Hawthorne, Nathaniel, 1804-1864 -- Friends and associates; Novelists, American -- 19th century -- Biography
This was fairy-land come true. I chipped off a handkerchiefful of the
best specimens, wishing I could take them all, and carried them to
my aquarium. I deposited them, each in a coign of vantage, and in the
course of an hour or two they had swelled out their tinted bodies and
expanded their lovely tentacles, and the cup of my joy was full. This
prosperity continued for near a week, during which I remained with my
nose against the glass, as the street boys of Liverpool held theirs
against the windows of pastry-cooks' shops. At length I noticed an
ominous clouding of the water, which, as Mr. Gosse had forewarned me,
signified disaster of some sort, and, searching for the cause, I finally
discovered the body of the little sepiola, which had died without being
missed, and was contaminating with his decay the purity of the aquarium.
The water must be changed at once. I sent out the servant for a fresh
bucketful from the sea, while I poured the polluted liquid from the jar.
Presently the bucket of water was brought in. It was unusually clear.
I filled the jar with it, and then, as bedtime was near, I left the
aquarium to settle down to business again. The next morning I hastened
to it in my night-gown, and was confronted by a ghastly spectacle. The
crabs lay dead on the bottom, stomachs upward; the prawns hung lifeless
and white from the rocks; the soldier-crabs were motionless, half out of
their shells; the sea-anemones had contracted themselves into buttons,
and most of them had dropped from their perches. Death had been rampant
during the night; but what could be the cause?
A sudden suspicion caused me to put a finger in the water and apply it
to my tongue. It was not salt-water at all, but had been taken fresh
from the cistern. That traitress servant-girl, to save her indolence a
few steps, had destroyed my aquarium!
I was too heart-broken to think of killing her; but she had killed
something in me which does not readily grow again. My trust in my
fellow-creatures was as shrunken and inanimate as the sea-anemones. We
left Southport soon after, and that was my last aquarium.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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