though no one of the ancient writers ever used this form of the word. But Icesius says that it is a fish without much nutriment or much juice in it, but that it has some cartilaginous sort of substance diffused all over it, very good for the stomach. And Theophrastus, in his book on Animals which live in Holes, says that the torpedo works its way underground because of the cold. But in his treatise on Poisonous Animals, and on Animals which sting, he says that the torpedo can send the power which proceeds from it through wood, and through harpoons, so as to produce torpor in those who have them in their hands. But Clearchus the Solensian has explained the cause of this in his treatise on Torpor; but, since his explanation is rather a long one, I do not recollect his exact words, but will refer you to the treatise itself. But the torpedo, says Aristotle, is one of the cartilaginous and viviparous fish; and, to provide itself with food, it hunts after little fish, touching them, and causing them all to become torpid and motionless. And Diphilus of Laodicea, in his essay on the Theriaca of Nicander, says that it is not every part of the animal which produces this torpor, but only some particular parts of it; and he says that he has arrived at this fact by a long series of experiments. But Archestratus speaks of— A boil'd torpedo done in oil and wine, And fragrant herbs, and some thin grated cheese. Alexis, in his Galatea, says— I counsel you to season well and stuff Torpedos whole, and then to roast them thoroughly. And in his Demetrius he says— Then I took a torpedo, calculating If my wife touch'd it with her tender fingers That they would get no hurt from its backbone. 96. There is also the sword-fish. Aristotle says that this fish has its lower jaw short, but its upper one bony, long, and in fact as large as all the rest of the body of the fish; and this upper jaw is what is called the sword; but that this fish has no teeth. And Archestratus says— But take a slice of sword-fish when you go To fair Byzantium, and take the vertebræ Which bend his tail. He's a delicious fish, Both there and where the sharp Pelorian cape Juts out towards the sea. Now, who is then so great a general, or so great a critic in dishes and banquets, as this poet from Gela[7] (or, I should rather say, from Catagela), who, for the sake of his epicurism, sailed through those straits; and who also, for the sake of the same epicurism, investigated the different qualities and juices of each separate part of every fish, as if he had been laying the foundation of some science which was useful to human life? [Sidenote: FISH.]