116 _ HISTORY OF BRITISH ZOOPHYTES. 
even the wisest, were his head to drop off, unless we were 
to give credit to the legend of one of old, who, when deca- 
pitated, could run with his head under his arm. This marine 
knight of the oaten pipes can survive what would prove 
fatal to our doughtiest heroes. While the florid summit 
of the vacant stalk is fading, Sir J. G. Dalyell tells us that 
a kind of cicatrix closes the wound. But, on the lapse of 
a certain interval, it darkens again; an internal head is ad- 
vancing, which, speedily ascending, bursts a transparent in- 
volucrum, and flourishes as a new head precisely from the 
same point its precursor had fallen, and of equally vivid 
hue. Singular to be told, the regenerative faculty is not 
exhausted here; for, after subsisting an indefinite time, this 
second head droops and dies, and is dissolved on its fall. 
Then it is replaced by a third, and the third by a succes- 
sor.” How often this may be repeated has not yet been 
ascertained. 
The field botanist knows the pleasure arising from the 
power of association, leading him to remember that in some 
“Jone glen of green breckan,’ or on some cliffy moun- 
tain-side, when, along with some dear friend, he first saw 
such a flower. I often remember that the first time I had 
the pleasure of seeing these living marine flowers was in 
