The carp swam a little way in among the reeds. He had made a friend there, in the shape of the fresh-water mussel, who waded ever so slowly through the mud, or else settled on the bottom and yawned. They suited each other, these two, for they were quiet and sedate people, who led the same sort of life. "I don't care to go hunting wildly for food," said the carp. "I open my mouth where the water is moderately thick and let whatever there is run in. Something always sticks. Then one needn't kill people and one doesn't see all that misery." "It's just so with us," said the fresh-water mussel. "I employ exactly the same methods. It's more gentlemanly and I have grown stout on it." Then the two sat and talked and yawned all the time and amused themselves capitally notwithstanding. "Mind you don't go too near them," said Mrs. Reed-Warbler to the May-fly grub. "Yes, I will; thanks very much," said the grub. "The carp and the mussel are nicer than the others, I think," said Mrs. Reed-Warbler to her husband. "Really? And why, pray, madam?" asked the eel, who was always where he was least expected. "Surely they do just the same as all of us ... only the animals which they eat are smaller." "There is a difference, my good fellow," said the reed-warbler. "It's only your lack of refinement that prevents your seeing it." "Yes, wriggle and twist!" said the eel. The reed-warbler did not condescend to answer him, but turned to the carp and the mussel, struck up a little trill and said politely: "My wife and I have the honour to bid you good-morning, gentlemen. We are delighted to observe that you lead your lives in a more mannerly way than most of the other inhabitants of the pond. We have suffered greatly at the sight of the extraordinary cruelty ..." he paused, caught a blue-bottle, and tossed it to his children in the nest ... "of the extraordinary cruelty that prevails in society here. It cannot but be extremely unpleasant for well-bred people to witness the cynical and unveiled brutality with which every one satisfies his app-- ..." Here he seized a caddis-fly, ate it, wiped his mouth, and continued, "satisfies his appetite. You, gentlemen, are different. If you had wings, I should be inclined to believe that originally you did not belong to this company at all." "Your presumption is absolutely correct," replied the carp, waving his fins complacently. "You are quite right," said the mussel, yawning politely. [Illustration]