Mollusks that have their shell all in one piece are technically known as the Gasteropoda, or belly-footed creatures; but for our purpose the term sea-snail will serve admirably, for it is a popular term that will not cause misunderstandings, as many popular general terms do. The sea-snails, as living creatures, are more amenable to study by the shore-naturalist, than is the case with the bivalves; and every rock, whether it be thickly clothed with weeds, or bare and exposed to the full fury of the waves, will provide us with specimens. It is true, that all visitors to the sea-shore are well acquainted with the most plentiful of these—the periwinkle, the purple, and the limpet. But though they are familiar with the forms and names of such common objects, there may be among my readers some to whom the principal facts in the economy and structure of these species may be new or interesting.
LIMPETS. PURPLES.
I fear, that in popular estimation, there is but one kind of Limpet. As a matter of greater exactitude, I may say that eight or nine species may be found on our shores; and we may find some points of interest even in the too common species (Patella vulgata). Only those perhaps who have been badly in want of bait for a little fishing have troubled to see what is beneath the conical shell; but the shell itself is worthy of a little attention. What could be better adapted for the animal’s mode of life than this? The Limpet is not a deep-water mollusk, but lives between tide-marks, where it receives the full force of the waves as they beat and hammer the rocks in stormy weather. But the Limpet has a broad foot, which exudes a thick glue, whereby it sticks tightly to the rock. Then his muscles are powerful, and by their aid he pulls his conical roof well down till its edges fit into the little pit he has sunk in the rock-surface, and thus ensconced he can defy the hardest gale that may chance to blow and the heaviest water-hammers that the sea uses against the land. The Limpet is typical of the Briton, alike in his tenacity of purpose and his love of privacy. But with all his exclusiveness John Bull likes to open his doors and windows wide to let in the air, and we shall find the Limpet resembling him in this detail; for if you seek him when the tide is out, you may surprise him with his roof so lifted up that the edges are a quarter of an inch away from the rock. Then is the time to take him unawares, and force his foot from its firm hold. Having secured him, we are at liberty to inspect the owner of this strange house, but we can best do this by placing him in our clear glass bottle, and letting him crawl up the side.
That which is known as the mollusk’s “foot” has no relationship with the feet of vertebrate animals, the name being suggested by the similar use to which dissimilar organs are put. We have already explained that the term gasteropod signifies “belly-foot,” and if we were to cut through the “foot” of the Limpet, we should find that it is indeed its belly, for it contains the principal portion of its viscera. We are not going into the anatomy of the mollusca, just now, but will confine our attention to its exterior. It has now begun to climb up the glass, and we can see that the foot is spread out so that it occupies the greater portion of the area covered by the shell. At the fore part it has a distinct head, with a pair of tentacles, ditto eyes, and a very evident mouth, for the Limpet’s principal occupation appears to be to lick the surface upon which it is gliding. Around the foot and the head there runs a frill which is really the creature’s breathing apparatus, and between that and the shell there is, of course, the mantle by which the shell was secreted, and is enlarged as occasion requires. The Limpet is now in rapid motion, and we can see that it progresses in exactly the same fashion as do the garden snails and slugs, that is, by a series of muscular contractions, evidenced by the constant ripple along the surface of the foot. The foot exudes a very tenacious slime, which enables it to obtain perfect contact with the surface over which it is gliding, or upon which it is resting. It is perfectly astonishing how much nonsense is still written in books upon this subject by persons who ought to know better, and who could easily test the correctness of their views by occasionally studying Nature, instead of relying so much upon academical teaching, and that of an antique character. Their statement is, that the Limpet holds on so tightly by creating a vacuum, some say under the foot, others under the shell. So ancient an authority as Reaumur disproved these notions. He tested the matter by cutting a Limpet in two, shell and all. According to the teaching of the vacuumites, the animal’s hold should then have loosened; but no, the two portions still adhered to their base. Anyone by observation can testify to the truth of Reaumur’s explanation; there is the same powerful hold in the foot of a garden snail on a damp surface, but in that case it does not seem so great, because his shell affords a better hold for the experimenter. The annoying feature of the Limpet is the shape of his shell, which prevents our taking hold of it. Where the surface of the rock is friable, as some of our Cornish Killas rocks, and the chalk rocks of the Kentish coast, the Limpet’s foot, when forcibly pulled up, brings with it particles of the surface, which have separated from the parent rock more easily than from the glue of the mollusk’s foot.
A wonderful thing about the Limpet is its power to sink a shallow pit in the surface of the rock, corresponding to the shape of the shell; and this, of course, has led to much theorising to explain how it is accomplished. Patent solvents secreted by the animal, the carbonic acid gas given off from the breathing apparatus (which strangely does not destroy its own shell!), and so on. A little study of Nature would show that the wonderful organ which enables them to scrape away the surface in long zigzag lines, as they crop the minute vegetation, would be equally effective if applied to the spot upon which they prefer to roost, and to which they habitually return after their pastoral wanderings. The action of this tongue on the rocks can be very distinctly heard on the shore, though possibly not in the library or the museum, where only the empty shells are admitted. It is worth while dissecting a Limpet, and getting out this remarkable tongue, which is a ribbon-shaped organ, closely studded with minute hooks of flint, to the number of nearly 2,000. A similar lingual ribbon, as it is termed, will be found in most of the Gasteropods.
I have dealt at such length with the Limpet, because its structure will enable us to understand the other mollusks we have to mention, widely as they may appear to differ in the forms of their bodies and shells. The Limpet’s shell is a low cone, and the shell of a Whelk is a greatly elongated cone, coiled spirally upon itself; the animal adapting itself to that form.
In addition to the Common Limpet (Patella vulgata) we have the Smooth Limpet (Patella pellucida), which must be sought at low-water on the borders of the laminarian zone. It feeds upon the Great Oar-weed, and a peculiar variation will be found between the specimens feeding on the smooth flat fronds and those feeding on the great stems. The shell of the first is coloured a pale brown, pellucid as its specific name suggests, the apex set very far forwards, and from it there start backwards from three to six exceedingly fine radiating lines of a dazzling brilliant blue. The specimens that live upon the Oar-weed’s stems look entirely different, for the shell becomes thickened, and consequently much more opaque, and its shape alters to enable it to sit close on a rounded surface. It was formerly considered a distinct species, and was named Patella lævis. So, too, the little Tortoise-shell Limpet (Acmæa testudinalis), changes its form when feeding upon the leaves of the Grass-wrack (Zostera marina), and has then had the name of Acmæa alvea bestowed upon it.
There are other forms of Limpets (though not species of Patellidæ) to which we wish to refer, but we are getting far away from our illustration of the Purple (Purpura lapillus), on page 208, to which we must now hark back. The Purple is often known as the Dog Winkle. It abounds upon the rocks between tide-marks, whence it may be picked without the formalities necessary in the case of the Limpet. It comes off easily, for its foot is small, but the moment it is disengaged from the rock it retires into its shell and closes its door. Now apart from the difference in the shape of the shell, here is another departure from molluskan arrangements as illustrated by the Limpet. It is called an operculum (Latin, a cover or stopper), and is so attached to the foot, that when the Purple withdraws from public view this comes last, and fits the mouth of the shell so accurately that there is no getting inside. In this case it is a horny oval disk, but in some species it is strengthened by the deposit of layers of shelly matter until it becomes of considerable thickness and quite stony. If we mark our disapproval of the Purple’s lack of courtesy in slamming his door in our face, by pushing against his door, he retaliates by exuding a purple fluid, which is said to permanently dye fabrics a similar hue. The Purple is not a vegetarian like the Limpet. His mouth forms a fleshy proboscis, which contains a marvellous boring apparatus—the modified tongue. Often you may pick up bivalve shells on the beach, of which one has been pierced with a very clean and smooth round hole near the beak. If you did not know otherwise, you might suppose that this was the work of a person who desired to make a shell-necklace or other ornament, and had bored this hole with the greatest of care, and then had unfortunately dropped it on the beach. The truth is, it is the work of the Purple, or some other carnivorous sea-snail. He has the reputation of being very destructive to mussel beds, by boring these workmanlike holes in their shells, and literally eating the poor mussel out of house and home. That is the style in which the Purple gets his living; but he has a Nemesis in the shape of the Star-fish, and I have seen one Star-fish eating or digesting three Purples at once. It is a case of “diamond cut diamond,” for you would think a Mussel or a Limpet would be safe enough with the shell closed down, and so you might suppose the Purple’s operculum would shield him from the Star-fish; but as I have already described in an earlier chapter, the Star-fish knows well how to deal with obstinate victims who won’t show their noses outside the door when their enemy calls—he digests them first, and swallows them afterwards. Here is a complete reversal of the Shakespearean motto, “May good digestion wait on appetite;” to be complimentary to the Star-fish we should say, “May appetite on good digestion wait!” In the bottom left-hand corner of the purple-and-limpet illustration, is a baker’s dozen of nine-pins: they are the egg-cases of the Purple, which may be found in larger or smaller patches on any rock where these mollusks abound.
NETTED DOG-WHELK.
Among the weeds on the rocks we are sure to find the Netted Dog-whelk (Nassa reticulata), with a rather dirty-looking shell. It is covered with broad grooves crossed by fine lines at right angles, producing the appearance of network, which gives it the distinctive name, netted. Its scientific name also is suggested by the same appearance, for Nassa is Latin for a special kind of fishing-net. Like the Purple, the Dog-whelk is carnivorous. There is a prettier species, with a thick lip, called Nassa incrassata.
The true Whelk (Buccinum undatum) only comes within our province in the shape of empty shells cast up on the beach, for its range is from low-water to a hundred fathoms. In deep water it is very plentiful, and fishermen who want it for bait, let down baskets containing pieces of fish, which attract a large number to their doom. Their remarkable clusters of egg-nests are frequently washed ashore with seaweeds; each capsule in the bunch contains about half-a-dozen eggs. The shell of the Whelk, rubbed down on a smooth slab of stone, affords an admirable vertical section illustrating the structure of gasteropods.
RED WHELK.
The Red Whelk is the Fusus antiquus, so-called because it abounds in a fossil condition in the Red Crag of Essex, where also occurs a reversed form—that is, with the spire coiled the contrary way, and hence called Fusus contrarius. In Scotland it is the Buckie, or the Roaring Buckie, for this is the shell in which the roar of the sea resides. It is more esteemed than the Common Whelk as food by the poorer population of Scotland. It occurs, like Buccinum, from low-water to a hundred fathoms.
There is a fairly common shell, similar in size and general form to the Purple, but bristling all over with flattened recurved hooks, in clusters of threes. It is generally known as the Sting-winkle (Murex erinaceus), one of a genus from which the celebrated purple dye of ancient Tyre was obtained. Its familiar name it owes to its sharing in the hideous crime of destroying edible species for the sole purpose of gratifying its own base appetite. The fishermen have actually noticed it in the act, and seeing the peculiar boring apparatus at work, have thought this a sting. It is far worse than that, for a sting may be survived, but no mollusk, I believe, gets over the attack of the boring tongue, which changes its function when the boring is finished, and becomes an instrument for tearing and masticating its victim’s flesh.
The exotic representatives of the great Cone-family of shells are familiar and admired objects in collections as well as on nick-nack tables in the drawing-room. We have no native species of the genus Conus but we have a number of representatives of the family in the Pleurotomas and Mangelias, though they do not approach very closely to the typical form of a Cone-shell, with which we commonly associate the spotted Cone (Conus marmoreus) of Chinese seas. The Seven-ribbed Conelet (Mangelia septangularis) is like a tiny Buckie-shell—it is but half an inch long—with bold longitudinal ribs, of which you can count seven in one revolution of the shell. The shell is thick, of a dull pinkish hue, and unprovided with an operculum. The outer lip is notched where it joins the previous whorl. There are several British species.
COWRY.
One of the most charming of our native shells is the little Cowry (Cypræa europea), which is so plentiful on most of our shores. Most of us who have visited the sea-shore in childhood have had the delight of hunting for this shell, empty and clean, among the ingredients of a fine beach; but probably some of those who are most familiar with it as an empty shell would scarcely recognise it for the same species if they saw the living Cowry gliding along with his shell on his back. He carries a pair of tentacles, with eyes at their base, and the long curved tubular tongue ready for service; but the most singular feature is that his mantle is used not merely to clothe the delicate body, but a portion of it comes outside, and closely wraps the greater part of the shell. In its younger days it had not its present beautifully arched lip, which almost closes up the doorway of the shell, and leaves but a narrow slit, delicately denticulated, to allow the foot and mantle to pass through. Before maturity it had a wide mouth, with a sharp thin edge to the outer lip, but that, you see, has now grown over towards the inner lip. The colour of the shell may be described as a flesh-tint on the upper surface, varying in intensity to both lighter and darker. Many specimens bear on the crown of the shell three ill-defined blotches of a very dark brown. The under surface is white. The whole shell is ornamented by very regularly disposed transverse ribs, which are rounded and polished.
There are several other cowry-like shells to be found generally distributed, but by no means so plentifully on our coasts. One of these is the Smooth Margin-shell (Erato lævis), smaller than the Cowry, and with the lip curved outward, instead of inward as in the Cowry: it has thus an external margin, whence the name. It is white and exquisitely smooth. The animal is very similar to Cypræa, and it envelops its shell in the same fashion. Of similar habit is the Poached Egg (Ovula patula), though the shell is very different. The mouth of the shell gapes widely, and the lip is thin and sharp. Its colour is white with a pink tinge, and its appearance is so suggestive of its name that there is little likelihood of mis-identification. It is a South Coast form.
A solid-looking shell, with a highly-polished surface, over which three lines of arrow-heads are chasing each other, a perforation of the shell just outside the inner lip, a fairly wide mouth, closed when at rest by an operculum: these are the principal features of the Necklace Natica, so-called because it deposits a large number of eggs, so agglutinated into a broad spiral band, that the whole has been likened to a necklace. So it is called Natica monilifera, and monilifera means necklace-bearing. The animal is an odd creature, whose mantle laps partly over the shell, and the large foot is furnished in front with a broad fold, which is turned back as a protection to the head. It is herbivorous, and crops the seaweeds on sandy and gravelly shores, from low-water to about ninety fathoms.
There is a very thin, ear-shaped shell, clear and fragile, known as Lamellaria perspicua. It is not sufficiently capacious to accommodate the whole of the animal, so parts of it have to remain permanently outside; the mantle, for instance, cannot be withdrawn, and it folds over, completely wrapping up the shell and hiding it from view. It is an awkward thing to have your house so small that you cannot get right inside, because in the sea there are so many hungry creatures always roving about, and snapping up any delicate morsel that is unprotected; and even some that are protected get swallowed up in like manner. But Lamellaria has learned how to make up to some extent for Nature’s stinginess in the matter of shell-stuff. About a quarter of a century since, Giard showed that Lamellaria was to be found in association with compound ascidians, a group to which we shall call attention in a later chapter. Quite recently[6] Prof. W. A. Herdman, Director of the Port Erin Biological Station, added greatly to the interest of Giard’s observation by one of his own, which shall be given in his own words:—
[6] “Conchologist,” 1893.
“Lamellaria perspicua is not uncommon round the south end of the Isle of Man, and is frequently found under the circumstances described by Giard; but I met lately with such a marked case on the shore near the Biological Station at Port Erin, that it seems worthy of being placed on record. The mollusc was on a colony of Leptoclinum maculatum, in which it had eaten a large hole. It lay in this cavity so as to be flush with the general surface; and its dorsal integument was not only whitish with small darker marks which exactly reproduced the appearance of the Leptoclinum surface with the ascidiozooids scattered over it, but there were also two larger elliptical clear marks which looked like the large common cloacal apertures of the Ascidian colony. I did not notice the Lamellaria until I had accidentally partly dislodged it in detaching the Leptoclinum from a stone. I then pointed it out to a couple of naturalists who were with me, and we were all much struck with the difficulty in detecting it when in situ on the Ascidian.
HORN-SHELL.
“This is clearly a good case of protective colouring. Presumably the Lamellaria escapes the observation of its enemies through being mistaken for a part of the Leptoclinum colony; and the Leptoclinum being crowded like a sponge with minute sharp-pointed spicules is, I suppose, avoided as inedible (if not actually noxious through some peculiar smell or taste) by carnivorous animals which might devour such things as the soft unprotected mollusc. But the presence of the spicules evidently does not protect the Leptoclinum from Lamellaria, so that we have, if the above interpretation is correct, the curious result that the Lamellaria profits by a protective characteristic of the Leptoclinum for which it has itself no respect, or to put it another way, the Leptoclinum is protected against enemies to some extent for the benefit of the Lamellaria which preys upon its vitals.”
Since the publication of Prof. Herdman’s note, I have frequently found Lamellaria on the undersides of large stones at low-water on the Cornish coast. I have always found it on Leptoclinum gelatinosum, and can quite endorse his remark as to the difficulty of distinguishing it. On one occasion I found no less than four specimens feeding upon one patch of the ascidians, and pointed them out to a friend, who, however, failed to see them until they were absolutely touched by my finger. The shell is exceedingly delicate, and in the hands of most persons would be hopelessly ruined at the first touch. The ordinary methods adopted by conchologists for getting the animal from the shell will not answer in this case; but I have a plan which succeeds admirably. I give a specimen of Lamellaria to an anemone of refined tastes, who will deal with it carefully. Bunodes verrucosa is my favourite assistant, and he returns the shell clean and sound in a day or two.
There are several species of Spire-shells (Rissoa) to be found feeding in great numbers on Grass-wrack and Sea lettuce, and we shall also find the empty shells in the sand. There are, however, other forms that may be confused with them and with each other, that are very plentiful in sand. These are the comparatively large Turret-shell (Turritella communis), which is ornamented with spiral ridges, each one running continuously from the apex to the mouth. In the Ruddy Pyramid (Chemnitzia rufescens), which is much smaller, but of similar form, the ridges run across instead of along the whorls, whilst in the Horn-shell (Cerithium reticulatum), a similar effect is obtained by several rows of very regularly arranged round dots in high relief. A more distinct member of the family of Cerites is to be found in the well-known Pelican’s-foot or Spout-shell (Aporrhais pes-pelicani), in which the whorls are boldly tuberculated. When the shell has grown to its full length, its annual stages of growth take a somewhat different direction, and spread out in expansive lobes and corrugations until it bears a fanciful resemblance in outline to the foot of the pelican. The shell is about an inch and a half in length, and very thick. The animal is carnivorous.
PELICAN’S-FOOT.
Delicate specimens of the well-known Wentletraps (Scalaria) may be found among fine sands. They are readily known by their dazzling whiteness, the nearly round and flat-lipped mouth, and the bold curved ridges that stand out across the whorls like cogs on a wheel. To this genus belongs the Precious Wentletrap (S. pretiosa), from China, for a single specimen of which as much as forty guineas has been paid. This was in the days when shell-collecting without any scientific object in view was a mania with some wealthy people; just as we have had the tulip-mania, and now have the orchid-mania affecting persons who are impelled by fashion rather than a love of knowledge or the beautiful in Nature.
However we may be inclined to pass over the Periwinkle (Littorina littorea) as a species too common to need any attention, it is bound to thrust itself upon our vision at every turn among the rocks, where it swarms. It appears strange that whilst this species is so largely eaten by the poorer classes in towns as a “relish” for tea, the allied and almost equally common species, L. rudis, should be let severely alone. But the explanation is probably to be found in the fact that whereas littorea deposits her eggs in the ordinary way, rudis retains hers until they have hatched out. Now seeing that the Winkles of both species develop their hard stony shells before they hatch, it would be impossible to eat L. rudis without the great inconvenience of having these hard gritty infants damaging one’s teeth. The smaller red, or bright yellow shell, that may be found in abundance on the rocks and weeds between tide-marks, is Littorina littoralis.
The seeker for shells on a sandy shore must do as the children do—throw himself prone upon the beach, and hunt thoroughly, inch by inch, examining the topmost layer first, then lightly scraping it off and bringing fresh treasures to light. In this manner he will certainly turn up the exquisite little Pheasant shells (Phasianella pullus), that have the misfortune to be so small, or they would be greatly esteemed for their rich colouring. They are very smooth, and of a white or pale yellow hue, but so thickly covered with fine crimson lines that at first sight this appears to be the colour of the shell. These lines run parallel with each other, but with many curves, some flowing gently, others short and acute. These lines vary much in thickness throughout their length, here being very fine, there thickening gradually and thinning off again. The shells are less than a quarter of an inch in length, and the mouth is closed with an operculum. The animal has the peculiar habit of moving first one half, then the other, of its foot in progressing.
THE COMMON TOP.
One of the handsomest of our common rock-shells is the so-called Common Top (Trochus zizyphinus), though it is scarcely as plentiful as the much smaller Grey Top (Trochus cinereus). It is pyramidal in form, with an almost flat, broad base; the mouth closed by a spiral, horny operculum. In some species there is an umbilicus, in others it is wanting. The animal has two small fringed lobes between the tentacles, and similarly fringed lappets to the neck. The sides, too, are lobed, and several tentacle-like processes are given off from them.
The Grey Top (T. cinereus) is variable in colour. Usually it is a dull yellowish grey, with inconspicuous dark zigzag marks upon it; sometimes the ground colour is pinkish-white, with decided pink markings, which present a checkered appearance. There is a deep and wide umbilicus. In Trochus zizyphinus there is no umbilicus, and in the large Painted Top (T. magus), again, there is a very wide one. This last-mentioned species lacks the smoothness of outline exhibited by the other two, its whorls being more boldly ridged at their junctions (suture). The animal has the head-lobes largely developed, and it is brilliantly and variously coloured; hence its name. The Tops are vegetable feeders.
On our South-western shores, when strong winds have blown from the S.W. for days together, there are borne to us on the waves, and wrecked upon our beaches, singular sea-snails from the mid-Atlantic. There the Violet-shells (Janthina) float in myriads, and consume the still more plentiful “Sallee-man” (Velella), a Jelly-fish we have mentioned in a previous chapter. There are many singular features about this Janthina. Like a shipwrecked mariner, it constructs a raft, secreting glutinous material from the foot, in the form of many air-chambers cemented together, and bearing beneath a large number of egg-capsules. The shell is of somewhat similar shape to that of the Tops, but with a much larger mouth. Its material, too, is so thin it can almost be seen through; and on the upper part it is white, whilst beneath it is coloured violet, whence its names. The animal has its head produced into a thick muzzle, with a pair of tentacles and a pair of eye-stalks, but no eyes. The breathing organs are two plume-like gills which protrude from the shell.
SLIT LIMPET.
We must return now to certain limpet-like forms, of which one, the Keyhole Limpet (Fissurella græca), might be easily passed by as a Common Limpet that has got damaged. In form and appearance the shell is not unlike the common kind; the peculiarity consists in a short and narrow slit at the summit, which has suggested the name. As a living mollusk it must be sought in the laminarian zone, but the empty shells are to be found between tide-marks. A smaller, but not very dissimilar shell, has the keyhole not on the apex, but a little in advance of it. This is the Perforated Limpet (Puncturella noachina). It is rarer than the last, and is to be sought on the North coasts, where it lives below the twenty-fathom line.
Yet another species is depicted in this cut. It is the Slit Limpet (Emarginula reticulata), in which the notch or slit is in the fore edge of the white shell; length of slit variable. Internally the shell is thickened near the notch, and outside it is deeply grooved, so that strong ribs radiate from the summit, and are themselves partly cut up by lighter grooves transversely to the others. It comes up to low-water mark, so may be taken alive from the shore. There is a second British species, the Rosy Slit Limpet (E. rosea), much smaller, and sometimes with the slit rosy, but this is not a reliable character.
On our Southern shores may be found—frequently on oysters—a shell that may be said to be the highest development of the limpet type. Seen from the point of view taken for our illustration, there is a long gentle curve from the mouth to the beak, which is spirally twisted. The general effect is to remind one of the conventional representations of the Cap of Liberty. Owing to this cap-like form, it is known as the Hungarian Cap, and the Torbay Bonnet (Pileopsis hungaricus). In colour it varies from brown to an indefinite dirty-white hue.
HUNGARIAN CAP. TUSK-SHELL.
The miniature elephant’s tusks represented in the illustration with the Hungarian Cap are really shells, called Tusk or Tooth-shells (Dentalium). They are represented of the natural size. The shell is open at each end, and is tenanted by a strange little animal who is attached to it near the small end. The Dentalium is not a very highly developed creature, for though it has a head, it is quite a rudimentary one, without eyes. But though it lacks eyes, it has a mouth, surrounded by eight tentacles and into this go foraminifera and other minute creatures it picks up on the sands and mud in deep water. We have two British species, of which we may occasionally find the empty shells washed up on the sands. Of these the Elephant’s-tusk (Dentalium entalis) is very smooth and quite white throughout; whereas the Grooved-tusk (D. tarentinum) is delicately grooved at the larger or fore end, and tinged with pink at the small end.
SMOOTH MAIL-SHELL.
In chipping off fragments of rock at low-water, upon which anemones and other specimens are sitting, you may often get more than you had thought, for sometimes when the piece of rock is placed in an aquarium, other creatures will make their appearance, which were unobserved before, owing to their colour, and the closeness with which they attach themselves. One of these is the Bristly Mail-shell (Chiton fascicularis), distinguished from other British species by the possession of little bunches of short bristles, which are arranged along the shell-border opposite each plate of mail. There is considerable resemblance between these creatures and limpets, though there are also important differences. Instead of the shell being in one piece, it is composed of eight transverse plates, which overlap at their edges, and allow it to be rolled up like a woodlouse. Each plate is attached to the mantle by its front margin, and the mantle forms a narrow border all round the shell. The animal, like the limpet, has a broad foot upon which it creeps, mostly at night, so far as my observations of C. fascicularis go. Its head chiefly consists of its mouth and jaws, eyes and tentacles being dispensed with as unnecessary to its manner of life. The breathing organs are similar to those of the limpet, but are arranged round the posterior end of the body only. The shell is very flexible in all directions, so that the animal is not constrained, like the limpet, to return to the same roosting spot each time it wishes to rest.
There are a number of British species; the one figured is known as the Smooth Mail-shell (C. lævis). It has a glossy shell of a reddish hue, with a central ridge. The largest of the native forms is the Marbled Mail-shell (C. marmoreus), whose delicately sculptured shell is further ornamented with a mottling of browns and yellows. It is about an inch and a quarter in length. The British species is almost as long, but of much more slender proportions. The most plentiful form is the Grey Mail-shell (C. cinereus), which does not greatly exceed half an inch in length. It is not entirely grey, though this is the prevailing tint, but there are delicate mottlings and streaks of many colours upon it.
We now reach what we may very fitly term the Sea-slugs, for they are creatures that externally have considerable resemblance to the land-slugs, though structurally they are very different, and they are far removed from each other in classification. The land-slugs (Limax) carry a little shell embedded in their back, and their breathing organs are internal; the Sea-slugs are entirely shell-less, except in the embryo-stage, and their breathing apparatus is always exposed, and situated on the back or sides. In consequence of this characteristic, the Sea-slugs, as a group or section of the Gasteropods, are called the Nudibranchiata, or naked-gilled mollusca. They are plentiful on rocky coasts, where they range from half-tide to a great depth. The best plan is to seek for them at low spring-tides, turning over stones at the edge of the laminarian zone, when the slugs will be found at rest on the under surfaces, in a more or less collapsed condition. They will readily respond, however, to the attention paid them by putting them in the calm clear water of our collecting bottles, and extending their tentacles and branchial plumes, will explore their new quarters. One of the most striking of these sea-slugs is the Sea Lemon (Doris tuberculata), which is about three inches in length, broad, and with the upper surface thickly studded with tubercles; this, in conjunction with its colour, gives it a very close likeness to the half of a lemon adhering to the rocks. As will be seen in the illustration, there are two tentacles, and these are retractile within special cavities. The branchial plumes are arranged in a crown-like circle in the middle of the back, but near to the posterior end; and these also can be withdrawn at the creature’s will. There are several British species, some of them very small, and they range from low-water to twenty-five fathoms, feeding upon zoophytes, sponges, anemones, and their own kind.
SEA LEMON.
Doris johnstoni is a smaller species than tuberculata, but is worthy of attention on account of a certain resemblance to Lamellaria. It is “got up” to mimic a sponge. There are no tubercles on its surface, which is very finely roughed, so that it is sponge-like to the touch. In colour it is creamy, wonderfully speckled with larger and smaller spots of pale brown, that produce the effect of the porous surface of a sponge, and the large spots are touched up with a darker brown, to give depth to these false pores. When it is explained that D. johnstoni feeds on sponges like Halichondria panicea, this colouring is easily understood, but its marvellous nature is not lessened.
Some species of allied genera are quite remarkable, one might almost say eccentric, in their ornamentation. Ægirus punctilucens, a species found between tide-marks, is elaborately covered with large tubercles and shining points; the branchial tufts assuming quite a tree-like growth in miniature, around the orifice, which is placed further forward than in Doris.
CROWNED EOLIS.
The Crowned Eolis (Eolis coronata) has a slender body, long slender tentacles, that cannot be withdrawn, and the back is covered with long papillæ, gathered into a dozen spreading bunches. The two erect tentacles behind the long pointed pair, if examined with a lens, will be found to be beautifully ornamented by a series of annular plates. It may be sought among the rocks at low-water, feeding chiefly on the sertularian zoophytes. It is an active species, gliding over the rocks, or swimming at the surface with its back downwards. They are constantly waving their tentacles and moving their papillæ, from which they exude a milky fluid when irritated, and even throw them off, as a crab “shoots” his lesser limbs under similar circumstances. If kept in an aquarium without suitable food, they become cannibals. Eolis papillosa is a similar species, the upper surface almost completely covered with papillæ. It will be found under stones at low-water, feeding on Botrylli and other ascidians. If on a white species, it will be wholly white, for like Lamellaria and Doris, it goes in for protective colouring. Introduce a specimen from a white ascidian into a vessel containing, say, a crimson or brown Beadlet Anemone, and after a few hours you will find the Anemone has disappeared, whilst the Eolis has changed to the colour that the Beadlet was of. The papillæ of the Eolis are really continuations of its digestive apparatus, and by this simple arrangement a protective harmony is set up as often as it may change its diet. Scientifically these papillæ are termed cerata.
SEA-HARE.
SEA-HARE, FRONT VIEW.
The last of our Sea-slugs does not belong to the Nudibranchiata, for its branchiæ are concealed, and it possesses a shell—a thin, flexible, translucent, convex plate, that covers the branchial plume, and is itself covered by the mantle. My first Sea-Hare (Aplysia depilans), was taken in ignorance. A hurried glance at a globular mass of purple-brown jelly, among some small weeds, as I was hunting for anemones, assured me I had something new to me, and I put it down at the moment as a colony of compound ascidians; but on putting it into an aquarium, I saw my mistake at once. The bundle unrolled, and some loose wraps, shaking themselves out, resolved themselves into tentacles and marginal lobes. The foot lengthened out, and I saw the creature had a distinct neck, with a broad muzzle between the first pair of tentacles. The second pair were folded, so as to present a strong suggestion of the ears of a hare, and this is precisely the idea suggested to fishermen in many countries, by whom the Aplysia was first called Sea-hare, or Lepus marinus. When it is viewed from the front, as in the smaller illustration, the illusion is strengthened. It has the habit of pouring out a violet fluid from the edge of the mantle when handled, which is probably intended, like the Sepia’s ink, to produce a cloud, under cover on which the Sea-hare can safely retreat. In other days, this fluid was regarded with horror as a poison, and an indelible stain. From this last notion the creature got its name, Aplysia, which is from two Greek words, meaning unwashable, filthy. Its second name, depilans, is also reminiscent of those old notions, for it was thought that mere contact with the dreaded creature would cause the hair to fall off. The Sea-hare of the present generation, however, is quite harmless, as I can testify, whatever may have been the real or assumed character of his ancestors.