Each lasso is not merely unwound, but is actually turned inside out, as you may turn a stocking inside out, when drawing it off. And as the instantaneous process takes place, poison flows with the tiny dart into the wound that is made. Small though each lasso may be, when dozens or hundreds of them are launched together, the result is not contemptible, even as regards man; and ocean creatures die fast from the poison. A cell which contains a lasso is about one five-thousandth of an inch across; and two hundred lassos, placed end to end, would reach to about an inch in length. When once a lasso has been darted forth, it can never again be used, because it cannot be returned to the cell. But so great are the supplies of them, that a sea-anemone never gets to the end of its armoury. Even if all were used, others would speedily grow in their place. Some kinds of animals, living in the sea and of service to man, are in danger of being thinned out of existence by the incessant ravages of net and trawl, of hook and harpoon. Not so the world of Anemones. So vast are their numbers, so rapid is their increase, that no antagonistic forces can annihilate them. It has been said that if every anemone on British shores were one day swept away, carried off by an army of ardent naturalists, or destroyed by waves in some tremendous tempest, the next inflowing tide would bring a fresh supply, sufficient to fill all gaps. Not less numerous, perhaps far more numerous, are the countless hordes of Jelly-fishes, so called, though they are not fishes--of Sea-nettles, so called, though they are not nettles. They travel freely through the ocean depths, like fishes; and they sting sharply, like nettles. Yet they are neither. Another name given to them is that of “Sun-fishes,” because in calm weather they often float close to the surface of the sea, as if delighting to bask in sunshine. One could almost imagine that, after the fashion of modern “luminous paint,” they are taking in sunlight, to carry stores thereof later into dark depths, for the benefit of less favoured comrades. But let a heavy storm arise, and swiftly these fragile creatures wend their way into the placid depths, beyond reach of wind and wave. Many years ago a story was told of a certain farmer, who had heard that medusæ were particularly good as manure. He had large supplies of them carted to his land, with much expense and trouble. Not till later did he learn how small a part of the creatures consisted of anything but water; how easily he might have had the whole mass of them dried, and then carried by hand, at almost no cost. Medusæ, as earlier stated, are of all sizes, from tiny translucent bags of liquid to huge discs of jelly-like substance, rivalling a man’s umbrella in diameter.