Which may be considered as the King of Bivalves; his palace, to be sure, is somewhat rough and rugged outside, but within, its walls are smooth and polished, lustrous and iridescent, and altogether beautiful; of a nacrous or pearly appearance, now flushing into a rose tint, now fading into pure white, and adorned sometimes with goodly pearls of price; truly this monarch of the _Conchifers_ has a habitation worthy of a prince, wherein he lives in right royal state. Our readers may smile perhaps at the idea of the solitary Oyster doing this, down there on his mud bank or rocky anchorage ground, shut up in his dirty-looking shells, and holding, as it seems, commune with no one, not even his fellow mollusks; how can he be said to live in royal state, or indeed any state at all, except in a most weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable one? And this only shews how erroneously those often judge who do so hastily, and from first appearances. If we take a peep through a microscope, under the direction of a naturalist named Rymer Jones, we shall see that “the shell of an Oyster is a world occupied by an innumerable quantity of animals, compared to which the Oyster itself is a colossus. The liquid enclosed between the shell of the Oyster contains a multitude of embryos, covered with transparent scales, which swim with ease; a hundred and twenty of these embryos, placed side by side, would make an inch in breadth. This liquid contains besides, a great variety of animalculæ, five hundred times less in size, which give out a phosphoric light. Yet these are not the only inhabitants of this dwelling—there are also three distinct species of worms.”