Portion of Filaments, Axial and Peripherical, of Mesogloia vermicularis.
So, too, with the hollow cottony Leathesia, looking like a macerated walnut tufting the surface of the rock: only peer into it with microscopic vision, and a forest of crystal fibres, composed of divided cells, the lower ones long and slender, the upper shorter, and supporting little hyaline half-moons on their cusps, springs into existence. The tiny tufts of the Elachista and Myrionema abound in bead-chain fibres, while the genera Cladostephus and Sphacelaria offer more visible patterns of a kind at once unleaf-like and novel. The Sphacelaria plumosa, so wiry and feathery, resembles those curious members of the animal kingdom, the Sertulariæ, as which it is almost as rigid and as elegant; while the small tufts of the rare Sphacelaria ramosa are again charming microscopic objects.
The family Ectocarpaceæ contains a fund of marvellous ideas. One more genus of British olive weeds alone remains to be mentioned, consisting of two little parasitic species not uncommon on the fronds of Chorda lomentaria; but though curious and singular in construction, they offer nothing so tempting as many of those we have been compelled to pass over in silence.
Cladostephus verticillatus.
Portion of a branch. One of the ramuli.
For the purpose of study, the Melanosperms offer a never-failing supply, always accessible at low water; but should opportunity arise of acquiring a knowledge of the Rhodosperms, with their fairy forms and brilliant hues, it should not be neglected, for these deep-water algals seldom reach us but in broken plants washed ashore; and dried specimens, flattened and faded, cease to be models for study. As to the Chlorosperms, the Ulvæ are full of grace and beauty, and in the south of England they are served at table as a relish to roast meat, under the title of laver, and which is now sold in many London shops. The Ulva linza, figured at p. 107, is a good type of the graceful outline of this elegant family of sea-weeds.
Portion of Sphacelaria plumosa.
Oft beneath the warm and brilliant rays of summer’s sun, in shallow skiff, I have glided on the calm and polished surface of the sea—the mirror of the glowing sky and heavens beyond—over the dark forests of tangle waving in the tide, and plucked the pellucid limpets browsing on their stems; and, peering down into the rugged dells below, have seen the star-fish crawl with sucker-arms along the rocks, where whelks drill holes in shells of stone-clad molluscs, to feed upon their soft and luscious flesh; where sea-anemones, with outspread tentacles, make gardens of living flowers; and awkward crabs peep out from darksome nooks at glittering fish, then scramble sidelong back again into their holes.
In winter, by the raging waves—when skaters swift o’er slippery ice with rapid pace were gliding; when ears were tingling with the biting cold, and tender people roasting over blazing fires—I have paced along the congealed sands to see the shell-fish frozen hard and fast, glued to the rocks; and sea-weeds, crisp and rigid, recover life and elasticity in the flowing tide.