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Jones that they constitute the bases of the silicious formations found in the beds of chalk, "imbedded in the substance of which the sponges have remained for centuries, exposed to the water that constantly percolates such stratawater which contains silicious matter in solution. From a well-known law of nature, it is easy to explain why particles of similar matter should become aggregated; and thus to understand how, in the lapse of ages, the silicious spiculæ that originally constituted the frame-work of a sponge, have formed nuclei, around which kindred atoms have constantly accumulated, until the entire mass has at last been converted into solid flint." All this is very curious and interesting to the naturalist, but perhaps a leetle dry and wearisome to the general reader. We will therefore have done with our curiosities of sponge life, and proceed to speak of the other zoophytes nearly allied to these polypi of the poriferous order.

"I marked a whirlpool in perpetual play,
As though the mountain were itself alive,
And catching prey on every side, with feelers
Countless as sunbeams, slight as gossamer :
Compressed like wedges, radiate like stars,
Branching like seaweed, whirled in dazzling rings,
Subtle and variable as flickering flames,
Sight could not trace their evanescent changes,
Nor comprehend their motions, till minute
And curious observation caught the clue
Of this live labyrinth-where every one,
By instinct taught, performed its little task.
Millions of millions thus from age to age,
With simplest skill, and toil unwearable,
No moment and no movement unimproved,
Laid line on line, on terrace terrace spread,
To swell the heightening, brightening, gradual
mound,

By marvellous structure climbing tow'rds the day. Omnipotence wrought in them, with them, by them;

Hence what Omnipotence alone could do
Worms did. I saw the living pile ascend
The mausoleum of its architects,
Still dying upwards as their labours closed:
Slime the material, but the slime was turned
To adamant, by their petrific touch;

Frail were their frames, ephemeral their lives,
Their masonry imperishable."

What a lively and beautiful picture is this, from Montgomery's "Pelican Island," of the life and labours of the coral insect, as it is often improperly called-the little marine worm, or more properly polypus, which works such mighty changes in the ocean depths. "Humble as these creatures are," says a recent scientific writer," their operations occupy an important place in the history of the globe. Islands, some of them of considerable size, and affording habitation to an entire race of human beings, owe their elevation from the bottom of the ocean, and the solidity which enables them to resist the continual action of the tremendous breakers of the tropical seas, to the labours of these apparently contemptible agents; and in the geological periods of the world's history they appear to have played even a still more important part."

The beautiful lines of Mrs. Sigourney, addressed to these submarine architects, are no doubt known to most of our readers; nevertheless we cannot resist the temptation to quote the two first stanzas :—

"Toil on toil on! ye ephemeral train,

That build in the tossing and treacherous main;
Toil on! for the wisdom of man ye mock,
With your sand-based structures and domes of
rock.

Your columns the fathomless fountains lave,
And your arches spring up through the crested

wave.

Ye're a puny race thus to boldly rear
A fabric so vast in a realm so drear.

"Ye bind the deep with your secret zone,
The ocean is scaled and the surge a stone;
Fresh wreaths from the coral pavement spring
Like the terraced pride of Assyria's king;
The turf looks green where the breakers rolled,
O'er the whirlpool ripens the rind of gold;
The sca-matched isle is the home of men,
And mountains exult where the wave hath been."
Wonderful indeed are the effects produced by
these seemingly insignificant agents, which from
age to age, back from the earliest periods of
geological research, have been toiling without
cessation, abstracting from the waters of the
ocean its calcareous matter, and building there
with those immense bodies of limestone rock
which form the bases of large islands, and even
of continents and far-stretching coral reefs,
forming natural breakwaters to most of the
shores on either side of the equator between the
20th and 30th degrees of latitude. Scenes of
surpassing loveliness are those which travellers
describe as common about the shores of the
islands of the South Pacific, that are defended
from the violent action of the waves by these
rocky barriers, upon the outward or weather side
of which the surf beats with tremendous violence,
old ocean roaring and chafing as in rage and
fury, while all within is peace and tranquillity.
Down to the very edge of the clear lagoon
stretches the verdant shore covered with luxu
riant vegetation. Graceful palms and other trees
of tropical growth bend over and are mirrored
in the crystal waters; beneath which glisten the
pearly shells, and gleam the gold and silver
scales of the fish, as they glide in and out amid
the rocks, and submarine forests and gardens,
that rival in grace of form and richness and
variety of tints the terrestrial Flora even of those
balmy and productive climes. Lovely bays and
creeks are there, shut in from all disturbing in-
fluences, and rocky caves, and grots, and little
lawny isles, fit homes for fairy frolickers.
But this will never do. We are growing too
discursive and poetical, and must bring our
fugitive thoughts back to
our own shores.
Let us, however, before leaving those tropical
seas where the subjects of our present article
most abound and flourish, ask the aid of
a recent traveller to place before our readers an
exquisite submarine picture, which looks too
life-like to be other than perfectly natural. It

is taken on some continental or island coast of | Polypes inhabiting which differs considerably the Indian Ocean:

from those of the Hydroide order, being more compound in its character: in the former "On a small bight of the inner edge of a coral instance it is simply a mass of cells enclosed in reef was a sheltered nook, where the extreme slope a bag-like case, or skin; in the latter we find was well exposed, and where every coral was in full life and luxuriance. Smooth round masses of first an outer leathery covering, within which, Mæandrina and Astea were contrasted with delicate separated by a hollow space, is the inner coat, or leaf-like and cup-shaped expansions of Explanaria, wall of the stomach. Fine laminæ, which have and with an infinite variety of branching Madre- their origin on the outer skin, project inward, pore and Seriatopora, some with mere finger-radiating towards the centre, like the gills of a shaped projections, others with large branching mushroom; some being sufficiently long to touch stems, and others again exhibiting an elegant as- the inner sac, and others much shorter. In semblage of interlacing twigs, of the most delicate those Helianthoids called Sea-anemones, the and exquisite workmanship. Their colours were laminæ above-described continue during lifeunrivalled, vivid greens contrasting with more sober time soft and fleshy, but in their congeners the browns and yellows, mingled with rich shades of Madrepores, a coating of carbonate of lime is purple, from pale pink to deep blue. Bright red, yellow, and peach-coloured Nullepore clothed those secreted, which thickens and hardens until it masses that were dead, mingled with beautiful pearly forms a stony cast of the Polype. In the wellflakes of Eschara and Retessora; the latter look- known Madrepore called the mushroom-coral of ing like lace-work on ivory. In among the branches our cabinets we have a familiar example of this of the corals, like birds among trees, floated many kind of structure. In the limestone which enters beautiful fish, radiant with metallic greens or crim- so largely into the geological formation of our sons, or fantastically banded with black and yellow shores, immense beds of fossil Madrepores exist; stripes. Patches of clear white sand were seen here but few living examples of this family of zooand there for the floor, with dark hollows and re- phytes are now to be found. One called the cesses beneath overhanging masses and ledges. All Turbinolea milletiana has been dredged up off these, seen through the clear crystal water, the the Cornwall and Irish coasts. A more comripple of which gave motion and quick play of light and shadow to the whole, formed a scene of mon species, which may be found in various rarest beauty; and left nothing to be desired by the parts of these islands, is the Caryophyllea eye, either in elegance of form, or brilliancy and Smithii, which closely resembles some of the harmony of colouring." exotic madrepores, only it is much smaller. It has the same mushroom folds, somewhat reIs not this a picture brigh and glowing assembling the petrified rays or petals of a flower. though painted by a sunbeam that had wandered down to those ocean-depths, and surprised a family-party of Helianthoida, picturesquely grouped amid their submarine 1riends and relatives? On such a scene as this it was that the old mariner, in Mary Howitt's ballad Delicæ Maris, looked. Here is the desc iption:

66 Down, far down in those ocean-depths,
Many thousand fathoms low,

I have seen, like woods of mighty oaks,
The trees of coral grow;
The red, the green, and the beautiful
Pale branched like the chrysolite
Which amid the sunlit waters spread
Their flowers intensely bright.
Some they were like the lily of June,
Or the rose of Fairy-land;
As if some poet's wondrous dream
Inspired a sculptor's hand."

Transgressing again! Another raid into the
realms of Poesy, leaving poor Science sitting
upon the boundary line, and imploring us to
come back and examine her bag of dry bones,
which she calls facts, and labels with such un-
accountably hard names that we are almost de-
terred from having anything to do with them.
However, as we cannot well get on without her
assistance, we will just pick out a few specimens
in order to keep on good terms with so important
an auxiliary to our sea-side teachings.

We have been speaking about the zoophytes called sponges and corals, with especial reference to what Dr. Harvey terms calcareous corals, of the Helianthoid order, the structure of the

Many of the British corals, although small,
are extremely beautiful; some being shaped like
feathers: others are palmate, and foliate, and ar-
borescent in form, and of the most delicate
texture. We cannot now pause to enumerate
or describe them. They belong to the old genera
Tubularea and Sertularia of Linnæus, of the
latter of which as many as seventeen are found
on our coasts. They are sometimes found at-
tached to the stems of the great oar-weed, and
other algæ, looking like fine embroidery or
enamel-work. There is also a genus of these
polypi called Plumularea, remarkable for having
its cells all placed on one side only of the
branches. Dr. Johnston, in describing one of
the species (P. cristata) often found on sea-
weeds near low-water mark, gives us some idea
of the immense numbers of living tenants there
may be in a single polypidum. "Each plant,"
"is calculated to contain about five
he tells us,
hundred polypes; and a single specimen, of
ordinary size, will number four, five, to six
thousand.

Many such specimens, all united to a common fibre, and all the offshoots of one common parent, are often located on one sea-weed, the site then of a population which no London nor Pekin can rival. But P. cristata is a small species; and there are specimens both of Plumarea and Sertularia, of which the family may consist of eighty or one hundred thousand individuals. It is such calculations," continues the reflective naturalist, "always underrated, that illustrate the 'magnalities of nature,' and take us by surprise, leaving us in

P

wonderment at what may be the great object of this her exuberant production of these

'Insect millions peopling every wave."" Closely allied to the sea-anemones are the Lucenruria, of which there are three British species. These curious zoophytes are generally found attached to rocks or sea-weeds by a narrow stalk, which they can elongate or shorten at pleasure. They have several branches (generally eight), which radiate from the centre, and are terminated by little tufts of tentacles. Between each of these tufts is a small tubercle, situated on the margin of the membrane which unites the rays with each other. The framework of these delicate structures is clear as crystal, and of various bright colours; and as they swing about under the lofty arches of the rocky caverns, they must look like chandeliers of beautiful workmanship, ready to be lighted up for some great festival of Neptune. One strange part of their history is, that they can detach themselves at will from the object to which they adhere, and, by alternately contracting and expanding their bodies, swim with great rapidity to a new position.

We must resist the temptation to branch off here into the Bryozoa, or sea-mosses, which, although exceedingly minute, have an organization not very dissimilar to those of the polypes alluded to. The species of this class are very numerous. Attached to the shells and seaweeds, they look, to the careless eye, like nothing more than whitish, scaly crusts, like those of the disease called leprosy, hence the name Lepralia given to one of the genera; but, if carefully examined, it will be found that they possess the most perfect regularity and elegance of form; so also does that Polypidum called by our fishermen cow's-paps, and dead-men's toes, or fingers, unsightly as it may be thought by those who are unacquainted with the wonders of its structure. With this zoophyte, which belongs to the family Alcyonide, and is common enough on our shores, we must conclude our present portion of "Talk." The star and ly -fis h, of which we shall next speak, will present many beauties and wonders for our admiration.

THE HEARTSEASE.
(Written for Music.)

The blustering wind, with cruel might,
Hath torn my lovely flowers away,
And left me weeping at the sight

Of what was once so gay;
One flower alone-a heartsease fair,
Shews 'midst the leaves its lovely form,
As bidding in its latest hour

Defiance to the storm!

Cold winds of grief and storms of woe
Have laid my heart's poor garden bare,
And of life's treasures none can know
Whate'er had blossom'd there;
One flower alone remains to cheer
And solace in life's latest hour--
Hope, only strengthened by the storm,
Shall be my heart's last flower!-N, C.

THE BARK'S RETURN.

BY ADA TREVANION.

Away! the shore is dank with foam,
And chill for thee and me;
But dearer than our quiet home

Is now yon wild, blue sea:
Look forth, and see how bright a boon
Its bosom bears afar!

My child, 'tis not the friendly moon,
Nor silvery vesper-star.

It is a gallant, white-winged bark
The stormy gale which braves,
And glimmers through the mantling dark,
And broadens on the waves.

She holds for us within her breast
No gems nor golden ore;
But one true heart, worth all the rest,
She beareth to the shore.
My lovely child! my azure-eyed!
Look on-she's nearer now;
The sea-bird doth not skim the tide
More swiftly than her prow.
Ay, lisp aloud thy artless joy,

And shout and clap thy hand!
I hear thy father's voice, my boy,
His bark is on the strand.
Ramsgate, May, 1855.

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Is there for hearts by malice made impure?
II.

Thy name is fair; it is a name shall live,
A gem upon the front of Time! Be thine
The happy destiny to make it shine
With no ephemeral lustre, such as give
Immoment meteors-wildfire lights that leave
No lasting colour on the roll of Fame!
Nor must thou heed the reptile brood that weare
Their loathsome webs to wrap around that name;
But let them rot in their own rotten shame,
True "wretches," who would willingly bereave
Young Genius of its palm. Talent hath still
A tender heart, and they who wound it earn
The indignation of the Good. We learn
True Poesy from Love-love which no hate can chill!

HEROES AND HEROINES IN THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY.-A STRANGE HISTORY.

666

"LARA," and "JACQUELINE OF HOLLAND," were published simultaneously by John Murray, who brought out an edition in which the two poems were bound up together. A commercial gentleman travelling by the mail with a possessor of this little volume, requested and obtained a moment's sight of it. Lara,' by Lord Byron, and Jacqueline of Holland,' by Samuel Rogers," cried the man of ledgers-"I see, a kind of joint-stock partnership in poetry; a little may-be in the Sternhold and Hopkins line." "Larry and Jacky" was a bye-word for years afterwards between Childe Harold and the Bard of Memory, whose dilemma, after all, was a mere trifle to the difficulty which the biographer must encounter who undertakes to disentangle the Gordian knots which intertwine the memoirs of Sir Robert Strange Knight, engraver to King George III., with those of the good knight's brother-in-law and life-long friend, Andrew Lumisden, private secretary to the exiled Stuart princes.

With the artistic merits of Sir Robert we do not intend to intermeddle; "his works follow him." The political opinions he espoused and battled for, when Stuart claims were pleaded by the rosy lips of Isabella Lumisden, and the curious correspondence which passed betwixt the husband, wife, and brother-in-law, will, we are convinced, afford more pleasure to our readers.

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Robert Strange was born A.D. 1721, in Pomona, the chief island of the Orkney group. He was the eldest son of David Strange, merchant, of Kirkwall, by the second wife of that good burgess, Mistress Jean Scollay, whose ancestry were "an old county family of Norse descent, and of undoubted gentry." The Stranges, also, on their part, came of a gentle kind," being cadets of the honourable house of Strange of Balcaskie, in Fifeshire. Why or when they emigrated from "the kingdom of Fife" to the "storm-swept Orcades," is not clearly shown; but at the Reformation, two of them (Sir Magnus and Sir George Strange) were prebendaries of St. Colnes and St. Andrew's Cathedrals, Orkney; Sir Magnus holding with his prebend the office of subchanter or suc-. centor, from 1544 to 1565.

Robert Strange, in childhood, was eager for a sea-faring life; but his practical seamanship having been confined to trips in pleasure-boats, he had, as he expresses it, "in general experienced all the sweets, but none of the hardships which do accompany this watery element." Robie had, moreover, been accustomed to amuse himself with drawing, without knowing its tendency; "for never," adds he, "had an idea of art passed the Pentland Firth."

The lad's prudent relatives preferred law to seamanship or painting, and sent him to Edinburgh, where an elder half-brother, then in practice as a writer or attorney, received him

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kindly; and, with a view of weaning him from his fancy, asked "if he would like to enter on board a man of war?" The youth caught at the offer; but a few days experience of naval manners rendered him "not altogether the enthusiast he had been, in favour of his new profession." A smart gale encountered off the coast of Sweden, acted upon Rab as did the first 'cap-full of wind" upon Robinson Crusoe; but the future artist, unlike the adventurous "York mariner," posted back to his kind relatives, who received him with open arms, and perched him on an office-stool to copy papers. "This he did," he tells us, "not without some little encroachments in respect of time;" the stolen moments being devoted to the pencil, until the elder-brother, "accidentally rummaging for some papers in the bureau at which Robert used to write, put his hands upon a budget of drawings." The Edinburgh writer's affectionate estimate of the merit of these sketches was confirmed by several friends who had made the arts their more peculiar study, and little Rab was articled to one Richard Cooper, an engraver in Auld Reekie, under whose tuition he remained until the death of his good brother, and his own eager desire to revisit his home brought him back for a few weeks to Kirkwall, where he landed on a Sabbath morning just after divine service had commenced.

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"Never, sure," writes Robie, was astonishment like mine; not even a dog was to be seen in the streets. The solitude of the place; the nakedness of the houses-for I had formed to my imagination so many palaces-the magnitude of the cathedral church, which diminished every other object, were to me as if it had been a dream, the whole a piece of delusion."

His mother's welcome and embrace, a good dinner, and a walk "around the suburbs of the magnificent town," which he undertook "that he persuade, if possible, his wayward senses whether the whole was yet reality or delirium," wrought a cure, and Robie was himself again.

On his return to Edinburgh, Strange found that his worthy master was on the very eve of committing-inatrimony:

*

"Mr. Cooper had hitherto lived the life of a bachelor, and being superior to common prejudices, and disregardless as it were of the censure of the world, I must say," quoth Rob, "that many things in his family required a reform This apparent change in our family was not relished by all of it, for everyone had been his own master or mistress. The female part of it saw themselves under the necessity of decamping This, indeed, took place before Mrs. Cooper's arrival, and other changes were regulated by time. I was perhaps the only person that relished a revolution of this nature, where I foresaw order, decency, and regularity, would take place."

The young artist had a fellow-apprentice who, with himself, might have sat to Hogarth as the

originals of "Industry" and "Idleness." Robie | ruinous succession in other families, perceived Strange was modest, studious, and persevering; clearly how poor would be the claim of an inMichael Hay, "a pleasant, sensible young glorious spectator to a heart the possession of fellow, but dissipated to a degree, without either which had already become necessary to his happiness." genius or inclination for the arts."

It would seem that this young scapegrace by no means relished the idea of his preceptor becoming a married man: for

_____“Michael had been accustomed to keep bad hours, and Mr. Cooper was himself regular in going to bed, and, of course, an early riser in the morning. to shut the gates before eleven, and actually had the keys brought up to him. This was a grievous restraint, which Michael was obliged for some time to comply with. On my return from the Orkneys, he had heavy complaints of this nature, but for which he had planned a remedy, and only waited my arrival to put it into execution. This project was to scale the walls, which I warmly, at first, opposed. All he requested, he said, was that, as he pretended, I should not in honour betray his secret,

In order to reform Michael he had made it a rule

and that, to facilitate his re-entry, I should submit
to tie a string about my ankle or great toe, in order
It was in
that he might wake me on his return.
vain to remonstrate, and of course I did indulge him

for awhile."

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66

Actuated, therefore, by the mixed motives which induced Edward Waverley to mount the white cockade, our young artist joined the Chevalier as one of the corps styled the Life Guards;" rendering, however, better service with his pencil than his dirk and claymore. During their brief military occupation of Auld Reekie, Strange engraved a half-length portrait of Charles Edward, depicting him “looking out of an oval frame or window, decorated with the star and riband of the garter, armed with a two-handed sword, and accoutred with an antique helmet and Medusa shield." This print was eagerly purchased by the Stuart partizans; and Pitt, afterwards Earl of Chatham, indignantly alluded to it as having been publically exhibited, and even offered to himself, by

a Jacobite bookseller at Oxford. It is now rare, and therefore valuable; in 1746 it was considered a perfect triumph in the engraver's

art.

A few days before the battle of Culloden, the volunteer's artistic skill was put into requisition to engrave a plate from which to print bank notes for the Chevalier's army; and with a naïveté which excited, as well it might, a general smile, Strange suggested that the bills should be made "payable at the Restoration of the Stuarts." By incessant toil Robie had succeeded in his arrangements to fill Highland spleuchans with his paper-money, when news arrived that the Duke of Cumberland had crossed the Spey. Robert laid down his burin, and caught up claymore, telling the comrades who jestingly enquired when they were to have any of his money, that "if they gave a good account of the Duke, the treasury chest would, he hoped, supply them."

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Mr. Cooper's marriage speedily took place, and the bride's arrival at her new residence attended with was every good quence to the family." Towards Robie she was "on all occasions exceeding courteous; indeed it was her nature to be so, for she could not be otherwise to well-behaved apprentices;" but it should be, in justice, added, that the wicked varlet, Michael, soon encountered her severe displeasure, and his seduction of one of her female servants led to his immediate and well-deserved expulsion. "Mrs. Cooper was a woman of most exemplary conduct, but could not put up with anything like a faux pas in her own sex;" her husband shared her indignation, and an uncle of the delinquent, "whom Michael dreaded," was soon sent for, and the two apprentices overheard their master, after recapitulating the offences of poor Mike, wind up all by saying-" Hang the young dog! all my fear is that he will debauch Bob; "in which apprehension," adds young Sobersides, "he was not greatly mistaken, for we were at variance within ourselves: Irish Bob had escaped many dangers.' Fresh perils intriguers and French politics were too prenow environed him. His apprenticeship ex-dominant among our councils. These gentle pired about 1741; and he soon afterwards fell men, forsooth, considerered themselves to be in love with Isabella Lumisden, who, "warm in but prisoners of war, whilst every other indiall her affections, and teeming with that loyalty vidual was fighting with a halter round bis for which her family had been distinguished, neck." made it a condition with her lover, betrothed to her at that time as he was, that he should fight for her Prince." To speak plain truth, the young engraver's zeal was lukewarm for the House of Stuart; but Isabella warbled

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"Wha wad na fight for Charlie?" and Bob, "although his education had received no tincture from those political prejudices descending from father to son, in blind and

"Every man in the ship can't be a boat swain's mate," is an adage well known and popular, as it deserves to be, amongst the bluejackets. The wearers of the white cockade had either never heard, or disregarded it to their utter ruin. "Our time was come," says Robie,

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Strange, with his companions, were com manded to attempt a night march "along the foot of a ridge of mountains which fronted the sea, but had scarcely been trod by a human foot, and was known by the name of the Moor Road." It was anticipated that by strenuous exertions they might execute a flank movement, and, if fortune favoured them, have cause to sing a second time—

"Hey Johnny Cope, are ye waking yet?"

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