which the arms of the cuttle-fish adhere to bodies by means of this apparatus, that "while the muscular fibres continue contracted, it is easier to tear away the substance of the limb, than to release it from its attachments."

In the sea-urchin and the star-fish we see hundreds of tubular suckers, sufficient to seize and overpower any unfortunate crab or periwinkle which may come in their way; while at the same time no "dainty dish" of decaying animal tissue is rejected.

12. The star-fish and the sea-urchin have a tolerably strong integument or covering; we are prepared therefore to expect that any prehensile apparatus they possess may be brought into play with considerable power. Such an integument is wanting in the gelatinous creatures, known as sea-jellies or nettle-fishes; yet they have, in the long contractile filaments possessed by some species, a most effective apparatus for stinging; and in the arms an efficient means of grasping their prey. The apparent fragility of their own bodies, and their power of destroying those of others which appear well protected against such attacks, seem so contradictory that we require to have the fact upon undoubted authority. I shall quote, therefore, the words of the lamented Professor Edward Forbes; he is speaking of a medusa, less than half an inch long, the Sarsia tabulosa, a species found at times rather plentifully on some parts of the coast:- "Being kept in a jar of salt-water with small crustacea, they devoured these animals, so much more highly organized than themselves, voraciously, apparently enjoying the destruction of the unfortunate members of the upper classes, with a truly democratic relish. One of them even attacked and commenced the swallowing of a Lizzia atopunctata quite as good a medusa as itself. An animal which can pout out its mouth twice the length of its body, and stretch its stomach to corresponding dimensions, must indeed be 'a triton among the minnows,' and a very terrific one too; yet is this ferocious creature one of the most delicate and graceful of the inhabitants of the ocean-a very model of tenderness and elegance."

13. It is time this chapter were drawing to a close: entire orders of animals, such as the crustacea, the entozoa, the zoophytes, and the whole range of microscopic life, remain unnoticed; but enough has been told to show the extent of animal life, the providential care by which it is supported, and the wondrous yet diversified organs with which different tribes of beings are provided in order to procure that sustenance on which their existence depends. It must be recollected too, that in many cases these organs vary with the advancing maturity of the animal. The caterpillar, which devours the leaf, in a few weeks has lost its cutting jaws, and has a tube for imbibing honey. Some animals, such as the Cirrepeda, or barnacle and acorn shells, are free in the early stages of life, but become fixed to one spot at a later period, and of course adopt a different mode of obtaining nourishment in these altered circumstances. There are other animals which reverse to some extent this process --which are fixed like minute sea-weeds when young, and swim about freely in their more advanced condition. Of this we have an example in the rosy feather-star (Comatula rosacea) of our own shores. In an early stage it looks like a tiny plant; it swims about, with five pair of graceful arms, when more mature. Let me reward the juvenile readers who have borne me company thus far, by presenting them with some of the facts of science in the guise of a fairy tale. To works professedly treating of zoology, I must refer them for fuller information respecting the crinoid, or lily-like star-fishes, which have given origin to those perforated fossils, known in the north of England as "St. Cuthbert's beads," and to which reference is made in the following

FAIRY TALE.

"Once upon a time there grew beneath the waters of the sea a delicate-looking little plant. It had a spreading base, and a stem, surmounted by many branches; yet so tiny were its dimensions, that the piece of gold which mortals call a 'sovereign,' would be sufficient to cover half-a-dozen such miniature trees. There it grew, surrounded by the strange and varied forms that deck

the ocean bed, and visited by divers creatures that crept or swam at pleasure. Here the noise of the tempest never penetrated, and the sea at that region of depth was at all seasons calm as a sleeping infant. Yet the little tree was not content. It longed to see those wonders of which it had only heard. It wished to rise to the surface, and feel the rippling breeze as it passed along, and to know from its own experience what was meant by 'tossing billows.' It had heard from a communicative beroë, of the glories of a summer sky, and a diminutive jelly-fish had told of the starry splendour of an autumn night. A star-fish had given origin to a rumour that there was a limit to the waters of the ocean; and a crab, who had been a great traveller, asserted, that he had walked upon the place where the sea ended, and what he called 'land' began; but this was set down on all hands as a traveller's story. The discontent of the little tree increased; and we all know that this is a feeling which 'grows by what it feeds on.' It sought out information about its predecessors, and the collateral branches of its family; but what it learned rather increased its dejection, for it discovered that some ancient members of the family had been giants, compared with its own diminutive proportions. This went on for some time, until one of those beneficent sea-nymphs, that had not then forsaken the waters of our globe, asked it so kindly what were its troubles, that the little tree made a frank and full confession of them all. I cannot,' said the compassionate nymph, 'cause your root to loosen, and bid you and your posterity be free; neither can I restore to you the stature that other members of your race enjoyed in an earlier period of this earth's history; but what lies within the compass of my power shall be done. I shall remove from your stem the spreading head with all its arms uninjured. I shall endow it with new life, and give it new powers of motion, so that it may rise to meet the upper air, swim where it listeth, and even visit the boundary of the sea, though perilous it is to do so. I give to you power of growth, that your arms may increase to fifty times their present size. These gifts shall be continued to your offspring; but each of them

must, like yourself, pass the early stages of its life fixed to one spot, and present the same tree-like aspect that yourself exhibit.' The nymph smote with her wand the upper part of the stem; it broke off-ten boughs, suddenly gifted with power and flexibility, became converted into arms; the head of the little tree changed into a swimming animal, and went on its way rejoicing. Its progeny, to this day, assume at first the plant-like appearance of their parents, and at a certain state of maturity are changed, like it, into free and independent creatures.' R. PATTERSON.

Political and Domestic Gconomy.

LESSON I.

INDUSTRIAL SOCIETIES.

BY R. H. WALSH.

"Every kingdom divided against itself is brought to desolation; and every city or house divided against itself shall not stand." 1. PRINCIPLE OF CO-OPERATION.-When the old man in the fable, at the point of death, desired, before leaving his children for ever, to teach them impressively the benefits of union, he pointed to a bundle of sticks tied up together, and told them to try and break it. Each in succession having made the attempt and failed, he then bid them separate the sticks and repeat their efforts. They did so, and succeeded with the utmost facility in breaking the entire bundle. This little story aptly illustrates the power of men, when united, to resist evils and overcome difficulties which, if each of our race attempted to deal with separately, would be enough to occasion the destruction of all, or at least reduce us to such a lamentable condition that existence would be deprived of everything that renders it agreeable. In one point of view, this subject has already been considered, and we have shown how, when human beings mutually assist in the attainment of the general welfare, their superior ability to provide themselves with the comforts and necessaries of life, compared with what

they could do if each one attempted separately to produce and obtain whatever he wanted, is exhibited at once by a comparison between the condition of civilized men and savages. The savage endeavours, as well as he can, unaided, to build his own hut, make implements for the chase, and provide himself with such food as he can find or catch; and his inferiority in extracting the means of subsistence from the natural resources around him, when contrasted with the results arrived at, by his civilized brethen, is like the weakness of each separate stick in the bundle, compared with the strength of the entire.

2. But this mutual assistance, or "co-operation," afforded by the different trades and professions, which make up together one civilized society, is unlike that we are now about to consider, inasmuch as it is unintentional on the part of its promoters, and not the result of their design. The united efforts of farmers, manufacturers, bakers, butchers, clothiers, magistrates, police, and others, provide, as well as can be managed, food, raiment, relief from sickness, and protection for all. Yet each individual does not adopt any one of these callings for the purpose of assisting in the great work of which his is but a particular department. He thinks but of success in his own pursuit, and not of the results to be arrived at jointly by him and all the rest of the community, in providing for the general welfare. But when a number of persons contribute from their fortunes, the means of accomplishing some industrial undertaking, such as the construction of a railway, they co-operate intentionally in the object they are instrumental in effecting, by means of their mutual assistance; and each aims at the general success of the enterprise, instead of being wholly absorbed in that proportion of it which represents his interest in the concern. In fact, it is a species of instinct peculiar to man, whenever he has not sunk into the degraded condition of the savage, which occasions what may be termed social co-operation, and not any hope or perception of benefits to be thence derived; while with respect to industrial co-operation of the kind we are considering, the reverse holds good, men adopting it from a calculation of the gains they expect thereby to acquire.