100 THE VICTORIAN NATURALIST. 



THE ROTIFER IN MELBOURNE. 



By W. Stickland. 



[Read before the Field Naturalists' Club of Victoria, 10th 

 September, 1894.) 



We are to direct our attention this evening to a little inhabi- 

 tant of the city which does not appear in the census papers, but 

 nevertheless pursues the tenor of its way (whether even or per- 

 turbed) beneath the placid surface of a pond only a few minutes' 

 walk from the General Post-Office. 



At the outset it is perhaps only fair to myself to state that 

 this somewhat desultory paper owes its origin to the stirring 

 appeals (not, it must be confessed, unreasonable) made of late 

 by our president and committee to the newer members for con- 

 tributions to the Club's proceedings. Still, while making no 

 claim to any sort of novelty, these notes may perhaps not be 

 devoid of use, at least to some few of our members, and as the 

 topic is one that rarely comes before us, we shall perhaps be 

 excused for treating it at some length. There is an ever-recurring 

 epoch in the life of the microscopist when, after two or three 

 hours spent in fruitless search among the collections of water, 

 long stored up in sundry jars, cups without handles, or other 

 domestic relics, the conviction is borne in upon his soul that his 

 microscopic live stock has run out, and must forthwith be replen- 

 ished. 



The question naturally arises, Where shall more be obtained ? 

 A long trip in the middle of the week is not to be thought of, 

 and even the Botanical Gardens are out of reach. In this ex- 

 tremity we fall back upon our old resort — the pond in the Treas- 

 ury Gardens. Lunch dispatched, bottle in pocket we wend our 

 way up the street sacred to the Asclepiads of Melbourne, and 

 down to the somewhat dirty-looking pool. Evading by an 

 assumption of stolid indifference the prying eyes of that leisured 

 class which haunts the lakelet's banks, we suddenly produce our 

 little wide-mouthed bottle, pick a few scraps of weed, fill up with 

 water, and beat a retreat. 



In the evening let us suppose ourselves at the microscope, with 

 well-filled lamp, ready for a long sitting. Small preparation is 

 needed. We put a morsel or two of weed, with a drop of water, 

 on a slip under a cover glass, and commence our examination. 

 What objects are now likely to present themselves ? A partial 

 answer to this query is the purpose of our paper, and we shall 

 mention only such as are procurable — not perhaps all at any one 

 time — in the pond which we have named. 



The first glance shows that our weed is clothed with Algse of 

 many sorts, mostly filamentous ; some of their zoospores may be 

 seen shooting about with aimless impetuosity. Diatoms, too, 



