THE ROTIFERS.
by Robert Abernathy.
_Beneath the stagnant water shadowed by water lilies Harry found the fascinating world of the rotifers-but it was their world, and they resented intrusion._
_Ill.u.s.trated by Virgil Finlay_
Henry Chatham knelt by the brink of his garden pond, a gla.s.s fish bowl cupped in his thin, nervous hands. Carefully he dipped the bowl into the green-sc.u.mmed water and, moving it gently, let trailing streamers of submerged water weeds drift into it. Then he picked up the old scissors he had laid on the bank, and clipped the stems of the floating plants, getting as much of them as he could in the container.
When he righted the bowl and got stiffly to his feet, it contained, he thought hopefully, a fair cross-section of fresh-water plankton. He was pleased with himself for remembering that term from the book he had studied a.s.siduously for the last few nights in order to be able to cope with Harry"s inevitable questions.
There was even a shiny black water beetle doing insane circles on the surface of the water in the fish bowl. At sight of the insect, the eyes of the twelve-year-old boy, who had been standing by in silent expectation, widened with interest.
"What"s that thing, Dad?" he asked excitedly. "What"s that crazy bug?"
"I don"t know its scientific name, I"m afraid," said Henry Chatham. "But when I was a boy we used to call them whirligig beetles."
"He doesn"t seem to think he has enough room in the bowl," said Harry thoughtfully. "Maybe we better put him back in the pond, Dad."
"I thought you might want to look at him through the microscope," the father said in some surprise.
"I think we ought to put him back," insisted Harry. Mr. Chatham held the dripping bowl obligingly. Harry"s hand, a thin boy"s hand with narrow sensitive fingers, hovered over the water, and when the beetle paused for a moment in its gyrations, made a dive for it.
But the whirligig beetle saw the hand coming, and, quicker than a wink, plunged under the water and scooted rapidly to the very bottom of the bowl.
Harry"s young face was rueful; he wiped his wet hand on his trousers. "I guess he wants to stay," he supposed.
The two went up the garden path together and into the house, Mr. Chatham bearing the fish bowl before him like a votive offering. Harry"s mother met them at the door, brandishing an old towel.
"Here," she said firmly, "you wipe that thing off before you bring it in the house. And don"t drip any of that dirty pond water on my good carpet."
"It"s not dirty," said Henry Chatham. "It"s just full of life, plants and animals too small for the eye to see. But Harry"s going to see them with his microscope." He accepted the towel and wiped the water and slime from the outside of the bowl; then, in the living-room, he set it beside an open window, where the life-giving summer sun slanted in and fell on the green plants.
The brand-new microscope stood nearby, in a good light. It was an expensive microscope, no toy for a child, and it magnified four hundred diameters. Henry Chatham had bought it because he believed that his only son showed a desire to peer into the mysteries of smallness, and so far Harry had not disappointed him; he had been ecstatic over the instrument. Together they had compared hairs from their two heads, had seen the point of a fine sewing needle made to look like the tip of a crowbar by the lowest power of the microscope, had made grains of salt look like discarded chunks of gla.s.s brick, had captured a house-fly and marvelled at its clawed hairy feet, its great red faceted eyes, and the delicate veining and fringing of its wings.
Harry was staring at the bowl of pond water in a sort of fascination.
"Are there germs in the water, Dad? Mother says pond water is full of germs."
"I suppose so," answered Mr. Chatham, somewhat embarra.s.sed. The book on microscopic fresh-water fauna had been explicit about _Paramecium_ and _Euglena_, diatomes and rhizopods, but it had failed to mention anything so vulgar as germs. But he supposed that which the book called Protozoa, the one-celled animalcules, were the same as germs.
He said, "To look at things in water like this, you want to use a well-slide. It tells how to fix one in the instruction book."
He let Harry find the gla.s.s slide with a cup ground into it, and another smooth slip of gla.s.s to cover it. Then he half-showed, half-told him how to sc.r.a.pe gently along the bottom sides of the drifting leaves, to capture the teeming life that dwelt there in the slime. When the boy understood, his young hands were quickly more skillful than his father"s; they filled the well with a few drops of water that was promisingly green and murky.
Already Harry knew how to adjust the lighting mirror under the stage of the microscope and turn the focusing screws. He did so, bent intently over the eyepiece, squinting down the polished barrel in the happy expectation of wonders.
Henry Chatham"s eyes wandered to the fish bowl, where the whirligig beetle had come to the top again and was describing intricate patterns among the water plants. He looked back to his son, and saw that Harry had ceased to turn the screws and instead was just looking-looking with a rapt, delicious fixity. His hands lay loosely clenched on the table top, and he hardly seemed to breathe. Only once or twice his lips moved as if to shape an exclamation that was s.n.a.t.c.hed away by some new vision.
"Have you got it, Harry?" asked his father after two or three minutes during which the boy did not move.
Harry took a last long look, then glanced up, blinking slightly.
"You look, Dad!" he exclaimed warmly. "It"s-it"s like a garden in the water, full of funny little people!"
Mr. Chatham, not reluctantly, bent to gaze into the eyepiece. This was new to him too, and instantly he saw the aptness of Harry"s simile.
There was a garden there, of weird, green, transparent stalks composed of plainly visible cells fastened end to end, with globules and bladders like fruits or seed-pods attached to them, floating among them; and in the garden the strange little people swam to and fro, or clung with odd appendages to the stalks and branches. Their bodies were transparent like the plants, and in them were pulsing hearts and other organs plainly visible. They looked a little like sea horses with pointed tails, but their heads were different, small and rounded, with big, dark, glistening eyes.
All at once Mr. Chatham realized that Harry was speaking to him, still in high excitement.
"What are they, Dad?" he begged to know.
His father straightened up and shook his head puzzledly. "I don"t know, Harry," he answered slowly, casting about in his memory. He seemed to remember a microphotograph of a creature like those in the book he had studied, but the name that had gone with it eluded him. He had worked as an accountant for so many years that his memory was all for figures now.
He bent over once more to immerse his eyes and mind in the green water-garden on the slide. The little creatures swam to and fro as before, growing hazy and dwindling or swelling as they swam out of the narrow focus of the lens; he gazed at those who paused in sharp definition, and saw that, although he had at first seen no visible means of propulsion, each creature bore about its head a halo of thread-like, flickering cilia that lashed the water and drew it forward, for all the world like an airplane propeller or a rapidly turning wheel.
"I know what they are!" exclaimed Henry Chatham, turning to his son with an almost boyish excitement. "They"re rotifers! That means "wheel-bearers", and they were called that because to the first scientists who saw them it looked like they swam with wheels."
Harry had got down the book and was leafing through the pages. He looked up seriously. "Here they are," he said. "Here"s a picture that looks almost like the ones in our pond water."
"Let"s see," said his father. They looked at the pictures and descriptions of the Rotifera; there was a good deal of concrete information on the habits and physiology of these odd and complex little animals who live their swarming lives in the shallow, stagnant waters of the Earth. It said that they were much more highly organized than Protozoa, having a discernible heart, brain, digestive system, and nervous system, and that their reproduction was by means of two s.e.xes like that of the higher orders. Beyond that, they were a mystery; their relationship to other life-forms remained shrouded in doubt.
"You"ve got something interesting there," said Henry Chatham with satisfaction. "Maybe you"ll find out something about them that n.o.body knows yet."
He was pleased when Harry spent all the rest of that Sunday afternoon peering into the microscope, watching the rotifers, and even more pleased when the boy found a pencil and paper and tried, in an amateurish way, to draw and describe what he saw in the green water-garden.
Beyond a doubt, Henry thought, here was a hobby that had captured Harry as nothing else ever had.
Mrs. Chatham was not so pleased. When her husband laid down his evening paper and went into the kitchen for a drink of water, she cornered him and hissed at him: "I told you you had no business buying Harry a thing like that! If he keeps on at this rate, he"ll wear his eyes out in no time."
Henry Chatham set down his water gla.s.s and looked straight at his wife.
"Sally, Harry"s eyes are young and he"s using them to learn with. You"ve never been much worried over me, using my eyes up eight hours a day, five days a week, over a blind-alley bookkeeping job."
He left her angrily silent and went back to his paper. He would lower the paper every now and then to watch Harry, in his corner of the living-room, bowed obliviously over the microscope and the secret life of the rotifers.
Once the boy glanced up from his periodic drawing and asked, with the air of one who proposes a pondered question: "Dad, if you look through a microscope the wrong way is it a telescope?"
Mr. Chatham lowered his paper and bit his underlip. "I don"t think so-no, I don"t know. When you look through a microscope, it makes things seem closer-one way, that is; if you looked the other way, it would probably make them seem farther off. What did you want to know for?"
"Oh-nothing," Harry turned back to his work. As if on after-thought, he explained, "I was wondering if the rotifers could see me when I"m looking at them."
Mr. Chatham laughed, a little nervously, because the strange fancies which his son sometimes voiced upset his ordered mind. Remembering the dark glistening eyes of the rotifers he had seen, however, he could recognize whence this question had stemmed.
At dusk, Harry insisted on setting up the substage lamp which had been bought with the microscope, and by whose light he could go on looking until his bedtime, when his father helped him arrange a wick to feed the little gla.s.s-covered well in the slide so it would not dry up before morning. It was unwillingly, and only after his mother"s strenuous complaints, that the boy went to bed at ten o"clock.