He was eleven years old and went fishing with his father when possible. On the day before the bass（巴斯魚）season opened，he and his father were fishing early in the evening. When he knew someting large was on the other end，he began to work on the fish. Finally，he lifted the fish out of the water. It was the largest one he had ever seen，but it was a bass. The boy and his father looked at the handsome fish.The father lit a match and looked at his watch. It was 10:00 pm—two hours before the season opened. He looked at the fish，then at the boy.“You’ll have to put it back，son.”he said.“Dad!”cried the boy.

“There will be other fish.”said his father.“Not as big as this one.”cried the boy. He looked around the lake. No other fishermen or boots were anywhere around in the moonlight. He looked again at his father. Even though no one had seen them，nor could anyone ever know what time he caught the fish，the son knew he must put its back.

That was 34 years ago. Today，the boy is a successful architect（建筑師）in New York City. He does see that fish again every time he comes up against a question of ethics（道德）. As his father taught him，ethics are simple matters of right and wrong. It is only the practice of ethics that is difficult. Do we do right when no one is looking？