"I should think it ought to taste uncommonly good." "By Jove, you shall try it, this very afternoon!" cried the old sailor energetically.

"Dick, see that the gridiron is clean, for we'll want it by and by.

Hullo, though, I'm forgetting about the rest of our catch.
Let us see what we've got." While the Captain had been talking to their father, Bob and Nellie had been rummaging in the bottom of the boat, trying to make out the different fish; but, from the fact of all being coated with mud, of which the trawl's pocket was pretty well filled, in addition to its live occupants, these latter seemed all so similar at first glance as to resemble those two negro gentlemen, Pompey and Caesar, described by a sable brother as being "berry much alike, 'specially Pompey!" However, the old sailor soon sorted them out.
"Half-a-dozen pair of good soles, eh?
That will be a treat for your aunt Polly," he said to Miss Nell, pitching the fish as he picked them out carelessly on one side.

"Some odd flounders, too, I see.

They're nearly as good as our soles; and, I see also a lot of plaice and dabs, which are not bad, fried, when you can't get anything better in the same line, and--hullo, by jingo, don't touch that!" "Why, Captain ?" inquired Bob, who had just taken up in his hands a soft, jelly-like, flabby thing that appeared as if it were a little white owl, some ten or twelve inches high, without any particular head or wings to speak of, although it had a short black beak, resembling a parrot's, projecting from out of its livid-hued fleshy body.