A fragment of soft sandstone lies before me, measuring three and a half inches in length, and two inches in breadth, which, small though it be, contains no fewer than seventeen cylindrical tunnels. Each of these exhibits so wonderful a skill in construction, that human hands could not surpass it, though aided by 'all the means and appliances to boot,' of mechanical agency.

It is generally stated that the Pholas never intrudes itself into the apartment occupied by a neighbouring 'worker.' The Pholas, however, often intrudes on its neighbour; and such intrusion is manifested in the small piece of stone alluded to in no less than four instances. Here let me observe, that it is not always the larger mollusc that bores through the smaller one; it as frequently happens that the latter deserves the brand of wanton aggressor. Both cases are common enough, and, indeed, must of necessity occur, wherever at any time a colony of various sized Pholades are clustered together in a small portion of rock.

A fragment of rock riddled by the Pholas is a much more pleasing sight than can be witnessed at the sea-shore in connection with that animal under usual circumstances. For this reason: When visiting the habitat of the boring bivalves, a host of small circular holes are sometimes seen; at other times the surface of the same portion of the beach appears comparatively sound, and it is only by striking a smart blow with a hammer upon the ground, that we render scores of orifices instantly observable in all directions, from each of which is thrown a small jet of water. This phenomenon is caused by the Pholades in alarm retracting their siphons, which had hitherto filled the entire extent of the tunnels. At such a locality, if a piece of rock be excavated, various specimens of these boring molluscs, shrunk to their smallest possible size, will be discovered at the base of the cavities, which are invariably of a conical form, tapered at the top, and gradually enlarging as they descend.

It must be evident, then, that neither the likeness of the animal, nor the formation of its singular dwelling-place, can be seen by the casual wanderer along the sea-shore.

It will also be apparent to the intelligent reader, that when once the Pholas is located in a certain spot, he becomes a tenant for life; for never by any chance whatever, can the poor miner leave his rocky habitation by his own unaided exertions, even were he so inclined. As he grows older and increases in size, nature teaches the animal to enlarge his habitation in a proportionate and suitable manner.

During the period of the boring process, the orifice becomes clogged above the shell with the debris of the rock, and this, if allowed to accumulate would speedily asphyxiate the animal. To get rid of such an unpleasant obstruction, the Pholas retracts, and closes the end of its siphons, then suddenly extends the 'double barrelled' tube to its full length, until it reaches the entrance of the tunnel. This movement often repeated, causes portions of the pulverized stone to be forced outwards at each operation.

It is interesting to watch the curious manner in which the end of the principal siphon is alternately closed and spread out when it reaches the water, like a man inspiring heavily after any unusual exertion; it is then made again to descend, and renew its task, as above described.

In extracting that portion of the debris which is deposited at the base of the cavity, below the body of the industrious miner, a different plan is adopted. Wherever a Pholas is at its labours, there are always deposited within a circumference of several inches round the tunnel, myriads of short thin threads, which are squirted out from the smaller siphon.

The nodules on examination are found to be composed of pulverized rock, which is drawn in at the pedal opening, and ejected in the above manner, thereby effectually clearing the lower portion of the orifice. It was suggested to me that these threadlike objects were the fœcal matters of the Pholas, but this idea was soon dispelled by the assistance of the microscope; and, moreover, from the fact that the threads are never visible when the animal is in a quiescent state, but only when it is busily engaged in its mysterious task of boring.