Attached to the thin crumpled leaf of an Ulva in this pool is an
animal, having much of the texture, and somewhat of the form, of an
Anemone. Formerly, indeed, it was associated in the same group, but
it is now ascertained to have more affinities with the translucent
and often colourless free-swimming jelly-fishes. From its resemblance
to an elegant lamp, it is called _Lucernaria_.[45] We must suppose
a _Medusa_ to be turned hollow upwards, and an adhesive foot to be
produced from what was before the summit of its “umbrella;” and little
more is necessary to constitute a _Lucernaria_. The most observable
peculiarity is that the tentacles, which are very minute, and have the
form of a globose head seated on a short stem, are disposed in compact
groups of as many as seventy, which groups, eight in number, like so
many round balls, are seated on projecting angles of the margin; while
from the centre of the hollow rises a mouth, with four protrusile lips
in form of a square. The colour is a dull dark red or liver brown.
The animal preys on other creatures, which it captures by means of
poison-capsules, and swallows, much as the anemones do.
And thus we wend our way homeward; meditating much as we glide across
the smooth bay, on the wondrous elegance of form, the exquisite
brilliance of colours, the great variety, the instincts, the powers,
the most elaborate apparatus, bestowed on these humble creatures, of
no apparent use whatever to man; indeed, until quite recently, utterly
neglected by him and unknown, though exhibiting their loveliness under
his very eyes, and close to his doors. We meditate on these things, and
ask, For what purpose is all this profuse expenditure of power, wisdom,
taste, skill? We hear the answer in the choral praise of those who know
more of these matters than we can yet attain to,--“Thou hast created
all things, and _for thy pleasure_ they are, and were created.”