The bodies of the Foraminifera are formed of a gelatinous substance, sometimes entire and round, sometimes divided into segments, which can be placed upon a line, simple or alternate, wound up into a spiral form or rolled round its axis, like a ball. A testaceous envelope, modelled upon the segments, follows the various modifications of form, and protects the body in all its parts. From the extremity of the last segment of one or many openings of the shell, or of the numerous pores, issue certain long and slender filaments, more or less numerous, which are divided and subdivided over their whole length, like the spreading branches of a tree. They can attach themselves to external bodies with force enough to determine the progression of the animal. Being formed of transparent non-colouring matter, they may be said to be mere expansions, which vary in form and length according to the conditions of the ambient medium. The filaments have also very variable positions: sometimes they form an unique and retractile band, issuing from a single opening; sometimes they project themselves across from numerous little pores in the shell, which covers the last segment of the animal. These pores, or openings, give the name to the creatures under consideration. In conclusion, the filaments, contractile and variable in their form, which constitute the feet and arms of these little creatures, appear to have something electric in them: it is stated that the Infusoria are at once paralysed in their motions when brought in contact with the minute arms of the Foraminifera. "It is probably by this means," says M. Frédol, "that these creatures succeed in catching their prey. Is it not worthy of remark that these beings, however small their size and slight their form, are unpitying flesh-eaters? The smallest, the weakest, and the most microscopic animal in existence thus becomes, by means of a homœopathic dose of poison, a most formidable destroyer." Another singular observation on these little filaments or arms we owe to Dujardin. This naturalist observed that, when a _miliola_ attempted to climb up the walls or sides of a vase, it could improvise, as it were, on the instant, and at the expense of its own substance, a provisional foot, which stretched itself out rapidly and performed all the functions of a permanent member. The occasion served, this temporary foot seemed once more to return to the common mass, and was absorbed into the body. It would thus appear that with these minute creatures the presence of a necessity gives the power to create an organ by the mere will of the creature, while man, with all his genius, cannot manufacture a hair. To the present day, however, we have not been able to discover any organ of nutrition in the Foraminifera; they have no stomach, properly so called, but Nature has gifted them with a peculiar tissue, at once gelatinous and contractile, and essentially simulative, which probably serves the same purpose.