At this early stage of its existence the young octopus seeks and enjoys the light which it will, later in life, carefully shun. It manifests no desire to hide itself in crevices and recesses, as the adult does, but swims freely about in the water, often close to the surface, propelling itself backward by a series of little jerks caused by each stroke of the force pump, which expels a jet of water from the out-flow pipe of the syphon. This contrast of its habits in youth and age is so remarkable that when, after witnessing the gay activity of the movements of the child-octopus, I again watched the furtive, skulking habits of its shrivelled-skinned father, I could not help comparing the latter with the old thief-trainer in “Oliver Twist,” and wondering whether there ever could have been a time in the life of Fagin the Jew when he was innocent and frolicsome, and played, and leaped, and ran, and danced, and revelled in the sin-exposing sunshine, ere the light of day became odious to him, and he shrank from it as a danger to be dreaded, and kept himself hidden in his den whilst his emissaries went out, like the arms of the old octopus, in search of prey for the benefit of their employer. I can say but little concerning the fertilisation of the eggs of the octopidæ in a book intended for readers of all classes, but it is so remarkable that this chapter would be incomplete without a few words upon the subject. They are fecundated before, not after, their extrusion. In the breeding season a curious alteration takes place in one of the arms of the male octopus; according to Steenstrup, always the third on the right side, although it has been stated that the third arm on the left is sometimes the one thus affected. The limb becomes swollen, and from it is developed a long, worm-like process, furnished with two longitudinal rows of suckers, from the extremity of which extends a slender, elongated filament. When its owner offers his hand in marriage to a lady octopus she accepts it, _and keeps it_, _and walks away with it_, for this singular outgrowth is then detached from the arm of her suitor, and becomes a moving creature, having separate life,[18] and continuing to exist for some time after being transferred to her keeping. In the meanwhile the lost portion of the “hectocotylized” arm of the male is gradually reproduced, and in due time it assumes its former appearance. The habits of the Eledone, of which there is only one British species, _E. cirrosa_, are the same as those of _Octopus vulgaris_, from which it chiefly differs in having only one row of suckers instead of two along the under surface of its arms. Individuals of this species have occasionally deposited a few eggs in the Brighton Aquarium; but these have not, hitherto, arrived at maturity. They are considerably larger than those of the octopus, and not so numerous. The eledone is not so hardy as its relative, and, in captivity, the female generally dies in spawning.