In the museum at Newcastle are many of the identical specimens from
which the illustrious townsman Bewick drew his figures for the
wood-cuts which embellish his unique and celebrated work. This truly
amiable man, and, beyond all comparison, greatest genius Newcastle has
ever produced, died on the 8th of November last, in the 76th year of
his age. He continued to the last in the enjoyment of all his
faculties; his single-heartedness and enthusiasm not a jot abated, and
his wonder-working pencil still engaged in tracing, with his wonted
felicity and fidelity, those objects which had all his life afforded
him such delight, and which have charmed, and must continue to charm,
all those who have any relish for the pure and simple beauties of
nature.--_Ibid_.
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[Illustration: The Argonaut, or Paper Nautilus.]
Learn of the little Nautilus to sail,
Spread the thin oar, and catch the driving gale.
This species of shell-fish, (see the cut,) is named from _Argonautes_,
the companions of Jason, in the celebrated ship, Argo, and from the
Latin _naus_, a ship; the shells of all the Nautili having the
appearance of a ship with a very high poop. The shell of this
interesting creature is no thicker than paper, and divided into forty
compartments or chambers, through every one of which a portion of its
body passes, connected as it were, by a thread. In the cut it is
represented as sailing, when it expands two of its arms on high, and
between these supports a membrane which serves as a sail, hanging the
two other arms out of its shell, to serve as oars, the office of
steerage being generally served by the tail.
The shell of the Nautilus being exceedingly thin and fragile, the
tenant has many enemies, and among others the Trochus who makes war on
it with unrelenting fury. Pursued by this cruel foe, it ascends to the
top of the water, spreads its little sail to catch the flying breeze,
and rowing with all its might, scuds along, like a galley in
miniature, and often escapes its more cumbrous pursuer. Sometimes,
however, all will not do, the Trochus nears and nears, and escape
appears impossible; but when the little animal, with inexplicable
ingenuity, suddenly and secretly extricates itself from its tortuous
and fragile dwelling, the Trochus immediately turns to other prey. The
Nautilus then returns to tenant and repair its little bark; but it too
often happens, that before he can regain it, it is by a species of
shipwreck, dashed to pieces on the shore. Thus wretchedly situated,
this hero of the testaceous tribe seeks some obscure corner "where to
die," but which seldom, if ever, happens, until after he has made
extraordinary exertions to establish himself anew. What a fine picture
of virtue nobly struggling with misfortune.[8]
When the sea is calm, whole fleets of these Nautili may be seen
diverting themselves; but when a storm rises, or they are disturbed,
they draw in their legs, take in as much water as makes them
specifically heavier, than that in which they float, and then sink to
the bottom. When they rise again they void this water by numerous
holes, of which their legs are full. The other species of Nautilus,
whose shell is thick, never quits that habitation. The shells of both
varieties are exceedingly beautiful when polished, and produce high
prices among Conchologists.
It is easy to conceive that the ingenious habits of this wonderful
creature may have suggested to man the power of sailing upon the sea,
and of the various apparatus by which he effects that object. The
whole creation abounds with similar instances of Nature ministering to
the proud purposes of art: one of them, the origin of the Gothic Arch
from the "high o'erarching groves," is mentioned by Warburton, in his
_Divine Legation_, and is a sublime lesson for besotted man.
[8] Magazine of Natural History, No.1.
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THE SELECTOR;
AND
LITERARY NOTICES OF _NEW WORKS_.
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