eds of
them in the Gulf Stream." I cannot help it, neither do I question his
veracity. Notwithstanding, these two eyes of mine, in sound condition,
awake, and in broad day, did see the supposed pericarp, with one side
taken off, and did behold, lying within, as veritable a Raia as ever
was caught upon the New-England coast. Moreover, its countenance was
no more classical, in its minuteness, than that of its most ancient
ancestor in its hugeness.

Observe those bubbles trembling upon the edge of the wave. One is left
by the receding tide, and a nearer view shows it to be a jelly-like
globe, clearer than the crystal of Merlin. Dropped softly into a
vessel of water, at first it lies quiescent and almost invisible upon
the bottom. A moment after, it rises in quick undulations, flashing
prismatic tints with every motion. Again it rests, and we see that it
is banded by eight meridians, composed of square, overlapping plates.
It swims, and the plates become paddles, propelling the frail craft,--
prisms, dividing the sunbeams into rainbow hues. Suddenly two lines of
gossamer are dropped from unseen openings in its sides, and trailed
behind it as it goes. Twisting, lengthening, shortening, they are
drawn back and re-coiled within, and

"The ethereal substance closed,
Not long divisible."

This delicate wonder is the Cydippe. Though among the most charming of
marine creatures, none is more liable to be overlooked, owing to its
extreme subtilty. So unsubstantial and shadowy are they, that a lady,
on seeing them for the first time, declared them to be "the ghosts of
gooseberries." Indeed, you will find them ghost-like, if you attempt
to keep them, for they

"Shrink in haste away
And vanish from our sight."

The whole high-water line is strewn with the blanched and parted
valves of the Beach Clam. Here and there yellowish streaks appear upon
the gray sand, formed by the detritus of submarine shells. Among the
fragments are often found perfect specimens, some of them with the
living animal.

We can examine them as we go back, but now let us cross the "Creek."
It is a creek only by courtesy or an Americanism, at the present day;
but when those miles of fertile fields upon the north were
unreclaimed, the dank herbage hindered evaporation, and Easton's Pond
was fed by unfailing streams. Then the vast body of overflowing water
swept a deep channel, which the sea, rolling far up towards the pond,
widened and made