WHAT first set me thinking of flounders and
phrases was a remark made when filet de sole
came on the table.

"Here is brain food and a dainty."

Big with conceit and the smugness of a purist
after many recent hours with Crabb, I gave the
kind of answer which only deep friendship can with-
stand.

"Brain food perhaps, but not a dainty; only a
delicacy."

"Well then, I suppose filet de sole is not sus-
tenance!"

"Decidedly not, for you are paying for it; but I
must admit it is nourishing and wholesome."

Came the reply, -- "Right-ho! Rollo and Eric
will now begin to dispatch their aliment, with per-
chance a pasty, until some ailment does them incon-
venience."

I thought it better at this point to change the
subject.

Months later, when a fairy flounder came up in
one of my nets from the chill and blackness of a mile
down, I exclaimed,

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