“Will you go on to the next class, if you please?”
“I have not finished the account,” said Edward; “but, since you are so well satisfied, we will try the lepas, or barnacle.”
Edward reads:—“Shell affixed at the base; and consisting of many unequal erect valves.”
“That will do, so far,” said Lewis, as Edward waited to see the result of his further examination. “I dare say this is a lepas. But, oh! mamma,” he cried, changing his tone, “there are three or four orders in this class. How shall we fix on the right one?”
“By attention to the description,” said his mother; “and at the end of the book here are plates, which, perhaps, will help you.”
Lewis turned to the plates; and with the assistance of them, and the description given, he came at last to the conclusion, that the shell in question must be the lepas anatifera.
“And now,” said Mrs. Ashton, “you have been very persevering, and I will endeavour to tell you something interesting respecting the lepas. These extraordinary shell-fish are never found detached from other substances: they adhere firmly to rocks and stones, and even to larger fish, such as the whale. The numbers which sometimes attach themselves to the sides of vessels, add so greatly to their weight as to impede their progress; so that, you see, the inhabitant of the lepas is frequently a traveller, and is exposed to the violence of the boisterous waves. Now, observe how admirably the Creator has provided for this little creature’s safety: here, at the entrance of its shell, is fixed a door, consisting of triangular valves, which the lepas opens or shuts as may best suit his convenience; by means of this little feathery tube the animal procures its food. I will read to you an anecdote, whilst we are upon the present subject, which I copied the other day from Mr. Roberts’s Conchologist’s Companion:—
“‘The mention of the lepas is connected with an extraordinary fact that occurred some years since at Sidmouth. A small coasting-vessel, with a few hands on board, sprung a leak, and went down within sight of several persons on the Esplanade. It was a melancholy circumstance, and as such, excited much commiseration; but time passed on and the occurrence was forgotten, till one morning the vessel gradually arose from out of the water, and was driven by the tide upon the shore. The beach was soon covered with spectators; and on inspection, the sides, the deck, the remains of the mast, in short, every part was seen bristling with barnacles. The meal-tub especially was so covered with them as to present a beautiful and novel appearance. The reason of the vessel’s reappearing was now obvious; the long tubes of the barnacles, being full of air, had rendered the sunken vessel specifically lighter than the water; and she arose from off her watery bed after the lapse of nearly twenty years.’ The author adds: ‘The person from whom I heard this curious incident, was one of the spectators: he had preserved some remarkably fine specimens. It is a fact that may possibly suggest some mode of rendering vessels so buoyant as not to sink in even the most tremendous storms.’”
Edward and Lewis were much delighted with the account their mother gave them of the barnacle, and of the surprising reappearance of the sunken vessel.
“Mamma,” said Lewis, “I believe I shall always know the lepas, the lepas anatifera I mean, when I see it again. Do you think you could get for us any specimens of the other orders belonging to this class?”