PROFESSOR SCUDDER 



treated the alcohol as though it were pure 

 water. Still I was conscious of a passing feel- 

 ing of disappointment, for gazing at a fish did 

 not commend itself to an ardent entomologist. 

 My friends at home, too, were annoyed, when 

 they discovered that no amount of eau-de- 

 Cologne would drown the perfume which 

 haunted me like a shadow. 



In ten minutes I had seen all that could be 

 seen in that fish, and started in search of the 

 Professor — who had, however, left the Museum; 

 and when I returned, after lingering over some 

 of the odd animals stored in the upper apart- 

 ment, my specimen was dry all over. I dashed 

 the fluid over the fish as if to resuscitate the 

 beast from a fainting-fit, and looked with anxiety 

 for a return of the normal sloppy appearance. 

 This little excitement over, nothing was to be 

 done but to return to a steadfast gaze at my 

 mute companion. Half an hour passed — an 

 hour — another hour; the fish began to look 

 loathsome. I turned it over and around; 

 looked it in the face — ghastly; from behind, 

 beneath, above, sideways, at a three-quarters' 

 view — just as ghastly. I was in despair; at an 



[42] 



