Chambers's Journal of Popular Literature, Science, and Art, fifth series, no. 132, vol. III, July 10, 1886 — John Shaqi
Chambers's Journal of Popular Literature, Science, and Art, fifth series, no. 132, vol. III, July 10, 1886Various
History
Chambers's Journal of Popular Literature, Science, and Art, fifth series, no. 132, vol. III, July 10, 1886
Various
Periodicals
Watching these little animals in their daily movements, one grows to
have a fellow-feeling for them. Some of their actions seem almost
human, and they form a part of the household, just as the cat, the dog,
or the canary. One day a conscienceless sea-pirate known as a dog-whelk
settled on this little spinner, and began to bore through his shell
with murderous intent. The whelk was taken off, and removed to another
part of the aquarium. On the morrow, he had found his way back and
settled down again on the innocent little victim, so he was sentenced
to death as a murderer, and paid the penalty with his life.
This mussel has inherited the spinning business from a long line of
ancestors; for when the coal-forests bloomed where the iron furnaces
now roar, in the ‘Black Country’ of England, the forefathers of our
little spinner were inhabitants of the fresh-water pools in the
carboniferous forests. Ages have come and gone since then; the stony
remainders of the ancient spinners are dug from out the deepest
coal-mines, but the clever little fellows still spin their simple
threads along our shores as of old. We sometimes weave their threads
into gloves and hose, as a matter of curiosity; but few ever seem
to have time to listen to the wonderful story that can be told to
listening ears by this Ancient Spinner.
AN ESCORT ADVENTURE.
‘Sergeant, you have been detailed to proceed on escort with the
prisoner Scales. I would advise you to keep a sharp eye upon him. He is
a desperate character, and if he gets half a chance, will endeavour to
give you the slip,’ remarked our adjutant to me.
‘Very good, sir,’ I replied.
‘Here is your paper,’ said the officer, as he handed me the warrant
which bound me, under severe penalties for non-fulfilment of its
provisions, to take private Jeremiah Scales ‘dead or alive’ to the
district military prison.
I saluted the adjutant, and was turning to leave, when the colonel
entered the orderly-room.
‘Good-morning, colonel,’ said the adjutant. ‘This sergeant is going on
Scales’s escort, and I was just warning him to take great care of the
rascal.’
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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