They have no shape, form, grace, or purpose; they call up a vague sense of
chaos, chaos which the mind revolts from. It
would be a relief to the thought if they ceased to be, and
utterly disappeared from the sea. They are not inimical of
intent towards man, not even the shark; but there the shark is,
and that is enough. These miserably hideous things of the sea
are not anti-human in the sense of persecution, they are outside, they are
ultra and beyond. It is like looking into
chaos, and it is vivid because these creatures, interred alive a
hundred fathoms deep, are seldom seen; so that the mind sees
them as if only that moment they had come into existence. Use
has not habituated it to them, so that their anti-human character is at once
apparent, and stares at us with glassy eye.

But it is the same in reality with the creatures on the earth.
There are some of these even now to which use has not accus-
tomed the mind. Such, for instance, as the toad. At its
shapeless shape appearing in an unexpected corner many people
start and exclaim. They are aware that they shall receive no
injury from it, yet it affrights them, it sends a shock to the
mind. The reason lies in its obviously anti-human character.
All the designless, formless chaos of chance-directed matter,
without idea or human plan, squats there embodied in the
pathway. By watching the creature, and convincing the mind
from observation that it is harmless, and even has uses, the
horror wears away. But still remains the form to which the
mind can never reconcile itself. Carved in wood it is still
repellent.

Or suddenly there is a rustle like a faint hiss in the grass,