CHAPTER II.
The love of Nature's works
Is an ingredient in the compound, man,
Infus'd at the creation of the kind.
And, though th' Almighty Maker has throughout
Discriminated each from each, by strokes
And touches of his hand, with so much art
Diversified, that two were never found
Twins at all points—yet this obtains in all,
That all discern a beauty in his works,
And all can taste them.
The first thing I always do when I get into locality, is to walk round to reconnoitre; to take a general view of the hunting ground. This examination I almost always find necessary to make for myself; it is astonishing how little information one can get from persons of the greatest intelligence and general knowledge, and of a life's familiarity with the place, when we ask them for details that they have not had occasion to study. The nature of the shore here or there, what sort of surface is exposed at low water, how far the sea recedes from the cliffs, where tide-pools are to be found, where sea-weeds grow most abundantly,—these are inquiries which do not seem to demand an intimate acquaintance with technical natural history to be answered, and yet of the inhabitants of any seaport town, not one in a thousand would be able to give you satisfaction about them, unless you happen to meet with a practical working naturalist who has searched up the neighbourhood. You must use your own eyes.
I accordingly took a walk around the shore, from the Lookout southward; making my way down the sloping cliff, which successive landslips have crumbled down and rent into chasms in the grassy turf, threatening at no very distant period the fall of the pretty cottages above, that already stand in perilous proximity to the falling edge. The beach below, sweeping round to Belmont Bay, is loose shingle, most unpleasant and fatiguing to walk over, and one of the most unproductive to the naturalist. Between tide-marks the pebbles are washed clean by the surf, but along the line of high-water, there is here a broad bank of black sea-grass (Zostera), the accumulation of years, perhaps ages, rotting into mould, and forming an admirable manure. It is indeed used for this purpose, being carted away by the farmers when it is sufficiently abundant and sufficiently accessible. In the vicinity of Torquay, and of Ilfracombe, I had not met with this substance in any appreciable quantity; but in Poole Harbour, the scene of my early life, I had been familiar enough with it, as its dirty, littering banks, like a continuous dunghill, fringe the shores; the refuse of hundreds of acres of the grass, that grows on the muddy flats of that land-locked harbour.
Nor was this the only thing that reminded me of early days. As I sauntered with down-cast eyes over the shingle, my eye caught a perforated pebble, and in an instant the rude distich of boyish days came up to my recollection, and I involuntary repeated—
"Lucky stone! lucky stone! go over my head,
And bring me some good luck before I go to bed!"
For it was one of the superstitions of my childhood, taught and believed by credulous schoolfellows, that the boy who found such a perforated stone, and threw it over his head with the above doggerel rhyme, would not fail to reap a swift harvest of "luck." What a strange faculty is memory! I had not thought of this rhyme nor of its associations for perhaps thirty years; and yet the sight of the pebble brings up perfect recollection, as if it had been only yesterday that I had played at canal-digging and boat-sailing on Westbutts shore! Perhaps nothing, be it good, bad, or indifferent, (especially the latter two) is really lost when once the mind has apprehended it; so lost as that it may not be recalled, voluntarily or involuntarily, by some association or other, at some time or other. And possibly in eternity, when God will bring every secret thing to judgment, we may find every thing perfectly presented to our remembrance that has ever occurred to us, with all its causes, results, and connexions. "For there is nothing covered, that shall not be revealed; and hid that shall not be known." Terrible, indeed, would be the anticipation of such an unveiling of the past, were it not for the blood of the Great Atoning Lamb of God, in which the guiltiest conscience may find refuge.
Standing here once more at the verge of the sea, with its gentle waves kissing my feet, about to resume, after the dreariness of winter, those studies of the works of God which are so delightful, my mind was powerfully struck with that Almighty decree which amidst continual change, maintains an everlasting order. Man grows old, but Nature is ever young; the seasons change, but are perpetually renewed—"While the earth remaineth, seedtime and harvest, and cold and heat, and summer and winter, and day and night shall not cease." Beautifully has the American poet sung of this:—
"Has Nature in her calm majestic march
Faltered with age at last? does the bright sun
Grow dim in heaven? or in their far blue arch,
Sparkle the crowd of stars when day is done
Less brightly? when the dew-lipped Spring comes on,
Breathes she with airs less soft, or scents the sky
With flowers less fair than when her reign began?
Does prodigal Autumn to our age deny
The plenty that once swelled beneath his sober eye?
"Look on this beautiful world, and read the truth
In her fair page: see, every season brings
New change to her of everlasting youth;
Still the green soil with joyous living things
Swarms; the wide air is full of joyous wings;
And myriads still are happy in the sleep
Of ocean's azure gulfs, and where he flings
The restless surge. Eternal love doth keep
In his complacent arms the earth, the air, the deep."
The shingle beach presently becomes sand as we approach the angle of the bight, and after a few yards the shore is covered with a wilderness of rugged shapeless masses of conglomerate that have fallen from the cliff. Ledges of flat, or very slightly inclined, rock run out into the sea in several successive spits at this point, just beneath the bluff headland known as Binkleaf, (probably a local corruption of Byng Cliff or some such appellation). The ledges are covered by the tide, but the recess of low water leaves a large surface exposed, which subsequently afforded me many a harvest of marine plants and animals. For the present, however, I satisfied myself with a cursory view; climbing over the green and slippery boulders, at some risk of chafed shins, I walked out upon the low ledge, marked the long narrow ribbon-like leaves of the Zostera, green and glossy, growing in beds in the pools and nooks that indent the ledges, and the purple tufts of mossy sea-weed that fringe the dark hollows of the rock; turned over a few stones, and saw colonies of the plump and fruit-like smooth Anemone (Actinia mesembryanthemum) of various hues, adhering to their sides; essayed to catch one or two of the nimble little Blennies that shot from covert to covert in the rocky basins; and having satisfied myself that the ground was promising, I sought for a place where I might climb the cliffs, and enjoy the widened prospect from their summit.
The inclination of the slope allows access to the top a little farther on, and I wended my way up over the rugged but turf-covered steep, through thickets of furze and bramble, thence walking back along the margin of the cliff. It was a lovely day in the beginning of April, but the northern breeze made it cold; the clear transparent blue of the sky was speckled over with fleecy clouds, which, as they flitted along, made a constant alternation of sunshine and shadow. A noble view of the broad bay is before one at this
COLLECTING UNDER BYNG CLIFF.
spot; the sea below of a pale greenish-blue hue, becoming more silvery as it merges into distance, and the reflection grows more perfect; the undulating outline of the land to the north, with those smoothly rounded swellings and sinkings that are so characteristic of the chalk formation; and now and then the broad white cliffs; Portland to the south, with its long breakwater, and its busy works on shore, from which some tin-covered roof happened at the moment to reflect the rays of the sun above direct to my eye, as if it had been a mirror; and beyond its precipices there was the sea again over the Chesil beach. The steamer "Contractor," gaudily painted in green and white, that plies between Weymouth and Portland, whose unpoetical name the good people here pronounce with a strongly marked accent on the first syllable,—was running across the bay, almost as if under my feet; and far away in the Channel some ocean steamer, of gigantic dimensions, was making her way upward, with a long line of black smoke streaming away behind her, half way across the horizon.
The birds and insects were enjoying the spring sunshine. A dozen larks were scattered about the sky, and humbler songsters were chirping among the brambles. A few wild bees were humming over the turf, which glittered with the yellow pilewort and bright-eyed daisy, but afforded as yet few of those flowers that bees delight in. Among the grass at the very verge of the precipice, as I sat there a moment to survey the shore below, I found that curious beetle Meloe proscarabæus, a rather large insect of a deep dull indigo tint, easily recognisable, should you ever fall in with it, by its very short wing-cases, which do not half cover its enormous distended body. I took it up gently in my fingers, when it helplessly crumpled up its legs, as if it had learned the lesson divinely taught, but which Christians find it so hard to practise.—"Resist not evil,"—and lay passively in my hand, weeping at every joint of every limb a tear of orange-coloured fluid, that has conferred the name of Oil-beetle upon it. This liquor, which had a rank odour, stained the skin of my hand; and I soon put down my captive, who was glad to disappear among the stalks of the grass.
Swimming in the sea not far from the shore, I saw a bird that was evidently larger than a goose; with the aid of a pocket telescope I made out that it was a Loon, or Great Northern Diver, (Colymbus glacialis), a very fine sea-fowl, and not uncommon on the Dorset Coast in winter. The rocky beach below was destitute of anything that could alarm the wary bird, and he gradually swam in nearer and nearer, till at length he was not a stone's throw from the shore, and I, from my lofty lookout, had a fair view of him, now swimming leisurely, turning hither and thither, now diving with grace, disappearing with rapidity, and coming up after many seconds, a long distance from the spot.
A fisherman passing by told me a curious circumstance, connected with the tides in this Bay, which by experience I afterwards found to be correct. Instead of alternately ebbing for six hours and flowing for the same period, as usual, the tide here remains at its lowest for four hours before it begins to flow; or, as the customary expression is, there are four hours' flood, four hours' ebb, and four hours' standing water. This peculiarity is seen with most distinctness at the time of spring-tide, but is liable to some variation from the influence of winds, &c. The water, more-over, does not lie for four hours, exactly at the same level; since there is more or less of a secondary tide, called the Gulder, which soon after the lowest ebb rises a little, and commonly falls again (but not invariably) towards the end of the four hours of standing water. This continuance of the recess of tide is very useful to the naturalist, since it allows him to prosecute his examinations for a much longer period at once; though, as a per contra, the long exposure to the air being more than some animals and plants could bear, they are compelled to reside at a lower level, and hence the low-water line around Weymouth is less rich in species than on other coasts where it is uncovered only a few minutes at each tide.
collecting sea-weeds
The first point to be attended to, is the procuring of living sea-weeds, the vegetable element in the combination which is displayed in an Aquarium. And this must naturally be the first thing, whether we are stocking a permanent tank, or merely collecting specimens for temporary examination, as we cannot preserve the animals in health for a single day, except by the help of plants to re-oxygenate the exhausted water. By their means, however, nothing is easier than to have an Aquarium on almost as small a scale as we please; and any visitor to the sea-side, though there for ever so brief a stay, may enjoy with the least possible trouble, the amœnities of zoological study in a soup-plate, or even in a tumbler. It is easy to knock off with a hammer, or even to dislodge with a strong clasp-knife, a fragment of rock on which a minute sea-weed is growing, proportioning the surface of leaf to the volume of water,—and you have an Aquarium. A wide-mouthed phial,—such, for instance, as those in which Sulphate of Quinine is commonly sold by the chymists,—affords a capital opportunity for studying the minute Zoophytes, Bryozoa, Nudibranch Mollusca, &c. as they may be examined through the clear glass sides with perfect ease, by the aid of a pocket-lens. The influence of light should be allowed to operate on the sea-weed, to promote the elaboration of oxygen, but at the same time, if the weather be warm, care must be taken that the subjects be not killed by the sun's heat.
Let me describe my ordinary mode of obtaining the sea-weeds which I transmitted to London.
Suppose the time to be the first or second day after full or new moon, when the tide recedes to its greatest extent, laying bare large tracts of surface that are ordinarily covered by the sea. This is the most suitable time for procuring sea-weeds, for these must be taken in a growing state; and hence the specimens which are washed on shore, and which serve very well for laying out on paper, are utterly useless for our purpose.
With a large covered collecting basket, a couple of wide-mouthed stone jars, a similar one of glass, two or three smaller phials, a couple of strong hammers, and the same number of what are technically termed "cold chisels," tipped with steel, I proceed with an attendant to some one of the ledges of black rock that project like long slender tongues into the sea. An unpractised foot would find the walking precarious and dangerous, for the rocks are rough and sharp, and the dense matting of black bladder-weed with which they are covered, conceals many abrupt and deep clefts beneath its slimy drapery. These fissures however, are valuable to us. We lift up the hanging mass of olive weed (Fucus) from the edge, and find the sides of the clefts often fringed with the most delicate and lovely forms of sea-weed; such for example, as the winged Delesseria, (D.alata) which grows in thin, much-cut leaves of the richest crimson hue, and the feathery Ptilota (P. plumosa) of a duller red. Beneath the shadow of the coarser weeds delights also to grow the Chondrus, in the form of little leafy bushes, each leaf widening to a flattened tip. When viewed growing in its native element this plant is particularly beautiful; for its numerous leaves glow with refulgent reflections of azure, resembling the colour of tempered steel. This weed when dried is useful for making jellies, and constitutes the Carrageen Moss of the shops.
We may observe among the sea-weeds many tufts of a small species, whose leaves are much and deeply cut, with the divisions rounded, and the general outline of the leaf pointed. Some specimens are of a dull purple, others of a rich yellow hue; and I refer to the species as an interesting example of the influence of light on the colour of marine plants. The yellow specimens are exposed to the sun's rays, the purple ones are such as have grown in deep shadow. The species is the Laurencia pinnatifida of botanists.
Turning from the hidden clefts, we explore the deep pools that lie between the ledges. High wading–boots are necessary for this purpose, as we have to work in the water. The great Oar-weeds and Tangles (Laminaria) are growing here, large olive sea-weeds that wave to and fro with the undulations of the sea; the former a long narrow puckered frond of brown colour; the latter a broad smooth leathery expanse of deeper colour on a slender stalk, splitting with age into a number of lengthened fingers or ribbons, and hence called the fingered Tangle (Laminaria digitata). Among these grow clusters of an elegantly frilled species, of delicate thin texture, and yellow–brown hue, bearing no slight resemblance to the tresses of some fair lady: this also is a Laminaria, but I am not quite sure whether it is the young state of the former species, or entitled to a name of its own. In the latter case, it is the L. phyllitis of botanists (See Plate VI). One result of the establishment of Marine Aquaria will be a more general acquaintance and consequently a better and more satisfactory one, with the tenants of the sea, than has hitherto been practicable; since they can now be sudied to far greater advantage than when blanched in bottles of spirits, or pressed between the leaves of a book.
In these deep pools grew also those bunches of broad dark-red leaves, which are probably the most conspicuous of all the marine plants in the collection. My readers will recognise them, when I say that they are generally about as large as one's hand, smooth and glossy, of a dark crimson hue, but apt to run off into a pale greenish tint towards the tips; their edges have often little leaves growing on them. This plant is the Dulse or Dillis (Rhodymenia palmata), which is eaten by the poor of our northern shores as a luxury. The soldiers of the regiment quartered here, many of whom are Irish, may be frequently seen on the ledges, searching for the leaves of this plant, which they eagerly eat raw, to the entertainment of the children who are sailing their little boats in the pools.
This is a showy plant, very beautiful when its tufts of large deep-red fronds are seen in the sea, where the perpetual wash of the waves keeps their surface clean and glossy, but not very suitable for an Aquarium. Its leaves soon decay; spots of orange-colour begin speedily to appear, which increase fast, and, uniting into large patches, slough off in slimy shreds. The appearance of an orange colour, on crimson or purple weeds, is always a sign of the death of that part, and is the infallible precursor of decay. As soon as it appears, or at least if it begin to increase, the specimen should be ejected without mercy; as the diffusion of the gases from decaying vegetable matter is speedily fatal to most animals.
The "gulder" or secondary tide begins to come in, and we can no longer work at so low a level. We recede to the slopes of the ledges yet uncovered, and find other species in the quiet sheltered pools. A weed is found here growing in dense mossy patches on the perpendicular and overshadowed edges of the rock, which when examined looks like a multitude of tiny oval bladders of red-wine, set end to end in chains. This pretty sea-weed is called Chylocladia articulata.
Here also grows the stony Coralline, a plant bearing some resemblance to that just named, in the peculiar jointed form of its growth. Low-lying pools are often incrusted with a coat of stony or shelly substance of a dull purple hue, having an appearance closely like that of some lichens; the crust investing the surface of the rock, and adhering firmly to it, in irregular patches which continually increase from the circumference, in concentric zones. This is the young state of the Corallina officinalis, which, by and by, shoots up into little bushes of many jointed twigs, diverging on every hand, or hanging in tufts over the edges of the rock-pools. Young collectors are eager, I perceive, to seize such specimens as are purely white; but this condition is that of death; in life and health, the shoots are of the same pale purple hue as the lichenous crust. This plant in both states, (for plant it undoubtedly is, though principally composed of lime, and of stone-like hardness) is suitable for a tank; as it survives and flourishes long; and your pieces of rock-work you may select from such places as are covered with the purple crust. Both the kind just named, and the more slender and hair-like Jania, I find growing abundantly in the pools of the flat ledges that lie on the south side of the promontory called the Nothe. The latter is commonly attached parasitically to some of the coarser sea-weeds.
The most valuable plant of all for our purpose, is the Sea Lettuce (Ulva latissima). Every one is familiar with its broad leaves of the most brilliant green, as thin as silver-paper, all puckered and folded at the edge, and generally torn and fretted into holes. (See Plate III). It is abundant in the hollows of the rocks between tide-marks, extending and thriving even almost to the level of high water, and bearing with impunity the burning rays of the summer's sun, provided it be actually covered with a stratum of water, even though this be quite tepid. It therefore is more tolerant than usual of the limited space and profuse light of an Aquarium, where it will grow prosperously for years, giving out abundantly its bubbles of oxygen gas all day long. It is readily found, but owing to the excessive slenderness of its attachment to the rock, and its great fragility, it is not one of the easiest to be obtained in an available state. The Enteromorphæ have the same qualities and habits, but their length and narrowness make them less elegant. The Cladophoræ, however, are desirable; they are plants of very simple structure, consisting of jointed threads, which grow in dense brushes or tufts of various tints of green. Some of them are very brilliant; the commonest kind is C. rupestris, which is of a dark bluish-green; it is abundant on all the ledges in this neighbourhood. (See Plate III)
These are a few of the sorts of sea-plants which are met with in the situations I have described. In order to transfer them to an Aquarium, a portion of the rock on which they are growing must be removed. These plants have no proper roots, and therefore cannot be dug up and replanted like an orchis or a violet, but adhere by a minute disk to the surface of the rock, and if forcibly detached, die. I therefore bring the hammer and chisel into requisition, and split off a considerable fragment of the solid stone, which then, with the plant adhering to it, is placed in the Aquarium. This is often a difficult, always a delicate operation; the rock is frequently so hard as to resist the action of the chisel, or breaks at the wrong place; sometimes, on the other hand, it is so soft and friable as to crumble away under the implement, leaving only the isolated plant deprived of its attachment; and sometimes at the first blow, the sea-weed flies off with the vibration of the shock. Often we have to work under water, where the force of the blows is weakened and almost rendered powerless by the density of the medium, and where it is next to impossible to see with sufficient clearness to direct the assault.
As the plants are detached they are placed one by one in security. The finer and more delicate ones, as the Delesseria for instance, are immediately dropped into a jar of water; for only a few minutes' exposure of their lovely crimson fronds to the air, would turn them to that dull orange colour, already mentioned as the sign of incipient decay. The hardier sorts are laid in the basket,—a layer of damp refuse-weed being first put in to receive them,—and covered lightly with damp weed. The degree of moisture thus secured is sufficient to preserve many species from injury, for hours. Thus they are brought home.
collecting animals
I have been speaking of the haunts of the living Algæ, and of the manner of procuring them; because in sequence of idea these come first into consideration. But in point of fact, the search for animals goes on simultaneously with the process just described; the same haunts which are affected by the marine plants conceal various animals; and it is one of the great charms of natural history collecting, that you never know what you may obtain at any moment. The expectation is always kept on the stretch; something new, or at least unthought of, frequently strikes the eye, and keeps the attention on the qui vive.
Close examination of the fissures, of the pools, of the rough and corroded stones that have been fished up, and even of the sea-plants themselves,—reveals many curious creatures of various kinds and forms, each of which, as it is discovered, is seized and consigned to one or other of the collecting jars appropriated to this purpose. Some of the subjects, indeed require little research; the tangled masses of olive Bladder-weed, that sprawl, like dishevelled locks, slovenly and slippery, over acres of these low-lying ledges, are studded all over with those little smooth globose shells that children delight to gather, attracted by the variety and gaiety of their hues, brown, black, orange, yellow, often banded with black, or marked with minute chequers. This most abundant little Winkle, for it is one of that genus (Littorina luttoralis), feeds on the Fucus, like the unowned cattle on the American Pampas, and it must be owned that a spacious and fertile pasture-ground is allotted to it.
Among these we see, less numerous but sufficiently common, the more bulky and still more familiar form of the Periwinkle (L. littorea), marching soberly along beneath his massive mansion, stopping to munch the tender shoot of some Alga, or leisurely circumambulating the pretty tide-pool which he has chosen for his present residence. You may tell that all his movements are marked by gravity and deliberation, for if he does not let the grass grow under his feet, (I beg his pardon, he has but one foot; though, as that is somewhat of the amplest, he is not deficient in understanding) he lets it grow over his head. It is quite common to see one of these Mollusks adorned with a goodly Ulva or other sea-weed that has taken root on the summit of his shell, so that he habitually sits under the shadow of his own roof-tree.
"But why does he talk to us about such common trash as periwinkles?" Be not captious, gentle reader! The Periwinkle is an humble member of society certainly, but there are one or two points about him that render him not wholly unworthy of your notice. If you have seen him only fast shut up within his stony shell, with his tight-fitting opercle or "cap" shut close down, defying all intrusion into his privacy, there is nothing very attractive in his person; but when you look at him crawling, especially through the side of a glass vessel up which he is quietly mounting, you may possibly find something to admire in his zebra-like stripes and netted markings. I have more than once heard the surprised exclamation, "Why, he is quite a handsome creature!" But "handsome is that handsome does;" the Periwink is useful, especially to those who mean to keep an Aquarium. The sea-water constantly holds in suspension millions of the spores (or seeds) of Algæ, ready to adhere and grow as soon as they find a resting place, and these are particularly abundant in the warm season. Whether those of the green kinds, the Chlorosperms, such as the Ulva, Enteromorpha, and various kinds of Confervæ, be more plentiful than others, or whether they are more easily satisfied with a place congenial to their growth, I know not; but these grow most obviously, in the proportion of a thousand to one. Before we have kept our tank stocked a fortnight, its transparent sides begin to be sensibly dimmed, and a green scurf is seen covering them from the bottom to the water's surface, which constantly accumulates, soon concealing the contents of the vessel from distinct observation. On examining this substance with a lens, we find it composed of myriads of tiny plants, mostly consisting of a single row of cells of a light green hue, forming minute threads which increase in length at the extremity; others display small irregularly puckered leaves of deeper green, which develop themselves into Ulvæ, or Enteromorphæ.
If we design the Aquarium to be of any service to us in the observation of its contents, this growth must be got rid of, or we might as well have a vessel with opaque sides. Here then comes in the aid of the Periwink. Exclusively a vegetable-eater, he delights in the green sea-weed, and nothing can be more congenial to his palate than these tender succulent growths. The little Yellow Winkle that I first spoke of, possesses a similar appetite; but he is less suitable for the service required, inasmuch as his constitution appears unable to bear constant submersion; his habit is to live a good deal exposed to the air, and even to the hot sun, and this seems essential to his health. I have found that if this little species be collected, pretty as the individuals are, they crawl around the sides for a day or two, as if seeking a more genial dwelling, and then one by one fall to the bottom and die. There is, however, another genus of univalve mollusca which may be made equally available with the Periwink, if indeed it be not superior for the purpose. I allude to those evenly conical shells, which belong to the genus Trochus, sometimes called from their form, Tops. Two species, T. cinerarius and T. umbilicatus, are scarcely less abundant on our weedy shores than the Periwinkles; the former of a dull purplish grey, marked with close-set zigzag lines; the latter rather flatter, usually worn at the summit, of a dull olive or green, with narrow reddish bands radiating from the centre. Both are pearly in the interior, but the latter species is brilliantly iridescent.
These Tops and the common Periwink are very useful inhabitants of a marine tank; they make themselves at home, and feed readily. It is interesting to watch the business-like way in which they proceed; I have just been looking carefully at a Top doing his work, watching the modus operandi with a pocket lens. At very regular intervals, the proboscis, a tube with thick fleshy walls, is rapidly turned inside out to a certain extent, until a surface is brought into contact with the glass having a silky lustre; this is the tongue, it is moved with a short sweep, and then the tubular proboscis infolds its walls again, the tongue disappearing, and every filament of conferva being carried up into the interior from the little area which The next instant, the foot meanwhile having made a small advance, the proboscis unfolds again, the tongue makes another sweep, and again the whole is withdrawn; and this proceeds with great regularity. I can compare the action to nothing so well as to the manner in which the tongue of an ox licks up the grass of the field, or to the action of a mower cutting down swathe after swathe as he marches along. The latter comparison is more striking for the marks of progress which each operator Though the confervoid plants are swept off by the tongue of the Mollusk, it is not done so cleanly but that a mark is left where they grew; and the peculiar form and structure of the tongue, which I am about to notice, leaves a series of successive curves all along the course which the Mollusk has followed, very closely like those which mark the individual swathes cut by the mower in his course through the field.
The tongue, by which this operation is performed, is exquisitely constructed for its work. It is indeed a wonderful instrument in the complexity of its armature. The appearance and position of the organ would surprise any one who searched for it for the first time, and as it is readily found, and as Periwinkles are no rarities, let me commend it to your examination. The easiest mode of extracting it, supposing that you are looking for it alone, is to slit the thick muzzle between the two tentacles, when the point of a needle will catch and draw out what looks like a slender white thread, two inches or more in length, one end of which is attached to the throat, and the other, which is free, you will see coiled in a beautiful spiral within the cavity of the stomach.
By allowing this tiny thread to stretch itself on a plate of glass, which is easily done by putting a drop of water on it first, which then may be drained off and dried, you will find that it is in in reality an excessively delicate ribbon of transparent cartilaginous substance or membrane, on which are set spinous teeth of glassy texture and brilliancy. They are perfectly regular, and arranged in three rows, of which the middle ones are three-pointed, while in each of the outer rows a three-pointed tooth alternates with a larger curved one somewhat boat-like in form. All the teeth project from the surface of the tongue in hooked curves, and all point in the same direction.
The action of this sort of tongue is that of a rasp, the projecting teeth abrading the surface of the plants on which the animal feeds, just as the lion is said to act with the horny papillæ of his tongue on the flesh of his victim. The general structure is common to all the Gasteropod Mollusca, but the varieties in the mode and pattern of the dentation are almost infinite.
The little Top, for example, has the teeth set in eleven longitudinal rows, along the central part of the ribbon, while the edges, which are turned over on each side, are formed into oblique combs;—altogether a very elaborate affair. But even this is exceeded by the tongue of the Livid Top (T. ziziphinus), a larger and handsomer species not rare among the lower rocks. (See Plate II). Here the teeth are overarching glassy plates finely pointed, and minutely saw-toothed along their edges, while the lateral combs are composed of curved teeth, gradually diminishing in thickness.
Perhaps every variety is accompanied by some variation in food or mode of feeding. The Periwinkle, I see, has a manner of his own, which differs slightly from that of the Trochus. When he eats, he separates two little fleshy lips, and the glistering glass-like tongue is seen, or rather the rounded extremity of a bend of it, rapidly running round like an endless band in some piece of machinery, only that the tooth-points, as they run by, remind one rather of a watch-wheel. For an instant this appears, then the lips close again, and presently re-open and the tongue again performs its rasping. It is wonderful to see;—perhaps not more wonderful than any other of God's great works, never less great than when minutely great; but the action and the instrument, the perfect way in which it works, and and the effectiveness with which the vegetation is cleared away before it, all strike the mind as both wonderful and beautiful.
There are other things, however, besides Periwinkles and Tops to be found on these cleft and weed-draped ledges. The very first hour I spent in searching them, I found several animals that were new to me, and some that are marked as rare in zoological works. Among them was an Actinia of much beauty, which was known hitherto only by a single specimen found here by Mr. W. Thompson, and described by him under the name of A. clavata. I afterwards found it quite common in these ledges, of which it appears characteristic.
Its habit is to lurk in narrow fissures, in the cavities of the under sides of stones, or not infrequently in the deserted holes of Pholas or Saxicava. The disk is wide and flat, and as it is very expansile, it spreads itself to a considerable distance around the margin of its hole. So essential is it to its comfort, however, that it should have a retirement, that if it be put into an Aquarium, though it may at first affix itself to a flat stone or to the surface of a shell, it will crawl along upon its base till it finds some loose stone, beneath which it will insinuate itself till it is quite concealed, or a narrow crevice or fissure, as between two contiguous stones, into which it may thrust its body.
The Weymouth Anemone is very easily distinguished from any other species that I am acquainted with, by several constant characters; and though there are three well-marked varieties, they are all easily recognised as constituting but one and the same species. The marks common to all, and yet peculiar, are the following. The exterior surface is rough with numerous sucking glands, arranged in close-set perpendicular ridges of pale-yellow warts, with a crimson freckled skin showing between. Every wart has a crimson speck on its summit; and as these are small and numerous, they impart a general red hue to the whole body. The tentacles are not numerous, and are chiefly marginal; they are pale pellucid-yellowish in one variety, and in another lovely rose-colour, but in either condition are studded with transversely-oval specks of opaque white; these organs are usually much spread horizontally, with their tips often curled inward. Another remarkable peculiarity of this species, is the degree to which it becomes transparent, by distension with water. The effect of this is not the general swelling of the body as in A. crassicornis, which is remarkable for the same habit effected in another way, but the great dilatation of the disk and tentacles, which then expand to an extraordinary degree, both becoming so diaphanous as to be almost destitute of colour, and showing with absolute clearness the convoluted filaments within the septal divisions of the interior.
The third variety I have alluded to, is principally found in deep water, though I have obtained one or two remarkably large examples of it on Byng Cliff Ledge. It is larger in size, and coarser in appearance than the other kinds, and is always tinged with a bluish-grey or livid-green hue, though the characteristic marks and habits are always to be recognised. It is fond of taking up its abode within the angular cells or chambers of Eschara foliacea, which affords a retreat to so many and so various creatures.
I found beneath a stone another specimen of a worm that seems to be uncommon, but which I have met with also near Ilfracombe, as I have recorded elsewhere,—the Black Sand Worm (Arenicola branchialis); and a much more elegant animal of the same class, which was new to me, Sigalion boa; it bears a general resemblance to the scale-bearing Polynoes, but is drawn out to a much greater length, with very numerous segments. Crawling in a pool occurred also the beautiful Orange Pleurobranchus (P. plumula); the great yellow Doris (D. tuberculata) was adhering to a stone out of water, having resorted to the shallows, doubtless for the depositing of its ribbon of spawn, where it had been left by the recess of the tide;—and the pretty little Cowry (Cypræa Europæa), with ribbed porcelain shell, and elegantly painted body, was not uncommon. I saw for the first time Pilumnus hirtellus, a little hairy Crab that has a great love for the darkness, always resorting to the obscurest crannies; and Athanas nitescens, a tiny species of Prawn, of a dark sea-green hue, whose well developed pincers give it so much the aspect of a lobster, that it is generally believed without doubting, by the fishermen, to be the young state of that much honoured Crustacean. The habit of this pretty little species is to congregate in some small hollow covered by the tide, usually beneath the shelter of a protecting stone; so fond is it of companionship that if you find one you may pretty surely calculate on more. I have taken, one by one, as many as fifteen out of a hollow hardly more than a foot square. It lives long in an Aquarium, but you will rarely see it except you have occasion to empty the contents, when you will see your Lobster-prawns, as the last drops of water drain off, kicking and skipping about from beneath some piece of rock, where they had long been lurking unsuspected.
In the accompanying Plate, several animals and plants are depicted, which inhabit these ledges. In the foreground, near the middle of the picture, Trochus ziziphinus is represented crawling over a large stone. Behind it, on the mass of rock, two specimens
Pl. II.
P. H. Gosse. del. Hanhart Chromo lith.
THE SMOOTH ANEMONE &c.
of the Smooth Anemone (Actinia mesembryanthemum) are seen; both are of the common dark crimson variety, the one being contracted, the other expanded: the latter displays its petal-like tentacles, and the curious azure tubercles that stud the margin. Around the edge of a projecting rock on the right hand is creeping Doris pilosa, a pretty white species of the Nudibranch Mollusca.
Behind this is a tuft of the elegant Griffithsia setacea; and a much-cut frond of the delicate Dictyota dichotoma rises from the rear of the Anemones; while, in the left-hand corner of the foreground, is that coarse shaggy plant, the Cladophora arcta.