patch of sand, as though about to settle, while by means of his magic siphon he blows the sand from under him until a slight hollow is formed. Now he settles, but it is quite evident that his siphon is still at work, for the sand issues from all sides of his globular body in a little cloud, and he gradually sinks till nothing can be seen of him save his straggling arms and curious eyes. The mermaid has many expert miners in her service, but none to excel this cunning little well-sinker.[1]
These submarine regions are thickly populated by wondrous beings so transparent that they can only be distinguished by the flashes of light that gleam from their surfaces. Their substance is gelatinous, and, strange as it may appear, consists chiefly of seawater. Let us now examine a few of these living bubbles with the superior powers of vision which we possess as heroes of a fairy tale.
How can we doubt the existence of mermaids, when we find animals assuming the forms of umbrellas, goblets, and bells! Look! here comes a living umbrella, moving through the water by opening and shutting itself. Now, reader, it flaps itself under your very nose, and you may inspect it narrowly. You will perceive, that it is rather an uncommon sort of umbrella, as it has four sticks instead of one, and is furnished with a number of tendril-like appendages. You will also see that it is neither made of silk nor gingham, but of a deli-
- ↑ The Cuttle.
