Guess what, bitches!
I got me a full time job. Which calls for some celebration. Extensive, in fact.
Like, well, for starters, I filled my fridge with food.
And then, I stopped by the antique store and got a book that I've been eyeing for some months now. It's called Sea and Land, and from what I gathered it was written around 1890 (the publication/author page has fallen out, only leaving the introduction to tell me that it was written by someone with the initials "J.W.B."). At any rate, it is a freaking gem, having extensive 19th-century secular, semi-religious and "scientific" observations of the sea, its various lifeforms, and travelling over it. The writing is fantastic, the cover is eye-catchingly beautiful (a carved leather-bound cover depicting a giant octopus attacking a ship), and the engravings are spell-binding. There's even an illustrated transcribed version of "The Rhyme of the Ancient Mariner" in its pages. I love it. Here's an excerpt:
Of this phenomena, Mangin writes: "That those infusoria should tint the sea is, undoubtedly, a marvelous phenomenon; but they do more - they brighten and enkindle it. The phosphorescence of ocean was long a mystery, before which man's reason stood confounded, and which inspired him with mingled feelings of admiration and terror. Luminous water! The sea on fire, yet harmless, and still preserving its cold or warm temperature. How extraordinary a mirage! How strange an anomaly!"...
What Makes the Sea Luminous?
The luminosity of the sea has been attributed to various causes, but it was not until 1854 that the real cause was discovered, and settled beyond dispute for all time. In a letter written by Captain Klingman, of the American clipper Shooting Star, to Captain Maury, the facts of this interested discovery are set forth, as follows:
"At forty-five minutes past 7p.m., my attention was attracted by the color of the sea, which rapidly became whiter and whiter. We were in a very frequented track, and unable to account for what I saw. I dropped the sounding lead without finding bottom at sixty fathoms. I then resumed my course. The temperature of the water was 77° 14'F., as at 8 A.M. We filled with this water a jug, holding about six gallons, and discovered that it was full of small luminous bodies, which, when the water was disturbed, presented the appearance of insects and worms in motion; some them seemed one-fourth of an inch in length. We could take them up in our hands, and they preserved their splendor until within a few feet of a lamp; but if we placed them nearer they became invisible; under a magnifying glass, their appearance was that of a colorless, gelatinous substance. One of the specimens was about an inch and a half long; Its thinkness that of a coarse hair, with a kind of head at each extremity"...
But phosporescence in the sea is not always due to animalculæ, for it is an equally-attested fact, that under certain conditions unknown to science the ocean becomes luminous. Dead fish render salt water luminous, while shoals of herring and other fishes often leave behind them a kind of secretion which is luminous.
Like, well, for starters, I filled my fridge with food.
And then, I stopped by the antique store and got a book that I've been eyeing for some months now. It's called Sea and Land, and from what I gathered it was written around 1890 (the publication/author page has fallen out, only leaving the introduction to tell me that it was written by someone with the initials "J.W.B."). At any rate, it is a freaking gem, having extensive 19th-century secular, semi-religious and "scientific" observations of the sea, its various lifeforms, and travelling over it. The writing is fantastic, the cover is eye-catchingly beautiful (a carved leather-bound cover depicting a giant octopus attacking a ship), and the engravings are spell-binding. There's even an illustrated transcribed version of "The Rhyme of the Ancient Mariner" in its pages. I love it. Here's an excerpt:
Of this phenomena, Mangin writes: "That those infusoria should tint the sea is, undoubtedly, a marvelous phenomenon; but they do more - they brighten and enkindle it. The phosphorescence of ocean was long a mystery, before which man's reason stood confounded, and which inspired him with mingled feelings of admiration and terror. Luminous water! The sea on fire, yet harmless, and still preserving its cold or warm temperature. How extraordinary a mirage! How strange an anomaly!"...
What Makes the Sea Luminous?
The luminosity of the sea has been attributed to various causes, but it was not until 1854 that the real cause was discovered, and settled beyond dispute for all time. In a letter written by Captain Klingman, of the American clipper Shooting Star, to Captain Maury, the facts of this interested discovery are set forth, as follows:
"At forty-five minutes past 7p.m., my attention was attracted by the color of the sea, which rapidly became whiter and whiter. We were in a very frequented track, and unable to account for what I saw. I dropped the sounding lead without finding bottom at sixty fathoms. I then resumed my course. The temperature of the water was 77° 14'F., as at 8 A.M. We filled with this water a jug, holding about six gallons, and discovered that it was full of small luminous bodies, which, when the water was disturbed, presented the appearance of insects and worms in motion; some them seemed one-fourth of an inch in length. We could take them up in our hands, and they preserved their splendor until within a few feet of a lamp; but if we placed them nearer they became invisible; under a magnifying glass, their appearance was that of a colorless, gelatinous substance. One of the specimens was about an inch and a half long; Its thinkness that of a coarse hair, with a kind of head at each extremity"...
But phosporescence in the sea is not always due to animalculæ, for it is an equally-attested fact, that under certain conditions unknown to science the ocean becomes luminous. Dead fish render salt water luminous, while shoals of herring and other fishes often leave behind them a kind of secretion which is luminous.