“The sides of the cavern rise around us in curved planes, washed smooth and slippery by the dashing of the waves of ages, and gradually merge into the massive angles and projections and groins of the broken roof, whence a tuft or two of what looks like samphire depends. But notice the colonies of the smooth anemone or beadlet (_Actinia mesembryanthemum_) clustered about the sides, many of them adhering to the stone walls several feet above the water. Those have been left uncovered for hours, and are none the worse for it. They are closed, the many tentacles being concealed by the involution of the upper part of the body, so that they look like balls or hemispheres, or semi‐ovals of flesh; or like ripe fruits, so plump and glossy and succulent and high‐coloured, that we are tempted to stretch forth the willing hand to pluck and eat. Some are greengages, some Orleans plums, some magnum‐bonums, so varied are their rich hues; but look beneath the water, and you see them not less numerous, but of quite another guise. These are all widely expanded; the tentacles are thrown out in an arch over the circumference, leaving a broad flat disc, just like a many‐ petalled flower of gorgeous hues; indeed, we may fancy that here we see the blossoms and there the ripened fruit. Do not omit, however, to notice the beads of pearly blue that stud the margin all around at the base of the over‐arching tentacles. These have been supposed by some to be eyes; the suggestion, however, rests upon no anatomical ground, and is, I am afraid, worthless, though I cannot tell you what purpose they do serve.” [Illustration: SEA ANEMONES. 1, 2, 3. _A. sulcata_. 4. _Phymactis sanctæ Helenæ_. 5. _Actinia capensis_. 6. _A. Peruviana_. 7. _A. sanctæ Catherinæ_. 8. _A. amethystina_. 9, 10. _Anthea cereus_.] Southey must have had the deep rocky pools of the Devonshire coast in his mind’s eye when he wrote— “It was a garden still beyond all price, Even yet it was a place of Paradise. * * * * And here were coral bowers, And grots of madrepores, And banks of sponge, as soft and fair to eye As e’er was mossy bed Whereon the wood‐nymphs lie With languid limbs in summer’s sultry hours. Here, too, were living flowers, Which like a bud compacted, Their purple cups contracted, And now, in open blossom spread, Stretched like green anthers many a seeking head; And arborets of jointed stone were there, And plants of fibres fine as silkworm’s thread; Yea, beautiful as mermaid’s golden hair, Upon the waves dispread.”