The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 01, No. 04, February, 1858: A Magazine of Literature, Art, and PoliticsVarious
History
The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 01, No. 04, February, 1858: A Magazine of Literature, Art, and Politics
Various
American periodicals
There goes a military cousin of his, striding along, with his heavy
armor clattering against the glass as he walks. A pugnacious fellow is
that same soldier; and if he meet an opponent, you may see the tug of
war. Should he chance to prefer the other's shield to his own, he will
seize him in his burly arms, and shake him from under its protection.
Yet he is cautious withal; for though obliged to doff his own armor
before he can try that of his denuded foe, he retains hold of both until
satisfied with the trial. If he like the new mail, he will march off
with it; if not, he will array himself in his own again. Meanwhile the
vanquished combatant waits tremblingly the result of the examination,
glad to get possession of the rejected defence, be it which it may.
Yon dark little crab, with the bulky claws so gayly mottled with yellow
and black, lurks in that hole at the base of the cliff nearly all day
long. His name is 'Possum; for at the slightest sign of danger
he doubles up his claws like a dead spider, and lies in feigned
lifelessness.
Speaking of spiders,--here are two Spider-Crabs, the very monkeys of
this aqueous menagerie. The small one climbing the post is Topsy. There
she is, sliding down again, and with headlong pace is now scampering
over yon yielding Anemone. Heedless of its hundred arms, so generally
dreaded and avoided, she jumps this way and that across its wide mouth;
and now, seated on its back, she snatches morsels from its shrinking
side. Now look at her sister sprite, Crazy Kate. Her head adorned with
a long plume of Coralline, she is tearing ribbon-like shreds from the
silky lettuce and hanging them upon her already fantastic person. Anon
she dances in mad glee, and next her arms are solemnly stretched upward
in grotesque similitude to one in prayer.
When she is hungry, she will, one by one, take off those weedy trophies
from her back and feed upon them.
Why do you start? That is not a sea-serpent winding from under the arch,
but only an innocent Eel. Yet innocent and tiny though it be, there is
something frightful about it. Its fixed, staring eye, its snake-like
stealthiness, bid you be on your guard. Sometimes it rises behind that
bushy Carrageen, and with high uplifted head peers over at me in such
a way that I am half afraid; it is so like the old pictures of Satan
tempting Eve.
Would you like to see an Actinia eat? I will drop a bit of raw oyster
upon its outspread disk. See with what eager start it closes its fingers
about the dainty viand, passing it along slowly, but surely, to its
now gaping mouth, while every nerve is vibrating with the anticipated
pleasure of the feast! That milk-white one is my favorite, and I call it
Una. Seated in modest contentment on that brown-stone seat, she upturns
her pure face to the mild light of evening; but folds her arms, and bows
her head, and veils herself, when the noon-day sun gazes too ardently
upon her.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account