THE ROMANCE OF NATURAL HISTORY. 



of a Cetacean, we shall not, I think, attach great 

 importance to this objection. 



The only region of the globe, in which the un- 

 known monster is reputed to be in any sense 

 common, is the coast of Norway. Now this, it is 

 true, is fortunately within the ken of civilised and 

 scientific man; and, confessedly, no enormous 

 ophidian or saurian carcases have ever been 

 recognised on that shore. But the shore of Nor- 

 way is, perhaps, the least favourable in the world 

 for such a jetsam. Such a thing as a sand or 

 shingle beach is scarcely known ; the coast is al- 

 most exclusively what is called iron-bound; the 

 borders of the deeply indented fjords rise abruptly 

 out of the sea, so that there is generally from 

 fifty to three hundred fathoms' depth of water 

 within a boat's length of the shore. How could 

 a carcase or a skeleton be cast up here, even if 

 it floated? 



But, secondly, as to facts. Is it true, that of all 

 the larger oceanic animals we find the carcases or 

 skeletons cast up on the shore? Is it true even of 

 the Cetacea, whose blubber-covered bodies invar- 

 iably ensure their floating, and whose bones are 

 so saturated with oil that they are but little 

 heavier than water? 



In September, 1825, a cetacean was stranded on 

 the French coast which was previously unknown 

 to naturalists. It was so fortunate as to fall 

 under the examination of so eminent a zoologist 

 as De Blainville ; and hence its anatomy was well 

 investigated. It has become celebrated as the 

 Toothless Whale of Havre (Aodon Dalei). Yet no 

 other example of this species is on record; and, 

 but for this accident, a whale inhabiting the 

 British Channel would be quite unrecognised. 

 Of another whale (Diodon Sowerbji), likewise 

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