Atlantic Monthly, Volume 8, No. 47, September, 1861 by Various
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Various >> Atlantic Monthly, Volume 8, No. 47, September, 1861
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The tank, having been prepared and seasoned with the same precaution
used for the river aquarium, and having a clear bottom and a supply of
good water, is now ready for planting. Many beautifully colored and
delicately fringed Algae and Sea-Wracks will be found on the rocks at
low tide, and will sadly tempt the enthusiast to consign their delicate
hues to the aquarium. All such temptations must be resisted. Green is
the only color well adapted for healthy and oxygenating growth in the
new tank. A small selection of the purple or red varieties may perhaps
be introduced and successfully cultivated at a later day, but they are
very delicate; while the olives and browns are pretty sure to die and
corrupt the water. It must be remembered, too, that the Algae are
cryptogamous, and bear no visible flowers to delight the eye or fancy.
Of all marine plants, the _Ulva latissima_, or Sea-Lettuce, is first and
best. It has broad, light-green fronds, and is hardy and a rapid grower,
and hence a good giver of oxygen. Next to this in looks and usefulness
comes the _Enteromorpha compressa_, a delicate, grass-like Alga. After
a while the _Chondrus crispus_, or common Carrageen Moss, may be chosen
and added. These ought to be enough for some months, as it is not safe
to add too many at once. Then the green weeds _Codium tomentosum_ and
_Cladophora_ may be tried; and, still later, the beautiful _Bryopsis
plumosa_. But it is much better to be content with a few Ulvae, and
others of that class, to begin with; for a half dozen of these will
support quite a variety of animal life.
After a few hardy plants are well set, and thriving for a week or two,
and the water is clear and bubbly with oxygen, it will be time to look
about for the live stock of the marine aquarium. Fishes, though most
attractive, must be put in last; for as they are of the highest
vitality, so they require the most oxygen and food, and hence should not
be trusted until everything in the tank is well a-going.
The first tenants should be the hardy varieties of the Sea-Anemones,
or _Actiniae_,--which are Polyps, of the class Radiata. The _Actinia
mesembryanthemum_ is the common smooth anemone, abounding on the coast,
and often to be found attached to stones on the beach. "When closed,"
says Mr. Hibbert, "it has much resemblance to a ripe strawberry,
being of a deep chocolate color, dotted with small yellow spots. When
expanded, a circle of bright blue beads or tubercles is seen within the
central opening; and a number of coral-like fingers or tentacles unfold
from the centre, and spread out on all sides." It remains expanded for
many days together, if the water be kept pure; and, having little desire
for locomotion, stays, generally, about where it is placed. It is
a carnivorous creature, and seeks its food with its ever-searching
tentacles, thus drawing in fishes and mollusks, but, most frequently,
the minute Infusoria. Like other polyps, it may be cut in two, and each
part becomes a new creature. It is a very pretty and hardy object in the
aquarium. There are many varieties, some of which are very delicate, as
the _Actinia anguicoma_, or Snaky-locked Anemone, and the pink and brown
_Actinia bellis_, which so resembles a daisy. Others, as the _Actinia
parasitica_, are obtainable only by deep-sea dredging; "and, as its name
implies, it usually inhabits the shell of some defunct mollusk. And more
curious still, in the same shell we usually find a pretty crab, who
acts as porter to the anemone. He drags the shell about with him like
a palanquin, on which sits enthroned a very bloated, but gayly-dressed
potentate, destitute of power to move it for himself."[B]
[Footnote B: Hibbert's _Book of the Aquarium_.]
The _Actinia gemmacea_, or Gemmed Anemone, the _Actinia crassicornis_,
and the Plumose Anemone are all beautiful, but tender varieties.
The Anemones require but little care; they do not generally need
feeding, though the Daisy and Plumose Anemone greedily take minced
mutton, or oyster. But, as a rule, there are enough Infusoria for their
subsistence; and it is safer not to feed them, as any fragments not
consumed will decay, and contaminate the water.
Next in order of usefulness, hardiness, and adaptability to the new
aquarium, come the Mollusks. And of these, Snails and Periwinkles claim
our respectful attention, as the most faithful, patient, and necessary
scavengers of the confervoid growths, which soon obscure the marine
aquarium.
"It is interesting," says Mr. Gosse, "to watch the business-like way in
which the Periwinkle feeds. At very regular intervals, the proboscis, a
tube with thick fleshy walls, is rapidly turned inside out to a certain
extent, until a surface is brought into contact with the glass having a
silky lustre; this is the tongue; it is moved with a short sweep,
and then the tubular proboscis infolds its walls again, the tongue
disappearing, and every filament of Conferva being carried up into the
interior, from the little area which had been swept. The next instant,
the foot meanwhile having made a small advance, the proboscis unfolds
again, the makes another sweep, and again the whole is withdrawn; and
this proceeds with great regularity. I can compare the action to nothing
so well as to the manner in which the tongue of an ox licks up the grass
of the field, or to the action of the mower cutting swath after swath."
Of Crustacea, the Prawns and the smaller kinds of Crabs may be
admitted to the aquarium, though but sparingly. They are rude, noisy,
quarrelsome, and somewhat destructive,--but, for the same reason,
amusing tenants of the tank.
All are familiar with the mode in which the Soldier or Hermit Crab takes
possession of and lives in the shells of Whelks and Snails. Poorly
protected behind by Nature, the homeless crab wanders about seeking a
lodging. Presently he meets with an empty shell, and, after probing it
carefully with his claw to be sure it is not tenanted, he pops into it
back foremost in a twinkling, and settles himself in his new house.
Often, too, he may be seen balancing the conveniences of the one he is
in and of another vacant lodging he has found in his travels; and he
even ventures out of his own, and into the other, and back again, before
being satisfied as to their respective merits. In all these manoeuvres,
as well as in his daily battles with his brethren, he is one of the
drollest of creatures.
As we advance in our practice with the aquarium we may venture to
introduce more delicate lodgers. Such are the beautiful family of the
_Annelidae_: the _Serpula_, in his dirty house; and the _Terebella_,
most ancient of masons, who lays the walls of his home in water-proof
cement.
The great class of Zooephytes can be introduced, but many varieties of
them will be found already within the aquarium, in the company of their
more bulky neighbors. These peculiar creatures, or things, form the
boundary where the last gleam of animal life is so feeble and flickering
as to render it doubtful whether they belong to the animal or vegetable
kingdom. Agassiz calls them _Protozoa_,--Primary Existences. Some divide
them into two great classes, namely: the _Anthozoa_, or Flower-Life; and
the _Polyzoa_, or Many-Life, in which the individuals are associated in
numbers. They are mostly inhabitants of the water; all are destitute of
joints, nerves, lungs, and proper blood-vessels; but they all possess
an _irritable_ system, in obedience to which they expand or contract at
will. Among the _Anthozoa_ are the Anemones; among the _Polyzoa_,
are the Madrepores, or Coral-Builders, and many others. Many are
microscopic, and belong to the class of animalcules called _Infusoria_.
A very remarkable quality which the Infusoria possess--one very useful
for the aquarium, and one which would seem to settle their place in the
_vegetable_ kingdom--is that they _exhale oxygen_ like plants. This has
been proved by Liebig, who collected several jars of oxygen from tanks
containing Infusoria only.
A piece of honeycomb coral (_Eschara foliacea_) is easily found, and,
when well selected and placed in the aquarium, may continue to grow
there by the labors of its living infusorial tenants: they are not
unworthy rivals of the Madrepores, or deep-sea coral-builders of warmer
latitudes. The walls of its cells are not more than one-thirtieth of an
inch in thickness, and each cell has its occupant. So closely are they
packed, that in an area of one-eighth of an inch square the orifices of
forty-five cells can be counted. As these are all double, this would
give five thousand seven hundred and sixty cells to the square inch. Now
a moderate-sized specimen will afford, with all its convolutions,
at least one hundred square inches of wall, which would contain a
population of five hundred and seventy-six thousand inhabitants,--a very
large city. So says Mr. Gosse. We cannot forbear, with him, from quoting
Montgomery's lines on the labors of the coral-worms, which modern
science has enabled us to study in our parlors.
"Millions on millions thus, from age to age,
With simplest skill, and toil unweariable,
No moment and no movement unimproved,
Laid line on line, on terrace terrace spread,
To swell the heightening, brightening, gradual mound,
By marvellous structure climbing towards the day.
Each wrought alone, yet all together wrought,
Unconscious, not unworthy instruments,
By which a hand invisible was rearing
A new creation in the secret deep.
.....I saw the living pile ascend,
The mausoleum of its architects,
Still dying upwards as their labors closed;
Slime the material, but the slime was turned
To adamant by their petrific touch:
Frail were their frames, ephemeral their lives,
Their masonry imperishable."
The deep-sea soundings taken recently for the Atlantic telegraph have
demonstrated the existence of organic life even at the bottom of the
ocean. Numerous living Infusoria have been brought to the light of day,
from their hidden recesses, by the lead. "Deeper than ever plummet
sounded" before these latter days, there exist myriads of minute
creatures, and of Algae to furnish their food. It is an unanswered
problem, How they can resist the enormous pressure to which they must
be there subjected, amounting, not infrequently, to several tons to the
square inch. And still another point of interest for us springs
from this. It is an inquiry of practical importance to the aquarian
naturalist, How far the diminished pressure which they meet with in the
tank, on being transferred from their lower homes to the aquarium, may
influence their viability. May not some of the numerous deaths in the
marine tank be reasonably attributed to this lack of pressure?
What a difference, too, has Nature established, in the natural power to
resist pressure, between those creatures which float near the surface
and those which haunt the deeper sea! The Jelly-fish can live only near
the top of the water, and, floating softly through a gentle medium, is
yet crushed by a touch; while the Coral-builder bears the superincumbent
weight of worlds on his vaulted cell with perfect impunity.
Another important question is, How far alteration in the amount of light
may affect the more delicate creatures. What fishes do without light has
been solved by the darkness of the Mammoth Cave, the tenants of whose
black pools are eyeless, evidently because there is nothing to see. The
more deeply located Infusoria and Mollusks must dwell in an endless
twilight; for Humboldt has found, by experiment, that at a depth one
hundred and ninety-two feet from the surface the amount of sunlight
which can penetrate is equal only to one-half of the light of an
ordinary candle one foot distant.
Thus ever in gloom, yet in a state of constant safety from storms and
the agitations of the upper air, the thousand forms of low organic life
and cryptogamic vegetation live and thrive in peace and quietness.
"The floor is of sand like the mountain drift,
And the pearl-shells spangle the flinty snow;
From the coral rocks the sea-plants lift
Their boughs, where the tides and billows flow.
* * * * *
"And life in rare and beautiful forms
Is sporting amid those bowers of stone,
And is safe, when the wrathful spirit of storms
Has made the top of the waves his own."[C]
[Footnote C: Percival.]
Upon the bottom, at various depths, lies that brilliant Radiate--type of
his class--the Star-fish. These are quiet and harmless creatures, and
favorites in the aquarium, from the pretty contrast they make with
marine plants and other objects.
The perfect transparency, elegant form, and graceful navigation of the
_Medusae_, or Jelly-fishes, render them much admired in their native
haunts, and prized for the aquarium. But they are very delicate. How
beautiful and remarkable are these headless _Discophori_, as they
float, and propel themselves with involutions of their disks and gently
trailing tentacles, and the central peduncle hanging far below, like the
clapper of a transparent bell! And yet these wonders are but so much
sea-water, inclosed in so slight a tissue that it withers in the sun,
and leaves only a minute spot of dried-up gelatinous substance behind.
Finally come the Fishes, many of which are of similar genera to those
recommended for the fresh-water tank. The Black Goby is familiar,
tamable, but voracious; the Gray Mullet is very hardy, but also rather
savage; the Wrasses are some of the most showy fish,--called in some
parts of the country Cunners,--and of these, the Ancient Wrasse,
(_Labrus maculatus_,) covered with a network of vermilion meshes on a
brown and white ground, is the most elegant.
Some points of general management are so important, and some dangers so
imminent, that we cannot pass them by unnoticed. The aquarian enthusiast
is very apt to be in too great haste to see everything going on, and
commits the common error of trying too many things at once. The aquarium
must be built up slowly and tentatively, object by object: plants first,
and of the simplest kinds; and not until they are well settled, and the
water beaded with oxygen bubbles, should we think of introducing living
creatures,--and even then only the hardier kinds of actinias, mollusks,
and crabs. All delicate animals must be intrusted one by one to their
new home, and carefully watched for deaths and decay, which, whether
arising from dead plants or animals, ruin everything very quickly,
unless they be promptly removed. For sulphuretted hydrogen, even in very
minute quantities, is sure death to all these little creatures.
The emanations from paint and putty are often fatal in new tanks.
Several weeks' exposure to water, air, and sunlight is necessary to
season the new-made aquarium. Of equal consequence is it that the water
be absolutely pure; and if brought from the sea, care must be exercised
about the vessel containing it. Salt acts upon the glazing of earthen
ware of some kinds. Stone or glass jars are safest. New oak casks are
fatal from the tannin which soaks out; fir casks are safe and good. So
delicate and sensitive are the minute creatures which people the sea,
that they have been found dead on opening a cask in which a new oak
bung was the only source of poison. And no wonder; for a very slight
proportion of tannic acid in the water corrugates and stiffens the thin,
smooth skin of the anemone, like the tanning of leather.
A certain natural density of the sea-water must also be preserved,
ranging between no wider limits than 1026 and 1028. And in the open tank
evaporation is constantly deranging this, and must be met by a supply
from without. As the pure water alone evaporates, and the salts and
earthy or mineral constituents are left behind, two things result: the
water remaining becomes constantly more dense; and this can be remedied
only by pure fresh water poured in to restore the equilibrium. Hence the
marine aquarium must be replenished with _fresh water_, until the proper
specific gravity, as indicated by the hydrometer, is restored.
The aquarium may be found some morning with a deep and permanent green
stain discoloring the water. This unsightly appearance is owing to the
simultaneous development of the spores of multitudes of minute Algae and
Confervae, and can be obviated by passing the water through a charcoal
filter. When any of the fishes give signs of sickness or suffocation, by
coming to the surface and gulping air, they may be revived by having the
water aerated by pouring it out repeatedly from a little elevation, or
by a syringe. The fishes are sometimes distressed, also, when the room
gets too warm for them. A temperature of 60 deg. is about what they require.
And they will stand cold, many of them, even to being frozen with the
water into ice, and afterwards revive.
The degree of light should be carefully regulated by a stained glass
side, or a shade. Yet it must be borne in mind that sunlight is
indispensable to the free evolution of oxygen by the plants. And when
the sun is shining on the water, all its occupants appear more lively,
and the fishes seem intoxicated--as they doubtless are--with oxygen.
A novice is apt to overstock his aquarium. Not more than two
moderate-sized fishes to a gallon of water is a safe rule. Care, too,
must be taken to group together those kinds of creatures which are not
natural enemies, or natural food for each other, or a sad scene of
devastation and murder will ensue.
Cleansing cannot be always intrusted to snails. But the sides may be
scrubbed with a soft swab, made of cotton or wick-yarn. Deaths will
occasionally take place; and even suicide is said to be resorted to by
the wicked family of the Echinoderms.
To procure specimens for the aquarium requires some knack and knowledge.
The sea-shore must be haunted, and even the deep sea explored. At the
extreme low-water of new or full moon tides, the rocks and tide-pools
are to be zealously hunted over by the aquarian naturalist. Several
wide-mouthed vials and stone jars are necessary; and we would repeat,
that no plant should be taken, unless its attachment is preserved. It
is often a long and difficult job to get some of the Algae; with their
tender connections unsevered from the hard rock, which must be chipped
away with the chisel, and often with the blows of the hammer deadened by
being struck under water. It is by lifting up the overhanging masses of
slimy fuel, tangles, and sea-grass, that we find the delicate varieties,
as the _Chondrus_ with its metallic lustre, and the red _Algae_, or the
stony _Corallina_, which delights in the obscurity of shaded pools.
The sea-weeds will be found studded with mollusks,--as Snails and
Periwinkles of many queer varieties. Anemones, of the more common kinds,
are found clinging to smooth stones. Crabs on the sand. Prawns, Shrimps,
Medusae, and fishes of many species, in the little pools which the tide
leaves behind, and which it will require a sharp eye and a quick hand
to explore with success. But the rarer forms of Actinias, Star-fishes,
Sepioles, Madrepores, Annelidae, and Zoophytes, of a thousand shapes,
live on the bottom, in deep water, and must be captured there.
For this purpose we must dredge from a boat, under sail. The
naturalist's dredge is an improved oyster-dredge, with each of the two
long sides of the mouth made into a scraping lip of iron. The body is
made of spun-yarn, or fishing-line, netted into a small mesh. Two long
triangles are attached by a hinge to the two short sides of the frame,
and meeting in front, at some distance from the mouth, are connected by
a swivel-joint. To this the dragging rope is bent, which must be three
times as long, in dredging, as the depth of the water. This is fastened
to the stern of a boat under sail, and thus the bottom is raked of
all sorts of objects; among which, on emptying the net, many living
creatures for the aquarium are found. These may be placed temporarily in
jars; though plants, mollusks, Crustacea and Actiniae may be kept and
transmitted long distances packed in layers of moist sea-weed.
For all this detail, labor, and patient care, we may reasonably find
two great objects: first, the cultivation and advancement of natural
science; second, the purest delight and healthiest amusement.
In the aquarium we have a most convenient field for the study of
Natural History: to learn the varieties, nature, names, habits, and
peculiarities of those endless forms of animated existence which dwell
in the hidden depths of the sea, and at the same time to improve our
minds by cultivating our powers of observation.
The pleasure derived from the aquarium comes from the excitement of
finding and collecting specimens, as well as from watching the tank
itself. There can be no more pleasant accompaniment to the sea-side walk
of the casual visitor or summer resident of a watering-place, than to
search for marine plants and animals among the fissures, rocks, and
tide-pools of the sea-washed beach or cape.
Nature is always as varied as beautiful. Thousands of strange forms
sport under the shadow of the brown, waving sea-weeds, or among the
delicate scarlet fronds of the dulse, which is found growing in the
little ponds that the inequalities of the beach have retained. It is
down among the great boulders which the Atlantic piles upon our coast,
that we may find endless varieties of life to fill the aquarium, though
not those more gorgeous hues which distinguish the tenants of the coral
reefs on tropical shores. Yet even here Nature is absolutely infinite;
and we shall find ourselves, day after day, imitating that botanist who,
walking through the same path for a month, found always a new plant
which had escaped his notice before. So, too, in exploring the open sea,
besides the pleasure of sailing along a variegated coast, with sun and
blue water, we have the constant excitement of unexpected discovery:
for, as often as we pull up the dredge, some new wonder is revealed.
Words fail to describe the wonders of the sea. And all that we drag
from the bottom, all that we admire in the aquarium, are but a few
disconnected specimens of that infinite whole which makes up their home.
So, too, in watching the aquarium itself, we shall see endless
repetitions of those "sea-changes" which Shakspeare sang. Ancient
mythology typified the changing wonders of aquatic Nature, as well
as the fickleness of the treacherous sea, in those shifting deities,
Glaucus and Proteus, who tenanted the shore.
The one the fancy of Ovid metamorphosed from a restless man to a fickle
sea-god; the other assumed so many deceptive shapes to those who visited
his cave, that his memory has been preserved in the word Protean. Such
fancies well apply to a part of Nature which shifts like the sands, and
ranges from the hideous Cuttle-fish and ravenous Shark to the delicate
Medusa, whose graceful form and trailing tentacles float among the
waving fronds of colored Algae, like
"Sabrina fair,
Under the glassy, cool, translucent wave,
In twisted braids of lilies knitting
The loose train of her amber-dropping hair."
* * * * *
THE YOUNG REPEALER.
About eighteen years ago, when I was confined to two rooms by illness
of long standing, I received a remarkable note by post one day. The
envelope, bearing the Dublin postmark, was addressed in a good, bold,
manly handwriting; but the few lines within showed traces of agitation.
What I am going to relate is a true story,--altogether true, so far as
I can trust my memory,--except the name of the Young Repealer. I might
give his real name without danger of hurting any person's feelings but
one; but, for the sake of that one, who will thus be out of the reach
of my narrative, I speak of him under another name. Having to choose
a name, I will take a thoroughly Irish one, and call my correspondent
Patrick Monahan.
The few lines which showed agitation in the handwriting were calm
in language, but very strange. Patrick Monahan told me that he was
extremely unhappy, and that he had reason to believe that I, and I
alone, could do him good. This, with the address,--to a certain number
in a street in Dublin,--was all.
There was little time before the post went out; I was almost unable to
write from illness; but, after a second glance at this note, I felt that
I dared not delay my reply. I did not think that it was money that he
wished to ask. I did not think that he was insane. I could not conceive
why he should apply to me, nor why he did not explain what he wished
from me; but I had a strong impression that it was safest to reply at
once. I did so, in half a dozen lines, promising to write next day,
after a further attempt to discover his meaning, and begging him to
consider how completely in the dark I was as to him and his case. It was
well that I wrote that day. Long after, when he was letting me into all
the facts of his life, he told me that he had made my replying at once
or not the turning-point of his fate. If the post had brought him
nothing, he would have drowned himself in the Liffey.
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