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 move), and to the slightest touch; yet not a trace of a nervous tissue is to be found in them. They have powers of motion, and locomotion, yet their muscles are simply a network of large contractile cells. If the water in which they are kept be not very pure, they will be found infested with parasites; and quite recently I have noticed an animal, or vegetal, parasite—I know not which—forming an elegant sort of fringe to the tentacles: clusters of skittle-shaped bodies, too entirely transparent for any structure whatever to be made out, in active agitation, like leaves fluttering on a twig. Some day or other we may have occasion to treat of the Polypes in detail, and to narrate the amusing story of their discovery; but what has already been said will serve to sharpen your attention and awaken some curiosity in them.

Again and again the net sweeps among the weed, or dredges the bottom of the pond, bringing up mud, stones, sticks, with a fish, worms, molluscs, and tritons. The fish we must secure, for it is a stickleback—a pretty and interesting inhabitant of an aquarium, on account of its nest-building propensities. We are surprised at a fish building a nest, and caring for its young, like the tenderest of birds (and there are two other fishes, the Goramy and the Hassar, which have this instinct); but why not a fish, as well as a bird? The cat-fish swims about in company with her young, like a proud hen with her chickens; and the sun-fish hovers for weeks over her eggs, protecting them against danger.

The wind is so piercing, and my fingers are so benumbed, I can scarcely hold the brush. Moreover, continual stooping over the net makes the muscles ache unpleasantly, and suggests that each cast shall be the final one. But somehow I have made this resolution and broken it twenty times: either the cast has been unsuccessful, and one is provoked to try again, or it is so successful that, as l'appétit vient en mangeant, one is seduced again. Very unintelligible this would be to the passers-by, who generally cast contemptuous glances at us, when they find we are not fishing, but are only removing Nothings into a glass jar. One day an Irish labourer stopped and asked me if I were fishing for salmon. I quietly answered, "Yes." He drew near. I continued turning over the weed, occasionally dropping an invisible thing into the water. At last, a large yellow-bellied Triton was dropped in. He begged to see it; and seeing at the same time how alive the water was with tiny animals, became curious, and asked many questions. I went on with my work; his interest and curiosity increased; his questions multiplied; he volunteered assistance; and remained beside me till I prepared to go away, when he said seriously: "Och! then, and it's a fine thing to be able to name all God's creatures." Contempt had given place to reverence; and so it would be with others, could they check the first rising of scorn at what they do not understand, and patiently learn what even a roadside pond has of Nature's wonders.