The Unnatural History of the Sea 177 



future. We ought to depend on the children to correct our 

 own mistakes. Unnatural natural history seems to be bred 

 in the schools, and its authors are certainly tutored in the 

 rudiments of many desperate studies. And without further 

 delay, we will take up a book nicely printed, illustrated by 

 one of the cleverest of artists, which, in the spirit of Baron 

 Munchausen, takes up the dwellers of the sea, with the 

 claim, not peculiar to the Baron, that " his stories are in 

 accord with the latest scientific facts as bearing on the sev- 

 eral cases." 



The play opens with a big barracuda from the Bahamas, 

 lying under the seaweed far out in the open sea. Bar- 

 racudas do not swim in the open sea, but this one needs it 

 for his stage setting. Next, the barracuda is seized by a 

 shark. How a shark catches a barracuda is not known to 

 fishermen, but this one is caught. Then comes the terrible 

 saw-fish, a kind of ray, which feeds on crabs and sardines 

 in the muddy estuaries of the tropics, at the best, a luncher 

 on fricasseed mullet, which it slashes right and left with its 

 saw. This beast is naturally a terror to man. As the nar- 

 rator's blood chills and his feet grow cold, appears another 

 horror, this time a man-eating shark ; lying motionless in the 

 water (which it can only do when it is sick or dead, and 

 then it sinks). It is, in fact, asleep, and on it rushes the 

 horror-creating saw-fish, which with one slash disembowels 

 the shark, and with its stomach filled with the fragments, 

 vanishes into the vasty deep. 



Next appears the narwhal, the whale with a long bony 

 spear on its nose. It is described as spitting the salmon on 

 its horn. But the white bear swims down under water, 

 grabbing the narwhal from below. But the beast with the 

 nose rises to the occasion, and spits the bear, as it has 

 previously disposed of the salmon, and as it usually stabs 

 young whales. This is an excellent tale of one of the most 

 timid of whale-like creatures, but it smacks of the seventh- 

 floor flat, and the inkstand busy with pot-boiling. This 



