holding its near relations, the sea-urchin and sev- 

 eral sand-dollars. Lights and sounds are emitted 

 at intervals from occasional tanks near-by; such as 

 the phosphorescent flashes of comb-jellies and the 

 clicking shells of brawling hermit-crabs. But all 

 this can receive little more than a perfunctory no- 

 tice from me now; I move away, not without some 

 feeling of reluctance, however, and continue 

 toward a door at the end of the laboratory which 

 opens into a photographic dark-room. 



Switching off the lamp, as I turn the knob and 

 close the door behind me, I find myself in absolute 

 darkness. Then groping my way to a table at the 

 side, I feel over its top until my hand comes into 

 contact with a cold hard surface which I know to 

 be an aquarium containing the purest Sound water 

 and an even dozen serpent-stars — all that I pos- 

 sessed, but all thriving as well as on the date of 

 their acquisition a fortnight since. The hum of a 

 small motor can be heard, as it works the pump 

 supplying a stream of bubbles to this miniature 

 replica of the sea floor. For the tank has no sea- 

 weeds to aerate it — the presence of plants being 

 worthless in the dark — nor does it hold besides the 

 serpent-stars anything else but the aforementioned 



[66] 



