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THE AQUARIUM, JULY, 1896. 



The T^qukriutv^. 



A QCARTERLY MAGAZINE. 



$1.00 a Tear. Single Copies, 25 cts. Each. 



Advertising Rates on Application. 



HUGO MULERTT, F. I. R. S. A., 



Editor and Publisher, 



173 Nostrand Av., Brooklyn, N. Y. 



onward, unless, desirous of rest, he 

 grasps with his prehensile tail some 

 friendly water plant. With still greater 

 surprise, we hear that those animal- 

 cules each have shells, which in some 

 places during the course of centuries 

 have formed thick layers of fine white 

 earth — so fine that on the shore of a 

 hike near Urnea, in Sweden, the 

 peasants have for many years mixed 

 with their flour this so-called " mount- 

 ain meal." When we come to think 

 that the vast thicknesses of the chalk 

 cliffs were all formed from the deposi- 

 tion of animalcular exuviae, surely the 

 mind of man is inadequate to count 

 the myriads of ages through which 

 this process was going on — a process 

 still silently and invisibly working in 

 the depth and darkness of the Atlantic. 

 Skirting the pond which has thus 

 engrossed our attention, we may see 

 rocks, now rising up precipitously in 

 rugged masses, now sloping quietly to 

 the water's edge, partly clothed with 

 lichens and moss ; here covering the 

 stone to the depth of several inches, 

 there clustering around some bare 

 patch of rock. From this we learn 

 how the first accumulation of soil took 

 place, when order was first produced 

 from chaos ; soil which year by year in- 

 creasing from the decomposition of 

 those rudiments of vegetable life, af- 

 forded depth and nourishment for 

 plants of a higher order and larger 



growth, to be in turn succeeded by a 

 more luxuriant vegetation ada2:)tod for 

 the support of animal life. As we 

 gaze upon the distant mountain range, 

 what thoughts come crowding to our 

 minds. How solemnly and majestically 

 they raise their rugged peaks to heaven. 

 Now in token of their royalty, crown- 

 ed with a diadem of clouds, and now 

 with every one of their cliffs gleaming 

 in the sunlight like the pictures of a 

 dream. For ages have they held com- 

 munion with the mysteries of the mid- 

 night sky. The earliest beams of the 

 morning have bathed them in living 

 light, and theirs, too, have been the 

 kisses of departing day. Man and his 

 empire have arisen and decayed, but 

 they have remained unchanged, a per- 

 petual mockery. Upon their summits 

 Time has never claimed dominion. 

 There as of old does the eagle teach her 

 brood to fly, and the wild beast prowls 

 after his prey. There do the waterfalls 

 still leap and shout on their way to the 

 dells below, even as when the tired 

 hunter, centuries ago, bent him to quaff 

 the liquid element. There still does 

 the rank grass rustle in the breeze, and 

 the pine, and the cedar, and the hem- 

 lock, take part in the howling of the 

 gale. Upon man alone falls the curse 

 of Time. Nature has never sinned, 

 therefore her glory is immortal. In 

 such scenery we can understand the 

 full meaning of the words : " The hills 

 stand about Jerusalem/' and their un- 

 changing aspect whispers into the ear 

 of man that he is but as the moth 

 which flutters in the noontide air. 

 Again the voice of Nature is perpetu- 

 ally singing the saddened strain, 

 "Farewell."- It is in the sway of the 

 boughs overhead, and by presentiment 

 when they shall stand bare and stark ; 

 the brook ripples already to think how 



