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349
The Journal of a Disappointed Man
·
W. N. P. Barbellion
25
On
the
rocks
was
a
pretty
flapper
in
a
pink
sunbonnet--also
prawning
in
company
of
S----,
the
artist,
who
has
sent
her
picture
to
the
Royal
Academy.
They
saw
I
was
a
naturalist,
so
my
services
were
secured
to
pronounce
my
judgment
on
a
"fish"
she
had
caught.
It
was
a
Squid,
"an
odd
little
beast,"
in
truth,
as
she
said.
"The
same
class
of
animal,"
I
volunteered,
"as
the
Cuttlefish
and
Octopus."
"Does
it
sting?"
"Oh,
no!"
"Well,
it
ought
to
with
a
face
like
that."
She
laughed
merrily,
and
the
bearded
but
youthful
artist
laughed
too.
"I
don't
know
anything
about
these
things,"
he
said
hopelessly.
"Nor
I,"
said
the
naturalist
modestly.
"I
study
fish."
This
was
puzzling.
"Fish?"
What
was
a
Squid
then?
...
The
artist
would
stop
now
and
then
and
raise
his
glasses
at
a
passing
ship,
and
Maud's
face
occasionally
disappeared
in
the
pink
sunbonnet
as
she
stooped
over
a
pool
to
examine
a
seaweed
or
crab.
She's
a
dear--and
she
gave
me
the
Squid.
What
a
merry
little
cuss!
September
1.
Went
with
Uncle
to
see
a
Wesleyan
minister
whose
fame
as
a
microscopist,
according
to
Uncle,
made
it
worth
my
while
to
visit
him.
As
I
expected,
he
was
just
a
silly
old
man,
a
diatomaniac
fond
of
pretty-pretty
slides
and
not
a
scientific
man
at
all.
He
lectures
Bands
of
Hope
on
the
Butterfly's
Life
History
and
hates
his
next-door
neighbour,
who
is
also
a
microscopist
and
incidentally
a
scientific
man,
because
he
interests
himself
in
"parasites
and
those
beastly
things."
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