A Year at the Shore

The genera Ascidia and Cynthia consist of isolated distinct individuals; the Clavelina and the Perophora exist in the form of groups, composed of distinct individuals associated by a common branching root-thread, whence they irregularly bud forth. There are, however, other genera, in which the compound life is more prominently manifest, the individual being recognisable only by carefully dissecting it out from the common mass. To this form belong many gelatinous masses which occur on our rocky coasts; one in particular,[154] conspicuous for its rich scarlet and orange colours, which forms irregular pear-shaped lumps, that hang from low-lying ledges, and that look not unlike strawberries. This is extremely abundant. More attractive still are the Botrylli,[155] which doubtless many persons have gazed on with admiration, wondering what they can be,—animal, vegetable, or what. They look as if small quantities of jelly had been spilt, sometimes on a stone, sometimes on the broad leaf of a tangle, sometimes on a shrubby sea-weed, entangling the twigs and leaves in the gelatinous mass. When we look closely at such an object, we see that it is studded with little starry systems of oblong specks, of some bright colour contrasting with the ground-tint;—perhaps the stars are bright orange on a warm brown, or pale straw-colour on a chocolate ground, or green on an iron-grey. The stars vary in outline, often being angular, often oval, or circular: they vary, too, in dimensions, and in number of the constituent specks; some may be a sixth of an inch in diameter, and contain a dozen or more; others may be less than half that size, and have no more than two or three; or even a single speck may be seen here and there, which has not yet begun to develop the starry form.

Each bright speck in these radiating star-like systems is an animal essentially of the Ascidian form, with the following peculiarities. All have budded from one primary individual, which was produced as a tiny tadpole, from an egg: the manner and direction in which the buds were put forth determining the starry arrangement. There is a common gelatinous envelope, in which the whole are imbedded, and which ever extends as the individuals and systems multiply, and which seems to have the power of developing isolated individuals which have not budded in the ordinary way, but which then produce others by budding, and so become the commencing points of other systems. In each individual the siphonal orifices are remote from each other, the receiving one being placed on the circumference of the ring or system, while the ejecting one is placed at the opposite end, opening, in common with the discharging siphons of all of that system, into a central main orifice, which rises out of the level with a circular rim, and forms the dark centre of the system.

In the open ocean there are forms of Tunicata which are not attached, but swim freely; and, what is surprising, even compound forms are thus found, progressing by a combined action. One of the most curious is the genus Pyrosoma, which consists of long-bodied Ascidians, so united in rings as to constitute a long, free cylindrical tube, closed at one end and open at the other. By the rhythmical contractions and dilatations of the multitude, this great cylinder slowly swims through the open sea. But the most interesting circumstance in its history is that it is intensely luminous, lighting up the midnight ocean with flashes of vivid light, or seen gliding through the dark water like glowing sticks of fire. So it is described by some voyagers, perhaps with a little exaggeration, for Mr. Bennett, to whom we are indebted for many valuable remarks on oceanic zoology, speaks in more subdued tones of it. His account of this and other pelagic phosphorescence is very interesting:—

“On the 8th of June,” he observes, “being then in lat. 30° S., and long. 27° 5′ W., having fine weather and a fresh south-easterly trade-wind, and the range of the thermometer being from 78° to 84°, late at night, the mate of the watch came and called me to witness a very unusual appearance in the water, which he, on first seeing it, considered to be breakers. On arriving upon deck, this was found to be a very broad and extensive sheet of phosphorescence, extending in a direction from east to west, as far as the eye could reach. The luminosity was confined to the range of animals in this shoal, for there was no similar light in any other direction. I immediately cast the towing-net over the stern of the ship, as we approached nearer the luminous streak, to ascertain the cause of this extraordinary and so limited phenomenon. The ship soon cleaved through the brilliant mass, from which, by the disturbance, strong flashes of light were emitted; and the shoal, judging from the time the vessel took in passing through the mass, may have been a mile in breadth. The passage of the vessel through them increased the light around to a far stronger degree, illuminating the ship. On taking in the towing-net, it was found half filled with Pyrosoma (Atlanticum?), which shone with a beautiful pale-greenish light; and there were also a few shell-fish in the net at the same time. After the mass had been passed through, the light was still seen astern, until it became invisible in the distance; and the whole of the ocean then became hidden in the darkness as before this took place. The scene was as novel as beautiful and interesting; more so from my having ascertained, by capturing luminous animals, the cause of the phenomenon.

“The second occasion of my meeting these creatures was not exactly similar to the preceding; but though also limited, was curious, as occurring in a high latitude, during the winter season. It was on the 19th of August, the weather dark and gloomy, with light breezes from north-north-east, in lat. 40° 30′ S., and long. 138° 3′ E., being then distant about 368 miles from King’s Island (at the western entrance of Bass’s Straits). It was about eight o’clock P.M. when the ship’s wake was perceived to be luminous; and scintillations of the same light were also abundant around. As this was unusual, and had not been seen before, and it occasionally, also, appeared in larger and smaller detached masses, giving out a high degree of brilliancy, to ascertain the cause, so unusual in high latitudes during the winter season, I threw the towing-net overboard, and in twenty minutes succeeded in capturing several Pyrosomata, giving out their usual pale-green light; and it was, no doubt, detached groups of these animals that were the occasion of the light in question. The beautiful light given out by these molluscous animals soon ceased to be seen emitted from every part of their bodies; but by moving them about it could be reproduced for some length of time after. As long as the luminosity of the ocean was visible (which continued most part of the night), a number of Pyrosoma Atlanticum, two species of Phyllosoma, an animal apparently allied to Leptocephalus, as well as several crustaceous animals (all of which I had before considered as intertropical species), were caught and preserved. At half-past ten P.M. the temperature of the atmosphere on deck was 52°, and that of the water 51½°. The luminosity of the water gradually decreased during the night, and towards morning was no longer seen, nor on any subsequent night.”[156]

Let us come back from the wide world of waters, with its nightly illuminations, and its other ten thousand marvels, to our own homely and quiet beach. A tribe of existences is awaiting our notice, which we have as yet neglected; which yet we cannot fail to observe whenever we peep beneath these boulders, and look at these rocky ledges, just left exposed by the lowest retiring tides. They are the Sponges; the most debateable forms of life, long denied a right to stand in the animal ranks at all, and even still admitted there doubtingly and grudgingly by some excellent naturalists. Yet such they certainly are, established beyond reasonable controversy as true and proper examples of animal life, and therefore having a rightful claim to be painted and described in this series of essays. However, as they are the lowest, so shall they be the last; for, with a few notes on some of our species, I shall dismiss my kind and courteous readers.

The inferior surface of this huge slab of limestone, supported at one end by a boulder, while the other end is imbedded in the mud or concealed by the smaller fragments that are thrown in confusion around, is densely studded with organisms. It is only at very low tides that this arch is exposed, though now we can creep in and work with no great discomfort, though with some defilement of our garments from the mud and slime. The absence of direct light is favourable to the growth of marine productions, and thus we have another congenial element in the obscurity. With some of the smaller sea-weeds, chiefly of the filamentous kinds, as Cladophora, Conferva, some of the minuter Callithamnia, etc., the majority of the forms that crowd and cover the rock so densely are animals: indeed there are large areas where the animate forms struggle so perseveringly for standing-room, that not a filament or frond of vegetation can be seen, and you could not thrust the point of a penknife down to the rock in any spot without wounding some or other of the incrusting creatures. Polyzoa are here, chiefly of the tufted species; Hydrozoa, too, hang down; Anemones, but not in abundance, may be seen; Saxicavæ push their crimson siphons through, here and there; Botrylli are spread in patches, and Amœrœcia are suspended like a plentiful crop of tempting strawberries; but Sponges constitute the staple of the crop; it is a veritable field of Sponge.

I have on other occasions described some of the more characteristic phenomena of this class of creatures;—the volcanic eruptions of the Crumb-of-bread Sponge, the hills and poles and webs of the Rosy Crumb, the protrusile bladders of the Sanguine, the starry spicula of the Flat-Sack.[157] These I shall assume as known, and shall confine myself to the enumeration and description of a few other species which are found congregated on this rocky roof.

One of the first to catch the eye, by its gorgeous colour, is a rather thin, soft, spreading patch, of the richest vermilion hue.[158] It is of close substance, the surface covered with shallow irregular sinuous channels and minute orifices. It rarely exceeds an inch in diameter, but throws out slender clinging processes to some length. The flesh is dense. Under the microscope it contains three-rayed spicula, which are for the most part somewhat blunt, but some are very sharp. After death it rapidly loses its brilliant hue, and dries of a dull oak-brown.

Another occurs in the form of low irregular spreading patches of a greyish black, very smooth and shiny, more plump than the former, and a little larger.[159] There are no visible orifices on the surface. The substance is yellowish grey, compact, with a distinct demarcation from the thin black tough skin. The spicula of the flesh have three rays in one plane, and one standing up from it; very stout, sharp-pointed, with a distinct canal running through the centre of each ray of the larger ones. There are a few rods abruptly hooked at the tip; a few very long, straight, and slender, with pin-like heads; and a few simple needles, long, slender, pointed at one or at both ends.

Some largish rounded masses occur, several inches in diameter, and rising to a thickness of three-fourths of an inch.[160] The surface is undulate, the summits slightly ridged, covered with shallow sinuous channels having sharp edges, not very confluent: large round mouth-orifices (oscula) generally mark the summits of the ridges. The colour of this fine species is a deep buff, and its appearance is much like that of our Turkey Sponge, with something of the same feel, but much firmer. The interior is full of channels. The spicula here are very varied and interesting, comprising some curious and unusual forms. Some, indeed, are simple needles, nearly straight, pointed at one end rather abruptly. The following are minute. There are a number of rings interrupted at one side, like the letter , some thicker and more elliptical, others slender and rounder, . A few take the form of the letter , but having one lobe much more developed than the other. Some of the form have both the extremities bifid, and the points widely diverging; and some of these have the back straight, instead of curved, and these with their bifid points, look, when viewed in front, like double anchors. All are, as usual, spun out of the most brilliant glass.

Then we have in some abundance a sort[161] with firm cartilaginous walls, about one-eighth of an inch thick, standing up to the height of three-fourths, with rounded summits, running in irregular sinuations and convolutions, not unlike the cartilage of the human ear, enclosing deep hollows. The colour is opaque white, tinged with red, probably from the red mud, which is prevalent here. When cut with a knife this sponge has a sharp, crisp, gritty feel, and when a little is crushed between glass plates we distinctly hear a creaking sound. These phenomena depend on the circumstance that it is almost wholly composed of great stout three-rayed spicula, solid throughout, together with a multitude of excessively slender needles, straight, long, pointed at one end; and many others as slender, but very short; no longer, indeed, than the thickness of one of the three-rayed.[162]

Equally numerous with these, and possessing a certain amount of resemblance to them, are some thick, compact, sack-shaped masses, with angular edges and blunt points: sometimes they are flattened and dilated, like a sack when empty; sometimes rounded, like a sack when full. In the former condition several perforations occur along the terminal ridge, in the latter there is generally but one. The colour is white, slightly tinted, just as in the preceding. It stands up boldly and stiffly (or rather hangs in the natural state) from its rather narrow base to the height of about two-thirds of an inch, and the flattened specimens are as wide as this. It is nearly made up of three-rayed spicula, some of large size, but more rather small. A transverse section shows no obvious arrangement, except that of the great central channel, into which the points of the spicula project; but a longitudinal section shows the spicula built up one on another in many courses, so nearly symmetrical that hexagonal canals are formed, whose axes run transversely to the axis of the sponge; i.e., horizontally. There is very little fleshy or gelatinous matter.[163]

Again we see a showy species,[164] making soft, spongy patches of an orange or red-lead colour, an inch or more in diameter, rising into ridges a quarter of an inch high, and forming low peaks, whose apices are perforate. Its substance contains simple needles, long, nearly or quite straight, pointed at one end; these are found in great numbers in close array, the points mostly projecting from the surface. Some of them are twice as thick as others.

Now we notice another peculiar form:[165] creeping, worm-like masses of orange-yellow or buff hue, soft and spongy in texture, which throw up one or more free, erect processes, irregularly curved, an inch or more long, and about one-eighth thick on an average, but frequently swollen and contracted by turns. These are not tubular, and the tips are rounded. The general surface under a magnifier appears slightly channelled. Within we find simple needles, long, nearly straight, pointed at both ends, moderately numerous, enveloped in much yellow granular flesh.

Then there are some imposing masses of a globose form,[166] some of which attain a foot or more in diameter, though others are not more than an inch. The surface is compact and smooth, of a delicate purplish-grey hue, with a few minute orifices, each surrounded by a small paler area.

The spicula in this noble species are various: simple rods, straight, thick, long, slightly spindle-shaped, blunt at both ends, with a linear axis; three-rayed, large, stout, very unequal angled, without any central channel; a number of very small five- and six-rayed stars, the rays projecting in different planes. They are set in a dense, yellow, gelatinous flesh, in which we may at all times discover many gemmules, or eggs; the smaller (or younger) are nearly round, bristling with points in all directions like sea-urchins, changing as they grow larger to a more oval form, beset with rounded warts, instead of points. These are discharged, when mature, with the currents of water, through the orifices, and find their way to some suitable spot, where they develop themselves into the parent form.

Finally, here is a sort[167] whose colour is a pale Indian red; occurring in masses which take the form of thick, plump bands, about half-an-inch in width, but alternately swelling and contracting, which creep over the rock, meeting and uniting, and then separating, so as to leave hollow open interstices, which, however, in some specimens are gradually filled up. The swellings form pointed hillocks, the apices of which are pierced with from one to three orifices. Irregular shallow channels cover the hillocks, and converge to the apices. It contains simple needles, slender, straight (or slightly curved), pointed at each end, not very numerous, thickly invested with granular flesh. This Sponge shrivels much, and becomes shapeless in drying, but changes little in colour. It is abundant.[168]

Thus the praise of the all-glorious God lies latent in all his creatures, whether man educe it or not. Too often, when we observe the wondrous variety, the incomparable delicacy, elegance, beauty, the transcendent fitness and perfection of every organ and structure, we are more occupied with our own pleasure or our own glory than with the praise of God: our own pleasure in acquiring new knowledge, or in admiring unexpected beauties; our own glory in opening up new stores of science; these are our motives to study, and we withhold from, or feebly and grudgingly give to, the Blessed Creator and Fashioner, the honour, of which every atom, every combination, every exquisite contrivance, is eloquently discoursing to us the while. Forgive, O Thou, who hast created all things, and for whose pleasure they are, and were created, that we so often touch with irreverent hand Thy glorious works; that we so often walk with silent tongues on this holy ground!

I cannot conclude this volume without recording my solemn and deliberate protest against the infidelity with which, to a very painful extent, modern physical science is associated. I allude not only to the ground which the conclusions of modern geologists take, in opposition to the veracity of the “God which cannot lie,” though the distinct statements which He has made to us concerning Creation are now, as if by common consent, put aside, with silent contempt, as effete fables, unworthy of a moment’s thought, and this too before vast assemblages of persons, not one of whom lifts his voice for the truth of God. These assaults are at least open and unmasked. But there is in our scientific literature, and specially in that which takes a popular form, a tone equally dangerous and more insidious. It altogether ignores the awful truths of God’s revelation, that all mankind are guilty and condemned and spiritually dead in Adam; that we are by nature children of wrath; that the whole world lieth in the wicked one; and that the wrath of God abideth on it: it ignores the glorious facts of atonement by the precious blood of Christ, and of acceptance in Him. It substitutes for these a mere sentimental admiration of nature, and teaches that the love of the beautiful makes man acceptable to God, and secures His favour. How often do we see quoted and be-praised, as if it were an indisputable axiom, the sentiment of a poet who ought to have known better,

a sentiment as silly as it is unscriptural; for what connexion can there be between the love of the inferior creatures, and the acceptableness of a sinner praying to the Holy God? It is the intervention of Christ Jesus, the anointed Priest, which alone gives prayer acceptance.

There is no sentimental or scientific road to heaven. There is absolutely nothing in the study of created things, however single, however intense, which will admit sinful man into the presence of God, or fit him to enjoy it. If there were, what need was there that the glorious Son, the everlasting Word, should be made flesh, and give His life a ransom for many?

If I have come to God as a guilty sinner, and have found acceptance, and reconciliation, and sonship, in the blood of His only-begotten Son, then I may come down from that elevation, and study creation with advantage and profit; but to attempt to scale heaven with the ladder of natural history, is nothing else than Cain’s religion; it is the presentation of the fruit of the earth, instead of the blood of the Lamb.

This will be, in all probability, the last occasion of my coming in literary guise before the public: how can I better take my leave than with the solemn testimony of the Spirit of God, which I affectionately commend to my readers,—

THERE IS NO WAY INTO THE HOLIEST BUT BY
THE BLOOD OF JESUS.

FINIS.

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