In addition to the pair of horns alluded to, may sometimes be seen a series of light-coloured rays, occurring at regular intervals around the circumference of the deep tinted tentacula, and thereby producing to the eye of the beholder a most pleasing effect. As a general rule, never attempt to capture an anemone unless it be fully expanded, before commencing operations. By this means you will be able to form a pretty accurate estimate of its appearance in the tanks. This condition of being seen necessitates, of course, its being covered with water, and, consequently, increases the difficulty of capturing your prize, especially when the creature happens to have taken up a position upon a combination of stone and solid rock, or in a crevice, or in a muddy pool, which when disturbed seems as if it would never come clear again. It is, in consequence, advisable to search for those situated in shallow water, the bottom of which is covered with clean sand. When such a favourable spot is found, take hammer and chisel and commence operations. Several strokes may be given before any alarm is caused to the anemone, provided it be not actually touched. No sooner, however, does the creature feel a palpable vibration, and suspect the object of such disturbance, than, spurting up a stream of water, it infolds its blossom, and shrinks to its smallest possible compass. At same time apparently tightens its hold of the rock, and is, indeed, often enabled successfully to defy the utmost efforts to dislodge it. After a little experience, the zoologist will be able to guess whether he is likely to succeed in getting his prize perfect and entire; if not, let me beg of him not to persevere, but immediately try some other place, and hope for better fortune. Although apparently sedentary creatures, the Actiniæ often prove themselves to be capable of moving about at will over any portion of their subaqueous domain. Having selected a particular spot, they will ofttimes remain stationary there many consecutive months. A smooth anemone that had been domesticated for a whole year in my aquarium thought fit to change its station and adopt a roving life, but at last 'settled down,' much to my surprise, upon a large mussel suspended from the surface of the glass. Across both valves of the mytilus the 'mess.' attached by its fleshy disc, remained seated for a considerable length of time. It was my opinion that the mussel would eventually be sacrificed. Such, however, was not the case, for on the zoophyte again starting off on a new journey, the mollusc showed no palpable signs of having suffered from the confinement to which it had so unceremoniously been subjected.