CHAPTER X. (2)

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THE NAUTILUS.

But there is one of these Sepias, or Cuttle Fish, which I like very much, though its character rests under as severe an imputation for dishonesty and rapacity, as that of the rest. It is that one which inhabits the beautiful white semi-transparent shell, and is called the Paper Nautilus, or Argonaut.

Its body is represented out of the shell in the plate, fig. 3, and you will there see that it is not very different from those that are not provided with shells, except in having two of its eight arms spread out at the ends into a thin membrane or web. You shall hear presently the pretty use which it makes of these webs.

It has no muscular attachment to the shell, as most other shell-fish have, but merely adheres to it by means of its suckers. On this account, some have thought that the Sepia must be an usurper, who has murdered the original master of the shell, and taken possession of his house. But I do not believe there is any truth in this charge, for the same sort of animal is always found in the same shell, and if it be taken out, though it may be kept in salt water, it is sure to die.

When at the bottom of the sea, he walks about with his shell uppermost, like a snail, but of course with a much more rapid motion, and every now and then snatches any mouthful that may take his fancy, with two of his long arms, and conveys it to his horny beak.

When the weather is fine, and he is disposed to enjoy it, he partly empties his shell of water, so as to make himself lighter than the surrounding sea, and comes up to the surface, on which he floats like a little ship.

I once had an excellent opportunity of watching one. The sea was beautifully calm, and blue, and the sky perfectly clear, when I caught sight of something white coming upwards at a little distance from the ship. In an instant the delicate white shell popped above the surface, twirled round, and the Sepia spouted out the water remaining in his shell, spread out his two sails, and threw out his six remaining feet, three on each side of the edge of his shell, which acted as oars, and scudded away before the wind. If you had but seen the glad little creature, it would have done your heart good. He seemed full of freedom, and life, and joy. The dark deep caves of ocean, with their corals and sea-weeds, and strange variety of inhabitants; the broad surface of the sea, the fresh breeze, the lovely blue sky, and the glorious light of the sun, were all at his command.

"Thou the light sail boldly spreadest,
O'er the furrowed waters gliding,
Thou nor wreck nor foeman dreadest,
Thou nor help nor comfort needest,
While the sun is bright above thee,
While the bounding surges love thee,
In their deepening bosoms hiding,
Thou canst not fear
Small marinere;
For though the tides with restless motion
Bear thee to the desert ocean,
Far as the ocean stretches to the sea,
'Tis all thy own, 'tis all thy empery.
"Lame is Art, and her endeavour
Follows Nature's course but slowly,
Guessing, toiling, seeking, ever,
Still improving, perfect never.
Little Nautilus, thou showest
Deeper wisdom than thou knowest;
Lore, which man should study slowly;
Bold faith and cheer,
Small marinere.
Are thine within thy pearly dwelling;
Thine, a law of life compelling
Obedience, perfect, simple, glad and free,
To the Great Will that animates the sea."

(Hartley Coleridge.)

You should read these exquisite lines with deep attention. There is an allusion in the second verse to the common notion that the form of a ship was first taken from the Nautilus; and, indeed, there is a very distinct resemblance in a part of the shell to the keel, and in another part to the poop. The sails and oars you will see best in the picture.

Do you think that if the Sepia were a murderer and a thief, in possession of what does not belong to him, according to the notion of some naturalists which I was telling you of just now, that he could be so happy,—so in every way at home,—in his silver boat? If you had seen him as I did, I am sure you would agree with me in saying that he could not be any other than the rightful owner.

After "the small marinere" had sailed some distance, he folded up his sails and packed them and his oars close into his shell, and went down like a stone.

The Paper Nautilus is mostly found in hot climates. It is never seen on the surface unless at a long distance from land, and it is very shy of danger, so that it is not often you can get such a good chance of observing one as I had. I have been told by a person who was to be trusted, that sometimes the Sepia will lay hold of a piece of drift wood, a large leaf, or any other floating substance, and use it as a raft, when it is not inclined to take the trouble of balancing its shell with its feet, and spreading its sails.

And now, my little friends, what I have told you respecting these marvellous Sepias, reminds me of something on which I may give you a useful caution. Many people are very fond of congratulating you on the great wisdom and knowledge of the times in which you live, and of making very light of what the ancients knew, or thought they knew, especially respecting natural history. In doing this they are not just to those who lived before us, and very often deceive themselves in regard to the present state of our knowledge. Aristotle, the tutor of Alexander the Great, did more in investigating the nature of the Nautilus, and all other kinds of Cuttle fish, than any other naturalist has done, and in his writings, (if you could read them,) you might find nearly all the particulars I have mentioned, and a great many besides. As to some foolish things that may be found related by him and other old writers, which are held up for your ridicule, it is not at all unlikely that future ages may find flaws and follies in what writings we may leave behind us, as we now do in what our predecessors have left us.

THE PEARLY NAUTILUS, &C.

There is another kind of Nautilus, the shell of which is very strong, and marked with brown streaks. You will see it in plate XV, fig. 4. It also differs from the Paper Nautilus, in being divided into a succession of cells or chambers, in this manner.

In this respect it is like the immense family of extinct shells called Ammonites, or Cornua Ammonis; but the partitions of the chambers of the latter are undulated, thus

As the cells are mostly filled with various hard earthy substances, so as to form one solid mass, they used to be called snake-stones, because it was fancied they were petrified snakes. There are a great number of them on the coast of Yorkshire, and the story was once believed that the place had been infested with an immense quantity of snakes which were changed into stone at the prayer of St. Hilda. What I am going to tell you, relates both to the Ammonites and the Nautilus.

If you examine the first cut, you will see small openings connecting all the cells with each other, and the continuous passage thus formed through the whole of the shell, is called the siphuncle. The inhabitant of the shell is an animal of the Sepia kind, but without the webs which serve the Paper Nautilus for sails, and with its arms not so long. It always resides in the outermost chamber, and it is supposed that it forms a new partition every year, so that the age of the animal may be known by counting the number of chambers.

When the Pearly Nautilus wishes to rise to the surface, it pumps out the water from its shell through the siphuncle, and makes itself light. It floats often with its shell upwards, and at other times it moves along backwards for a considerable distance, by means of spouting out water over the front edge of the shell. It never floats with the same beautiful stateliness as the Argonaut.

There is also the pretty little shell of the Nautilus Spirula, not much larger than a shilling, plate XVI, fig. 5, which does not contain a fish, but is merely annexed to the body of a Sepia, as is represented, fig. 6. Its use appears to be just the same as that of the shell of the Pearly Nautilus, to answer the purpose of a float.

These two kinds are very rarely seen floating on the surface, though there must be many of both of them in the ocean, from the number of their empty shells which are found. Perhaps this arises from their not being so buoyant as the Argonauts, and hence they more readily dip under the surface at the approach of a vessel.

It is now time for us to bid adieu to the sea and its wonderful inhabitants, since I have promised to tell you of some of the wonders of the sky, (though I remember a great many more things that I should like to tell you of).


                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                           

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