recorded in a cynical little poem by the precocious Foch, believed
to be the only literary work of a whitebait now extant. We have only
space here to quote the opening couplet:--

The herrings with the nice soft rows
Are gentlemen; the rest are does.

The survivors of the family had now to choose a career. From the
beginning it seems to have been recognised that Stéphanie at least
would have to be content with a humbler sphere than her more gifted
brothers. She had a hard roe and was rather looked down upon. But she
was an independent little thing and her pride revolted at a life of
subjection at home; so while still a girl she went off on her own and
got mixed up with some pilchards who were just being caught in a net.
Stéphanie was caught too and became a sardine. She was carefully oiled
and put in a tin, and she was eaten at a picnic near Hampton Court.
But there is every reason to suppose that she was eaten happy, since
in those less exacting circles nobody seemed to mind about her hard
roe, which had been a perpetual bugbear to her in the herring world.

Meanwhile the remaining three had decided on a career. They were
determined to be fresh herrings. This is of course the highest
ambition of all herrings, though sadly few succeed in attaining it.
One herring in his time plays many parts (SHAKESPEARE); he can seldom
say with confidence what exactly he will be to-morrow; but he can
be fairly certain that it won't be a fresh herring. Of our three
survivors Rupert alone was to win the coveted distinction. He grew
to be a fine boy and was eaten at Hammersmith, where his plump but
delicate roe gave the greatest satisfaction. It was not eaten in the
ordinary humdrum way, but was thickly spread on a piece of buttered