been deprived for many months of the pleasure of females' society, could
be allured by the charms of a bristly-muzzled dugong, or mistake the
snorting of a wallowing manatee for the love-song of a beauteous
sea-maiden.

[Illustration: FIG. 17.--THE MANATEE. ITS USUAL POSITION.]

Unfortunately both the dugong and the manatee are being hunted to
extinction.

The flesh of the manatee is considered a great delicacy. Humboldt
compares it with ham. Unlike that of the whales, which is of a deep and
dark red hue, it is as white as veal, and, it is said, tastes very like
it. It is remarkable for retaining its freshness much longer than other
meat, which in a tropical climate generally putrefies in twenty-eight
hours. It is therefore well adapted for pickling, as the salt has time
to penetrate the flesh before it is tainted. The Catholic clergy of
South America do not object to its being eaten on fast days, on the
supposition that, with whales, seals, and other aquatic mammals, it may
be liberally regarded as "fish." The "Indians" of the Amazon and Orinoco
are so fond of it that they will spend many days, if necessary, in
hunting for a manatee, and having killed one will cut it into slabs and
slices on the spot, and cook these on stakes thrust into the ground
aslant over a great fire, and heavily gorge themselves as long as the
provision lasts. The milk of this animal is said to be rich and good,
and the skin is valuable for its toughness, and is much in request for
making leathern articles in which great strength and durability are
required. The tail contains a great deal of oil, which is believed to be
extremely nutritious, and has also the property of not becoming rancid.
Unhappily for the dugong, its oil is in similarly high repute, and is
greatly preferred as a nutrient medicine to cod-liver oil. As its flesh
also is much esteemed, it is so persistently hunted on the Australian
coasts that it will probably soon become extinct, like the rytina of
Steller. The same fate apparently awaits the manatee, which is becoming
perceptibly more and more scarce.

I fear that before many years have elapsed the Sirens of the
Naturalist will have disappeared from our earth, before the advance of
civilization, as completely as the fables and superstitions with which
they have been connected, before the increase of knowledge; and that the
mermaid of fact will have become as much a creature of the past as the
mermaid of fiction. With regard to the latter--the Siren of the
poets,--the water-maiden of the pearly comb, the crystal mirror, and the
sea-green tresses,--there are few persons I suppose, at the present day
who would not be content to be classed with Banks, the fine old
naturalist and formerly ship-mate of Captain Cook. Sir Humphry Davy in
his _Salmonia_ relates an anecdote of a baronet, a profound believer in
these fish-tailed ladies, who on hearing some one praise very highly Sir
Joseph Banks, said that "Sir Joseph was an excellent man, but he had his
prejudices--he did not believe in the mermaid." I confess to having a
similar "prejudice;" and am willing to adopt the further remark of Sir
Humphry Davy:--"I am too much of the school of Izaac Walton to talk of
impossibility. It doubtless might please God to make a mermaid, but I
don't believe God ever did make one."

THE LERNEAN HYDRA.

The mystery of the Kraken, of which I treated in a companion volume to
the present, recently published, is not difficult to unravel. The clue
to it is plain, and when properly taken up is as easily unwound, to
arrive at the truth, as a cocoon of silk, to get at the chrysalis within
it. It was a boorish exaggeration, a legend of ignorance, superstition,
and wonder. But when such a skein of facts has passed through the hands
of the poets, it is sure to be found in a much more intricate tangle;
and many a knot of pure invention may have to be cut before it is made
clear.

Nevertheless, we shall be able to discern that more than one of the most
famous and hideous monsters of old classical lore originated, like the
Kraken, in a knowledge by their authors of the form and habits of those
strange sea-creatures, the head-footed mollusks. There can be little
doubt that the octopus was the model from which the old poets and
artists formed their ideas, and drew their pictures of the Lernean
Hydra, whose heads grew again when cut off by Hercules; and also of the
monster Scylla, who, with six heads and six long writhing necks,
snatched men off the decks of passing ships and devoured them in the
recesses of her gloomy cavern.

Of the Hydra Diodorus relates that it had a hundred heads; Simonides
says fifty; but the generally received opinion was that of Apollodorus,
Hyginus, and others, that it had only nine.

Apollodorus of Athens, son of Asclepiades, who wrote in stiff, quaint
Greek about 120 B.C., gives in his 'Bibliotheca' (book ii. chapter 5,
section 2) the following account of the many-headed monster. "This
Hydra," he says, "nourished in the marshes of Lerne, went forth into the
open country and destroyed the herds of the land. It had a huge body and
nine heads, eight mortal, but the ninth immortal. Having mounted his
chariot, which was driven by Iolaus, Hercules got to Lerne and stopped
his horses. Finding the Hydra on a certain raised ground near the source
of the Amymon, where its lair was, he made it come out by pelting it
with burning missiles. He seized and stopped it, but having twisted
itself round one of his feet, it struggled with him. He broke its head
with his club: but that was useless; for when one head was broken two
sprang up, and a huge crab helped the Hydra by biting the foot of
Hercules. This he killed, and called Iolaus, who, setting on fire part
of the adjoining forest, burned with torches the germs of the growing
heads, and stopped their development. Having thus out-manoeuvred the
growing heads, he cut off the immortal head, buried it, and put a heavy
stone upon it, beside the road going from Lerne to Eleonta, and having
opened the Hydra, dipped his arrows in its gall."

If we wish to find in nature the counterpart of this Hydra, we must
seek, firstly, for an animal with eight out-growths from its trunk,
which it can develop afresh, or replace by new ones, in case of any or
all of them being amputated or injured. We must also show that this
animal, so strange in form and possessing such remarkable attributes,
was well known in the locality where the legend was believed. We have it
in the octopus, which abounded in the Mediterranean and Ægean seas, and
whose eight prehensile arms, or tentacles, spring from its central body,
the immortal head, and which, if lost or mutilated by misadventure, are
capable of reproduction.

[Illustration: FIG. 18.--FIGURE OF A CALAMARY. _From the temple of
Bayr-el-Bahree_.]

That a knowledge of the octopus existed at a very early period of man's
history we have abundant evidence. The ancient Egyptians figured it
amongst their hieroglyphics, and an interesting proof that they were
also acquainted with other cephalopods was given to me by the late Mr.
E. W. Cooke, R.A. Whilst on a trip up the Nile, in January, 1875, he
visited the temple of Bayr-el-Bahree, Thebes (date 1700 B.C.), the
entrance to which had been deeply buried beneath the light, wind-drifted
sand, accumulated during many centuries. By order of the Khedive, access
had just at that time been obtained to its interior, by the excavation
and removal of this deep deposit, and, amongst the hieroglyphics on the
walls, were found, between the zig-zag lines which represent water,
figures of various fishes, copies of which Mr. Cooke kindly gave me, and
which are so accurately portrayed as to be easily identified. With them
was the outline of a squid fourteen inches long, a figure of which, from
Mr. Cooke's drawing, is here shown. As this temple is five hundred miles
from the delta of the Nile, it is remarkable that nearly all the fishes
there represented are of marine species.

[Illustration: FIG. 19.--FIGURE OF AN OCTOPUS ON A GOLD ORNAMENT, FOUND
BY DR. SCHLIEMANN AT MYCENÆ.]

That the octopus was a familiar object with the ancient Greeks, we know
by the frequency with which its portrait is found on their coins, gems,
and ornaments. Aldrovandus describes "very ancient coins" found at
Syracuse and Tarentum bearing the figure of an octopus. He says the
Syracusans had two coins, one of bronze, the other of gold, both of
which had an octopus alone on one side. On the reverse of the bronze one
was a veiled female face in profile, with the inscription [Greek: SURA].
I have one of these bronze Syracusan coins; it was kindly given to me,
some years ago, by my friend, Dr. John Millar, F.L.S. The octopus is
really well depicted. On the gold coin the female head was differently
veiled, and at the back of the neck was a fish. The inscription on this
coin was [Greek: SURAKOSIÔN]. Goltzius was of the opinion that the head
was that of Arethusa. The coins found at Tarentum had on one side a
figure of Neptune seated on a dolphin, and holding an octopus in one
hand and a trident in the other.

[Illustration: FIG. 20.--GOLDEN ORNAMENT IN FORM OF AN OCTOPUS, FOUND BY
DR. SCHLIEMANN AT MYCENÆ.]

Lerne, or Lerna, the reputed home of the Hydra, was a port of Southern
Greece, situated at the head of the Gulf of Nauplia, and between the
existing towns of Argos and Tripolitza. Within a few miles of it was
Mycenæ; and it is remarkable that Dr. Schliemann, during his excavations
there in 1876, found in a tomb a gold plate, or button, two and a half
inches in diameter (Fig. 19), on which is figured an octopus, the eight
arms of which are converted into spirals, the head and the two eyes
being distinctly visible. In another sepulchre he discovered fifty-three
golden models of the octopus (Fig. 20), all exactly alike, and
apparently cast in the same mould. The arms are very naturally carved.
By the kindness of Mr. Murray, his publisher, I am enabled to give
illustrations of these and two other handsome ornaments.

Having ascertained that the octopus was a familiar object in the very
locality where the combat between Hercules and the Hydra is supposed to
have taken place, let us compare the animal as it exists with the
monstrous offspring of Typhon and Echidna.

FIG. 21. FIG. 22.

FIGURES OF THE OCTOPUS ON GOLD ORNAMENTS FOUND BY DR. SCHLIEMANN AT
MYCENÆ.]

It is a not uncommon occurrence that when an octopus is caught it is
found to have one or more of its arms shorter than the rest, and showing
marks of having been amputated, and of the formation of a new growth
from the old cicatrix. Several such specimens were brought to the
Brighton Aquarium whilst I had charge of its Natural History Department.
One of them was particularly interesting. Two of its arms had evidently
been bitten off about four inches from the base: and out from the end of
each healed stump (which in proportion to the length of the limb was as
if a man's arm had been amputated halfway between the shoulder and the
elbow), grew a slender little piece of newly-formed arm, about as large
as a lady's stiletto, or a small button-hook--in fact just the
equivalent of worthy Captain Cuttle's iron hook, which did duty for his
lost hand. It was an illustrative example of the commencement of the
repair and restoration of mutilated limbs.

This mutilation is so common in some localities, that Professor
Steenstrup says[70] that almost every octopus he has examined has had
one or two arms reproduced; and that he has seen females in which all
the eight arms had been lost, but were more or less restored. He also
mentions a male in which this was the case as to seven of its arms. He
adds that whilst the _Octopoda_ possess the power of reproducing with
great facility and rapidity their arms, which are exposed to so many
enemies, the _Decapoda_--the _Sepiidæ_ and Squids--appear to be
incapable of thus repairing and replacing accidental injuries. This is
entirely in accord with my own observations.

  [70] Ann. and Mag. Nat. Hist. August, 1857.

This reparative power is possessed by some other animals, of which the
starfishes and crustacea are the most familiar instances. In the case of
the lobster or crab, however, the only joint from which new growth can
start is that connected with the body, so that if a limb be injured in
any part, the whole of it must be got rid of, and the animal has,
therefore, the power of casting it off at will. The octopus, on the
contrary, is incapable of voluntary dismemberment, but reproduces the
lost portion of an injured arm, as an out-growth from the old stump.

The ancients were well acquainted with this reparative faculty of the
octopus: but of course the simple fact was insufficient for an
imaginative people: and they therefore embellished it with some fancies
of their own. There lingers still amongst the fishermen of the
Mediterranean a very old belief that the octopus when pushed by hunger
will gnaw and devour portions of its arms. Aristotle knew of this
belief, and positively contradicted it; but a fallacy once planted is
hard to eradicate. You may cut it down, and apparently destroy it, root
and branch, but its seeds are scattered abroad, and spring up elsewhere,
and in unexpected places. Accordingly, we find Oppian, more than five
centuries later, disseminating the same old notion, and comparing this
habit of the animal with that of the bear obtaining nutriment from his
paws by sucking them during his hybernation.

    "When wintry skies o'er the black ocean frown,
    And clouds hang low with ripen'd storms o'ergrown,
    Close in the shelter of some vaulted cave
    The soft-skinn'd prekes[71] their porous bodies save.
    But forc'd by want, while rougher seas they dread,
    On their own feet, necessitous, are fed.
    But when returning spring serenes the skies,
    Nature the growing parts anew supplies.
    Again on breezy sands the roamers creep,
    Twine to the rocks, or paddle in the deep.
    Doubtless the God whose will commands the seas,
    Whom liquid worlds and wat'ry natives please,
    Has taught the fish by tedious wants opprest
    Life to preserve and be himself the feast."

  [71] The octopus is still called the "preke" in some parts of
  England, notably in Sussex. The translation of Oppian's
  'Halieutics,' from which this passage and others are quoted is that
  by Messrs. Jones and Diaper, of Baliol College, Oxford, and was
  published in 1722.

The fact is, that the larger predatory fishes regard an octopus as very
acceptable food, and there is no better bait for many of them than a
portion of one of its arms. Some of the cetacea also are very fond of
them, and whalers have often reported that when a "fish" (as they call
it) is struck it disgorges the contents of its stomach, amongst which
they have noticed parts of the arms of cuttles which, judging from the
size of their limbs, must have been very large specimens. The food of
the sperm whale consists largely of the gregarious squids, and the
presence in spermaceti of their undigested beaks is accepted as a test
of its being genuine. That old fish-reptile, the Ichthyosaurus, also,
preyed upon them; and portions of the horny rings of their suckers were
discovered in its coprolites by Dean Buckland. Amongst the worst enemies
of the octopus is the conger. They are both rock-dwellers, and if the
voracious fish come upon his cephalopod neighbour unseen, he makes a
meal of him, or, failing to drag him from his hold, bites off as much of
one or two of his arms as he can conveniently obtain. The conger,
therefore, is generally the author of the injury which the octopus has
been unfairly accused of inflicting on itself.

Continuing our comparison with the hydra, we have in the octopus an
animal capable of quitting its rocky lurking-place in the sea, and going
on a buccaneering expedition on dry land. Many incidents have been
related in connection with this; but I can attest it from my own
observation. I have seen an octopus travel over the floor of a room at a
very fair rate of speed, toppling and sprawling along in its own
ungainly fashion; and in May, 1873, we had one at the Brighton Aquarium
which used regularly every night to quit its tank, and make its way
along the wall to another tank at some distance from it, in which were
some young lump-fishes. Day after day, one of these was missing, until,
at last, the marauder was discovered. Many days elapsed, however, before
he was detected, for after helping himself to, and devouring a young
"lump-sucker," he demurely returned before daylight to his own quarters.

Of this habit of the octopus the ancients were, also, fully aware.
Aristotle wrote that it left the water and walked in stony places, and
Pliny and Ælian related tales of this animal stealing barrels of salt
fish from the wharves, and crushing their staves to get at the contents.
An octopus that could do this would be as formidable a predatory monster
as the Lernean Hydra, which had the evil reputation of devouring the
Peloponnesian cattle.

Whoever first described the counter-attack of the Hydra on Hercules must
have had the octopus in his thoughts. "It twisted itself round one of
his feet"--exactly that which an octopus would do.

[Illustration: FIG. 23.--HERCULES SLAYING THE LERNEAN HYDRA.

_From Smith's 'Classical Dictionary.'_]

Finally, according to the legend, Hercules dipped his arrow-heads in the
gall of the Hydra, and, from its poisonous nature, all the wounds he
inflicted with them upon his enemies proved fatal. It is worthy of
notice that the ancients attributed to the octopus the possession of a
similarly venomous secretion. Thus Oppian writes:

    "The crawling preke a deadly juice contains
    Injected poison fires the wounded veins."

The accompanying illustration (Fig. 23) of Hercules slaying the Hydra
is taken from a marble tablet in the Vatican. It will be immediately
seen how closely the Hydra, as there depicted, resembles an octopus. The
body is elongated, but the eight necks with small heads on them bear
about the same proportion to the body as the arms to the body of an
octopus.

The Reverend James Spence, in his 'Polymetis,' published in 1755, gives
a figure, almost the counterpart of this, copied from an antique gem, a
carnelian, in the collection of the Grand Duke of Tuscany at Florence.
Only seven necks of the hydra are, however, there visible, and there are
two coils in the elongated body. On the upper part are two spots which
have been supposed to represent breasts. This was probably intended by
the artificer; but that the idea originated from a duplication of the
syphon tube is evident from the figures (Figs. 21, 22) of the octopus on
the smaller gold ornaments found by Dr. Schliemann at Mycenæ. In the
same work is also an engraving from a picture in the Vatican Virgil,
entitled 'The River, or Hateful Passage into the Kingdom of Ades,'
wherein an octopus-hydra, of which only six heads and necks are shown,
is one of the monsters called by the author "Terrors of the
Imagination."

SCYLLA AND CHARYBDIS.

In the description given by Homer, in the twelfth book of the 'Odyssey,'
of the unfortunate nymph Scylla, transformed by the arts of Circe into a
frightful monster, the same typical idea as in the case of the Hydra is
perceptible. The lurking octopus, having its lair in the cranny of a
rock, watching in ambush for passing prey, seizing anything coming
within its reach with one or more of its prehensile arms, even
brandishing these fear-inspiring weapons out of water in a threatening
manner, and known in some localities to be dangerous to boats and their
occupants, is transformed into a many-headed sea monster, seizing in its
mouths, instead of by the adhesive suckers of its numerous arms, the
helpless sailors from passing vessels, and devouring them in the abysses
of its cavernous den.

Circe, prophesying to Ulysses the dangers he had still to encounter,
warned him especially of Scylla and Charybdis, within the power of one
of whom he must fall in passing through the narrow strait (between Italy
and Sicily) where they had their horrid abode. Describing the lofty rock
of Scylla, she tells him:

    "Full in the centre of this rock displayed
    A yawning cavern casts a dreadful shade,
    Nor the fleet arrow from the twanging bow
    Sent with full force, could reach the depth below.
    Wide to the west the horrid gulf extends,
    And the dire passage down to hell descends.
    O fly the dreadful sight! expand thy sails,
    Ply the strong oar, and catch the nimble gales;
    Here Scylla bellows from her dire abodes;
    Tremendous pest! abhorred by man and gods!
    Hideous her voice, and with less terrors roar
    The whelps of lions in the midnight hour.
    Twelve feet deformed and foul the fiend dispreads;
    Six horrid necks she rears, and six terrific heads;

    When stung with hunger she embroils the flood,
    The sea-dog and the dolphin are her food;
    She makes the huge leviathan her prey,
    And all the monsters of the wat'ry way;
    The swiftest racer of the azure plain
    Here fills her sails and spreads her oars in vain;
    Fell Scylla rises, in her fury roars,
    At once six mouths expands, at once six men devours."[72]

  [72] Homer's 'Odyssey,' Pope's Translation, Book XII.

Circe then describes the perils of the whirling waters of Charybdis as
still more dreadful; and, admonishing Ulysses that once in her power all
must perish, she advises him to choose the lesser of the two evils, and
to

        "shun the horrid gulf, by Scylla fly;
    'Tis better six to lose than all to die."

Ulysses continues his voyage; and as his ship enters the ominous strait,

    "Struck with despair, with trembling hearts we viewed
    The yawning dungeon, and the tumbling flood;
    When, lo! fierce Scylla stooped to seize her prey,
    Stretched her dire jaws, and swept six men away.
    Chiefs of renown! loud echoing shrieks arise;
    I turn, and view them quivering in the skies;
    They call, and aid, with outstretched arms, implore,
    In vain they call! those arms are stretched no more.
    As from some rock that overhangs the flood,
    The silent fisher casts th' insidious food;
    With fraudful care he waits the finny prize,
    And sudden lifts it quivering to the skies;
    So the foul monster lifts her prey on high,
    So pant the wretches, struggling in the sky;
    In the wide dungeon she devours her food,
    And the flesh trembles while she churns the blood."

THE "SPOUTING" OF WHALES.

One of the sea-fallacies still generally believed, and accepted as true,
is that whales take in water by the mouth, and eject it from the
spiracle, or blow-hole.

The popular ideas on this subject are still those which existed hundreds
of years ago, and which are expressed by Oppian in two passages in his
'Halieutics':

    "Uncouth the sight when they in dreadful play
    Discharge their nostrils and refund a sea,"

and

    "While noisy fin-fish let their fountains fly
    And spout the curling torrent to the sky."

Eminent zoologists and intelligent observers, who have had full
opportunities of obtaining practical knowledge of the habits of these
great marine mammals, have forcibly combated and repeatedly contradicted
this erroneous idea; but their sensible remarks have been read by few,
in comparison with the numbers of those to whom a wrong impression has
been conveyed by sensational pictures in which whales are represented
_with their heads above the surface_, and throwing up from their
nostrils columns of water, like the fountains in Trafalgar Square. One
can hardly be surprised that the old writers on Natural History were
unacquainted with the real composition of the whale's "spout." Those of
them who sought for any original information on marine zoology, obtained
it chiefly from uninstructed and superstitious fishermen; but they
generally contented themselves with diligent compilation, and thus
copied and transmitted the errors of their predecessors, with the
addition of some slight embellishments of their own. Accordingly, we
find Olaus Magnus[73] describing, as follows, the _Physeter_, or, as his
translator, Streater, calls it, the _Whirlpool_. "The _Physeter_ or
_Pristis_," he says, "is a kind of whale, two hundred cubits long, and
is very cruel. For, to the danger of seamen, he will sometimes raise
himself above the sail-yards, and casts such floods of waters above his
head, which he had sucked in, that with a cloud of them he will often
sink the strongest ships, or expose the mariners to extreme danger. This
beast hath also a large round mouth, like a lamprey, whereby he sucks in
his meat or water, and by his weight cast upon the fore or hinder deck,
he sinks and drowns a ship."

  [73] 'Historia de Gentibus Septentrionalibus,' lib. xxi. cap. vi.
  A.D. 1555.

Figures 24 and 25 (p. 64) are facsimiles of the illustrations which
accompany the above description. It will be seen that, in the first, the
_Physeter_ is depicted as uprearing a maned neck and head, like that of
a fabled dragon; whilst in Fig. 25 it is shown as a whale flinging
itself on board a ship, which is sinking under its ponderous weight. In
both, torrents of water are issuing from its head, and it is evident
that they are merely exaggerated misrepresentations of the "spouting" of
whales.

Gesner copies many of Olaus Magnus's illustrations, and improves upon
Fig. 25 by putting a numerous crew on board the ship. The unfortunate
sailors are depicted in every attitude of terror and despair, and seem
to be incapacitated from any attempt to save themselves by the flood of
water which the whale is deliberately pouring upon them from its
blow-holes.

[Illustration: FIG. 24.--THE PHYSETER INUNDATING A SHIP. _After Olaus
Magnus._]

[Illustration: FIG. 25.--A WHALE POURING WATER INTO A SHIP FROM ITS
BLOW-HOLE. _After Olaus Magnus._]

[Illustration: FIG. 26--SPERM WHALES SPOUTING.]

These old pictures appear, no doubt, ridiculous, but they are, really,
very little more absurd and untrue to nature than many of those which
disfigure some otherwise useful books on Natural History of the present
day. I could refer to several, in which whales are represented as
spouting from their blow-holes one or more columns of water, which,
after ascending skyward to a considerable distance, fall over gracefully
as if issuing from the nozzle of an ornamental fountain. I select one
from amongst them (Fig. 26), not with any disrespect for the artist,
author, or publisher of the work from which it is taken, but because,
whilst it shows correctly the position of the blow-hole of the sperm
whale, it also exhibits exactly that which I wish to confute. The
publishers of the valuable work in which this picture appeared have
generously consented to my reproducing it here.

When, in describing, in 1877, the White Whale then exhibited at the
Westminster Aquarium, I said that whales do not spout water out of their
blow-holes, and that the idea that they do so is a popular error, the
statement was so contrary to generally-accepted notions that I was not
surprised by receiving more than one letter on the subject. One very
reasonable suggestion made to me was that, although the lesser whales,
such as the porpoises, which I had had opportunities of watching in
confinement at Brighton for two years, and the _Beluga_, which had been
observed for a similar period at the New York Aquarium, and also at
Westminster, did not "spout," the respiratory apparatus of the larger
whales might be so modified as to permit them to do so. Let us consider
the construction of the breathing apparatus which would have to be thus
modified, as shown in the porpoise.

In the first place, there is a pair of lungs as perfect as those of any
land mammal, fitted to receive air, and to bring the hot blood into
contact with the air, that it may absorb the oxygen of the air, and so
be purified. But this air cannot well be breathed through the mouth of
an animal which has to take its food from and in water; so it has to be
inhaled only by the nostrils. If these were situated as they are in land
mammals, near the extremity of the nose, the porpoise would be obliged
to stop when pursuing its prey, or, escaping from its enemies, to put
the tip of its nose above the surface of the water every time it
required to breathe. A much more convenient arrangement has, therefore,
been provided for it, and for almost all whales, by which that
difficulty is removed. Instead of running along the bones of the nose,
the nostrils are placed on the top of the head, and the windpipe is
turned up to them without having any connection with the palate. The
upper jaw is quite solid. Thus the mouth is solely devoted to the
reception of food, and the animal is enabled to continue its course when
swimming, however rapidly, by rising obliquely to the surface, and
exposing the top of its head above it. On the blow-hole being opened,
the air, from which the oxygen has been absorbed, is expelled in a
sudden puff, another supply is instantaneously inhaled, and rushes into
the lungs with extreme velocity, and then the porpoise can either
descend into the depths, or remain with its spiracle exposed to the air,
as it may prefer. In this act of breathing the spiracle is normally
brought above the water, the breath escapes, and the immediate
inhalation is effected almost in silence. But frequently, and in some
whales habitually, the blow-hole is opened just below the surface, and
then the outrush of air causes a splash upwards of the water overlying
it.

I may here mention that I have frequently seen the porpoises at the
Brighton Aquarium lying asleep at the surface, with the blow-hole
exposed above it, breathing automatically, and without conscious effort.
Aristotle was acquainted with this habit of the cetacea 2,200 years ago,
for he wrote: "They sleep with the blow-hole, their organ of
respiration, elevated above the water."

The apparatus for closing the blow-hole, so that not a drop of water
shall enter the windpipe, even under great pressure, is a beautiful
contrivance, complex in its structure, yet most simple in its working.
The external aperture is covered by a continuation of the skin, locally
thickened, and connected with a conical stopper, of a texture as tough
as india-rubber, which fits perfectly into a cone or funnel formed by
the extremity of the windpipe, and closes more and more firmly as the
pressure upon it is increased. Whilst the orifice is thus guarded, the
lower end of the tube is surrounded by a strong compressing muscle,
which clasps also the glottis, and thus the passage from the blow-hole
to the lungs is completely stopped.

There is nothing in this which indicates the possibility of the spouting
of water from the nostrils; but as assertions that water had been seen
to issue from them were positive and persistent, anatomists seem to have
felt themselves obliged to try to account for it somehow. Accordingly
the theory was propounded by F. Cuvier that the water taken into the
mouth is reserved in two pouches (one on each side), until the whale
rises to blow, when, the gullet being closed, it is forced by the action
of the tongue and jaws through the nasal passages, somewhat as a smoker
occasionally expels the smoke of his cigar through his nostrils.
Although these pouches, or sacs analogous to them, are found at the base
of the nostrils of the horse, tapir, etc.,--animals which do not "spout"
from the nostrils water taken in by the mouth--the explanation was
accepted for a time.

Mr. Bell held this opinion when the first edition of his 'British
Quadrupeds' was published in 1837, but before the issue of the second
edition, in 1874, he had found reasons for taking a different view of
the matter; and, under the advice of his judicious editors, Mr. Alston,
and Professor Flower (the latter of whom supervised the proofs of the
chapters on the Cetacea) his sanction of the illusion was withdrawn as
follows:--"The results of more recent and careful observations, amongst
which we may notice those of Bennett, Von Baer, Sars and Burmeister, are
directly opposed to the statement that water is thus ejected; and there
can now be no doubt that the appearance which has given rise to the idea
is caused by the moisture with which the expelled breath is
supercharged, which condenses at once in the cold outer air, and forms a
cloud or column of white vapour. It is possible indeed that if the
animal begins to 'blow' before its head is actually at the surface, the
force of the rushing air may drive up some little spray along with it,
but this is quite different from the notion that water is really
expelled from the nasal passages. We may add that on the only occasion
when we ourselves witnessed the 'spouting' of a large whale we were much
struck with its resemblance to the column of white spray which is dashed
up by the ricochetting ball fired from one of the great guns of a
man-of-war."

The simile is admirable, and nothing could better describe the
appearance of a whale's "spout"; but, in the previous portion of the
passage (except with reference to the sperm whale, the nostrils of which
are not on the top of the head), I think sufficient importance is not
conceded to the volume of water propelled into the air by the outrush of
breath from the submerged blow-hole. I do not know how many cubic feet
of air the lungs of a great whale are capable of containing, but the
quantity is sufficient to force up to a height of several feet the water
above the valve when the latter is opened, not only in "some little
spray," but, for some distance in a good solid jet--enough, in fact, to
give the appearance of its actually issuing from the blow-hole, and to
account for the erroneous belief of sailors that it does so. It must be
remembered that the escape of air is not by a prolonged wheeze, but by a
sudden blast, and thus when the spiracle is opened just beneath the
surface, an instant before it is uncovered to take in a fresh supply of
air, the water above its orifice is thrown up as by a slight subaqueous
explosion, or as by the momentary opening under water of the
safety-valve of a steam boiler. Some idea of the force and volume of the
blast of air from the lungs of even the common porpoise may be formed
when I mention that one of the porpoises at the Brighton Aquarium,
happening to open its spiracle just beneath an illuminating gas jet
fixed over its tank, blew out the light.

In the sperm whale the nostrils are placed near the extremity of the
nose, and therefore this whale has to raise its snout above the surface
when it requires to breathe; but instead of this being necessary, as in
the case of the porpoise twice or thrice in a minute, the sperm whale
only rises to "blow" at intervals of from an hour to an hour and twenty
minutes. Mr. Beale says[74] that in a large bull sperm whale the time
consumed in making one expiration and one inspiration is ten seconds,
during six of which the nostril is beneath the surface of the water--the
expiration occupying three seconds, and the inspiration one second. At
each breathing time this whale makes from sixty to seventy expirations,
and remains, therefore, at the surface ten or eleven minutes, and then,
raising its tail, it descends perpendicularly, head first. In different
individuals the time required for performing these several acts varies;
but in each they are minutely regular, and this well-known regularity is
of considerable use to the fishers, for when a whaler has once noticed
the periods of any particular whale which is not alarmed, he knows to a
minute when to expect it to come to the surface, and how long it will
remain there. The "spout" of the sperm whale differs much from that of
other whales. Unlike, for instance, the straight perpendicular twin jets
of the "right whale," the single, forward-slanting "spout" of the sperm
whale presents a thick curled bush of white mist. Each whale has a
different mode and time of breathing, and the form of the "spout"
differs accordingly.

  [74] 'Natural History of the Sperm Whale.' Van Voorst, 1839.

It is said that the blowing of the _Beluga_, or "White Whale," is not
unmusical at sea, and that when it takes place under water it often
makes a peculiar sound which might be mistaken for the whistling of a
bird. Hence is derived one of the names given to this whale by
sailors--the "Sea-canary." Though I have had opportunities of
attentively watching the breathing and other actions in captivity of two
specimens of this whale I have never been able to detect the sound
alluded to.

Besides the opinions cited by Mr. Bell concerning whales spouting water
from their blow-holes, we have other evidence which is most clear and
definite, and which ought to be convincing.

We will take first that of Mr. Beale, who as surgeon on board the
"Kent" and "Sarah and Elizabeth," South Sea whalers, passed several
seasons amongst sperm whales. He says:--"I can truly say when I find
myself in opposition to these old and received notions, that out of the
thousands of sperm whales which I have seen during my wanderings in the
South and North Pacific Oceans, I have never observed one of them to
eject a column of water from the nostril. I have seen them at a
distance, and I have been within a few yards of several hundreds of
them, and I never saw water pass from the spout-hole. But the column of
thick and dense vapour which is certainly ejected is exceedingly likely
to mislead the judgment of the casual observer in these matters; and
this column does indeed appear very much like a jet of water when seen
at the distance of one or two miles on a clear day, because of the
condensation of the vapour which takes place the moment it escapes from
the nostril, and its consequent opacity, which makes it appear of a
white colour, and which is not observed when the whale is close to the
spectator. It then appears only like a jet of white steam. The only
water in addition is the small quantity that may be lodged in the
external fissure of the spout hole, when the animal raises it above the
surface to breathe, and which is blown up into the air with the 'spout,'
and may probably assist in condensing the vapour of which it is
formed.... I have been also very close to the _Balæna mysticetus_ (the
Greenland, or Right whale) when it has been feeding and breathing, and
yet I never saw even that animal differ in the latter respect from the
sperm whale in the nature of the spout.... If the weather is fine and
clear, and there is a gentle breeze at the time, the spout may be seen
from the masthead of a moderate-sized vessel at the distance of four or
five miles."

Captain Scoresby, who was a veteran and successful whaler, a good
zoologist, and a highly intelligent observer, says:--"A moist vapour
mixed with mucus is discharged from the nostrils when the animal
breathes; but no water accompanies it unless an expiration of the breath
be made under the surface."

Dr. Robert Brown, who communicated to the Zoological Society, in May,
1868, a valuable series of observations on the mammals of Greenland,
made during his voyages to the Spitzbergen, Iceland, and Jan Mayen Seas,
and along the eastern and western shores of Davis's Strait and Baffin's
Bay to near the mouth of Smith's Sound, remarks, in a chapter on the
Right whale (_Balæna mysticetus_):--"The 'blowing,' so familiar a
feature of the _Cetacea_, but especially of the _Mysticetus_ is, quite
analogous to the breathing of the higher mammals, and the blow-holes are
the homologues of the nostrils. It is most erroneously stated that the
whale ejects water from the blow-holes. I have been many times only a
few feet from a whale when 'blowing,' and, though purposely observing
it, could never see that it ejected from its nostrils anything but the
ordinary breath--a fact which might almost have been deduced from
analogy. In the cold arctic air this breath is generally condensed, and
falls upon those close at hand in the form of a dense spray which may
have led seamen to suppose that this vapour was originally ejected in
the form of water. Occasionally, when the whale blows just as it is
rising out of or sinking in the sea, a little of the superincumbent
water may be forced upwards by the column of breath. When the whale is
wounded in the lungs, or in any of the blood-vessels immediately
supplying them, blood, as might be expected, is ejected in the
death-throes along with the breath. When the whaleman sees his prey
'spouting red,' he concludes that its end is not far distant; it is then
mortally wounded."

Captain F. C. Hall, the commander of the unfortunate "Polaris"
Expedition, thus describes, in his 'Life with the Esquimaux,' the spout
of a whale:--"What this blowing is like," he says, "may be described by
asking if the reader has ever seen the smoke produced by the firing of
an old-fashioned flint-lock. If so, then he may understand the 'blow' of
a whale--a flash in the pan and all is over."

Captain Scammon, an experienced American whaling captain, who, like
Scoresby, could wield well both harpoon and pen, in his fine work on
'The Marine Mammals of the North-Western Coast of America,' writes to
the same effect.

Mr. Herman Melville, who is not a naturalist, but has served before the
mast in a sperm-whaler and borne his part in all the hardships and
dangers of the chase, writes, in his remarkable book, 'The Whale':--"As
for this 'whale-spout' you might almost stand in it, and yet be
undecided as to what it is precisely. Nor is it at all prudent for the
hunter to be over curious respecting it. For, even when coming into
slight contact with the outer vapoury shreds of the jet, which will
often happen, your skin will feverishly smart from the acrimony of the
thing so touching you. And I know one who, coming into still closer
contact with the spout--whether with some scientific object in view or
otherwise I cannot say--the skin peeled off from his cheek and arm.
Wherefore, among whalemen, the spout is deemed poisonous; they try to
evade it. I have heard it said, and I do not much doubt it, that if the
jet were fairly spouted into your eyes it would blind you."

The only other eye-witness I will cite is Mr. Bartlett, of the
Zoological Gardens, whose experience and accuracy as an observer of the
habits of animals is unsurpassed. He spent an autumn holiday in
accompanying the late Mr. Frank Buckland and his colleagues, Messrs.
Walpole and Young, in a tour of inquiry into the condition of the
herring fishery in Scotland. When the commissioners left Peterhead, he
remained there for a few days as the guest of Captain David Gray, of the
steam whaler, "Eclipse," and as it was reported that large whales had
been seen in the offing, his host invited him to go in search of them,
and pay them a visit in his steam-launch. When about twelve miles out,
they saw the whales, which were "finners," at a distance of four or five
miles. Fourteen were counted--all large ones--some of which were seventy
feet in length. On approaching them the captain shut off steam, and the
launch was allowed to float in amongst them. So close were they to the
boat that it would not have been difficult to jump upon the back of one
of them had that been desirable. Mr. Bartlett tells me that he was
greatly astonished by the immense force of the sudden outrush of air
from their blow-holes, and the noise by which it was accompanied. He
believes that the blast was strong enough to blow a man off the spiracle
if he were seated on it. He authorizes me to say that having seen and
watched these whales under such favourable circumstances, he entirely
agrees with all that I have here written concerning the so-called
"spout." The volume of hot, vaporous breath expelled is enormous, and
this is accompanied by no small quantity of water, forced up by it when
the blow-hole is opened below the surface.

An effect similar in appearance to the whale's spout is produced by the
breathing of the hippopotamus. When this great beast opens its nostrils
beneath the surface, water and spray are driven and scattered upward by
the force of the air, but, of course, do not issue from the nasal
passages. I have, also, seen this effect produced, though in a less
degree, by the breathing of sea-lions.

I repeat, therefore, that not a drop of sea-water enters or passes out
of the blow-hole of a whale. If the spiracle valve were in a condition
to allow it to do so the animal would soon be drowned. Everyone knows
the extreme irritation and the horrible feeling of suffocation caused to
a human being, whilst eating or drinking, by a crumb or a little liquid
"going the wrong way"--that is, being accidentally drawn to the
air-passages instead of passing to the oesophagus. If water were to
enter the bronchi of a whale it would instantly produce similar
discomfort.

The neck of a popular error is hard to break; but it is time that one
so palpable as that concerning the "spouting" of whales should cease to
be promulgated and disseminated by fanciful illustrations of instructive
books.

THE "SAILING" OF THE NAUTILUS.

One of the prettiest fables of the sea is that relating to the Paper
Nautilus, the constructor and inhabitant of the delicate and beautiful
shell which looks as if it were made of ivory no thicker than a sheet of
writing paper.

[Illustration: FIG. 27.--THE PAPER NAUTILUS (_Argonauta argo_) SAILING.]

It is an old belief that in calm weather it rises from the bottom of
the sea, and, elevating its two broadly-expanded arms, spreads to the
gentle air, as a sail, the membrane, light as a spider's web, by which
they are united; and that, seated in its boat-like shell, it thus floats
over the smooth surface of the ocean, steering and paddling with its
other arms. Should storm arise or danger threaten, its masts and sail
are lowered, its oars laid in, and the frail craft, filling with water,
sinks gently beneath the waves.

When and where this picturesque idea originated I am unable to discover.
It dates far back beyond the range of history; for Aristotle mentions
it, and, unfortunately, sanctioned it. With the weight of his honoured
name in its favour, this fallacy has maintained its place in popular
belief, even to our own times; for the mantle of the great father of
natural history, who was generally so marvellously correct, fell on none
of his successors; Pliny, and Ælian, and the tribe of compilers who
succeeded them, having been more concerned to make their histories
sensational than to verify their statements.

Naturally, the Paper Nautilus has been the subject of many a poet's
verses. Oppian wrote of it in his 'Halieutics':--

    "Sail-fish in secret, silent deeps reside,
    In shape and nature to the preke[75] allied;
    Close in their concave shells their bodies wrap,
    Avoid the waves and every storm escape.
    But not to mirksome depths alone confined;
    When pleasing calms have stilled the sighing wind,
    Curious to know what seas above contain,
    They leave the dark recesses of the main;
    Now, wanton, to the changing surface haste,
    View clearer skies, and the pure welkin taste.
    But slow they, cautious, rise, and, prudent, fear
    The upper region of the watery sphere;
    Backward they mount, and as the stream o'erflows,
    Their convex shells to pressing floods oppose.
    Conscious, they know that, should they forward move,
    O'erwhelming waves would sink them from above,
    Fill the void space, and with the rushing weight,
    Force down th' inconstants to their former seat.
    When, first arrived, they feel the stronger blast,
    They lie supine and skim the liquid waste.
    The natural barks out-do all human art
    When skilful floaters play the sailor's part.
    Two feet they upward raise, and steady keep;
    These are the masts and rigging of the ship:
    A membrane stretch'd between supplies the sail,
    Bends from the masts, and swells before the gale.
    Two other feet hang paddling on each side,
    And serve for oars to row and helm to guide.
    'Tis thus they sail, pleased with the wanton game,
    The fish, the sailor, and the ship, the same.
    But when the swimmers dread some dangers near
    The sportive pleasure yields to stronger fear.
    No more they, wanton, drive before the blasts,
    But strike the sails, and bring down all the masts;
    The rolling waves their sinking shells o'erflow,
    And dash them down again to sands below."

  [75] The octopus.

Montgomery also thus exquisitely paraphrases the same idea in his
'Pelican Island':--

    "Light as a flake of foam upon the wind,
    Keel upwards, from the deep emerged a shell,
    Shaped like the moon ere half her orb is filled.
    Fraught with young life, it righted as it rose,
    And moved at will along the yielding water.
    The native pilot of this little bark
    Put out a tier of oars on either side,
    Spread to the wafting breeze a twofold sail,
    And mounted up, and glided down, the billows
    In happy freedom, pleased to feel the air,
    And wander in the luxury of light."

Byron mentions the Nautilus in his 'Mutiny of the Bounty' as follows:--

    "The tender Nautilus, who steers his prow,
    The sea-born sailor of his shell canoe,
    The ocean Mab--the fairy of the sea,
    Seems far less fragile, and alas! more free.
    He, when the lightning-winged tornadoes sweep
    The surge, is safe: his port is in the deep;
    And triumphs o'er the armadas of mankind
    Which shake the world, yet crumble in the wind."

The very names by which this animal is known to the science which some
persons erroneously think must be so hard and dry are poetic. In
Aristotle's day it was called the _Nautilus_ or _Nauticus_, "the
mariner," and though two thousand two hundred years have passed since
the great master wrote, the name still clings to it. As the Pearly
Nautilus, a very different animal, also bears that name, Gualtieri
perceived the necessity of distinguishing the Paper Nautilus from it,
and was followed by Linnæus, who therefore entitled the genus to which
the latter belongs, _Argonauta_, after the ship _Argo_, in which Jason
and his companions sailed to Colchis to carry off the "Golden Fleece"
suspended there in the temple of Mars, and guarded by brazen-hoofed
bulls, whose nostrils breathed out fire and death, and by a watchful
dragon that never slept. According to the Greek legend, the _Argo_ was
named after its builder Argus, the son of Danaus, and was the first ship
that ever was built. Oppian ('Halieutics,' book I.) expresses his
opinion that the Nautilus served as a model for the man who first
conceived the idea of constructing a ship, and embarking on the
waters:--

    "Ye Powers! when man first felled the stately trees,
    And passed to distant shores on wafting seas,
    Whether some god inspired the wondrous thought,
    Or chance found out, or careful study sought;
    If humble guess may probably divine,
    And trace th' improvement to the first design,
    Some wight of prying search, who wond'ring stood
    When softer gales had smoothed the dimpled flood,
    Observed these careless swimmers floating move,
    And how each blast the easy sailor drove;
    Hence took the hint, hence formed th' imperfect draught,
    And ship-like fish the future seaman taught.
    Then mortals tried the shelving hull to slope,
    To raise the mast, and twist the stronger rope,
    To fix the yards, let fly the crowded sails,
    Sweep through the curling waves, and court auspicious gales."

Pope, too, in his 'Essay on Man' (Ep. 3), adopted the idea in his
exhortation--

    "Learn of the little Nautilus to sail,
    Spread the thin oar, and catch the driving gale."

Poetry, like the wizard's spell, can make

    "A nutshell seem a gilded barge,
    A sheeling seem a palace large,"

but the equally enchanting wand of science is able by a touch to dispel
the illusion, and cause the object to appear in its true proportions. So
with the fiction of the "Paper Sailor."

I have elsewhere described the affinities of the Nautili and their place
in nature, therefore it will only be necessary for me here to allude to
these very briefly, to explain the great and essential difference that
exists between the two kinds of Nautilus which are popularly regarded as
being one and the same animal.

The _Pearly_ Nautilus (_Nautilus pompilius_) and the Argonaut, which
from having a fragile shell of somewhat similar external form is called
the _Paper_ Nautilus, both belong to that great primary group of animals
known as the _Mollusca_, and to the class of it called the
_Cephalopoda_, from their having their head in the middle of that which
is the foot in other mollusks. In the Cephalopoda the foot is split or
divided into eight segments in some families, and in others into ten
segments, which radiate from the central head, like so many rays. These
rays are not only used as feet, but, being highly flexible, are adapted
for employment also as prehensile arms, with which their owner captures
its prey, and they are rendered more perfect for this purpose by being
furnished with suckers which hold firmly to any surface to which they
are applied. The Cephalopods which have the foot divided into ten of
these segments or arms are called the _Decapoda_, those which have only
eight of them are called the _Octopoda_. All of these have _two_
plume-like gills--one on each side--and so are called _Dibranchiata_;
and in the eight-armed section of these is the argonaut or Paper
Nautilus. Of the Pearly Nautilus and the four-gilled order I shall have
more to say by-and-by: at present we will follow the history of the
argonaut.

[Illustration: FIG. 28--THE PAPER NAUTILUS (_Argonauta argo_) RETRACTED
WITHIN ITS SHELL.]

Notwithstanding all that has been written of it, it is only within the
last fifty years that this has been correctly understood. An eight-armed
cuttle was recognised and named _Ocythoe_, which, instead of having,
like the common octopus, all of its eight arms thong-like and tapering
to a point, had the two dorsal limbs flattened into a broad thin
membrane. Although this animal was sometimes seen dead without any
covering, it was generally found contained in a thin and slightly
elastic univalve shell of graceful form, and bearing some resemblance to
an elegantly shaped boat. It did not penetrate to the bottom of this
shell; it was not attached to it by any muscular ligament, nor was the
shell moulded on its body, nor apparently made to fit it. Hence it was
long regarded as doubtful, and even by naturalists so recent and eminent
as Dumeril and De Blainville, whether the octopod really secreted the
shell, or whether, like the hermit-crab, it borrowed for its protection
the shell of some other mollusk. Aristotle left the subject with the
faithful acknowledgment: "As to the origin and growth of this shell
nothing is yet exactly determined. It appears to be produced like other
shells; but even this is not evident, any more than it is whether the
animal can live without it." Pliny, as usual, instead of throwing light
on the matter, obscured it. He regarded the shell as the property of a
gasteropod like the snail, and the octopod as an amateur yachtsman who
occasionally went on board and took a trip in the frail craft, and
assisted its owner to navigate it for the fun of the thing. This is what
he says about it[76]: "Mutianus reports that he saw in the Propontis a
shell formed like a little ship, having the poop turned up and the prow
pointed. An animal called the _Nauplius_, resembling an octopus, was
enclosed in the shell with its owner, for its amusement in the following
manner. When the sea is calm the guest lowers his arms, and uses them as
oars and a helm, whilst the owner of the shell expands himself to catch
the wind; so that one has the pleasure of carrying and sailing, and the
other of steering. Thus, these two otherwise senseless animals take
their pleasure together; but the meeting them sailing in their shell is
a bad omen for mariners, and foretells some great calamity."

  [76] Naturalis Historia, lib. ix. cap. 30.

Although the animal was never found in any other shell, and the shell
was never known to contain any other animal, and though, when the shell
and the animal were found together they were always of proportionate
size, this octopod, as I have said, was looked upon by some
conchologists as a pirate who had taken possession of a ship which did
not belong to him, until Madame Jeannette Power, a French lady then
residing in Messina, having succeeded in keeping alive for a time an
argonaut the shell of which had been broken in its capture, discovered
that the animal quickly repaired the fracture, and reproduced the
portions that had been broken off. Induced by this to make further
experiments, she kept a number of living argonauts in cages sunk in the
sea near the citadel of Messina, and in 1836 laid before the "Academy"
at Catania the following results of her observations of them:--

1st. That the argonaut constructs the shell which it inhabits.

2nd. That it quits the egg entirely naked, and forms the shell after its
birth.

3rd. That it can repair its shell, if necessary, by a fresh deposit of
material having the same chemical composition as its original shell.

4th. That this material is secreted by the palmate, or sail, arms, and
is laid on the outside of the shell, to the exterior of which these
membranous arms are closely applied.

Madame Power was mistaken on two points. Firstly, the construction of
the shell does not commence after the birth of the animal, but, as has
been shown by M. Duvernoy, its rudimentary form is distinctly visible by
the aid of the microscope in the embryo, whilst still in the egg; and
secondly, she continued to believe in the use of the membranous arms as
sails, and of the others as oars. This fallacy was exploded by Captain
Sander Rang, an officer of the French navy, and "port-captain" at
Algiers, who carefully followed up Madame Power's experiments, and
confirmed the more important of them. Thus were set at rest questions
which for centuries had divided the opinions of zoologists.

The "Paper Nautilus" is, in fact, a female octopod provided with a
portable nest, in which to carry about and protect her eggs, instead of
brooding over them in some cranny of a rock, or within the recesses of a
pile of shells, as does her cousin the octopus. From the membranes of
the two flattened and expanded arms she secretes and, if necessary,
repairs her shell, and by applying them closely to its outer surface on
each side, holds herself within it, for it is not fastened to her body
by any attaching muscles. When disturbed or in danger she can loosen her
hold, and, leaving her cradle, swim away independently of it. It has
been said that, having once left it, she has not the ability nor perhaps
the sagacity to re-enter her nest, and resume the guardianship of her
eggs.[77] From my own observations of the breeding habits of other
octopods I think this most improbable. The use and purpose of the shell
of the argonaut will be better understood if I briefly describe what I
have witnessed of the treatment of its eggs by its near relative, the
octopus.

  [77] Appendix to Sir Edward Belcher's 'Voyage of the "Samarang,"'
  by Mr. Arthur Adams, assistant surgeon to the expedition.

"The eggs of the octopus," as I have elsewhere said, "when first laid,
are small, oval, translucent granules, resembling little grains of rice,
not quite an eighth of an inch long. They grow along and around a common
stalk, to which every egg is separately attached, as grapes form part of
a bunch. Each of the elongated bunches is affixed by a glutinous
secretion to the surface of a rock or stone (never to seaweed, as has
been erroneously stated), and hangs pendent by its stalk in a long white
cluster, like a magnified catkin of the filbert, or, to use Aristotle's
simile, like the fruit of the white alder. The length and number of
these bunches varies according to the size and condition of the parent.
Those produced by a small octopus are seldom more than about three
inches long, and from twelve to twenty in number; but a full-grown
female will deposit from forty to fifty of such clusters, each about
five inches in length. I have counted the eggs of which these clusters
are composed, and find that there are about a thousand in each: so that
a large octopus produces in one laying, usually extended over three
days, a progeny of from 40,000 to 50,000. I have seen an octopus, when
undisturbed, pass one of her arms beneath the hanging bunches of her
eggs, and, dilating the membrane on each side of it into a boat-shaped
hollow, gather and receive them in it as in a trough or cradle which
exhibited in its general shape and outline a remarkable similarity to
the shell of the argonaut, with the eggs of which octopod its own are
almost identical in form and appearance. Then she would caress and
gently rub them, occasionally turning towards them the mouth of her
flexible exhalent and locomotor tube, like the nozzle of a fireman's
hose-pipe, so as to direct upon them a jet of the excurrent water. I
believe that the object of this syringing process is to free the eggs
from parasitic animalcules, and possibly to prevent the growth of
conferva, which, I have found, rapidly overspreads those removed from
her attention."[78]

  [78] 'The Octopus,' 1873, p. 57.

It has been suggested that the syringing may be for the purpose of
keeping the water surrounding the eggs well aerated; but this is
evidently erroneous, for the water ejected from the tube has been
previously deprived of its oxygen, and consequently of its health-giving
properties, whilst passing over the gills of the parent. Week after
week, for fifty days, a brooding octopus will continue to attend to her
eggs with the most watchful and assiduous care, seldom leaving them for
an instant except to take food, which, without a brief abandonment of
her position, would be beyond her reach. Aristotle asserted that while
the female is incubating she takes no food. This is incorrect; but in
every case of the kind that has come under my observation the mother
octopod, whenever she has been obliged to leave her nest, has returned
to it as quickly as possible; and so I believe can, and does, the female
argonaut to her shell, and that, too, without any difficulty. In her
case the numerous clusters of eggs are all united at their origin to one
slender and tapering stalk which is fixed by a spot of glutinous matter
to the body-whorl of the spiral shell.

[Illustration: FIG. 29.--THE PAPER NAUTILUS (_Argonauta argo_)
CRAWLING.]

This "paper-sailor," then, whom the poets have regarded as endowed with
so much grace and beauty, and living in luxurious ease, is but a fine
lady octopus after all. Turn her out of her handsome residence, and,
instead of the fairy skimmer of the seas, you have before you an object
apparently as free from loveliness and romance as her sprawling,
uncanny-looking, relative. Instead of floating in her pleasure boat over
the surface of the sea, the argonaut ordinarily crawls along the bottom,
carrying her shell above her, keel uppermost; and the broad extremities
of the two arms are not hoisted as sails, nor allowed when at rest to
dangle over the side of the "boat;" but are used as a kind of hood by
which the animal retains the shell in its proper position, as a man
bearing a load on his shoulders holds it with his hands. When she comes
to the surface, or progresses by swimming instead of walking, she does
so in the same manner as the octopus: namely, by the forcible expulsion
of water from her funnel-like tube.

But if truth compels us to deprive her of the counterfeit halo conferred
on her by poets, we can award her, on behalf of science, a far nobler
crown; namely, that of the Queen of the whole great Invertebrate Animal
Kingdom. For, the _Cephalopoda_, of which the argonaut is a highly
organised member, are not only the highest in their own division, the
_Mollusca_, but they are as far superior to all other animals which have
no backbones, as man stands lord and king over all created beings that
possess them.

[Illustration: FIG. 30.--THE PAPER NAUTILUS (_Argonauta argo_)
SWIMMING.]

[Illustration: FIG. 31.--SHELL OF THE PAPER NAUTILUS (_Argonauta
argo_).]

Although in outward shape the spiral shell of the Pearly Nautilus
(_Nautilus pompilius_) somewhat resembles that of the argonaut, its
internal structure is very different. A section of it shows that it is
divided into several chambers, each of which is partitioned off from the
adjoining ones, the last formed or external one, in which the animal
lives, being much larger than the rest. The object and mode of
construction of these chambers is as follows. As the animal grows, a
constant secretion of new material takes place on the edge of the shell.
By this unceasing process of the addition of new shell in the form of a
circular curve or coil around the older portion, the whole rapidly
increases in size, both in diameter, and in the length of the chamber.
The Nautilus, requiring to keep the secreting portion of its mantle
applied to the lip of the shell, finds the chamber in which it dwells
gradually becoming inconveniently long for it, and therefore builds up a
wall behind itself, and continues its work of enlarging its premises in
front. Each of these walls, concave in front, towards the mouth of the
shell, and concave behind, acts as a strong girder and support of the
arch of the shell against the inward pressure of deep water: and it was
formerly supposed that each successive chamber so constructed and
vacated remained filled with air, and _thus_ became an additional float
by which the constantly increasing weight of the growing shell was
counter-balanced. By this beautiful adjustment of augmented floating
power to increased weight, the buoyancy of the shell would be secured
and its specific gravity maintained as nearly as possible equal to that
of the surrounding water. This adjustment does probably take place, but
in a somewhat different manner. As the Nautilus inhabits a depth of from
twenty to forty fathoms, it is evident that the air within its shell
would be displaced by the pressure of such a column of water.[79]
Accordingly, in every instance of the capture of a Nautilus the chambers
of its shell have been found filled with water. It is not improbable
that the fluid they contain may be less compressed, and exert less
pressure from within outwards than that of the external superincumbent
column of water, and that by this unbalanced pressure--under the same
hydro-dynamic law which governs its mode of self-propulsion when
swimming, and possibly in some degree within the control of the
animal--the latter is relieved of much of the weight of its shell. When
the Nautilus is at the bottom of the sea its movement is like that of a
snail crawling along upon the ground with its shell above it. The shell,
in proportion to the size of the animal that inhabits it, is a heavy
one, and unless it were rendered semi-buoyant, its owner's strength
would be severely taxed by the effort to drag it along. By the means
indicated this portable domicile is borne lightly above the body of the
Nautilus, without in any way impeding its progress.

  [79] "At 100 fathoms the pressure exceeds 265 lbs. to the square
  inch. Empty bottles, securely corked, and sunk with weights beyond
  100 fathoms, are always crushed. If filled with liquid the cork is
  driven in, and the liquid replaced by salt water; and in drawing
  the bottle up again the cork is returned to the neck of the bottle,
  generally in a reversed position."--Sir F. Beaufort, quoted by Dr.
  S. P. Woodward in his 'Manual of the Mollusca.'

[Illustration: FIG. 32.--SHELL OF THE PEARLY NAUTILUS (_Nautilus
pompilius_).]

[Illustration: FIG. 33.--THE PEARLY NAUTILUS (_Nautilus pompilius_), AND
SECTION OF ITS SHELL. _After Professor Owen._

_a a_, Partitions; _b b_, chambers; _b'_, the last-formed chamber, in
which the animal lives; _c c_, the siphuncle; _d_, attaching muscle; _e
e_, the hollow arms; _f f_, retractile tentacles; _g_, muscular disk, or
foot; _h_, the eye; _i_, position of funnel.]

The chambers are all connected by a membranous tube slightly coated with
nacre, which is connected with a large sac in the body of the animal,
near the heart, and passes through a circular orifice and a short
projecting tube in the centre of each partition wall, till it ends in
the smallest chamber at the inner extremity of the shell. Dean Buckland
believed this "syphon" to be an hydraulic apparatus acting as a "fine
adjustment" of the specific gravity of the shell, by admitting water
within it when expanded, and excluding it when contracted. As it
contains an artery and vein near its origin at the mantle, Professor
Owen has regarded it as subservient to the maintenance of a low vitality
in the vacated portion of the shell. Dr. Henry Woodward is of the
opinion that, whilst in the early life of the Nautilus this siphuncle
forms the main point of attachment between the animal and its shell, it
is in the adult "simply an aborted embryonal organ whose function is now
filled by the shell-muscles, but which in the more ancient and
straight-shelled representatives of the group (the Orthoceratites) was
not merely an embryonal but an important organ in the adult."

Every one knows the shell of the Pearly Nautilus. It may be purchased
at any shell-shop in a seaside watering-place, and is imported by
hundreds every year from Singapore.[80] It is abundant in the waters of
the Indian Archipelago, especially about the Molucca and Philippine
Islands, and on the shores of New Caledonia and the Fiji and Solomon
Islands. It has also been found alive on Pemba Island, near Zanzibar. It
seems strange, therefore, that until about half a century ago hardly
anything was known of the animal that secretes and inhabits it.
Rumphius, a Dutch naturalist, in his 'Rarities of Amboyna,' published,
in 1705, a description of one with an engraving, incorrect in drawing,
and deficient in detail; and until 1832 this was the only information
which existed concerning it. The great Cuvier never saw one, and being
acquainted only with the two-gilled cephalopods, he regarded the
head-footed mollusks as absolutely isolated from all other animals in
the kingdom of nature, even from the other classes of the mollusca. It
seemed, however, to Professor Owen, then only nineteen years of age,
that in the only living representative of the four-gilled order,
_Nautilus pompilius_, might be found the "missing link." When,
therefore, in the year 1824, his fellow-student, Mr. George Bennett, was
about to sail from England to the Polynesian Islands, young Richard Owen
earnestly charged his friend to do his utmost to obtain, and bring home
in alcohol, a specimen of the much-coveted Pearly Nautilus. The
opportunity did not occur till one warm and calm Monday evening, the
24th of August, 1829, when a living Nautilus was seen at the surface of
the water not far distant from the ship, in Marekini Bay, on the
south-west coast of the Island of Erromango, New Hebrides, in the South
Pacific Ocean. It looked like a dead tortoise-shell cat, as the sailors
said. As it began to sink as soon as it was observed, it was struck at
with a boat-hook, and was thus so much injured that it died shortly
after being taken on board the ship. The shell was destroyed, but the
soft body of the animal was preserved in spirits, and great was the joy
of Mr. Owen when, in July, 1831, Mr. Bennett arrived with it in England,
and presented it to the Royal College of Surgeons. Mr. Owen was then
Assistant-Conservator of the Museum of the College under Mr. Clift, who
was afterwards his father-in-law. He immediately commenced to anatomise,
describe, and figure his rare acquisition, and in the early part of 1832
published the result of his work in the form of a masterly treatise,
which proved to be the foundation of his future fame.[81]

  [80] I need hardly say that before the nacreous layer of the shell
  from which this animal takes its name is made visible, an outer
  deposit of dense calcareous matter has to be removed by
  hydrochloric acid: the pearly surface thus exposed is then easily
  polished.

  [81] It is so interesting to most of us to know something of the
  early work of our greatest men, and of the tide in their affairs,
  which, taken at the flood, led on to fortune, that I hope I may be
  excused for referring to the period when the distinguished chief of
  the Natural History Department of the British Museum, the great
  comparative anatomist, the unrivalled palæontologist, the
  illustrious physiologist, the venerable and venerated friend of all
  earnest students, was beginning to attract the attention, and to
  receive the approbation of his seniors as a promising young worker.
  In Messrs. Griffith and Pidgeon's Supplement to Cuvier's 'Mollusca
  and Radiata,' published in 1834, the treatise in question is thus
  mentioned: "We have much pleasure in referring to a most excellent
  memoir on _Nautilus pompilius_, by Mr. Owen, with elaborate figures
  of the animal, its shell, and various parts, published by direction
  of the Council of the College of Surgeons. The reader will find the
  most satisfactory information on the subject, and the scientific
  public will earnestly hope that the present volume will be the
  first of a similar series." This hope has been more than fulfilled.
  Dean Buckland, in his 'Bridgewater Treatise,' wrote of this work:
  "I rejoice in the present opportunity of bearing testimony to the
  value of Professor Owen's highly philosophical and most admirable
  memoir--a work not less creditable to the author than honourable to
  the Royal College of Surgeons, under whose auspices the publication
  has been so handsomely conducted."

Mr. Owen's investigations confirmed his previous supposition that the
Pearly Nautilus is inferior in its organisation to octopus, sepia, or
any other known cephalopod; that it is not isolated, but that it recedes
towards the gasteropods, to which belong the snail, the periwinkle, &c.,
and that in some of its characters its structure is analogously related
to the still lower _annulosa_, or worms. Mr. Owen was just about to
start for Paris with the intention of presenting a copy of his book to
his celebrated contemporary and friend, and of showing him his
dissections of the Nautilus which had been the subject of his research,
when he heard of Baron Cuvier's death. It must have been to him a great
sorrow and a grievous disappointment.

The Pearly Nautilus, then, is a true cephalopod, in that it has its foot
divided and arranged in segments around its head, but the form and
number of these segments are very different from those of any other of
its class. Instead of there being eight, as in the argonaut and octopus,
or ten, as in sepia and the calamaries, the Nautilus has about ninety
projecting in every direction from around the mouth. They are short,
round, and tapering, of about the length and thickness of the fingers of
a child. Some of them are retractile into sheaths, and they are attached
to fleshy processes (which might represent the child's hand), overlying
each other, and covering the mouth on each side. They have none of the
suckers with which the arms and tentacles of all the other cuttles are
furnished, but their annulose structure, like the rings of an
earthworm's body, gives them some little prehensile power. None of these
numerous finger-like segments of the foot are flattened out like the
broad membranous expansions of the argonaut, and, in fact, the Nautilus
is without any members which can possibly be regarded as sails to hoist,
or as oars with which to row. It has a strong beak, like the rest of the
cuttles; but it has no ink-sac, for its shell is strong enough to afford
it the protection which its two-gilled relatives have to seek in
concealment.

The Pearly Nautilus usually creeps, like a snail, along the bed of the
sea. It lives at the bottom, and feeds at the bottom, principally on
crabs; and, as Dr. S. P. Woodward says, in his 'Manual of the Mollusca,'
"perhaps often lies in wait for them, like some gigantic sea-anemone,
with outspread tentacles." The shape of its shell is not well adapted
for swimming, but it can ascend to the surface, if it so please, in the
same manner as can all the cuttles--namely, by the outflow of water from
its locomotor tube. The statement that it visits the surface of the sea
of its own accord is at present, however, unconfirmed by observation.

But, if the Pearly Nautilus is the inferior and poor relation of the
argonaut, it lives in a handsome house, and comes of an ancient lineage.
The Ammonites, whose beautiful whorled and chambered shells, and the
casts of them, are so abundant in every stratum, especially in the lias,
the chalk, and the oolite, had four gills also. These Ammonites and the
Nautili were amongst the earliest occupants of the ancient deep; and,
with the Hamites, Turrilites, and others, lived upon our earth during a
great portion of the incalculable period which has elapsed since it
became fitted for animal existence, and in their time witnessed the rise
and fall of many an animal dynasty. But they are gone now; and only the
fossil relics of more than two thousand species (of which 188 were
Nautili) remain to tell how important a race they were amongst the
inhabitants of the old world seas. They and their congeners of the
chambered shells, however, left one representative which has lived on
through all the changes that have taken place on the surface of this
globe since they became extinct--namely, _Nautilus pompilius_, the
Nautilus of the pearly shell--the last of the Tetrabranchs.

I need offer no apology for endeavouring to explain the difference
between the Nautilus of the chambered shell and the argonaut with the
membranous arms which it was supposed to use as sails, when Webster, in
his great standard dictionary, describes the one and figures the other
as one and the same animal; and when a writer of the celebrity of Dr.
Oliver Wendell Holmes also blends the two in the following poem,
containing a sentiment as exquisite as its science is erroneous. I hope
the latter distinguished and accomplished author, whose delightful
writings I enjoy and highly appreciate, will pardon my criticism. I
admit that the beauty of the thought might well atone for its
inaccuracy, (of which the author is conscious,) were it not that the
latter is made so attractive that truth appears harsh in disturbing it.

        "THE CHAMBERED NAUTILUS."

    "This is the ship of pearl, which poets feign
                Sails the unshadowed main,
                The venturous bark that flings
    On the sweet summer wind its purpled wings,
    In gulfs enchanted, where the siren sings,
                And coral reefs lie bare,
    Where the cold sea-maids rise to sun their streaming hair.

    Its webs of living gauze no more unfurl,
                Wrecked is the ship of pearl!
                And every chambered cell,
    Where its dim, dreaming life was wont to dwell,
    As the frail tenant shaped his growing shell,
                Before thee lies revealed,
    Its irised ceiling rent, its sunless crypt unsealed!

    Year after year beheld the silent toil
                That spread his lustrous coil;
                Still, as the spiral grew,
    He left the past year's dwelling for the new,
    Stole with soft step its shining archway through,
                Built up its idle door,
    Stretched in his last-found home, and knew the old no more.

    Thanks for the heavenly message brought by thee,
                Child of the wandering sea,
                Cast from her lap forlorn!
    From the dead lips a clearer note is born
    Than ever Triton blew from wreathèd horn!
                While on mine ear it rings,
    Through the deep caves of thought I hear a voice that sings:--

    'Build thee more stately mansions, O my soul,
                As the swift seasons roll!
                Leave thy low vaulted past;
    Let each new temple, nobler than the last,
    Shut thee from heaven with a dome more vast,
                Till thou at length art free,
    Leaving thine outgrown shell by life's unresting sea.'"

BARNACLE GEESE--GOOSE BARNACLES.

The belief that some wild geese, instead of being hatched from eggs,
like other birds, grew on trees and rotten wood has never been surpassed
as a specimen of ignorant credulity and persistent error.

There are two principal versions of this absurd notion. One is that
certain trees, resembling willows, and growing always close to the sea,
produced at the ends of their branches fruit in form like apples, and
each containing the embryo of a goose, which, when the fruit was ripe,
fell into the water and flew away. The other is that the geese were bred
from a fungus growing on rotten timber floating at sea, and were first
developed in the form of worms in the substance of the wood.

When and whence this improbable theory had its origin is uncertain.
Aristotle does not mention it, and consequently Pliny and Ælian were
deprived of the pleasure they would have felt in handing down to
posterity, without investigation or correction, a statement so
surprising. It is, comparatively, a modern myth; although we find that
it was firmly established in the middle of the twelfth century, for
Gerald de Barri, known in literature as Giraldus Cambrensis, mentions it
in his 'Topographia Hiberniæ,' published in 1187. Giraldus, who was
Archdeacon of Brecknock in the reign of Henry II., and tried hard, more
than once, for the bishopric of St. David's, the functions of which he
had temporarily administered without obtaining the title, was a vigorous
and zealous reformer of Church abuses. Amongst the laxities of
discipline against which he found it necessary to protest was the custom
then prevailing of eating these Barnacle geese during Lent, under the
plea that their flesh was not that of birds, but of fishes. He writes:--

     "There are here many birds which are called Bernacæ, which nature
     produces in a manner contrary to nature, and very wonderful. They
     are like marsh-geese but smaller. They are produced from fir-timber
     tossed about at sea, and are at first like geese upon it.
     Afterwards they hang down by their beaks, as if from a sea-weed
     attached to the wood, and are enclosed in shells that they may grow
     the more freely. Having thus, in course of time, been clothed with
     a strong covering of feathers, they either fall into the water, or
     seek their liberty in the air by flight. The embryo geese derive
     their growth and nutriment from the moisture of the wood or of the
     sea, in a secret and most marvellous manner. I have seen with my
     own eyes more than a thousand minute bodies of these birds hanging
     from one piece of timber on the shore, enclosed in shells and
     already formed. Their eggs are not impregnated _in coitu_, like
     those of other birds, nor does the bird sit upon its eggs to hatch
     them, and in no corner of the world have they been known to build a
     nest. Hence the bishops and clergy in some parts of Ireland are in
     the habit of partaking of these birds on fast days, without
     scruple. But in doing so they are led into sin. For, if any one
     were to eat of the leg of our first parent, although he (Adam) was
     not born of flesh, that person could not be adjudged innocent of
     eating flesh."

This fable of the geese appears, however, to have been current at least
a hundred years before Giraldus wrote, for Professor Max Müller, who
treats of it in one of his "Lectures on the Science of Language,"
amongst many interesting references there given, quotes a Cardinal of
the eleventh century, Petrus Damianus, who clearly describes, that
version of it which represents the birds as bursting, when fully
fledged, from fruit resembling apples.

It is a curious fact that these Barnacle geese have troubled the
priesthood of more than one creed as to the instructions they should
give to the laity concerning the use of them as food. The Jews--all
those, at least, who maintain a strict observance of the Hebrew Law--eat
no meat but that of animals which have been slaughtered in a certain
prescribed manner; and a doubt arose amongst them at the period we refer
to, whether these geese should be killed as flesh or as fish. Professor
Max Müller cites Mordechai,[82] as asking whether these birds are
fruits, fish, or flesh; that is, whether they must be killed in the
Jewish way, as if they were flesh. Mordechai describes them as birds
which grow on trees, and says, "the Rabbi Jehuda, of Worms (who died
1216) used to say that he had heard from his father, Rabbi Samuel, of
Speyer (about 1150), that Rabbi Jacob Tham, of Ramerü (who died 1171),
the grandson of the great Rabbi Rashi (about 1140), had decided that
they must be killed as flesh."

  [82] Riva, 1559, leaf 142.

Pope Innocent III. took the same view; for at the Lateran Council, in
1215, he prohibited the eating of Barnacle geese during Lent. In 1277,
Rabbi Izaak, of Corbeil, determined to be on the safe side, forbade
altogether the eating of these birds by the Jews, "because they were
neither flesh nor fish."

Michael Bernhard Valentine,[83] quoting Wormius, says that this
question caused much perplexity and disputation amongst the doctors of
the Sorbonne; but that they passed an ordinance that these geese should
be classed as fishes, and not as birds; and he adds, that in consequence
of this decision large numbers of these birds were annually sent to
Paris from England and Scotland, for consumption in Lent. Sir Robert
Sibbald[84] refers to this, and says that Normandy was the locality from
which the French capital was reported to be principally supplied; but
that in fact the greater number of these geese came from Holland. The
date of this edict is not given.

  [83] 'Historia Simplicium,' lib. iii. p. 327.

  [84] Prodrom. Hist. Nat. Scot. parts 2, lib. iii. p. 21, 1684.

Professor Max Müller says that in Brittany, Barnacle geese are still
allowed to be eaten on Fridays, and that the Roman Catholic Bishop of
Ferns may give permission to people out of his diocese to eat these
birds at his table.

In Bombay, also, where fish is prohibited as food to some classes of the
population, the priests call this goose a "sea-vegetable," under which
name it is allowed to be eaten.

Various localities were mentioned as the breeding-places of these
arboreal geese. Gervasius of Tilbury,[85] writing about 1211, describes
the process of their generation in full detail, and says that great
numbers of them grew in his time upon the young willow trees which
abounded in the neighbourhood of the Abbey of Faversham, in the county
of Kent, and within the Archiepiscopate of Canterbury. The bird was
there commonly called the _Barneta_.

  [85] Otia Imperialia, iii. 123.

Hector Boethius, or Boece, the old Scottish historian, combats this
version of the story. His work, written in Latin, in 1527, was
translated into quaint Scottish in 1540, by John Bellenden, Archdeacon
of Murray. In his fourteenth chapter, "Of the nature of claik geis, and
of the syndry maner of thair procreatioun, and of the ile of Thule," he
says:--

     "Restis now to speik of the geis generit of the see namit clakis.
     Sum men belevis that thir clakis growis on treis be the nebbis. Bot
     thair opinioun is vane. And becaus the nature and procreatioun of
     thir clakis is strange we have maid na lytyll laubore and deligence
     to serche ye treuth and verite yairof, we have salit throw ye seis
     quhare thir clakis ar bred, and I fynd be gret experience, that the
     nature of the seis is mair relevant caus of thir procreatioun than
     ony uther thyng."

From the circumstances attending the finding of "ane gret tree that was
brocht be alluvion and flux of the see to land, in secht of money pepyll
besyde the castell of Petslego, in the yeir of God ane thousand iiii.
hundred lxxxx, and of a see tangle hyngand full of mussill schellis,"
brought to him by "Maister Alexander Galloway, person of Kynkell," who
knowing him to be "richt desirus of sic uncouth thingis came haistely
with the said tangle," he arrives at the conclusion, by a process of
reasoning highly satisfactory and convincing to himself, that,

     "Be thir and mony othir resorcis and examplis we can not beleif
     that thir clakis ar producit be ony nature of treis or rutis
     thairof, but allanerly be the nature of the Oceane see, quhilk is
     the caus and production of mony wonderful thingis. And becaus the
     rude and ignorant pepyl saw oftymes the fruitis that fel of the
     treis (quhilkis stude neir the see) convertit within schort tyme in
     geis, thai belevit that thir geis grew apon the treis hingand be
     thair nebbis sic lik as appillis and uthir frutis hingis be thair
     stalkis, bot thair opinioun is nocht to be sustenit. For als sone
     as thir appillis or frutis fallis of the tre in the see flude thay
     grow first wormeetin. And be schort process of tyme are alterat in
     geis."

In describing the bird thus produced, Boethius declares that the male
has a sharp, pointed beak, like the gallinaceous birds, but that in the
female the beak is obtuse as in other geese and ducks.

According to other authors, this wonderful production of birds from
living or dead timber was not confined to England and Scotland.
Vincentius Bellovacensis[86] (1190-1264) in his 'Speculum Naturæ,' xvii.
40, states that it took place in Germany, and Jacob de Vitriaco (who
died 1244) mentions its occurrence in certain parts of Flanders.

  [86] For this quotation and the following one I am indebted to
  Professor Max Müller's Lecture before referred to.

Jonas Ramus gives a somewhat different version of the process as it
occurs in Norway. He writes:[87] "It is said that a particular sort of
geese is found in Nordland, which leave their seed on old trees, and
stumps and blocks lying in the sea; and that from that seed there grows
a shell fast to the trees, from which shell, as from an egg, by the heat
of the sun, young geese are hatched, and afterwards grow up; which gave
rise to the fable that geese grow upon trees."

  [87] 'Chorographical Description of Norway,' p. 244.

But, strange to say, if any painstaking enquirer, wishing to investigate
the matter for himself, went to a locality where it was said the
phenomenon regularly occurred, he was sure to find that he had
literally, "started on a wild-goose chase," and had come to the wrong
place. This was the experience of Æneas Sylvius Piccolomini, afterwards
Pope Pius II., who complained that miracles will always flee farther and
farther away; for when he was on a visit (about 1430) to King James I.,
of Scotland,[88] and enquired after the tree which he most eagerly
desired to see, he was told that it grew much farther north, in the
Orkney Islands.

  [88] Æneas Sylvius gives us information concerning the personal
  appearance of his royal host, whom he describes as, "_hominem
  quadratum et multa pinguedine gravem_,"--literally, "a square-built
  man, heavy with much fat."

Notwithstanding the suspicious fact that the prodigy receded like Will
o' the Wisp, whenever it was persistently followed up, Sebastian
Munster, who relates[89] the foregoing anecdote of Æneas Sylvius,
appears to have entertained no doubt of the truth of the report, for he
writes:--

  [89] 'Cosmographia Universalis,' p. 49, 1572.

[Illustration: FIG. 34.--THE GOOSE TREE. _Copied from Gerard's
'Herball,' 1st edition._[90]]

  [90] The original of this picture is a small wood-cut in Matthias
  de Lobel's 'Stirpium Historia,' published in 1870. The birds within
  the shells were added by Gerard. Aldrovandus, in copying it, gave
  leaves to the tree, as shown on page 110.

     "In Scotland there are trees which produce fruit, conglomerated of
     their leaves; and this fruit, when in due time it falls into the
     water beneath it, is endowed with new life, and is converted into a
     living bird, which they call the 'tree-goose.' This tree grows in
     the Island of Pomonia, which is not far from Scotland, towards the
     north. Several old cosmographers, especially Saxo Grammaticus,
     mention the tree, and it must not be regarded as fictitious, as
     some new writers suppose."

Julius Cæsar Scaliger[91] (1540) gives another reading of the legend, in
which it is asserted that the leaves which fall from the tree into the
water are converted into fishes, and those which fall upon the land
become birds.

  [91] Exercit. 59, sect. 2.

Thus this extraordinary belief held sway, and remained strong and
invincible, although from time to time some man of sense and independent
thought attempted to turn the tide of popular error. Albertus Magnus
(who died 1280) showed its absurdity, and declared that he had seen the
bird referred to lay its eggs and hatch them in the ordinary way. Roger
Bacon (who died in 1294) also contradicted it, and Belon, in 1551,
treated it with ridicule and contempt. Olaus Wormius[92] seems to have
believed in it, though he wrote cautiously about it. Olaus Magnus (1553)
mentions it, and apparently accepts it as a fact, occurring in the
Orkneys, on the authority of "a Scotch historian who diligently sets
down the secrets of things," and then dismisses it in three lines.

  [92] 'Museum,' p. 257.

Passing over many other writers on the subject, we come to the time of
the reign of Queen Elizabeth, when (in 1597) "John Gerarde, Master in
Chirurgerie, London," published his "Herball, or Generall Historie of
Plants gathered by him," and in the last chapter thereof solemnly
declared, that he had actually witnessed the transformation of "certaine
shell fish" into Barnacle Geese, as follows.

     _Of the Goose tree, Barnacle tree, or the tree bearing Geese._

     _Britanicæ Conchæ anatiferæ._

     THE BREED OF BARNACLES.

     ¶ _The Description._

     Hauing trauelled from the Grasses growing in the bottome of the
     fenny waters, the Woods, and mountaines, euen vnto Libanus itselfe;
     and also the sea, and bowels of the same, wee are arriued at the
     end of our History; thinking it not impertinent to the conclusion
     of the same, to end with one of the maruels of this land (we may
     say of the World). The history whereof to set forth according to
     the worthinesse and raritie thereof, would not only require a large
     and peculiar volume, but also a deeper search into the bowels of
     Nature, then my intended purpose will suffer me to wade into, my
     sufficiencie also considered; leauing the History thereof rough
     hewen, vnto some excellent man, learned in the secrets of nature,
     to be both fined and refined; in the meane space take it as it
     falleth out, the naked and bare truth, though vnpolished. There are
     found in the North parts of Scotland and the Islands adjacent,
     called Orchades, certaine trees whereon do grow certaine shells of
     a white colour tending to russet, wherein are contained little
     liuing creatures: which shells in time of maturity doe open, and
     out of them grow those little liuing things, which falling into the
     water do become fowles, which we call Barnacles; in the North of
     England, brant Geese; and in Lancashire, tree Geese: but the other
     that do fall vpon the land perish and come to nothing. Thus much by
     the writings of others, and also from the mouthes of people of
     those parts, which may very well accord with truth.

     But what our eies haue seene, and hands haue touched we shall
     declare. There is a small Island in Lancashire, called the Pile of
     Foulders, wherein are found the broken pieces of old and bruised
     ships some whereof haue beene cast thither by shipwracke, and also
     the trunks and bodies with the branches of old and rotten trees,
     cast vp there likewise; whereon is found a certaine spume or froth
     that in time breedeth vnto certaine shells, in shape like those of
     the Muskle, but sharper pointed, and of a whitish colour; wherein
     is contained a thing in forme like a lace of silke finely wouen as
     it were together, of a whitish colour, one end whereof is fastened
     vnto the inside of the shell, euen as the fish of Oisters and
     Muskles are: the other end is made fast vnto the belly of a rude
     masse or lumpe, which in time commeth to the shape and forme of a
     Bird: when it is perfectly formed the shell gapeth open, and the
     first thing that appeareth is the foresaid lace or string; next
     come the legs of the bird hanging out, and as it groweth greater it
     openeth the shell by degrees, til at length it is all come forth,
     and hangeth onely by the bill: in short space after it commeth to
     full maturitie, and falleth into the sea, where it gathereth
     feathers, and groweth to a fowle bigger than a Mallard, and lesser
     than a Goose, hauing blacke legs and bill or beake, and feathers
     blacke and white, spotted in such manner as is our Magpie, called
     in some places a Pie-Annet, which the people of Lancashire call by
     no other name than a tree Goose: which place aforesaid, and all
     those parts adjoyning do so much abound therewith, that one of the
     best is bought for three pence. For the truth hereof, if any doubt,
     may it please them to repaire vnto me, and I shall satisfie them by
     the testimonie of good witnesses.

     Moreover, it should seeme that there is another sort hereof; the
     History of which is true, and of mine owne knowledge; for
     trauelling vpon the shore of our English coast betweene Douer and
     Rumney, I found the trunke of an old rotten tree, which (with some
     helpe that I procured by Fishermen's wiues that were there
     attending their husbands' returne from the sea) we drew out of the
     water vpon dry land; vpon this rotten tree I found growing many
     thousands of long crimson bladders, in shape like vnto puddings
     newly filled, before they be sodden, which were very cleere and
     shining; at the nether end whereof did grow a shell fish, fashioned
     somewhat like a small Muskle, but much whiter, resembling a shell
     fish that groweth vpon the rockes about Garnsey and Garsey, called
     a Lympit: many of these shells I brought with me to London, which
     after I had opened I found in them liuing things without forme or
     shape; in others which were neerer come to ripenesse I found liuing
     things that were very naked, in shape like a Bird: in others, the
     Birds couered with soft downe, the shell halfe open, and the Bird
     ready to fall out, which no doubt were the Fowles called Barnacles.
     I dare not absolutely auouch euery circumstance of the first part
     of this history, concerning the tree that beareth those buds
     aforesaid, but will leaue it to a further consideration; howbeit,
     that which I haue seene with mine eies, and handled with mine
     hands, I dare confidently auouch, and boldly put downe for verity.
     Now if any will object that this tree which I saw might be one of
     those before mentioned, which either by the waues of the sea or
     some violent wind had beene ouerturned as many other trees are; or
     that any trees falling into those seas about the Orchades, will of
     themselves bear the like Fowles, by reason of those seas and
     waters, these being so probable conjectures, and likely to be true,
     I may not without prejudice gainsay, or endeauour to confute.

     ¶ _The Place._

     The bordes and rotten plankes whereon are found these shels
     breeding the Barnakle, are taken vp in a small Island adioyning to
     Lancashire, halfe a mile from the main land, called the Pile of
     Foulders.

     ¶ _The Time._

     They spawn as it were in March and Aprill; the Geese are formed in
     May and June, and come to fulnesse of feathers in the moneth after.

     And thus hauing through God's assistance discoursed somewhat at
     large of Grasses, Herbes, Shrubs, Trees, and Mosses, and certaine
     Excrescenses of the Earth, with other things moe, incident to the
     historie thereof, we conclude and end our present Volume, with this
     wonder of England. For the which God's name be euer honored and
     praised.

Gerard was probably a good botanist and herbalist; but Thomas Johnson,
the editor of a subsequent issue of his book, tells us that

     "He, out of a propense good will to the publique advancement of
     this knowledge, endeavoured to performe therein more than he could
     well accomplish, which was partly through want of sufficient
     learning; but," he adds, "let none blame him for these defects,
     seeing he was neither wanting in pains nor good will to performe
     what hee intended: and there are none so simple but know that
     heavie burthens are with most paines vndergone by the weakest men;
     and although there are many faults in the worke, yet iudge well of
     the Author; for, as a late writer well saith:--'To err and to be
     deceived is human, and he must seek solitude who wishes to live
     only with the perfect.'"

It is difficult to comply with the request to think well of one who,
writing as an authority, deliberately promulgated, with an affectation
of piety, that which he must have known to be untrue, and who was,
moreover, a shameless plagiarist; for Gerard's ponderous book is little
more than a translation of Dodonæus, whole chapters having been taken
verbatim from that comparatively unread author without acknowledgment.

After this series of erroneous observations, self-delusion, and
ignorant credulity, it is refreshing to turn to the pages of the two
little thick quarto volumes of Gaspar Schott.[93] This learned Jesuit
made himself acquainted with everything that had been written on the
subject, and besides the authors I have referred to, quotes and compares
the statements of Majolus, Abrahamus Ortelius, Hieronymus Cardanus,
Eusebius, Nierembergius, Deusingius, Odoricus, Gerhardus de Vera,
Ferdinand of Cordova, and many others. He then gives, firmly and
clearly, his own opinion that the assertion that birds in Britain spring
from the fruit or leaves of trees, or from wood, or from fungus, or from
shells, is without foundation, and that neither reason, experience, nor
authority tend to confirm it. He concedes that worms may be bred in
rotting timber, and even that they may be of a kind that fly away on
arriving at maturity (referring probably to caterpillars being developed
into moths), but that birds should be thus generated, he says, is simply
the repetition of a vulgar error, for not one of the authors whom he has
examined has seen what they all affirm; nor are they able to bring
forward a single eye-witness of it. He asks how it can be possible that
animals so large and so highly-organised as these birds can grow from
puny animalcules generated in putrid wood. He further declares that
these British geese are hatched from eggs like other geese, which he
considers proved by the testimony of Albertus Magnus, Gerhardus de Vera,
and of Dutch seamen, who, in 1569, gave their written declaration that
they had personally seen these birds sitting on their eggs, and hatching
them, on the coasts of Nova Zembla.

  [93] 'Physica Curiosa, sive Mirabilia Naturæ et Artis,' 1662, lib.
  ix. cap. xxii. p. 960.

[Illustration: FIG. 35.--THE BARNACLE GOOSE TREE. _After Aldrovandus._]

In marked and disgraceful contrast with this careful and philosophical
investigation and its author's just deductions from it, is 'A Relation
concerning Barnacles by Sir Robert Moray, lately one of His Majesty's
Council for the Kingdom of Scotland,' read before the Royal Society, and
published in the 'Philosophical Transactions,' No. 137, January and
February, 1677-8.

[Illustration: FIG. 36.--DEVELOPMENT OF BARNACLES INTO GEESE. _After
Aldrovandus._]

Describing "a cut of a large Firr-tree of about two and a half feet
diameter, and nine or ten feet long," which he saw on the shore in the
Western Islands of Scotland, and which had become so dry that many of
the Barnacle shells with which it had been covered had been rubbed off,
he says:--

     "Only on the parts that lay next the ground there still hung
     multitudes of little Shells, having within them little Birds,
     perfectly shap'd, supposed to be Barnacles. The Shells hung very
     thick and close one by another, and were of different sizes. Of the
     colour and consistence of Muscle-Shells, and the sides and joynts
     of them joyned with such a kind of film as Muscle-Shells are, which
     serves them for a Hing to move upon, when they open and shut....
     The Shells hang at the Tree by a Neck longer than the Shell, of a
     kind of Filmy substance, round, and hollow, and creased, not unlike
     the Wind-pipe of a chicken, spreading out broadest where it is
     fastened to the Tree, from which it seems to draw and convey the
     matter which serves for the growth and vegetation of the Shell and
     the little Bird within it. This Bird in every Shell that I opened,
     as well the least as the biggest, I found so curiously and
     compleatly formed, that there appeared nothing wanting as to
     internal parts, for making up a perfect Seafowl: every little part
     appearing so distinctly that the whole looked like a large Bird
     seen through a concave or diminishing glass, colour and feature
     being everywhere so clear and neat. The little Bill, like that of a
     Goose; the eyes marked; the Head, Neck, Breast, Wings, Tail, and
     Feet formed, the Feathers everywhere perfectly shap'd, and blackish
     coloured; and the Feet like those of other Water-fowl, to my best
     remembrance. All being dead and dry, I did not look after the
     internal parts of them. Nor did I ever see any of the little Birds
     alive, nor met with anybody that did. Only some credible persons
     have assured me they have seen some as big as their fist."

It seems almost incredible that little more than two hundred years ago
this twaddle should not only have been laid before the highest
representatives of science in the land, but that it should have been
printed in their "Transactions" for the further delusion of posterity.

Ray, in his edition of Willughby's Ornithology, published in the same
year as the above, contradicted the fallacy as strongly as Gaspar
Schott; and (except that he incidentally admits the possibility of
spontaneous generation in some of the lower animals, as insects and
frogs) in language so similar that I think he must have had Schott's
work before him when he wrote.

Aldrovandus[94] tells us that an Irish priest, named Octavianus, assured
him with an oath on the Gospels that he had seen and handled the geese
in their embryo condition; and he adds that he "would rather err with
the majority than seem to pass censure on so many eminent writers who
have believed the story."

  [94] 'Ornithologia,' lib. xix. p. 173, ed. 1603.

In 1629 Count Maier (Michaelus Meyerus--these old authors when writing
in Latin, latinized their names also) published a monograph 'On the
Tree-bird'[95] in which he explains the process of its birth, and states
that he opened a hundred of the goose-bearing shells and found the
rudiments of the bird fully formed.

    So slow Bootes underneath him sees,
    In th' icy isles, those goslings hatched on trees,
    Whose fruitful leaves, falling into the water,
    Are turned, they say, to living fowls soon after;
    So rotten sides of broken ships do change,
    To barnacles, O, transformation strange!
    'Twas first a green tree; then a gallant hull;
    Lately a mushroom; then a flying gull.[96]

  [95] 'De Volucri Arborea,' 1629.

  [96] Du Bartas' "Divine Week" p. 228. Joshua Sylvester's
  translation.

Now, let us turn from fiction to facts.

[Illustration: FIG 37.--SECTION OF A SESSILE BARNACLE. _Balanus
tintinnabulum._]

Almost every one is acquainted with at least one kind of the Barnacle
shells which were supposed to enclose the embryo of a goose, namely the
small white conical hillocks which are found, in tens of thousands,
adhering to stones, rocks, and old timber such as the piles of piers,
and may be seen affixed to the shells of oysters and mussels in any
fishmonger's shop. The little animals which secrete and inhabit these
shells belong to a sub-class and order of the Crustacea, called the
_Cirrhopoda_, because their feet (_poda_), which in the crab and lobster
terminate in claws, are modified into tufts of curled hairs (_cirri_),
or feathers. When the animal is alive and active under water, a crater
may be seen to open on the summit of the little shelly mountain, and, as
if from the mouth of a miniature volcano, there issue from this
aperture, from between two inner shells, the _cirri_ in the form of a
feathery hand, which clutches at the water within its reach, and is then
quickly retracted within the shell. During this movement the
hair-fringed fingers have filtered from the water and conveyed towards
the mouth within the shell, for their owner's nutriment, some minute
solid particles or animalcules, and this action of the casting-net
alternately shot forth and retracted continues for hours incessantly, as
the water flows over its resting-place. The animal can live for a long
time out of water, and in some situations thus passes half its life.
Under such circumstances, the shells, containing a reserve of moisture,
remain firmly closed until the return of the tide brings a fresh supply
of water and food. These are the "acorn-barnacles," the _balani_,
commonly known in some localities as "chitters."

Barnacles of another kind are those furnished with a long stem, or
peduncle, which Sir Robert Moray described as "round, hollow, and
creased, and not unlike the wind-pipe of a chicken." The stem has, in
fact, the ringed formation of the annelids, or worms. The shelly valves
are thin, flat, and in shape somewhat like a mitre. They are composed of
five pieces, two on each side, and one, a kind of rounded keel along the
back of the valves, by which these are united. The shells are delicately
tinted with lavender or pale blue varied with white, and the edges are
frequently of a bright chrome yellow or orange colour.

It is not an uncommon occurrence for a large plank entirely covered with
these "necked barnacles" to be found floating at sea and brought ashore
for exhibition at some watering-place; and I have more than once sent
portions of such planks to the Aquaria at Brighton, and the Crystal
Palace.

[Illustration: FIG. 38.--PEDUNCULATED BARNACLES. (_Lepas anatifera._)]

It is most interesting to watch a dense mass of living cirripedes so
closely packed together that not a speck of the surface of the wood is
left uncovered by them; their fleshy stalks overhanging each other, and
often attached in clusters to those of some larger individuals; their
plumose casting-nets ever gathering in the food that comes within their
reach, and carrying towards the mouth any solid particles suitable for
their sustenance. How much of insoluble matter barnacles will eliminate
from the water is shown by the rapidity with which they will render
turbid sea water clear and transparent. The most common species of these
"necked barnacles" bears the name of "_Lepas anatifera_," "the
duck-bearing _Lepas_." It was so entitled by Linnæus, in recognition of
its having been connected with the fable, which, of course, met with no
credit from him.

Fig. 39 represents the figure-head of a ship, partly covered with
barnacles, which was picked up about thirty miles off Lowestoft on the
22nd of October, 1857. It was described in the _Illustrated London
News_, and the proprietors of that paper have kindly given me a copy of
the block from which its portrait was printed.

[Illustration: FIG. 39.--A SHIP'S FIGURE-HEAD WITH BARNACLES ATTACHED TO
IT.]

Others of the barnacles affix themselves to the bottoms of ships, or
parasitically upon whales and sharks, and those of the latter kind often
burrow deeply into the skin of their host. Fig. 40 is a portrait of a
_Coronula diadema_ taken from the nose of a whale stranded at
Kintradwell, in the north of Scotland, in 1866, and sent to the late Mr.
Frank Buckland. Growing on this _Coronula_ are three of the curious
eared barnacles, _Conchoderma aurita_; the _Lepas aurita_ of Linnæus.
The species of the whale from which these Barnacles were taken was not
mentioned, but it was probably the "hunch-backed" whale, _Megaptera
longimana_, which is generally infested with this _Coronula_. This very
illustrative specimen was, and I hope still is, in Mr. Buckland's Museum
at South Kensington. It was described by him in _Land and Water_, of May
19th, 1866, and I am indebted to the proprietors of that paper for the
accompanying portrait of it.

[Illustration: FIG. 40.--WHALE BARNACLE (_Coronula diadema_), WITH THREE
_Conchoderma aurita_ ATTACHED TO IT.]

[Illustration: FIG. 41.--A YOUNG BARNACLE. (_Larva of Chthamalus
stellatus._)]

The young Barnacle when just extruded from the shell of its parent is a
very different being from that which it will be in its mature condition.
It begins its life in a form exactly like that of an entomostracous
crustacean, and, like a Cyclops, has one large eye in the middle of its
forehead. In this state it swims freely, and with great activity. It
undergoes three moults, each time altering its figure, until at the
third exuviation it has become enclosed in a bivalve shell, and has
acquired a second eye. It is now ready to attach itself to its
abiding-place; so, selecting its future residence, it presses itself
against the wood, or whatever the substance may be, pours out from its
two antennæ a glutinous cement, which hardens in water, and thus fastens
itself by the front of its head, is henceforth a fixture for life, and
assumes the adult form in which most persons know it best.[97]

  [97] If any of my readers wish to observe the development of young
  barnacles they may easily do so. The method I have generally
  adopted has been as follows: Procure a shallow glass or earthenware
  milk-pan that will hold at least a gallon. Fill this to within an
  inch of the top with sea-water, and place it in any shaded part of
  a room--not in front of a window. Put in the pan six or eight
  pebbles or clean shells of equal height, say 1½ or 2 inches, and
  on them lay a clean sheet of glass, which, by resting on the
  pebbles, is brought to within about 2½ inches of the surface of
  the water. Select some limpets or mussels having acorn-barnacles on
  them; carefully cut out the limpet or mussel, and clean nicely the
  interior of the shell; then place a dozen or more of these shells
  on the sheet of glass, and the barnacles upon them will be within
  convenient reach of any observation with a magnifying glass. If
  this be done in the month of March, the experimenter will not have
  to wait long before he sees young _Balani_ ejected from the summits
  of some of the shells. Up to the moment of their birth each of them
  is enclosed in a little cocoon or case, in shape like a
  canary-seed, and most of them are tossed into the world whilst
  still enclosed in this. In a few seconds this casing is ruptured
  longitudinally, apparently by the struggles of its inmate, which
  escapes at one end, like a butterfly emerging from its chrysalis,
  and swims freely to the surface of the water, leaving the split
  cocoon or case at the bottom of the pan. Some few of the young
  barnacles seem to be freed from the cocoon before, or at the moment
  of, extrusion. From three to a dozen or more of these escape with
  each protrusion of the cirri of the parent, and as the parturient
  barnacle will put forth its feathery casting net at least twenty
  times in a minute for an hour or more, it follows that as many as
  ten thousand young ones may be produced in an hour. These, as they
  are cast forth at each pulsation of the parent's cirri, fall upon
  the clean sheet of glass, and may be taken up in a pipette, and
  placed under a microscope, or removed to a smaller vessel of
  sea-water, for minute and separate investigation. It seems strange
  that animals which, like the oyster and the barnacles, are
  condemned in their mature condition to lead so sedentary a life,
  should in the earlier stages of their existence swim freely and
  merrily through the water--young fellows seeking a home, and when
  they have found it, although their connubial life must be a very
  tame one, settling down, and not caring to rove about any more for
  the remainder of their days. These young _Balani_ dart about like
  so many water-fleas, and yet, after a few days of freedom, they
  become fixed and immovable, the inhabitants of the pyramidal shells
  which grow in such abundance on other shells, stones, and old wood.

It is unnecessary for me to describe more minutely the anatomy of the
Cirripedes; I have said enough to show the nature of the plumose
appurtenances which, hanging from the dead shells, were supposed to be
the feathers of a little bird within; but it is difficult to understand
how any one could have seen in the natural occupant of the shell, "the
little bill, like that of a goose, the eyes, head, neck, breast, wings,
tail, and feet, like those of other water-fowl," so precisely and
categorically detailed by Sir Robert Moray. As Pontoppidan, who
denounced the whole story, as being "without the least foundation," very
truly says, "One must take the force of imagination to help to make it
look so!"

As to the origin of the myth, I venture to differ entirely from
philologists who attribute it to "language," and "a similarity of
names," for, although, as Professor Max Müller observes in one of his
lectures, "words without definite meanings are at the bottom of nearly
all our philosophical and religious controversies," it certainly is not
applicable in this instance. Every quotation here given shows that the
mistake arose from the supposed resemblance of the plumes of the
cirrhopod, and the feathers of a bird, and the fallacious deductions
derived therefrom. The statements of Maier (p. 112), Gerard (p. 106),
Sir Robert Moray (p. 110), &c., prove that this fanciful misconception
sprang from erroneous observation. The love of the marvellous inherent
in mankind, and especially prevalent in times of ignorance and
superstition, favoured its reception and adoption, and I believe that it
would have been as widely circulated, and have met with equal credence,
if the names of the cirripede and of the goose that was supposed to be
its offspring had been far more dissimilar than, at first, they really
were.

Setting aside several ingenious and far-fetched derivations that have
been proposed, I think we may safely regard the word "barnacle," as
applied to the cirrhopod, as a corruption of _pernacula_, the diminutive
of _perna_, a bivalve mollusk, so-called from the similarity in shape of
its shell to that of a ham--_pernacula_ being changed to _bernacula_. In
some old Glossaries _perna_ is actually spelt _berna_.

To arrive at the origin of the word "barnacle," or "bernicle," as
applied to the goose, we must understand that this bird, _Anser
leucopsis_, was formerly called the "brent," "brant," or "bran" goose,
and was supposed to be identical with the species, _Anser torquatus_,
which is now known by that name. The Scottish word for "goose" is
"clake," or "clakis,"[98] and I think that the suggestion made long ago
to Gesner[99] (1558), by his correspondent, Joannes Caius, is correct,
that the word "barnacle" comes from "branclakis," or "barnclake," "the
dark-coloured goose."

  [98] See the quotation from Hector Boethius, p. 101.

  [99] 'Historia Animalium,' lib. iii. p. 110.

Professor Max Müller is of the opinion that its Latin name may have been
derived from _Hibernicæ_, _Hiberniculæ_, _Berniculæ_, as it was against
the Irish bishops that Geraldus wrote, but I must say that this does not
commend itself to me; for the name _Bernicula_ was not used in the early
times to denote these birds. Giraldus himself described them as
_Bernacæ_, but they were variously known, also, as _Barliates_,
_Bernestas_, _Barnetas_, _Barbates_, etc.

I agree with Dr. John Hill,[100] that "the whole matter that gave
origin to the story is that the 'shell-fish' (cirripedes), supposed to
have this wonderful production usually adhere to old wood, and that they
have a kind of fibres hanging out of them, which, in some degree,
resemble feathers of some bird. From this slight origin arose the story
that they contained real birds: what grew on trees people soon asserted
to be the fruit of trees, and, from step to step, the story gained
credit with the hearers," till, at length, Gerard had the audacity to
say that he had witnessed the transformation.

  [100] 'History of Animals,' p. 422. 1752.

The Barnacle Goose is only a winter visitor of Great Britain. It breeds
in the far north, in Greenland, Iceland, Spitzbergen, and Nova Zembla,
and probably, also, along the shores of the White Sea. There are
generally some specimens of this prettily-marked goose in the gardens of
the Zoological Society in the Regent's Park, London; and they thrive
there, and become very tame. In the months of December and January these
geese may often be seen hanging for sale in poulterers' shops; and he
who has tasted one well cooked may be pardoned if the suspicion cross
his mind that the "monks of old," and "the bare-footed friars," as well
as the laity, may not have been unwilling to sustain the fiction in
order that they might conserve the privilege of having on their tables
during the long fast of Lent so agreeable and succulent a "vegetable" or
"fish" as a Barnacle Goose.

THE END.

LONDON: PRINTED BY WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, LIMITED,
STAMFORD STREET AND CHARING CROSS.

  Transcriber's note:

  _Underscores_ have been used to indicate _italic_ fonts.
  Inconsistent hyphenation has been left as written.
  Missing end quote marks have been inserted.
  The word irreconcileable has been left as written: "I
  need scarcely point out how utterly irreconcileable is the"
  The word gowden has been left as written: "Braiding her
  locks of gowden hair"
  The word fane has been left as written: "exactly resembled
  the tail of a fish, with a broad fane"
  The word engulphed has been left as written: "were all
  suddenly engulphed in the waves on the night of the battle"