. Fairfield, was a veteran sailor, and a very active and industrious man. He was always busy when not asleep; and, what was of more importance, and frequently an annoyance to the ship's company, he dearly loved to see other people busy. He regarded idleness as the parent of evil, and always acted on the uncharitable principle that if steady employment is not provided for a ship's company they will be constantly contriving mischief.