2024年5月19日发(作者：无霞辉)
Unit 4 Unforgettable Teachers
Text A Take This Fish and Look at It
1 It was more than fifteen years ago that I entered the laboratory of Professor Agassiz,
and told him I had enrolled my name in the Scientific School as a student of natural
history . He asked me a few questions about my object in coming, my antecedents
generally, the mode in which I afterwards proposed to use the knowledge I might acquire,
and, finally, whether I wished to study any special branch. To the latter I replied that
while I wished to be well grounded in all departments of zoology, I purposed to devote
myself especially to insects.
2 "When do you wish to begin?" he asked.
3 "Now," I replied.
4 This seemed to please him, and with an energetic "Very well!" he reached from a shelf
a huge jar of specimens in yellow alcohol. "Take this fish," he said, "and look at it; we call
it a haemulon; by and by I will ask what you have seen."
5 With that he left me, but in a moment returned with explicit instructions as to the
care of the object entrusted to me.
6 "No man is fit to be a naturalist," said he, "who does not know how to take care of
specimens."
7 I was to keep the fish before me in a tin tray, and occasionally moisten the surface
with alcohol from the jar, always taking care to replace the stopper tightly. Those were
not the days of ground-glass stoppers and elegantly shaped exhibition jars; all the old
students will recall the huge neckless glass bottles with their leaky, wax-besmeared corks,
half eaten by insects, and begrimed with cellar dust. Entomology was a cleaner science
than ichthyology, but the example of the Professor, who had unhesitatingly plunged to
the bottom of the jar to produce the fish, was infectious; and though this alcohol had a
"very ancient and fishlike smell," I really dared not show any aversion within these sacred
precincts, and treated the alcohol as though it were pure water. Still I was conscious of a
passing feeling 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.
8 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 apartment, 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 three-quarters' view — just as ghastly. I was in despair; at an early hour I
concluded that lunch was necessary; so, with infinite relief, the fish was carefully replaced
in the jar, and for an hour I was free.
9 On my return, I learned that Professor Agassiz had been at the Museum, but had
gone, and would not return for several hours. My fellow-students were too busy to be
disturbed by continued conversation. Slowly I drew forth that hideous fish, and with a
feeling of desperation again looked at it. I might not use a magnifying-glass; instruments
of all kinds were interdicted. My two hands, my two eyes, and the fish: it seemed a most
limited field. I pushed my finger down its throat to feel how sharp the teeth were. I began
to count the scales in the different rows, until I was convinced that was nonsense. At last
a happy thought struck me — I would draw the fish; and with surprise I began to discover
new features in the creature. Just then the Professor returned.
10 "That is right," said he; "a pencil is one of the best of eyes. I am glad to notice, too,
that you keep your specimen wet, and your bottle corked."
11 With these encouraging words, he added: "Well, what is it like?"
12 He listened attentively to my brief rehearsal of the structure of parts whose names
were still unknown to me: the fringed gill-arches and movable operculum; the pores of
the head, fleshy lips and lidless eyes; the lateral line, the spinous fins and forked tail; the
compressed and arched body. When I finished, he waited as if expecting more, and then,
with an air of disappointment:
13 "You have not looked very carefully; why," he continued more earnestly, "you
haven't even seen one of the most conspicuous features of the animal, which is plainly
before your eyes as the fish itself; look again, look again!" and he left me to my misery.
14 I was piqued; I was mortified. Still more of that wretched fish! But now I set myself
to my task with a will, and discovered one new thing after another, until I saw how just
the Professor's criticism had been. The afternoon passed quickly; and when, towards its
close, the Professor inquired:
15 "Do you see it yet?"
16 "No," I replied, "I am certain I do not, but I see how little I saw before."
17 "That is next best," said he, earnestly, "but I won't hear you now; put away your fish
and go home; perhaps you will be ready with a better answer in the morning. I will
examine you before you look at the fish."
2024年5月19日发(作者：无霞辉)
Unit 4 Unforgettable Teachers
Text A Take This Fish and Look at It
1 It was more than fifteen years ago that I entered the laboratory of Professor Agassiz,
and told him I had enrolled my name in the Scientific School as a student of natural
history . He asked me a few questions about my object in coming, my antecedents
generally, the mode in which I afterwards proposed to use the knowledge I might acquire,
and, finally, whether I wished to study any special branch. To the latter I replied that
while I wished to be well grounded in all departments of zoology, I purposed to devote
myself especially to insects.
2 "When do you wish to begin?" he asked.
3 "Now," I replied.
4 This seemed to please him, and with an energetic "Very well!" he reached from a shelf
a huge jar of specimens in yellow alcohol. "Take this fish," he said, "and look at it; we call
it a haemulon; by and by I will ask what you have seen."
5 With that he left me, but in a moment returned with explicit instructions as to the
care of the object entrusted to me.
6 "No man is fit to be a naturalist," said he, "who does not know how to take care of
specimens."
7 I was to keep the fish before me in a tin tray, and occasionally moisten the surface
with alcohol from the jar, always taking care to replace the stopper tightly. Those were
not the days of ground-glass stoppers and elegantly shaped exhibition jars; all the old
students will recall the huge neckless glass bottles with their leaky, wax-besmeared corks,
half eaten by insects, and begrimed with cellar dust. Entomology was a cleaner science
than ichthyology, but the example of the Professor, who had unhesitatingly plunged to
the bottom of the jar to produce the fish, was infectious; and though this alcohol had a
"very ancient and fishlike smell," I really dared not show any aversion within these sacred
precincts, and treated the alcohol as though it were pure water. Still I was conscious of a
passing feeling 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.
8 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 apartment, 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 three-quarters' view — just as ghastly. I was in despair; at an early hour I
concluded that lunch was necessary; so, with infinite relief, the fish was carefully replaced
in the jar, and for an hour I was free.
9 On my return, I learned that Professor Agassiz had been at the Museum, but had
gone, and would not return for several hours. My fellow-students were too busy to be
disturbed by continued conversation. Slowly I drew forth that hideous fish, and with a
feeling of desperation again looked at it. I might not use a magnifying-glass; instruments
of all kinds were interdicted. My two hands, my two eyes, and the fish: it seemed a most
limited field. I pushed my finger down its throat to feel how sharp the teeth were. I began
to count the scales in the different rows, until I was convinced that was nonsense. At last
a happy thought struck me — I would draw the fish; and with surprise I began to discover
new features in the creature. Just then the Professor returned.
10 "That is right," said he; "a pencil is one of the best of eyes. I am glad to notice, too,
that you keep your specimen wet, and your bottle corked."
11 With these encouraging words, he added: "Well, what is it like?"
12 He listened attentively to my brief rehearsal of the structure of parts whose names
were still unknown to me: the fringed gill-arches and movable operculum; the pores of
the head, fleshy lips and lidless eyes; the lateral line, the spinous fins and forked tail; the
compressed and arched body. When I finished, he waited as if expecting more, and then,
with an air of disappointment:
13 "You have not looked very carefully; why," he continued more earnestly, "you
haven't even seen one of the most conspicuous features of the animal, which is plainly
before your eyes as the fish itself; look again, look again!" and he left me to my misery.
14 I was piqued; I was mortified. Still more of that wretched fish! But now I set myself
to my task with a will, and discovered one new thing after another, until I saw how just
the Professor's criticism had been. The afternoon passed quickly; and when, towards its
close, the Professor inquired:
15 "Do you see it yet?"
16 "No," I replied, "I am certain I do not, but I see how little I saw before."
17 "That is next best," said he, earnestly, "but I won't hear you now; put away your fish
and go home; perhaps you will be ready with a better answer in the morning. I will
examine you before you look at the fish."