On another occasion I saw an actinophrys station itself close to a ripe spore-cell of pythium, which was situated upon a filament of Spirogyra crassa; and as the young ciliated monadic germs issued forth, one after another, from the dehiscent spore-cell, the actinophrys remained by it and caught every one of them, even to the last, when it retired to another part of the field, as if instinctively conscious that there was nothing more to be got at the old place.

But by far the greatest feat of this kind that ever presented itself to me was the catching of a young acineta by an old sluggish amœba, as the former left its parent; and this took place as follows:—

In the evening of the 2nd of June, 1858, in Bombay, while looking through a microscope at some Euglenæ, &c., which had been placed aside for examination in a watch-glass, my eye fell upon a stalked and triangular acineta (A. mystacina?), around which an amœba was creeping and lingering, as they do when they are in quest of food. But knowing the antipathy that the amœba, like almost every other infusorian, has to the tentacles of the acineta, I concluded that the amœba was not encouraging an appetite for its whiskered companion, when I was surprised to find that it crept up the stem of the acineta, and wound itself round its body. This mark of affection, too much like that frequently evinced at the other end of the scale, even where there is a mind for its control, did not long remain without interpretation. There was a young acineta, tender, and without poisonous tentacles (for they are not developed at birth), just ready to make its exit from the parent, an exit which takes place so quickly, and is followed by such rapid bounding movements of the non-ciliated acineta, that who would venture to say, à priori, that a dull, heavy, sluggish amœba could catch such an agile little thing? But the amœba are as unerring and unrelaxing in their grasp as they are unrelenting in their cruel inceptions of the living and the dead, when they serve them for nutrition; and thus the amœba, placing itself round the ovarian aperture of the acineta, received the young one, nurse-like, in its fatal lap, incepted it, descended from the parent, and crept off. Being unable to conceive at the time that this was such an act of atrocity on the part of the amœba as the sequel disclosed, and thinking that the young acineta might yet escape, or pass into some other form in the body of its host, I watched the amœba for some time afterwards, until the tale ended by the young acineta becoming divided into two parts, and thus in their respective digestive spaces ultimately becoming broken down and digested.[5]

With regard to these remarkable observations it can only, I think, be said that although certainly very suggestive of something more than mechanical response to stimulation, they are not sufficiently so to justify us in ascribing to these lowest members of the zoological scale any rudiment of truly mental action. The subject, however, is here full of difficulty, and not the least so on account of the amœba not only having no nervous system, but no observable organs of any kind; so that, although we may suppose that the adaptive movements described by Mr. Carter were non-mental, it still remains wonderful that these movements should be exhibited by such apparently unorganised creatures, seeing that as to the remoteness of the end attained, no less than the complex refinement of the stimulus to which their adaptive response was due, the movements in question rival the most elaborate of non-mental adjustments elsewhere performed by the most highly organised of nervous systems.

Cœlenterata.

Dr. Eimer attributes 'voluntary action' to the Medusæ, and indeed draws a sharp distinction between what he considers their 'involuntary' and 'voluntary' movements. In this distinction, however, I do not at all concur; for although I am well acquainted with the difference between the active and slow rhythm upon which the distinction is founded, I see no evidence whatever for supposing that the difference involves any psychological element. The active swimming is produced by stimulation, and is no doubt calculated to lead to the escape of the organism; but this fact certainly does not carry us beyond the ordinary possibilities of reflex action. And even when, as in some species is constantly the case, bouts of active swimming appear to arise spontaneously or without observable stimulation, the fact is to be attributed to a liberation of overplus ganglionic energy, or to some unobservable stimulation; it does not justify the supposition of any psychical element being concerned.[6]

M'Crady gives an interesting account of a medusa which carries its larvæ on the inner sides of its bell-shaped body. The manubrium, or mobile digestive cavity of the animal, depends, as in the other Medusæ, from the summit of the concave surface of the bell, like a clapper or tongue. Now M'Crady observed this depending organ to be moved first to one side and then to the other side of the bell, in order to give suck to the larvæ on the sides of the bell—the larvæ dipping their long noses into the nutrient fluids which that organ of the parent's body contained. I cite this case, because if it occurred in one of the higher animals it would probably be called a case of instinct; but as it occurs in so low an animal as a jelly-fish, it is unreasonable to suppose that intelligence can ever have played any part in originating the action. Therefore we may set it down as the uncompounded result of natural selection.

Some species of medusæ—notably Sarsia—seek the light, crowding into the path of a beam, and following it actively if moved. They derive advantage from so doing, because certain small crustacea on which they feed likewise crowd into the light. The seeking of light by these medusæ is therefore doubtless of the nature of a reflex action which has been developed by natural selection in order to bring the animals into contact with their prey. Paul Bert has found that Daphnia pulex seeks the light (especially the yellow ray), and Engelmann has observed the same fact with regard to certain protoplasmic organisms. But in none of these or other such cases is there any evidence of a psychical element being concerned in the process.

Echinodermata.

Some of the natural movements of these animals, as also some of their movements under stimulation, are very suggestive of purpose; but I have satisfied myself that there is no adequate evidence of the animals being able to profit by individual experience, and therefore, in accordance with our canon, that there is no adequate evidence of their exhibiting truly mental phenomena. On the other hand, the study of reflex action in these organisms is full of interest—so much so that in my next work I shall take them as typical organisms in this connection.[7]