riety of jellyfish," replied Merla. "The
creatures are not so delicate as they appear, and live for a long
time--unless they get too near the surface and the waves wash them
ashore."

After watching the jellyfish a few moments, they followed Merla
through the grove, and soon a low chant, like that of an Indian
song, fell upon their ears. It was a chorus of many small voices and
grew louder as they swam on. Presently a big rock rose suddenly
before them from the bottom of the sea, rearing its steep side far
up into the water overhead, and this rock was thickly covered with
tiny shells that clung fast to its surface. The chorus they heard
appeared to come from these shells, and Merla said to her
companions, "These are the singing barnacles. They are really very
amusing, and if you listen carefully, you can hear what they say."

So Trot and Cap'n Bill listened, and this is what the barnacles
sang:

"We went to topsy-turvy land to see a man-o'-war,
And we were much attached to it, because we simply were;
We found an anchor-ite within the mud upon the lea
For the ghost of Jonah's whale he ran away and went to sea.
Oh, it was awful!
It was unlawful!
We rallied round the flag in sev'ral millions;
They couldn't shake us;
They had to take us;
So the halibut and cod they danced cotillions."

"What does it all mean?" asked Trot.

"I suppose they refer to the way barnacles have of clinging to
ships," replied Merla, "but usually the songs mean nothing at all.
The little barnacles haven't many brains, so we usually find their
songs quite stupid."

"Do they write some comic operas?" asked the child.

"I think not," answered the mermaid.

"They seem to like the songs themselves," remarked Cap'n Bill.

"Oh yes, they sing all day long. But it never matters to them
whether their songs mean anything or not. Let us go in this
direction and visit some other sea people."

So they swam away from the barnacle-covered rock, and Trot heard the
last chorus as she slowly followed their conductor. The barnacles
were singing:

"Oh, very well, then, I hear the curfew,
Please go away and come some other day;
Goliath tussels
With Samson's muscles,
Yet the muscles never fight in Oyster Bay."

"It's jus' nonsense!" said Trot scornfully. "Why don't they sing
'Annie Laurie' or 'Home, Sweet Home' or else keep quiet?"

"Why, if they were quiet," replied Merla, "they wouldn't be singing
barnacles."

They now came t