# The Aquarium (Gosse)/Chapter 3

CHAPTER III.
Let a man have all the world can give him, he is still miserable, if he has a grovelling, unlettered, undevout mind. Let him have his gardens, his fields, his woods, his lawns, for grandeur, plenty, ornament, and gratification; while at the same time God is not in all his thoughts. And let another man have neither field nor garden; let him only look at nature with an enlightened mind—a mind which can see and adore the Creator in his works, can consider them as demonstrations of his power, his wisdom, his goodness, and his truth: this man is greater, as well as happier, in his poverty than the other in his riches.
Jones of Nayland
I wonder whether others are conscious of a feeling which I continually find; a disposition to think that that which is remote must be better than that which is near. It prevails in spite of myself; in spite of knowledge and reasoning: thus I am constantly gazing out with longing eyes on the blue cliffs of the receding coast, and saying, half unconsciously, to myself,—"I wish I were at the foot of those cliffs; what treasures I might find there!" though reflection tells me that the spot where I am is of the very same character, and would assume the same tantalizing position were I yonder.
The majestic mass of Portland, rising out of the sea right in front of me, awakened a desire to go over and explore its shores; and as soon as spring-tide arrived I made an opportunity to gratify my desire, though the ​day was almost as unpropitious as could be, the weather being cold and rainy.
The zeal of an explorer however is not to be so easily quenched; and accordingly, accompanied by a gentleman of the town, not unknown to zoological science, William Thompson, Esq., I crossed the Bay, in one of the Steamers that ply daily between Weymouth and Portland.
The island has but one commodity, stone; and that is abundant enough. A massive quay is built of huge square blocks, whose weight and form are sufficient to ensure their stability; at least I suppose so, for no trace of cement is visible at the joints. Similar blocks are piled on each other, all over the wharves and their approaches, so that the passengers have to thread long narrow alleys between cyclopean architecture, thinking, as they wind along, of the Pyramids, or the ancient temples of Thebes. We walked along the shore towards the Breakwater, but it was most laborious work, and as unproductive as toilsome. The shore is formed of loose angular blocks and rolled boulders of the same freestone, over which walking is difficult and hazardous; and rood after rood we pass, without discerning a tuft of seaweed, except of the commonest kinds, and those, as Ulva, Enteromorpha, Cladophora, &c. stunted and ill-grown. Of course animals are equally scarce, except such as haunt the open sea; for no pools can exist among these shifting masses, and besides some two or three rock-loving species, as Actinia mesembryanthemum, and Trochus umbilicatus and T. cinerarius, we saw absolutely nothing here. The Trochi indeed ​were unusually fine, and the former species, which is generally found with the summit of the shell worn away so as to expose the nacre, was almost universally perfect and unworn.
A slanting ledge farther on, dipping down into the tide, and well covered with matted Fucus, had some narrow fissures, which we examined. In these we found the little Shanny (Blennius pholis), or Tansy, as it is called here, a fish rarely exceeding five inches in length, which delights in such restricted limits; it is remarkable for the variety of its colours, scarcely two being found alike; these are often pretty, and its brilliant scarlet eyes make it attractive. It is one of the most suitable fishes for an Aquarium, as it is readily procured, bears handling with impunity, quickly becomes reconciled to imprisonment, and will continue healthy with a far lower supply of oxygen in its water than many others could tolerate for a single day. I may have occasion to speak of this little fellow again.
As we saw no probability of finding here anything that we could not procure any day under the Nothe or Byng Cliff, we at length deserted the shore, and roamed a little way up the hill. It was near the end of April; the Cowslips were shooting up their erect yellow tufts in great profusion through the short turf, and the air was loaded with their sugary fragrance. Where the ground was broken, the blue Hyacinth was also in blossom; and the two elegant flowers mingled their tall succulent pillar-like stalks in gentle rivalry both being remarkably fine of their kind. The Spinous or Burnet Rose (Rosa spinosissima) was just clothing its ​prostrate stems with the young leaves, and giving promise of both beauty and sweetness, when these fair flowers shall have died away; and the clusters of leaves, arranged in dense rosettes, of that caustic plant, the Spurge (Euphorbia Portlandica), were so numerous as to be quite characteristic of the place.
The terrestrial Mollusca made up by their profusion and variety the paucity of the marine kinds. The common Garden Snail (Helix aspersa) was scattered by myriads on the heaps of loose stones, and on turning over the heaps, they were found as thickly lodged in the interior. The more beautiful Banded Snail (H. nemoralis) was also common and particularly large; indeed there seems something in this stony island favourable to the development of bulk in its natural history; for I observed that many of the plants and animals which it yields in common with other places had attained more than wonted size. There was the Heath Snail (H. ericetorum), a little species prettily banded with brown, with a large umbilicus perforating the centre of the shell nearly through and through; the Silky Snail (H. sericea)—at least I think it was this species,—the shell slightly woolly with a surface of short hairs; and the Stone Snail (H. lapicida) with a deep umbilicus, and a sharp edge or keel running round each whorl of the shell. The name of Lapicida or Stone-cutter, which Linnæus conferred on this pretty Snail, refers to no peculiarity of habit that I am aware of, except that of frequenting stony places; though to be sure there is no other trade so suitable to an inhabitant of Portland, as this of stone hewing, which engages the attention of ​nine-tenths of its human occupants. We found it snugly lodged in small cavities on the under sides of the loose-lying stones, which however it was assuredly innocent of having excavated. One more: the elegant Cyclostome (Cyclostoma elegans) was likewise numerous, perhaps the most interesting of all. The late warm rains had drawn it from its winter quarters, and it was now crawling by scores over the twigs and leaves, with its spiral shelly operculum carried behind. The mode in which this pretty mollusk proceeds is very curious: for the under surface of the foot, which is long, is divided by a deep fissure into two parallel ribbons, which take hold of the twig alternately, one portion making good its hold while the other is advanced in turn.
But the rain at length began to come down in earnest, and as our scientific zeal had been but poorly supported by success, it gave in; and, succumbing to the storm, we retreated to the cabin of the Steamer, which soon disgorged us dripping on Weymouth Quay.
THE BROAD-CLAW
A very learned zoologist and very charming writer, for whose writings I entertain the highest respect, says;—"It is folly and vanity to attempt to account for all facts in nature, or to pretend to say why the Great Creator made this thing, and why He made that, and to discover in every creature a reason for its peculiar organization. It is but another form of the same vanity, having satisfied itself of the discoveries it has made, to pretend to praise the All-wise Maker's wisdom in so organizing his creatures. That God is ​all-wise is a revealed truth; and whether the organization before us seem excellent or imperfect, it matters not;—we know it is perfect and good, being the work of an all-wise God."
To this last sentiment I cordially subscribe; but I am not sure whether the former assertions are not a little too sweeping; or perhaps somewhat too incautiously expressed. It is consummate folly and vanity, indeed, to assume that we have accounted for all facts in nature, and for the reasons of them; but not, (as I think) reverently and humbly to seek after the reasons of those phenomena which at present are recondite. Doubtless, in the present limited and lapsed condition of our faculties, at least, there will ever remain profundities in the physical creation, unfathomable by any sounding-line we can cast into them; but the conviction of this truth needs not prevent our penetrating as deep as we may, and recording those observations, which if carefully made will not fail to reward us with increased knowledge of His works and ways, "Whose way is in the sea, and his path in the deep waters, and whose footsteps are not known." There is always something to learn in studying the works of God, as there must always remain an infinite unknown.
And is the ascription of praise to God for what we dimly discover of excellence in His handiwork,—vanity? Surely not; for the Holy Scriptures direct us to this work; Jehovah himself vouchsafing to declare, "He that offereth praise glorifieth Me;" and ​many parts of His word, such as the Psalms of David, the Proverbs of Solomon, the Book of Job, and the teachings of the Lord Jesus himself, instruct us how to do this, and furnish us with examples, in the various details of the habits, instincts and economy of what we call the Works of Nature. It is given as the solemn condemnation of the polished nations of antiquity, that "when they knew God [viz. in the works of His creation] they glorified Him not as God" (Rom. i. 21). It was not that men were lacking among them who, as now, in their measure, studied and admired the works of Nature, so called, but no praise, no glory, accrued to God from their studies.
There is found in the crannies and clefts of the rocky ledges, and beneath stones that lie at the verge of low water, a little Crab of somewhat peculiar structure and no less interesting habits, which affords me the text for my discourse above written. Broad-claw (Porcellana platycheles), one of those interesting species that connect groups differing very widely from each other in their typical forms. The common Crab and the Lobster appear very remote from each other in their obvious characters, but these Porcelain Crabs occupy a "debatable ground" between them. Any one on looking at one would say in a moment, it is a mistakable, and the thin abdomen or tail is carried just as the Common Crab carries his, pressed close up to the under side of the chest. But when we come It is the Hairy ab; its broad, flat carapace is unto examine it closely, we find the last joint of this very abdomen furnished with fringed swimming-plates, like that of a Lobster, the foot-jaws are largely ​developed, and the antennæ are much longer than the body; while in general conformation and structure it bears the closest affinity with another Crustacean, found commonly in the same haunts, which from the form of the carapace and the free abdomen, every one would immediately pronounce to be a Lobster; and it is so named by the common people, I refer to the little "Dutch Lobster" (Galathea squamifera).
Let us now look at the manner of life of the little Crab, and we shall discover some interesting relations between its habits and its conformation. I have said that it inhabits crevices, and the under-sides of stones. As soon as it is dropped into the Aquarium, it throws out its abdomen, or "tail;" and gives several smart flaps with it, which shoot it along diagonally backwards, as if to say, "Though you see I am a Crab, I have learned to behave myself in some things like my courtly Cousins, the Lobster family." But he is not much of a swimmer, the flaps merely bring him to the bottom slantwise, instead of perpendicularly, whence he does not rise again. You turn your head away, and on looking again you cannot think what is become of your Broad-claw! I have put in half-a-dozen at a time, and have been astonished that in a few moments, not one was to be seen; till, perhaps weeks afterwards, on cleaning out the tank, I have found every one clinging fast to the under side of some piece of stone that lay on the bottom. When I knew this, I placed flattish stones so close to the glass sides that I could look beneath them, and had the pleasure of finding them occupied by the Broad-claws. The crevice formed by the inclination of the stone to the ​bottom may be very narrow, and I am not sure but that the Crab likes it all the better, for he is expressly formed for such a dwelling; his body is particularly flat, his legs move in the same plane, and his claws, though large for his size, are remarkably flat also, thinned out, as it were, to an edge; so that the whole animal has somewhat the appearance of having been crushed flat by the pressure of the stone under which he lives. Here then is a beautiful adaptation of structure to habit; but there is more of the same kind. The Crabs are carnivorous, and in general they are very active, wandering continually in search of prey, which they seize when observed with their claws. How is our little Broad-claw to live, clinging fast to his cranny, which he forsakes not from one month's end to another. Like the thrifty housewives of London, who do not go to market, but have their bread and meat and groceries brought to their door. Let us see how this is managed. Professor Bell in his beautiful "History of British Crustacea," thus alludes to one character of this genus. "External pedipalps greatly developed; the second joint very large, rounded, with a single tooth on the outer anterior angle; the third joint much smaller, irregularly trigonal, and with the remaining joints fringed with long hair at the edges." In fact, however, all these joints are fringed with hair, which curves inwards, but its use in the economy of the animal has not yet, so far as I am aware, been made known.
Watching a Broad-claw beneath a stone close to the side of my tank, I noticed that his long antennæ were continually flirted about; these are doubtless
FOOT-JAW OF BROADCLAW.
a. A bristle magnified.
​sensitive organs of touch, or some analogous sense, which inform the animal of the presence, and perhaps of the nature, of objects within reach. At the same time I remarked that the outer foot-jaws (pedipalps) were employed alternately in making casts, being thrown out deliberately, but without intermission, and drawn in, exactly in the manner of the fringed hand of a Barnacle, of which both the organ and the action strongly reminded me. I looked at this more closely with the aid of a lens: each foot-jaw formed a perfect spoon of hairs, which at every cast expanded, and partly closed. That you may understand this better I must say, that the foot-jaw resembles a sickle in form, being composed of five joints, of which the last four are curved like the blade of that implement. Each of these joints is set along its inner edge with a row of parallel bristles, of which those of the last joint arch out in a semi-circle, continuing the curve of the limb; the rest of the bristles are curved parallel or concentrical with these, but diminish in length as they recede downwards. It will be seen therefore that when the joints of the foot-jaw are thrown out, approaching to a straight line, the curved hairs are made to diverge; but as the cast is made, they resume their parallelism, and sweep in, as with a net, the atoms of the embraced water.
The microscope revealed to me a still higher perfection in this admirable contrivance. I then saw that every individual bristle is set on each side with a row of short stiff hairs, projecting nearly at right angles to its length; these hairs meeting point to point those of the next bristle, and so on in ​succession, there is formed a most complete net of regular meshes, which must enclose and capture every tiny insect or animalcule that floats within its range; while at each out-cast, it opens at every mesh, and allows all refuse to be washed away or fall to the ground. For we are not to suppose that the captures thus promiscuously made are as indiscriminately swallowed. A multitude of atoms are gathered which would be quite unfit for food, and a power of selection resides in the mouth, whether it be the sense of of taste, of touch, or any other analogous but recondite perception, by which the useful only is admitted, the worthless, or at least the injurious, being rejected.
This arrangement, which is very common in the lowest forms of animal life, where food is brought by constant ciliary currents,—reminds me of the Gospel net, mentioned by our Lord, which is "cast into the sea and gathers of every kind; which, when it is full, they draw to shore, and sit down, and gather the good into vessels, but cast the bad away" (Matt. xiii 47, 48). Persons of all sorts are gathered into the Church here on earth; it is an indiscriminate collection that determines nothing as to the eternal condition of those who are embraced by it: the selection is to be made "at the end of the age," when it will be found that not every one that saith Lord, Lord! shall enter into the kingdom of heaven. May both the writer and the reader be robed in the righteousness of Christ, that "wedding garment," without which the Christian name and profession will bring only the deeper condemnation!
I am afraid the many words I have been compelled ​to use in describing this structure and its operation, may not convey to my readers the same strong impression of fitness and perfectness of contrivance, which a glance at the little Crab, when at work, would give; to myself, it appeared one of the most striking examples I had ever seen of that compensatory adaptation of an organ to a requirement, which Paley has so well illustrated. Perhaps I ought to add, that in order to see the structure of the bristles, they must be examined when recent, or preserved in fluid; for in drying, the hairs fall down and adhere to the side, so as to be undistinguishable.
But I have not yet done with my little eremite. I the less reluctantly linger on the contrivances displayed in his economy, because he is so common, and so readily procured, that any of my readers, who may visit a rocky shore at low water, may verify these particulars for themselves. When you first take up one in your fingers, (which, by the way, do with a little caution, for these gentlemen nip pretty hard) one of the most obvious peculiarities is that, besides these flat nippers, you can find only three pairs of legs, instead of four, the complement which Crabs in general rejoice in. You may institute a minute examination, as I did with the first individual that I met with, and yet fail to discover any more; but there is, notwithstanding, a fourth pair,—very minute indeed, tiny slender pins, set a little above the general level, and folded down so closely in a groove, beneath the edges of the carapace, as to be almost invisible.
What is the use of these feeble limbs? No one that I asked could tell me; till I asked the Crab ​himself. or rather looked on while he used them. Strange to say, they are didactyle, each being terminated by a minute hand or claw of two fingers. They are set, moreover, with radiating hairs, so that in all respects they are the very representatives of the anterior feet of the Prawn, which I shall presently have occasion to describe, though placed at the opposite end of the series. And this resemblance is not one of structure only, but of function also; for these feeble limbs are the cleansing brushes, with which the Broad-claw washes his person, applying them, with the greatest ease, to the whole surface of the abdomen, and inferior region of the carapace, while the fingers of the little hand are used to pick off adhering matters, that cannot be removed by brushing.
I do not then consider it an useless exercise to seek for the reasons of any organization that seems unusual or abnormal. When once these members that I have been speaking of are seen in natural action, their purposes become evident, and the perfection of their contrivance becomes admirable; and we may use them as a fresh occasion of ascribing honour to the Infinitely Holy, Wise and Good God, all whose works praise Him.
Each shell, each crawling insect holds a rank Important in the plan of Him, who fram'd This scale of beings; holds a rank, which lost, Would break the chain, and leave behind a gap Which nature's self would rue."
Stillingfleet.
A DREDGING DAY
The morning was clear, and promised a fair day; there was breeze enough to enable a boat to work, enough in fact to raise what sailors call a "cats' paw" upon the surface of the sea, and not sufficient to cover it with "white horses." It was a nice time for a dredging excursion, though rather cold; and I sent word to Jonah Fowler to bring his boat over, and we would try a haul. The sun came out while we were waiting, and penetrated through the clear water to the bottom; and the reflection of his rays from the dimpling surface threw up on the boat's quarter a running pattern of reticulate lines of light, as if to give me in that bright net a good omen of success. Little urchins stood on the quay-edge watching the preparations with curiosity, whose hanging ringlets, and free attitudes as they stood with hands in the pockets of their loose trowsers, looked like copies (tableaux vivants if you will) of the well known print of our nautical little Prince of Wales. The trim boat's crew of the revenue cutter were lying at the steps, or lounging with folded arms on the quay, waiting for their officer; but it was far beneath their dignity to manifest curiosity or interest in any such matters.
The preparations are made, the dredges and keer-drag are overhauled, a goodly array of pans, tubs, jars, and bottles are put on board, my mackintosh and swimming-belt are on, (for you can never tell what eventualities of weather or accident may occur) and a stout packet of sea-stores are snugly thrust into the ​locker. "Shove her off! Up with mainsail and jib! and away to go!"
Pleasant it is to start on such an excursion. The day all before us; hope dominant; fancy busy with what treasures of the deep the dredge may pour at our feet; the sun rays's cheerful; the breeze exhilarating; a good, stiff boat, clean and light, under foot, and an agreeable companion, for such is our friend Jone;—and thus we swiftly glide out into the Bay.
"The ship was cheered, the harbour cleared; Merrily did we drop; Below the Kirk, below the hill, Below the light-house top."
To many of my readers probably the whole scheme now engaged in is as patent and clear as daylight; they have been out dredging themselves, and can fancy the matter perfectly, perhaps with a momentary wish that they had been
"———there to see."
But some may honour these pages with their perusal to whom it may not yet be quite clear, what is the object of the excursion, and what the manner. While then we are running down before this north-west breeze to reach our field of operations, which is some four or five miles away, I will occupy the time with a word or two about dredging.
Valuable as are the acquisitions which the naturalist frequently makes by searching the shores at low water and at spring-tides, he feels that this gives him but a small acquaintance with the treasures held in the ​possession of the mighty sea. The greater the recess of the tide, the more curious, varied, and abundant are the creatures he discovers;—if then any mode could be devised to scrape the floor of the sea itself at different depths, and to secure the materials thus collected, how important might be the result. The dredge is the implement that does this. It is a strong bag with an iron frame around the mouth, which is dragged over the sea-bottom by a rope fastened to the boat, by which also it is drawn in when full.
The rudest form of the instrument is that used for procuring oysters for market. The bag is generally made of iron rings linked together, and the mouth, which is a four-sided frame of iron, has one of the longer sides turned out to form a scraping lip. But the naturalist's dredge is an improvement upon this form; the oyster-dredge, with all the care employed in heaving, will frequently turn over in sinking, so that the unlipped side of the frame is on the ground, which will not scrape. Hence we have each of the two long sides of the mouth made into a scraping lip, so that the instrument cannot fall wrong. Instead of rings our body is made of spunyarn (a sort of small rope), or fishing-line, netted with a small mesh, or, which is better still, of a raw hide, (such as those which the tobacconists receive from South America inclosing tobacco, the hides of the wild cattle of the Pampas) cut into thongs, and netted in like manner. Sometimes the bag is made of coarse sackcloth, or of canvass, but the former soon wears out, and the latter is not sufficiently pervious to water; an important point, for if there be not a free current through the bag, while on ​the bottom, it embraces nothing, merely driving everything before it, and coming up empty. The hide net is almost indestructible.
To the two ends, or short sides of the frame, which forms an oblong square, are attached by a hinge two long triangles, which meeting in front at some distance from the mouth, are connected by a swivel-joint. To this the dragging rope is bent, which must be long enough to allow thrice as much at least to be overboard as the perpendicular depth would require:—if you are dredging in ten fathoms, you must use at least thirty fathoms of line, or your dredge will make long jumps over the ground instead of steadily raking it. The inward end of the rope having been made fast to one of the thwarts, the dredge is hove to windward, and the boat is put before the wind, or at least allowed a flowing sheet.
The keer-drag is in principle similar to the dredge, but there are peculiarities in its construction, and it is employed for different game. It is considerably larger; the one which I used was six feet wide, and one foot high at the mouth, whereas the width of the dredge does not usually exceed two feet. The mouth consists of a stout iron rod bent up to form three sides of the quadrangle, neither of which is thinned to a lip; the fourth side is made by a stout beam to which the iron ends are riveted, and this by its lightness is always uppermost when on the bottom. The handle is made by three lines, one of which proceeds from the middle of the beam and one from each of the two iron ends; they are united at some ten feet from the mouth, where the drag-rope is attached. The net affixed to ​this framework is made of stout twine, and diminishes in its diameter regularly like a funnel; the point, which may be about twelve feet from the mouth, is left open, as it is lashed round with a piece of line when in use. The chief peculiarity is, that the knitting is so managed that the size of the meshes diminishes evenly, as well as the-diameter of the net, till at the point they are very small and close. The reason of this will be seen presently.
The Roman poet admonishes us that different localities produce different prey, and require different implements.
"Nec tamen in medias pelagi te pergere sedes Admoneam, vastique maris tentare profundum. Inter utrumque loci melius moderabere funem, Aspera num saxis loca sint; nam talia lentos Deposcunt calamos; at purum retia littus. Num mons horrentes demittat celsior umbras In mare. Nam varie quidam fugiuntque petuntque. Nam vada subnatis imo viridentur ab herbis. ***** Objectetque moras, et molli serviat algæ".
Ovid; Halieut. 83-92.
Which may be thus freely "done into English."
When you the dredge would use, go not away Far out to sea. Mind that your haul be made According to your bottom. Where the ground Is foul and ledgy, be content to fish With hook and line. But where upon the sea The morning sun casts shadows deep and long From lofty Whitenose,—over with your dredge. Where 'neath your keel the verdant sea-grass waves, [The keer-drag try for nudibranchs and wrasse. Should all these prove distasteful, on the shore] For spring-tide patient wait, and overhaul the weeds.
Before we ran down to our dredging ground, my master of the ceremonies proposed, in accordance ​with this good counsel, that we should haul up a point or two, and have a scrape on the zostera beds that cover many acres of shallow water in the bight off Preston Valley. But let me introduce my man to you.—A clever fellow is Jone, and though only bred as a fisherman, he is quite an amateur naturalist. There is nobody else in Weymouth harbour that knows any thing about dredging (I have it from his own lips, so you may rely on it); but he is familiar with the feel of almost every yard of bottom from Whitenose to Church-Hope, and from Saint Aldham's Head to the Bill. He follows dredging with all the zest of a savant; and it is amusing really to hear how he pours you forth the crackjaw, the sesquipedalian nomenclature. "Now, Sir, if you do want a Gastrochœna, I can just put down your dredge upon a lot of 'em; we'll bring up three and four in a stone." "I'm in hopes we shall have a good Cribella or two off this bank, if we don't get choked up with them 'ere Ophiocomas." He tells me in confidence that he has been sore puzzled to find a name for his boat, but he has at length determined to appellate her "The Turritella," "just to astonish the fishermen, you know, Sir,"—with an accompanying wink and chuckle, and a patronising nudge in my ribs. Jone is a proud man when he gets a real savant alone in his boat; and he talks with delight of the feats he has achieved in the dredging line for Mr. Bowerbank, Mr. Hanley, and Professor Forbes. I will say, I found him no vain boaster, but able to perform his professions; and can heartily recommend him to any brother naturalist who may desire to ​dredge the deep sea under" in Weymouth Bay, as one who knows what is worth getting, and where to get it.
Well, here we are in the bight, just off the mouth of Preston Valley, the only bit of pretty scenery any where near. This however is a little gem; a verdant dell opening to the sea, through which a streamlet runs, with the sides and bottom covered with woods, a rare feature in this neighbourhood. We are over the zostera; the beds of dark-green grass are waving in the heave of the swell, and we can make out the long and narrow blades by closly looking down beneath the shadow of the boat. Here then is the place for the keer-drag. Down it goes, and sinks into the long grass, while we slowly drag it for a couple of hundred yards or so.
When disposed to try our luck we hauled on the rope, till we brought the mouth of the drag to the top of the water; a turn or hitch was then taken round a belaying pin with the two side-lines of the bridle, and the point of the net only was then hauled on board, put into a pan of water, and untied. Here was congregated the chief part of the prey taken, and hence the need of having the meshes so small in this part. Out swam in a moment a good many little fishes that haunt the grass-bed; as Pipe-fishes (Syngnathus) of several species, Gobies (Gobius unipunctatus, G. Ruthersparri, &c.) and bright-hued Conners (Labrus and Crenilabrus). With these were two or three active and charming Cuttles (Sepiola); and clinging to the meshes of the net in various parts, were several species of Nudibranch Mollusca, ​creatures of remarkable elegance and beauty. All these demand more consideration than I can now stay to give them; so that I propose to return to them in detail presently, describing them to you, not from the hurried glances we can give them in the boat, but as they appear when at home in the Aquarium.
Mean while we put the boat before the wind, and run along the inhospitable coast on our left. We leave the pleasant vale behind, and skim swiftly by the black rocks of Ratcliff Head, and the distorted and confused strata of Goggin's Barrow. We pass Osmington Mills, where a rather ample sheet of water is poured in a foaming cascade over the low cliff, and where those curious circular blocks of grit-stone, flat on one side and conical on the other, are imbedded with regularity in the sandy face of the precipice; and leave on our quarter the rocks, where the abundance of iron pyrites and sulphur has more than once presented the strange phenomenon of spontaneous fire, a phenomenon distinctly remembered still by the inhabitants of Weymouth, who night after night used to gaze out with wonder on the Burning Cliffs.
DREDGING, OFF WHITENOSE.
​At length we are under Whitenose, that bold chalk cliff that is so prominent an object as the eye roves along the coast line from Weymouth. Here we turn the boat's head to the southward and throw the dredge overboard in fourteen fathoms. And while I am enjoying, with the line in my hand, what a dredger particularly likes to feel, the vibration produced by the instrument as it rumbles and scrapes over a moderately rough bottom, telling that it is doing its work well,—we will gaze with admiration on this magnificent precipice of dazzling white that rears its noble head behind us. It is the termination of that range of chalk hills which, with some few interruptions, intersect the kingdom from the Yorkshire coast to Dorset; and stands in simple majesty, the snowy whiteness of its vast face unvaried, except by the slanting lines which mark the dipping strata running across it, and which look so fine and so regular as if they had been drawn by the pen of a geometrician. My companion told me the story of a lad of thirteen, who four years ago fell from the loftiest part of the summit, 500 feet above the sea. It is true a great part of this descent was performed by rolling and sliding, but for fifty feet the fall was absolutely perpendicular. The boy had been seeking rabbits, which ​are very numerous on the downs above, when he fell over. Thirteen hours he lay helpless at the bottom, in the hardest frost of the winter of 1849-50, and was then found with a broken arm and thigh, but with no other important injuries.
But up with the dredge; let us see our success. It feels pretty heavy as it mounts, and here as it breaks the surface we can already see some bright-hued and active creatures in its capacious bag. A wide board resting on two thwarts serves for a table, and on this,—a few of the more delicate things that appear at a glance, having been first taken out,—the whole contents are poured. The empty dredge is returned to the deep for another haul, while we set eagerly to work with fingers and eyes on the heap before us.
What a pleasure it is to examine a tolerably prolific dredge-haul! I am not going to enumerate all the things that we found; it would make a pretty long list. Numbers of rough stones, and of old worm-eaten shells, half of a broken bottle, and other strange matters were there; every one, however rude, worthy of close examination, because studded with elegant zoophytes, the tubes of Serpulœ and other Annelida, bright-coloured pellucid Ascidians, graceful nudibranch Mollusca, the spawn of fishes, and endless other things. Brittle-stars, by scores, were twining their long spiny arms like lizards' tails among the tangled mass; arrayed in the most varied and most gorgeous hues, of all varieties of kaleidoscopic patterns (See Plate IV); and Sand-stars not a few. The latter are much more delicate in constitution ​than the former, being very difficult to keep alive; and also much more brittle: the former, notwithstanding their English name, I have not found so particularly fragile. Among other members of this wonderful class of animals, we obtained in the course of our day's work, several of that fine but common one, the Twelve-rayed Sun-star (Solaster papposa), a showy creature dressed in rich scarlet livery, some eight inches in diameter. Two or three of a species usually counted rare also occurred, the Bird's-foot (Palmipes membranaceus); more curious and equally beautiful. (See Plate III). It resembles a pentagonal piece of thin leather, with the angles a little produced and regularly pointed. The central part of this disk is scarlet, and a double line of scarlet proceeds from this to each angle, while the whole is margined by a narrow band of the same gorgeous hue. The remainder of the surface is of a pale yellow or cream-colour, and covered in the most elegant manner with tufts of minute spines arranged in lines, which cross each other, lozenge-fashion, near the middle of the disk, and run parallel to each other, at right angles to the margin, between the points.
Not less attractive was another Starfish, the Eyed Cribella (Cribella oculata). It consists of five finger-like rays, tapering to a blunt point, and cleft nearly to the centre; the consistence stiffly fleshy, or almost cartilaginous. The hue of both disk and rays, on the superior surface, is a fine rosy purple. (See Plate III.)
All these are very attractive occupants of an Aquarium. They are active and restless, though slow in ​movement, continually crawling about the rocks and round the sides of the tank, by a gliding motion produced by the attachment and shifting of hundreds of sucker-feet, which are protruded at will, through minute pores in the calcareous integument. Their showy colours are exhibited to advantage on the dark rocks, around the projections and angles of which they wind their flexible bodies, now and then turning back a ray, from which the pellucid suckers are seen stretching and sprawling; and as they mount the glass, not only can their hues be admired, but the exquisite structure of their spines, and the mechanism of their suckers, can be studied at leisure.
Every haul of the dredge brought up several univalve shells, tenanted, not by their original constructors and proprietors, but by that busy intruder the Soldier-crab (Pagurus). Several species of this curious creature occurred, to whose vagaries I may devote a chapter presently. For a similar reason I shall only just allude to the beautiful Cloak Anemone (Adamsia palliata), and several other species of this charming family. Long-legged Spider-crabs of the genera Stenorynchus, Inachus, &c. were abundant, sprawling their slender limbs like bristles to an unconscionable distance, tempting us to think that if we had legs like these, we might cover the ground in a style that would put to shame the old giant-slayer's seven league boots.
But, as I have said, time and space would fail me if I were to attempt an enumeration of all the objects of interest that were brought to view in the course of a good day's dredging. Mollusca, both naked and
Pl. III.
P. H. Gosse. del. Hanhart Chromo lith.
STAR FISHES.
​shelled, both univalve and bivalve; crabs, prawns and shrimps; worms; sponges; sea-weeds; all presented claims to notice; and all contributed representatives to my stock, in the successive emptyings of the dredge, for we worked pretty nearly all the way home. And when we came to bring on shore the bottles, jars, pans, pails, and tubs, we found them all well tenanted with strange creatures, the greater part of which were despatched on their way to London by that same evening's Mail Train.
The Plate on the opposite page represents a group from the interior of an Aquarium. Over the stone in front is crawling the Eyed Cribella (Cribella oculata), while a specimen of the Bird's-foot Starfish (Palmipes membranaceus) is mounting up the mass of broken rock behind. On the right of the picture is a small frond of the much folded and crumpled Sea-lettuce (Ulva latissima); the pencilled plant of a darker green that rises in the rear of the Ulva is Cladophora rupestris; while a tuft of Polysiphonia urceolata springs from a crevice in the rock above the Star-fishes. Almost all the species have been already described in these pages.
THE SEPIOLE.
My notions of the Cephalopoda, derived from figures of the various species in books, were anything but agreeable. I thought of them as hideous, repulsive, fierce, atrocious creatures, hated and feared whenever seen. But an acquaintance with the pretty Sepiola vulgaris has not a little modified these ideas; and its beauty, sprightliness, and curious habits have ​made it quite a favourite pet among the denizens of my Aquarium. I take it in considerable numbers in this Bay, by means of the keer-drag already described, which rakes the bottom. It is a little creature, rarely exceeding an inch in length; though the extensibility of the arms somewhat varies its dimensions.
When we turn out two or three from the net into a pail of sea-water, they are at first restless and active. They shoot hither and thither, as if by a direct effort of will, but in reality by the impulse of rapid and forcible jets of water, directed towards various points, from the mouth of the flexible funnel situated beneath the body. After a few moments they suspend themselves in mid-water, hovering for many seconds in the same spot, scarcely moving a hair's breadth either way, but waving their large circular swimming-fins rapidly and regularly up and down, just like the wings of an insect. Indeed, the resemblance of the little Cephalopod, in these circumstances, to a brown moth hovering over a flower, is most close and striking, and cannot fail to suggest an interesting comparison. The body is held in a horizontal position, the large protuberant eyes gazing on either side; and the arms, grouped together into a thick bundle, hang freely downwards. If you esssy to count these organs, you find only eight; and even if you are aware that one of the characters of the genus is to have ten, of which two are much longer than the rest, you may search for these latter a long time in vain. Of course I mean during the life and health of the animal, when its impatience of being handled presents obstacles to a very accurate investigation; you may ​then turn it over and over with a stick, and look at the bundle of arms from above and below in turn, now grouped together, and now thrown all abroad in anger at being teased; still you can make out but eight. It was not until after many trials that I at length caught a peep at the missing organs—the pair of long arms,—and discovered that it is the animal's habit to carry them closely coiled up into little balls, and packed down upon the mouth at the bottom of the oral cavity. If we manage to insert the point of a pin in the coil, and stretch out the spiral filament, the little creature impatiently snatches it away, and in a twinkling rolls it up again. A zealous votary of the circular system would seize on this analogy with the spirally folded tongue of a moth, and triumphantly adduce it as additional proof that the Cephalopoda represent, in the Molluscan circle, the Lepidoptera among insects.
While thus hovering motionless in the water, the Sepiola presents a fair opportunity for observing its curious transitions of colour, which are great and sudden. We can scarcely assign any hue-proper to it. Now it is nearly white, or pellucid, with a faint band of brown specks along the back, through which the internal viscera glisten like silver. In an instant the specks become spots, that come and go, and change their dimensions and their forms, and appear and disappear momentarily. The whole body,—arms, fins, and all,—the parts which before appeared free, display the spots, which, when looked at attentively, are seen to play about in the most singular manner, having the appearance of a coloured fluid, injected ​with constantly varying force into cavities in the substance of the skin, of ever-changing dimensions. Now the spots become rings, like the markings of a panther's skin; and, as the little creature moves slightly, either side beneath the fin is seen to glow with metallic lustre, like that of gold-leaf seen through horn. Again, the rings unite and coalesce, and form a beautiful netted pattern of brown, which colour increasing, leaves the interspaces a series of white spots on the rich dark ground. These and other phases are every instant interchanging, and passing suddenly and momentarily into each other with the utmost irregularity. But here is a change! One is hovering in quiescence, his colour pale, almost white; one of his fellows shoots along just over him; with the quickness of thought, the alarmed creature turns from white to an uniform deep brown, the rich full colour suffusing the skin in a second, like a blush on a young maiden's face. The hue is very beautiful; it is the fine, deep sienna-tint of tortoise-shell; a substance which, indeed, the mingling clouds of brown and pellucid horn closely resemble in the intermediate phases of colour.
Hitherto we have seen the Sepiola only in the pail of water into which it was turned out of the net. After a little while it drops upon the bottom, and, crouching up, remains motionless; if you rouse it, it will again swim for a few moments, but presently seeks some corner, into which it thrusts its rear, and huddles up as before. This is all that you will see of its habits under such circumstances; for in all probability the morning will reveal your little protegé a lump of white ​jelly, dead and stiff, with uncoiled arms, on the naked floor of his prison. But introduce him while in health into an Aquarium, where living sea-plants are perpetually revivifying the water, and where the bottom, varied with sand, gravel, and peices of rock, imitates the natural floor of the sea, and you will soon see other particulars in the economy of our little friend, which will, I doubt not, charm you as much as they have pleased me.
The Sepiola is a burrower; and very cleverly and ingeniously does it perform a task which we might at first suppose a somewhat awkward one,—the insertion of its round corpulent body into the sand or gravel. Watch it as it approaches the bottom, after a season of hovering play, such as I have described. It drops down to within an inch of the sand, then hangs suspended, as if surveying the ground for a suitable bed. Presently it selects a spot; the first indication of its choice being that a hollow about the size of a silver fourpence is forcibly blown out of the sand immediately beneath the group of pendent arms. Into the cavity so made the little animal drops; at that instant the sand is blown out on all sides from beneath the body backward, and the abdomen is thrust downward before the cloud of sand which has been blown up settles, but which presently falls around and upon the body. Another forcible puff in front, one on each side, and another behind, follow in quick succession, the fine sand displaced at each blast settling round the animal, as it thrusts itself into the hollow thus more and more deepened.
I was not at first quite sure by what agency these ​blowings, so admirably effective and suited to the purpose, were performed. The jet in front I readily attributed to the action of the fleshy funnel projecting from beneath the mantle on the breast; but I did not see how this could blow a stream directly backwards. I therefore put one of my pets into a vessel with glass sides, which was furnished with the requisite sand and water. I at once saw that the funnel was indeed the organ employed, and the only one, in every case; and perceived its beautiful adaptation for the work it had to do, in its extreme flexibility. This organ is very protrusile, and being perfectly flexible, its orifice can be, and is, at will pointed in any direction, so as to blow the jet of water forward, backward, or to either side at pleasure.
It frequently occurs, of course, that small stones are mingled with the sand, or the animal may find it convenient to burrow in the loose gravel. In either case the arms come to the aid of the funnel, the sucking disks with which they are furnished being made to adhere to the stones, which are dragged out and thrown aside. You may suppose this to be a clumsy expedient, but you would think differently if you saw it the rapidity with which the arms are thrust under the body, and drawn out, bearing pieces of stone of comparatively large size, and the graceful ease with ​which they are then thrown forward, discharging and dropping the burden, impress the mind with admiration of the beautiful fitness of the organization for the requirement.
This use of the funnel, and of the sucking arms, so different from their normal purposes, affords additional examples of that Divine economy in creation, which, when a new function is ordained, does not always form new and special organs for the necessity, but adapts some already employed in other service for the new work; while, still, both the one and the other function are fulfilled with such perfection, as shows that every emergency was foreseen and provided for in the mighty plan, and that it was not for want of resources that distinct actions are performed by the same instrumentality. We admire the skill of the artizan who can effect different operations with the same tool, especially when we see that each kind of work is of faultless excellence.
The ordinary employment of the sucking arms is no doubt the same as in other Cephalopoda, the capture and retention of prey. Of this I saw an instance in the case of one of my Sepiolæ which had seized a shrimp (Crangon trispinosus), a sand-burrower like itself, and was, when I saw it, holding it firmly against the horny jaws, which were devouring it. The discharge of ink through the funnel I have also witnessed, though this is far from being a frequent action with this species. One of them that had been for a day or two in an Aquarium, and was evidently at home there, I put into another vessel. No other animal was present, but the strangeness of the new abode ​evidently frightened it; it darted about in manifest alarm and excitement, and presently shot forth from its funnel a cloud of inky fluid to a distance of several inches; another and another discharge succeeded in rapid sequence, and it was not for some time that the animal recovered its equanimity. It did not appear to me that this fluid could be of much service to the little creature in the way of concealment; for although the matter was tolerably copious, and densely black, it did not diffuse itself in the water, but remained in masses, and when moved with a stick was drawn into slimy strings.
Perhaps the facts above recorded may not possess to others the novelty that they had to me. Dr. Johnston, in his admirable 'Introduction to Conchology,' has not included any species of Cephalopoda in his enumeration of burrowing Mollusca; nor have I ever read of any that were known to possess the habit. I ought to have said that it takes place to no greater extent than to bring the animal just level with the surface of the sand, which is generally thinly spread over the posterior part. The eyes and the dorsal edge of the mantle are always exposed; and if we carefully heap the sand over these parts, it is in a moment blown away by the action of the funnel, or removed by the undulation of the mantle-edge.
It would be unfair, however, if I were not to allow that the little Sepiole has some unamiable traits. The pretty bright-eyed Robin that so confidingly picks crumbs from the window-sill, sad to say, fights spitefully with his fellows, and eats nasty spiders! And I am sorry to confess that my little pet can be ​a real Cain at times. I saw one dart at an unoffending brother that was passing, and, seizing him with murderous jaws, shed out his life in a few seconds. The poor victim shot his feeble column of ink, and sank white and motionless to the bottom, as soon as the ferocious grasp was loosened. The indictment which old Ælian brings against the whole race, that they are gluttonous ("terrible fellows for their belly,"—δεινοὶ κατὰ κοιλίαν—is his phrase) and murderous, is, I am afraid, after all, not far from the truth.