“Is not this much better than sitting smoking and boozing with that thick-headed fellow, Blackall, and his set?” said Ernest, addressing young Eden.
“Indeed it is,” was the answer. “I’m sure if Lemon will let me come with him, I will gladly promise never to go out with Blackall any more.”
“Stick to that resolution, my boy,” replied Ernest. “I’ll undertake that Lemon will let you accompany him; and now let us go down on the beach. These sands look very tempting.”
The whole party were soon on the sands, strolling along and picking up the various marine curiosities they found in their way. Most of the party wondered at the odd-shaped things they picked up, but had not the slightest notion of their names, or even whether they were animal or vegetable. Ernest knew very little on the subject, though he had read a book or so about the wonders of the sea-shore; but Lemon was able to give his party nearly all the information they required. One of their number was called John Gregson. He was looked upon by the school generally as rather stupid. He seldom joined in any of their games; and when he did, played them very badly, unless they were such as required more judgment than practice. Now, however, he showed that he possessed some knowledge which the others did not. Ernest had picked up a roundish object with a hole through it, and partly covered with spines, which Tom Bouldon stoutly declared to be a fish’s egg.
“It must have been a very large fish, then,” observed Ernest. “Those prickles, too, are puzzling. Perhaps they grew after the egg was laid.”
The general opinion was that Gregson knew something about all sorts of out-of-the-way matters.
“I say, Gregson, this is a regular-built egg; isn’t it?” said Bouldon, as soon as he could be found. He was discovered up to his knees in a pool among the rocks, with a hammer and chisel in hand, working perseveringly under water.
“No; you first make a statement totally at variance with the truth, and then ask a question,” answered the young naturalist, looking up from his occupation, but apparently not well pleased at being interrupted. “That is the Echinus esculentus, or sea-urchin. Just let me finish knocking off this magnificent anemone, and I’ll tell you all about it.”
“Anemone! Oh, I know—one of those curious coloured sea-weedy things I’ve seen girls collect at watering-places,” observed Bouldon, whose knowledge of natural history was not very extensive. “I’d save you all that trouble; let me cut it off with my knife.”
“Not for the world; you’d kill it, to a certainty,” exclaimed Gregson. “See, I have knocked off a piece of the rock to which it is sticking, and I may now put it into my jar. Now I could cut off any portion of it, and the part cut off will turn into a new anemone, but if I were to injure the base the animal would quickly die. They belong to the class scientifically called Anthozoa or living flowers, because from their external appearance they seem to partake of the vegetable nature. Just look into that part of the pool which I have left undisturbed. See, there are two of them feeding. Look how they stretch out their long tentacles to catch hold of their food. Ah! that one has got hold of a tiny shrimp, and is tucking it into his hungry maw, which is just in the middle of its flower-like body. Is he not a handsome fellow? What beautiful colours he presents! Ah! I thought that I should see something else in the pool that you would think curious. Look down close. There are three or more little globular bodies floating about like balloons. The animal is the berve. It has ciliated bands round it, like the marks on a melon. What a beautiful iridescent light plays over them! They enable it to move over the water, while with its long tentacles it fishes for its food. At night those cilia shine with a phosphorescent light, and have a very beautiful appearance. Stop! oh, don’t go away without looking more particularly at this submarine forest. The woods of America in autumn do not present more gorgeous colours. That beautiful pink weed is the Delesseria sanguinea. Let us pull up some and take it with us to dry it. It will keep its colour for years and its smell for months. See, those are shrimps cruising in and about those delicate branches, and crabs crawling round their stems, and sandskippers darting about; ah, and there comes a goby! Did any of you ever see a goby? Look at him!—what bright eyes he has got! He is hardly bigger than a shrimp, but he is their deadly enemy. He eats up their eggs and the young shrimps, as well as sandhoppers, and indeed anything living which he can get into his big mouth. In his way he is just as terrific a fellow as the shark. He is very hardy, too, and will live in an aquarium with perfect contentment provided he can get enough to eat.”