SEA-WORMS.
A chance reader picking up this volume by accident, or from curiosity,
and opening it at this chapter, will in all probability put it down
quickly with the remark, “Worms indeed! and who wishes to read about
such disgusting creatures?”
Our prejudices trip us up at every other step we take, and interfere
with our seeing and learning much that would interest and edify us. Our
notions of worms are suggested by our imperfect knowledge of the common
earth-worm (_Lumbricus_) which few persons have properly seen. It is a
nasty, slimy, wriggling creature, that spoils the look of the lawn with
its unsightly casts, and is a further nuisance in that it disturbs the
seedlings in our seed-beds.
Well, as a naturalist I have no great sympathy with this view, for
a worm is a wonderful creature; but there are worms and worms, and
probably the most sensitive soul who would shrink from a near view
of the loathly earth-worm would have his or her interest awakened by
a sight of the Rainbow Leaf-worm, the golden-haired Sea-mouse, the
cinnabar Cirratulus, or the glowing plumy crown of the Tube-worm.
So, too, their imagination may be stirred at the marvellous power
of elongation possessed by the _Lineus_, whose full length can only
be estimated with difficulty, but which has been ascertained to be
something over twenty feet.
There are among them builders--in porcelain, stone, sand, mud--and
spinners of submarine webs like those of spiders. Brilliant colours,
elegant forms, wonderful structures and mechanism, ease of motion, and
symmetry, are among the attributes of the humble sea-worms. Let us
look at a few representative forms.
Flat, or nearly flat rocks that are only uncovered by the recess of the
spring tides, will often be found to be strangely coated with coarse
sand in which are immersed round tubes with their mouths protruding.
This is a colony of the common Sabella (_Sabella alveolaria_), which
cements the sand together in long tubes, and appears also to spill
some of its liquid glue around; for the spaces between the tubes are
filled with sand similarly agglutinated, so that the whole surface of
the rock is uniformly coated with sand in which are the sabellæ-tubes.
There is nothing to see, so long as the sea remains out; but when the
incoming tide covers this rock it is a sight worth seeing. From every
one of these tubes there comes forth a plume of feathers in shape like
a funnel. The tubes are fashioned by curiously-modified antennæ, which
serve the purpose of a couple of trowels to manipulate the material
that has been scooped up by another organ, to mould and smooth it, and
make it comfortable for habitation.
Its methods of working can be clearly seen by capturing a specimen or
two, evicting it from its home, and placing it in a glass vessel with
a little clean sand on the bottom. It will immediately proceed to the
elaboration of a new tube; and with that eye for economy of labour
and material which characterises the majority of natural builders, it
will make the glass serve as the base of its tube, and thus reduce its
labour by a third.
[Illustration:
TRUMPET SABELLA. BRUSH SABELLA. COMMON SABELLA.
]
The breathing organs (_branchiæ_) of these tube-masons are external,
and form a very beautiful object when the worm lies on the threshold
of his house and pushes this apparatus out, that his blood may benefit
from the abundant oxygen of the ever-moving waters. At first the
branchial plume issues very cautiously and with slight pauses and
withdrawals; but finding all safe the _Sabella_ at length gets it quite
out and expands it to its glorious fulness, delicate in structure,
splendid in colour as the light is variously reflected from the
finely-toothed threads.
We must use the lens if we are to get an idea of the structure of
this beautiful crown. By its aid we find there are a great number of
filaments, each one fringed with finer processes on each side. Fine as
these are, they are all hollow, and through them the blood constantly
flows, to be brought in contact with, and to absorb the oxygen of the
sea-water, which can pass through the microscopic meshes of their walls
through which, however, the free cells of the blood cannot pass. In
some species these gills are arranged not in circular form but spirally
round a central shaft.
Among the numerous species of _Sabella_ to be found on our shores,
there is one that is not inaptly termed the Silkworm Sabella (_S.
bombyx_), and indeed, being a real worm it has more claim to the
title than has the caterpillar that is called the Silkworm. This
silk-producing Sabella, however, could scarcely be pressed into the
service of man, though one could fancy an imaginative writer employing
this spinner to make gossamer vestments for sea-fairies, for the
material produced is of just the texture a fairy would desire. Not
long ago, I introduced to one of my aquarium vases a flat stone that
supported a sea-anemone, which I was loth to disturb, and would rather
he moved off on his own account. In doing this, one never knows what
one may be introducing in addition to the specimen desired, unless one
takes the precaution of scraping or scrubbing the stone. A week or two
later, I was surprised one morning to find several threads--so clear
as to be scarcely visible--running up from this stone at the bottom to
a point about four inches up the glass. Next day there was more of it,
and so on from day to day the quantity increased, and the older portion
became more visible than before, for its extreme transparency passed
away, and it became dusty-looking--in fact, cobwebby. By this time it
was clear that what had at first looked like purposeless threads and
filaments were really part of a quite voluminous tube.
One of these tube-worms, the Trumpet Sabella (_S. tubularia_), is
represented in our illustration on page 109. It does not form its tube
of foreign material, but of shelly matter secreted by its own body. It
does not associate with other individuals of its species as does the
common kind (_S. alveolaria_), but attaching the small beginnings of
its tube to a shell or stone, it builds by itself and secretes a long
tube that gradually rises from its support and attains a more or less
erect attitude. From this “coign of vantage” it expands its glorious
jewelled coronet, and instantly vanishes far into its depths on the
slightest alarm, real or false.
The tubes of another family, the Serpuladæ, resemble those of the
Trumpet Sabella in their material, but instead of the semi-erect,
free tube of that species, most of the Serpulæ are cemented to shells
and stones for the greater part of their length, and are irregularly
twisted. There is an important feature, however, which will enable us
to distinguish between Serpula and Sabella at a glance. Serpula is
furnished with a peculiar organ in shape like a long inverted cone, so
placed that it is the last part of the animal to be withdrawn into the
tube, which it accurately fits and effectually closes like a stopper.
This organ is really one of the tentacles specially developed to serve
the purpose of a house-door.
The species represented in the accompanying figure is a very beautiful
one, the Scarlet Serpula (_Serpula contortuplicata_). Its scarlet
stopper and fine fanlike branchiæ present a splendid contrast with the
smooth white, china-like tubes.
Along the sides of these creatures are peculiarly shaped and toothed
hooks, and bunches of bristles which serve in lieu of limbs to enable
the worm to push out its breathing apparatus and to rapidly withdraw it.
We must look for the Scarlet Serpula on shells and stones that have
been washed in from deeper water; but there is a more plentiful
species to be found in abundance between tide-marks, sometimes almost
completely covering loose flat stones with its ridge-shaped tube,
which earns its scientific name (_Serpula triquetra_). Of the three
flat surfaces implied in that name one is cemented throughout its
length to the shell or stone it has selected for its freehold. A third
species (_S. vermicularis_) secretes a round tube, but may be readily
distinguished from _S. contortuplicata_, by its possession of a double
stopper with toothed edges.
[Illustration: SCARLET SERPULA.]
One of the most plentiful of these tube-making worms is the Spirorbis,
which is to be found everywhere on stones, rocks, and weeds in the
littoral zone. More especially shall we be struck by its numbers
when we observe it thickly studding the fronds of the Toothed Wrack
(_Fucus serratus_), for the dark olive hue of the Wrack throws up the
dead-white Spirorbis tubes very strongly indeed. These tubes and the
animals that form them are very like Serpulæ, but the tube instead of
being more or less straight, or merely twisted, is coiled in a flat
spiral, like the shell of the fresh-water Trumpet snail (_Planorbis_).
Normally these are very flat at the base, and regularly formed, but
where (as in specimens before me) they are densely crowded on the
Wrack, there is not sufficient room for this regular growth when they
get large, and the outer turns of the spiral are twisted aside and
greatly distorted. The worm is very like a Serpula, closing its shell
with a similar stopper, but the branchial plumes are not nearly so
extensive, these rosy appendages being but six in number in Spirorbis.
It is impossible to do much work upon the shore before coming upon some
specimens of another species of tube-maker, though of a less artistic
character. The probability is that you will turn over a flat stone
that is partly imbedded in the sand, and under it will find a furrow
with an active worm wriggling through it. On glancing at the stone the
explorer finds that he has ruined a habitation by forcibly tearing off
the roof which had been cemented to the stone for greater security, and
continued for some distance beyond the stone on either side. The tube,
as a fact, is of great length, so that the worm, which is not more than
six inches long, may have ample room for exercise without going into
the dangerous glare of daylight, to be seen by some ravenous fish. This
species is commonly known as the Sand-worm (_Arenicola piscatorum_).
In some districts it is the “Lug.” It is popularly thought to be a
favourite bait with fishermen, and it is so described in all the books;
but in the part of Cornwall where this book is being written the
fishermen do not set great value upon it, though they highly appreciate
the Wilfry or Woolfry (_Nereis pelagica_).
The Lug does not produce a very favourable impression when you have
turned him out of his burrow, for his very dark greenish hue looks
black at a little distance, and his branchial tufts give him a ragged
appearance. The fore part of his body is much swollen, but runs off to
a point where the proboscis is situated. The branchiæ are attached to
about a dozen of the middle rings only, in branching tufts that change
from green to crimson. It is a rapid burrower, opening a way through
the sand with its proboscis, widening it with the thicker part of its
length just beyond, and exuding a mucous cement that agglutinates the
grains of sand and leaves the passage open for further use. Its body is
cylindrical throughout.
In similar situations we shall find a vertical shaft of sand protruding
from the shore, with a kind of halo of fine branching sandy tubes
around the mouth. The whole structure will consist either of grains of
sand or fragments of shell cemented together on a silky lining. Its
mouth is about an inch above the level of the sands, but the tube, if
carefully dug out, will be found to extend to a foot or more. This is
the home of the Sand Mason or Shell-binder (_Terebella littoralis_);
and now that the tide is out the master of the house will probably
be lying, like Truth, at the bottom of his well-like structure, and
ready to bolt still deeper in the sand if necessary. He is about four
inches long, and the most distinguishing feature is a regular mop of
pink tentacles around his--I had almost said head, but he has no head,
so we will substitute the more correct expression “anterior segment.”
The gills are much branched, and there is a bright red stripe along
the under surface. There are several allied species; one known as the
Potter (_T. figulus_) from its choice of mud or clay as the material
for its tube.
There is a remarkable worm called _Cirratulus_ that lives in stones.
Some say he bores the stone, but of that I am very doubtful; but there
is no question that he lives in the perforation. Gosse says “under
stones,” and I have no doubt Gosse is right; it is sometimes taken
under stones, I dare say, for it leaves its burrow occasionally and
sees the outside world. A living specimen now before me is in that free
condition, having quitted its stone yesterday, Boxing Day, 1895, and
not yet settled down again. He is evidently an up-to-date worm, and
goes out on Bank Holidays! He is about four inches long, though from
his restless wriggling and obvious objection to assuming a straight
form, it is not easy to measure him accurately. His body proper is of a
fine cinnabar colour, and appears to be hung loosely in a clear outer
skin, which is very roomy in the fore half, sufficiently so to allow
the contained body to curl and twist and double upon itself without
affecting the envelope. A series of sausage-shaped expansions of this
envelope constantly travel from the rear, forwards, and are caused by
water that has passed through the creature’s gills and is now making
its way out along the outer envelope. Cirratulus has a head, a rather
poor one, and a mouth, but it is not easy to find either, for the
segments near the head produce an enormous mop of tentacular processes,
many of them five inches in length, which completely hides the head and
mouth. These are of the same bright red as the body, and when they are
extended in all directions, and the creature in a good light is shown
to those ignorant of Annelid-beauty as a worm, it causes a considerable
shock to their notions of worm-repulsiveness. This shock is not abated
when the light plays on the bristles and a ripple of silvery flashes
runs along them. In the dark a gentle touch will cause the entire
creature to flash with a bluish electric light, which runs also along
every one of the hundreds of finely attenuated filaments from the
head-region.
There is a group of these lowly creatures that are really magnificent.
They build no tubes, neither do they sink definite tunnels, but they
shun the light and lurk under stones, in the chinks of rocks, and
round about the roots of seaweeds. Such are the Leaf-worms (_Nereis_),
of which several are of great length. They have more or less linear
bodies, of equal thickness for the greater part of their length,
and consisting of a great number of joints. The head is conical,
and adorned with several antennæ. They are carnivorous creatures,
and have the proboscis armed with a pair of jaws well toothed. The
well-developed feet protrude from the side, and bear gill-warts at
their tips, and jointed bristles. One of the most plentiful and
striking of these is the Wilfry (_Nereis pelagica_), previously alluded
to, a killing bait for sea-fishing, for no fish can resist its glowing
play of iridescence. The colour is a pale fleshy-fawn, but with a
succession of metallic gleams shooting over it. It is six or eight
inches long, and exceedingly active in its movements. Its favourite
habitat is the fœtid black muddy sand, rich in organic matter, that
collects in hollows between the rocks, or in the mud of brackish creeks.
If you desire a real good day’s fishing, spend half of the day before
in grubbing for this worm, with bare legs in the rich mud of such a
creek; a better plan is to pay somebody a few pence per dozen to get
them for you, and save yourself much discomfort.
Another species is the Pearly Nereis (_Nephthys margaritacea_), similar
to the Wilfry, but much smaller and running off to a very slender
point behind. The warm fawn colour of the upper surface exhibits
lively silvery iridescence, very suggestive of mother o’ pearl. The
large proboscis is cleft in two and adorned with a fringe of greenish
processes. The large feet carry each a leaf-like expansion in front of
each branch, and tufts of bristles. It occurs chiefly in the sand near
low-water.
The Rainbow Leaf-worm (_Phyllodoce lamelligera_) is one of the most
glorious of this group of worms, for each of its three or four hundred
segments bears a couple of expansive leaf-like plates, which are the
breathing organs. These are of a vivid green colour, and on the back
of the body proper this hue changes to blue-green shot with purple
and olive gleams. Its head is rounded, and is distinguished by the
tentacles about it. This species attains a length of over twenty
inches, but there is, among several others, a small intensely-green
form (_Phyllodoce viridis_) about two inches long, to be found among
the roots of weeds on low rocks. As this is very slender and of
thin texture, it can be well examined under the one-inch power of
the microscope, when the rowing action of the gill-leaves, and the
extrusion and withdrawal of the bundles of crystal bristles will be
seen.
[Illustration: RAINBOW LEAF-WORM.]
[Illustration: PEARLY NEREIS.]
Another family of these tubeless worms is represented in the Sanguine
Eunice (_Eunice sanguinea_), of which specimens may be found a couple
of feet in length, and of considerable thickness. It is green in
colour, but the gill-plates are of a glowing blood-red. One edge of
these plates is cut up after the fashion of a comb; and its head
is ornamented by fine antennæ. M. Quatrefages has left a graphic
description of this worm under the microscope, and as that account has
not been greatly hackneyed, I reproduce part of it here. He says: “We
have just placed upon the stage [of the microscope] a little trough
filled with sea-water, in which an Eunice is disporting itself. See
how indignant it is at its captivity; how its numerous rings contract,
elongate, twist into a spiral coil, and at every movement emit flashes
of splendour in which all the tints of the prism are blended in the
brightest metallic reflections. It is impossible, in the midst of
this tumultuous agitation, to distinguish anything definitely. But it
is more quiet now. Lose no time in examining it. See how it crawls
along the bottom of the vessel, with its thousand feet moving rapidly
forwards. See what beautiful plumes adorn the sides of the body; these
are the branchiæ, or organs of respiration, which become vermilion as
they are swelled by the blood, the course of which you may trace all
along the back. Look at that head enamelled with the brightest colours;
here are the few tentacles, delicate organs of touch, and here, in the
midst of them is the mouth, which, at first sight, seems merely like an
irregularly puckered slit. But watch it for a few moments; see how it
opens and protrudes a large proboscis, furnished with three pairs of
jaws, and possessing a diameter which equals that of the body within
which it is enclosed, as in a living sheath.
“Well; is it not wonderful? Is there any animal that can surpass it in
decoration? The corselet of the brightest beetle, the sparkling throat
of the humming-bird, would all look pale when compared with the play of
light over the rings of its body, glowing in its golden threads, and
sparkling over its amber and coral fringes.
“Now let us take a lens of higher power, and move the lamp in such a
manner as to let its rays fall on the reflector of our microscope,
and examine a few of the hairs taken from the sides of the Annelid we
have been describing. To the outer edge of every foot are appended two
bundles of hairs (_setæ_); these are far stiffer than ordinary hairs,
and appear to be placed on either side of the animal to defend it from
its enemies. A moment’s consideration will suffice to confirm this
view, for there is perhaps scarcely a weapon invented by the murderous
genius of man, whose counterpart could not be found amongst this class
of animals. Here are curved blades, whose edges present a prolonged
cutting surface, sometimes on the concave edge, as in the yatagan of
the Arab, sometimes on the convex border, as in the oriental scimitar.
Next we meet with weapons which remind us of the broad-sword of the
cuirassier, the sabre, and the bayonet; here are harpoons, fish-hooks,
and cutting blades of every form, loosely attached to a sharp handle:
these moveable pieces are intended to remain in the body of the enemy,
while the handle which supported them becomes a long spike, as sharp as
it was before. Here we have straight or curved poniards, cutting-bills,
arrows with the barbs turned backwards, but carefully provided with a
sheath to protect the fine indentations from being blunted by friction,
or broken by any unforeseen accident. Finally, if the enemy should
disregard his first wounds, there darts from every foot a shorter
but stronger spear, which is brought into play by a special set of
muscles, so soon as the combatants are sufficiently near to grapple in
close fight.”
From the use of the word “feet” in the foregoing it must not be
inferred that worms have true jointed feet, like those of crabs or
insects, for instance. What are sometimes spoken of as feet in the
case of the worm-class are lateral warts, which carry glassy and
elastic bristles in little bundles, like paint brushes; and these are
partially withdrawn into a sheath, or pushed out and used like oars
with a rowing motion that, all moving rhythmically, send the creature
along very speedily, especially when burrowing in sand or mud. To
such of my readers as possess a microscope I would advise the careful
examination of these bristles, their variety of form, as mentioned by
M. Quatrefages, will afford subjects for considerable study; though it
is open to doubt whether they are ever used for offensive or defensive
purposes.
There is a family of these Sea-worms whose members are mostly
characterised by the possession of broad overlapping scales upon their
backs, and beneath these are the rudimentary gills, the plates being
evidently intended to create currents to supply the blood with oxygen.
Two of the most-likely-to-be-met-with of these are _Polynoe squamata_
and _P. cirrata_. The former is uniformly pale brown on the upper side,
completely clothed with the large, loose-looking scales, beyond which
the three pairs of tentacles, and the lateral organs of touch (_cirri_)
project. It is not easy to examine this creature closely whilst it
is in a living condition, it is so sensitive to the light, and ever
seeking to avoid it. Its chief concern is, “where can I hide?” It
possesses four eyes, and its scales are delicately fringed. _Polynoe
cirrata_ is larger, darker, and its feet protrude further beyond the
edge of the scales.
The Sea-mouse (_Aphrodita aculeata_) belongs to this section. It is a
species that prefers deeper water, but sometimes comes to shore with a
heavy sea. In addition to its scales the arched back is covered with a
thick brown felt, thinner in the middle, from which emerge long brown
bristles and hairs of yellow and green, that are also iridescent and
reflect all the colours of the spectrum.
All the worms we have been considering belong to the Class Annelida,
the true worms, with their bodies formed of a long series of rings
or segments. There is another group of worms, belonging to the Class
Turbellaria, of much lower organization, and generally spoken of as
Planarians. Most of them are thin textured creatures that appear
capable of almost indefinite expansion, and, on the other hand, they
have the power of contraction to a mere speck of jelly. Their voracity
is in inverse proportion to their size; and the mouth is situated on
the middle line of the under surface, usually not far from the centre
of the body, and opening directly into the stomach. The whole of the
body is covered with very fine cilia, by whose movements they appear to
owe their power of gliding and swimming. Some of them have a pair of
tentacles, though in some instances these are little more than backward
folds of the body, and on them or in their neighbourhood is frequently
gathered a cluster, or two clusters, of eye-like sensitive spots which,
however, do not appear to be very perfectly fitted for visual purposes.
In some cases the mouth is the only opening to the organism, and has to
serve several purposes.
The student who would collect and study the Planarians must be gifted
with patience and keen sight. The fronds, stems, and roots of seaweeds
are suitable places to examine; also the narrowest cracks and fissures
of slaty rocks, where there appears to be no room even for a fine piece
of tissue paper. Where such rocks show a loosening of the laminæ, break
a portion off by inserting the putty-knife and separate the flakes. You
will see some delicate specimens of the conventional worm-shape, but
very thin; you will see mere specks of almost transparent jelly. Lift
these off the stone carefully. How? Ah, that is a difficult matter,
for they are so soft that our clumsy fingers could do nothing with
them; but you must be prepared for this, and bring with you a clean
camel’s hair brush. With this you can pick them up, and by dipping it
into a jar of sea-water, and giving a quick rotatory motion to the
brush, the Planarian will be dislodged, and will probably settle on
the side conveniently for your examination of it with your lens. Any
slimy-looking spot of colour that appears upon a stone or sponge you
should attempt to move with your brush, and in many cases it will prove
to be a Planarian that may afterwards so expand as to surprise you with
its beauty.
Sir John Dalyell, many years ago, described how he cut up a specimen
of the common Black Planaria (_P. nigra_) of our fresh-water ditches,
each portion of which became a complete animal; and upon this slender
basis appears to have been founded the statement, which is copied in
all the books, that worms of this class partly propagate by spontaneous
division, in addition to their interesting egg-laying.
Dr. Collingwood, who has paid considerable attention to this
comparatively neglected group, doubts this, and I think with good
reason. He has never seen this division take place; and I would humbly
add that I have kept large numbers of the fresh-water species for
years, but never observed the phenomenon, though I have carefully
watched for and really expected it to take place--as such fission
undoubtedly occurs in the Sea-anemones.
One of the largest and most conspicuous of our native species is
the Banded Flat-worm (_Eurylepta vittata_), which is marked with
longitudinal black lines on a whitish ground. It has a pair of
tentacles in front of the broad, flat body, which gradually tapers away
to a point behind. It has a large mouth opening near the centre of the
underside.
A more worm-like group is the Nemertea, which is divided into genera,
founded on the number or absence of eye-spots. One of these is the
Red-faced Blind-worm (_Astemma rufifrons_), about an inch and a half
in length, with a roundish body, no eyes, and the mouth near the front
end.
The Four-eyed Worm (_Tetrastemma quadrioculatum_) is similar in form,
but larger, thicker in the middle, and with four eye-spots arranged in
a semicircle parallel with the front margin.
The Many-eyed Red-worm (_Polystemma roseum_) has a distinct snake-like
head and neck, with many eye-spots in groups around the margin of the
head and towards the neck, and in the latter there are two red spots
which appear to be hearts. Just below these is the mouth. Viewed
laterally the head is wedge-shaped. It is to be found in rock-crevices,
and among the rubbish at the roots of seaweeds on the rocks.
The most marvellous, in certain respects, of all these worms is _the_
Long Worm (_Lineus marinus_[3]), so long, indeed, that it is all but
impossible to give its measurement. It is extremely soft like the
others of its tribe, very narrow and quite linear, that is, slender
with parallel sides. You will probably find it--for it is fairly
common--beneath some deserted shell, resting for the day, away from
the light; and it will no doubt be twisted and tangled and coiled
upon itself in such a manner as would lead you to say--if you have no
experience of its ways--that it were impossible for it or any other
creature to disentangle it without many breakages. How any creature
can carry on the ordinary functions of life so tightly coiled and
twisted and knotted is a marvel. And yet, hopeless as the task of
disentanglement appears, _Lineus_ accomplishes it without any of
those strainings that the juggler puts on when he has been tied up by
the sailor, until the confining rope is all knots. Whilst it is day
the _Lineus_ has no particular desire to uncoil; he is happier as he
is, his enormous length more under control and, like an army that is
concentrated in one mass, is less open to the assaults of an enemy.
But when the fitting occasion has arrived, and _Lineus_ wishes to be
elsewhere, he solves your difficulties in a way you can scarcely
understand, though you see the whole performance. He simply unravels
himself; taking the right end of him, and applying a little pressure,
he glides off without any fuss, and you see that there is a flowing
motion of the black string; no untying, no contortions. He has uncoiled
about a foot of himself and laid hold of a stone, a shell, or a weed
that distance away, and to the horror of yourself, who hoped now to
be able to measure this animated bootlace, he has commenced twisting
himself into an equally hopeless tangle at the other end.
[3] Better known by its former name, _Nemertes borlasii_.
[Illustration:
BANDED FLAT-WORM. LONG WORM.
]
He is so remarkably elastic too! You may look at this living Gordian
knot and see about a quarter of an inch of the head end protruding
from a tight kink; you may watch the kink and certify that no movement
takes place in it; yet the head moves away to a distance of five or six
inches, simply by the stretching and consequent attenuation of that
free quarter of an inch.
The Rev. Hugh Davis many years ago contributed to the Transactions of
the Linnean Society an account of his dealings with this Planarian,
and as does not often happen to contributions to that useful but
technical work, it became much quoted. It was all sober fact, as became
the calling of the author and the character of the eminent society to
which he communicated the story; but we were greatly amused not many
years ago seeing Davis’ account of its length, etc., put forward as a
specimen of a “traveller’s tale,” drawn chiefly from the imagination.
Later, but practically identical accounts have been published by Gosse,
Charles Kingsley, and others. Kingsley, if we remember rightly, had
to defend himself from the charge of shooting with the long-bow, or
“slinging the hatchet,” and in doing so he said there was so much
that was truly marvellous in Nature that it was unnecessary for an
author to invent lies wherewith to startle his readers. Yet the story
was too much for a well-known and generally well-informed science
lecturer, for on the editor of one of the snippety periodicals printing
Kingsley’s account with the sensational headline, “A living fish-line,”
and without acknowledgment of the source from which quoted, Mr. W.
Mattieu Williams, F.R.A.S., F.C.S., requoted it in his monthly “Gossip
on Current Topics,” contributed to “Science Gossip,” and headed it
“Munchausen Science.” He coupled it with what he called “an equally
sensational account of the latest method of disposing of the dead, by
electroplating the corpse,” and concludes, “It is not my wont to be
presumptuous, but in this case I do venture to suggest that for such
revelations the general title of Popular Science should be exchanged
for that which I have given, Munchausen Science.” Of course, Mr.
Williams was a physicist, rather than a biologist, but Dr. Taylor,
the editor, professed to have a knowledge of marine biology, and
how he could have let Williams’ strictures pass without comment or
explanation, is more wonderful than the account of _Lineus_.
Davis gave up the attempt to measure the living _Lineus_, but when
it was dead he unravelled it without stretching, and found it to be
twenty and two feet long. He adds: “I give it as my firm opinion, that
I speak within bounds when I say the animal, when alive, might have
been extended to four times the length it presented when dead. It is,
therefore, by no means impossible that this most astonishing creature
may have been susceptible of being drawn out to the length of twelve
fathoms, or, according to the accounts of the fishermen, to thirty
yards or fifteen fathoms.”
I would only add that from my acquaintance with the living _Lineus_, I
see no occasion whatever for taxing the Rev. H. Davis or Canon Kingsley
with exaggeration. Neither, I think, will my readers, when they have
read the following quotation from Prof. W. C. MacIntosh’s “Monograph of
British Annelida”:--“This is unquestionably the giant of the race, and
even now I am not quite satisfied about the limit of its growth, for
after a severe storm in the spring of 1864, a specimen was thrown on
shore at St. Andrews, which half filled a dissecting jar eight inches
wide and five inches deep. Thirty yards were measured without rupture,
and yet the mass was not half uncoiled.”