Page:The Zoologist, 4th series, vol 4 (1900).djvu/380

346 spoken of the Cicadas as "singing." To me it is music (though most people consider it a hateful sound), recalling, as it invariably does, so many happy hours spent in roving about the bush. But even I can have too much of it. I can well remember one such occasion. It was a glorious day, with a gentle breeze and a blue sky, with the air clear and bright, when I sallied forth, making my way to the ferry which traverses that long arm of Port Jackson known as Parramatta River. I soon found plenty to interest me, as the water was in parts almost alive with Discomedusæ of several species, some small transparent ones (of a bluish tint) floating lazily along at the surface; others (Crambessa), of a large size and fleshy-pink colour, forging along steadily by means of the rhythmical contractions of their ciliated discs; and others, again—"man-o'-war blubbers"—which especially attracted attention on account of their beauty. These last are of a semi-transparent red tinge, the disc having all over its surface large white spots. These spots become very dense near the margin, the fringe being almost entirely white. (Recently—Feb. 4th, 1900—I observed a large number of these animals in Circular Quay, Port Jackson. Some of them had been greatly mutilated by the propellers of the many ferry-boats which ply from here. In one instance I observed a specimen swimming along serenely minus its manubrium, while in another there was only three-fourths of a disc, and this still contracted rhythmically.) From the borders of the disc depends, besides the usual short fringe, a large number of long white and beautiful, though treacherous, tentacles (these being thickly studded with lasso-cells). When swimming in clear water the animal possesses a most pleasing and beautiful appearance; but when one's limbs come into contact with its tentacles, as while wading, the most intense and painful irritation is set up, which lasts for some considerable time after (as I know to my cost).

After travelling a few miles I landed at my destination—Ryde, a pretty little village situated in a fruit-growing district. Several hollows in this locality are a great breeding-ground for three or four species of Cicada, notably one—Thopha saccata—a large species. That day I heard such a tumult of insect-life as I have never experienced either before or since. The noise was deafening. Some men who were near at hand, upon seeing me searching about amongst the stones, evidently guessed that I was on the