though lacking a stomach in which it can be retained; and each of the several portions will in time become complete. The marvellous story of Baron Munchausen's horse, that attempted to drink after the battle in which the body had been cut in two, meets here with an incident of a somewhat analogous kind, but with this difference, that what was a flight of invention as regards the horse, becomes a sober matter of fact as regards the anemone.

But what have the children been about all this time? They have been collecting a dozen or more of the choicest sea-anemones they could select. Their little fingers have detached them gently from the rocks, without injury to the expanded part by which they were fastened. A rosy little sun-star, about the size of a shilling, has been transferred to one of the jars, and has, as his companion, a very attractive-looking shrimp. Two or three little hermit crabs, a venerable-looking limpet, carrying on his back a whole company of diminutive companions, and some "silver shells" (Trochi), are now the inmates of another vessel; and thus supplied we turn our faces homewards.

But we had not gone twenty yards, when the quick eyes of one of my little companions detected a gorgeous sea-anemone in a pool close to one of the rocks. Bright streaks of vermilion were across his surface. The petal-like feelers or "tentacula," were not tapering as in the former species, but thick and semi-transparent. We gathered round, and after admiring his beauties, resolved to make him a captive. But at the first alarm he drew himself up and disappeared. Where the splendid corolla had been unfolded, we saw, when the water had cleared a little, only a heap of sand and gravel. What had become of him? He was there still, but the warty skin, covered over with gravel, was alone visible; the delicate-looking flower was closed. After some difficulty, I got him separated from the stone to which he was adherent, and tossing him into our little can of sea-water, we marched off the field, bearing joyfully with us the trophies of our success. That night the tank was no longer solitary.

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Next morning the large sea-anemone was quite at home. occupied a position in front of the little central rock-work, and was so gorgeously arrayed that he seemed the monarch of the scene, and all the others, with liveries of various colours, his attendants. To convey to my readers some idea of his beauty, I cannot do better than quote the words of Sir John Dalyell :—

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"No species is equally diversified in colour and aspect. Red is usually predominant. The surface of many, however, is variegated red and white like a rose, or with orange-green and yellow intermixed. One occurred almost totally white; another, wholly primrose-yellow. It may be truly affirmed that the diversities baffle enumeration and description." A French writer had borne testimony to the excellence of this species (Actinia crassicomis) for the table, after being boiled in sea-water; but though he expressly says they are, when cooked, of an inviting appearance, I never ventured to make trial of them. Mr. Gosse was, however, more courageous, and states, from his experience, that they "are certainly far superior to cockles, periwinkles, and mussels.”

In a day or two more my tank received a welcome addition, consisting of the fan-shaped fronds of a kind of sea-weed, sold when dried under the name of Carrageen moss (Chondrus crispus). The children brought home for me a number of pieces of rock on which the "moss was growing; and for themselves, a basket of it “to make a feast." When boiled, it furnishes a kind of gelatine, “and they,” to use the words of Dr. Landsborough, “ who have tasted it once with good rich cream, will need no coaxing to partake of it a second time.” In the tank it gave, in its growing state, an addition to the supply of oxygen.

2. THE DAISY ANEMONE AND THE ANTHEA.-I now wanted some of the daisy anemones (Actinia bellis). The word actinia, which I have applied to this and to the two other species already mentioned, means literally "a ray." Look at any one of these animals, and you will admit that this generic term is not inappropriate. The sea-anemone is, therefore, a rayed or radiated animal, and belongs to a group quite distinct from the soft-bodied molluscs or the jointed crustacea. The daisy anemone was a species not got near to my residence, but which I noticed a year before in great abundance in a rock-pool about seven miles distant. They covered its sides, as grey lichens occasionally encrust a rock, and were difficult to remove; but with a little care and perseverance I had succeeded in doing so, without the troublesome operation of chiselling off the pieces of rock to which they were attached. Some thus obtained had lived under my care during the winter, and had been given away when the season for another sojourn at the sea-side again came round.

I applied to a friend who was resident near the locality to supply my want, and soon I received a consignment of fine healthy specimens, not of one species only, but of two.

One of these was the Daisy-anemone, my old acquaintance; one that, when once known, can never be forgotten. I cannot attempt to describe its shape, for that is ever changing when the animal is vigorous and healthy; the woodcuts given by Dr. Johnston, in his History of British Zoophytes, p. 231, convey, however, some idea of their variety. The most distinguishing characteristic is the wavy outline of the disk-the beautifully festooned appearance of its margin. Its diameter is from one to one and a half inch. The tentacula- -as the arms or feelers are called-are ringed with white; the base of each of the inner tentacula, dark brown ; colour of the body in its contracted state, whitish or pale flesh colour; the back part of the expanded corolla, and the stem covered with numerous whitish warts. None of my specimens presented the purple or crimson tints, which they elsewhere exhibit.

The other was the Anthea (A. cereus). While my friend was searching for the daisy anemone he came upon a pool, which was partially fringed with the Anthea. Its colour is generally of a light chestnut, or a brown inclining to amber. Occasionally it is a dull ash-colour throughout; and some individuals are green, with the tentacula tipped with red. These singular organs are longer than the body, and are kept in almost constant motion, twisting about like so many young snakes. The Anthea is fond of changing his place, moving about in the tank from one part to another; sometimes fixing itself on the sides, the body gracefully curved, and the tentacula hanging down. Two of them were placed on the summit of my little rockwork, and quickly attached themselves. They completed the picture.

One morning, on coming down to breakfast, I found two of my Antheas had a strange appearance. The bodies were contracted, and the colour changed to lavender, while the tentacula had become white. I feared they were going to die. But my apprehensions were groundless; next morning they had again assumed their ordinary aspect. I had on one occasion the pleasure of seeing the anthea under circumstances that I will not readily forget. Outside the belt of sand and rocks that is left uncovered at every tide, is another where the large sea-weeds, such as the tangle and sea

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furbelows flourish. These plants belong to the genus Laminaria ; and this zone is, therefore, known as the Laminarian Zone. our boat drew nigh to the shore, the large spreading fronds of the sea-weed became more and more distinct, until each was perfectly revealed to us below the unruffled surface of the sea. We had come at the time of low water, and as we floated quietly onward could mark the glorious submarine forest which was beneath our boat. It rose and fell, it heaved and sunk, as gracefully as the meadow yields to the breeze, or as the willows bow to the breath of April. As we came into shallower water, the broad out-spread leaves, or, more correctly, the "fronds" of the sea-weed, seemed studded with blossoms. What could they be? A few moments more disclosed the mystery-each blossom was endued with life and motion-it was a living Anthea ! How true and accurate are the lines of the poet Southey—

"Here, too, were living flowers,

Which, like a bud comparted,
Their purple cups contracted;

And now, in open blossom spread,

Stretch'd like green anthers many a seeking head."

And now a new phase of its peculiarities was made known to me; it possessed a stinging power. I felt it on my hands, as one after another I removed the Antheas from their attachment, and placed them in glass vessels for conveyance home. I had read of this, but had never experienced it before; but now it was no longer a matter of hearsay, it was a fact brought within my own experience. The feeling, was, however, slight and transient.

The scene just witnessed was one suggestive of thought. What varied forms of animal life inhabited that Laminarian forest! Fishes instead of birds played among its branches; crustacea climbed on its stems, and swam from leaf to leaf. Molluscs carrying their breathing organs on their backs, decked with gayest colours, or bearing shells of various forms, glided over the fronds. Annelids unfolded their gorgeous plumes, or shone with iridescent tints, not surpassed even by the humming-birds of tropical climes. And over and above this manifold display of animal life, each plant supported colonies of zoophytes growing like miniature seaplants, and creatures gifted with a more complex organization spreading their tiny dwellings like a delicate network on the

stems, or over the surface of the fronds. This miniature existence is to be reckoned on a single plant, not by thousands, but by millions. What, then, must be the amount of life in that "populous solitude" comprised in a few hundred yards of a rocky coast? How wonderful the diversity of structure, function, habit, and instinct, there displayed! Well may we say with the Psalmist, “O Lord, how manifold are thy works! in wisdom hast thou made them all the earth is full of thy riches: so is this great and wide sea, wherein are things creeping innumerable, both small and great beasts."

Before concluding this subject, let me recall to your mind the four great Divisions or Groups of the Animal Kingdom:1.

1. The animals belonging to the first of these Groups are distinguished by the possession of a skull and vertebral column or backbone, and are hence called Vertebrate animals, or Vertebrata.

2. Those belonging to the second Group have, among other characteristics, the body covered with a skin, which is moist and soft; and from this circumstance they are termed Mollusca.

3. Those comprised in the third Group have a jointed structure, and, as the word articulus means a little joint, they are termed Articulata.

4. Those of the fourth Group, or such of them as are the most fitting representatives of its characteristics, have a rayed structure, either in the outline of the body or in the arrangement of its parts; and are hence known as rayed animals, or Radiata.

Each of these Groups of animals exhibits well-marked modifications of the nervous system, so that they are distinguishable both by internal structure and by external appearance.

Each Group is subdivided into smaller groups, termed Classes. Classes are again divided into Orders; Orders, into Families; Families, into Genera; and Genera, into Species.

The following table will convey a general idea of the manner in which animals are distributed among the several classes :

1 To Baron Cuvier, whose death took place so recently as 1832, we are indebted for that division of the animal kingdom into four great groups or sub-kingdoms, which naturalists from his time have generally adopted. For further information, I would refer the reader to my Zoology for Schools, and Zoological Diagrams.