The central body of it is hidden in the snowy sparkling mist
enveloping it; and how can you certainly tell whether any water
falls from it, when, always, when you are close enough to a whale
to get a close view of his spout, he is in a prodigious commotion,
the water cascading all around him. And if at such times
you should think that you really perceived drops of moisture
in the spout, how do you know that they are not merely condensed
from its vapor; or how do you know that they are not those
identical drops superficially lodged in the spout-hole fissure,
which is countersunk into the summit of the whale's head?
For even when tranquilly swimming through the mid-day sea in a calm,
with his elevated hump sun-dried as a dromedary's in the desert;
even then, the whale always carries a small basin of water on
his head, as under a blazing sun you will sometimes see a cavity
in a rock filled up with rain.
Nor is it at all prudent for the hunter to be over curious touching
the precise nature of the whale spout. It will not do for him
to be peering into it, and putting his face in it. You cannot go
with your pitcher to this fountain and fill it, and bring it away.
For even when coming into slight contact with the outer,
vapory shreds of the jet, which will often happen, your skin will
feverishly smart, from the acridness of the thing so touching it.
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