The Works of Edgar Allan Poe — Volume 1Poe, Edgar Allan
General
The Works of Edgar Allan Poe — Volume 1
Poe, Edgar Allan
American fiction -- 19th century; Fantasy fiction; Horror tales, American; Poe, Edgar Allan, 1809-1849
grow blacker with age, and more melancholy as the hours run on.”
But fancies such as these were not the sole possessors of my
brain. Horrors of a nature most stern and most appalling would
too frequently obtrude themselves upon my mind, and shake the
innermost depths of my soul with the bare supposition of their
possibility. Yet I would not suffer my thoughts for any length of
time to dwell upon these latter speculations, rightly judging the
real and palpable dangers of the voyage sufficient for my
undivided attention.
“At five o’clock, p.m., being engaged in regenerating the
atmosphere within the chamber, I took that opportunity of
observing the cat and kittens through the valve. The cat herself
appeared to suffer again very much, and I had no hesitation in
attributing her uneasiness chiefly to a difficulty in breathing;
but my experiment with the kittens had resulted very strangely. I
had expected, of course, to see them betray a sense of pain,
although in a less degree than their mother, and this would have
been sufficient to confirm my opinion concerning the habitual
endurance of atmospheric pressure. But I was not prepared to find
them, upon close examination, evidently enjoying a high degree of
health, breathing with the greatest ease and perfect regularity,
and evincing not the slightest sign of any uneasiness whatever. I
could only account for all this by extending my theory, and
supposing that the highly rarefied atmosphere around might
perhaps not be, as I had taken for granted, chemically
insufficient for the purposes of life, and that a person born in
such a medium might, possibly, be unaware of any inconvenience
attending its inhalation, while, upon removal to the denser
strata near the earth, he might endure tortures of a similar
nature to those I had so lately experienced. It has since been to
me a matter of deep regret that an awkward accident, at this
time, occasioned me the loss of my little family of cats, and
deprived me of the insight into this matter which a continued
experiment might have afforded. In passing my hand through the
valve, with a cup of water for the old puss, the sleeves of my
shirt became entangled in the loop which sustained the basket,
and thus, in a moment, loosened it from the bottom. Had the whole
actually vanished into air, it could not have shot from my sight
in a more abrupt and instantaneous manner. Positively, there
could not have intervened the tenth part of a second between the
disengagement of the basket and its absolute and total
disappearance with all that it contained. My good wishes followed
it to the earth, but of course, I had no hope that either cat or
kittens would ever live to tell the tale of their misfortune.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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