JANUARY 1902. 



A RAMBLE round the rocks at low water just now discloses 

 a scene of bareness quite in keeping with the season of the 

 year. The upper surface of the higher lying rocks is as bare 

 as a street pavement, and only an occasional patch of acorn 

 barnacles remains of the encrustation with which they were 

 invested during the summer. The white whelk, so much in 

 evidence here, have all gone into winter quarters, and under- 

 neath projecting ledges and in sheltered nooks they may 

 be seen in myriads, their position being so judiciously chosen 

 as to be completely protected from the heavy north-east seas. 

 So closely are they wedged together that were a given space 

 to be cleared it would be found almost impossible to replace 

 them in the same area. Detaching one from its anchorage, it 

 seems quite dormant and inert, and appears to have lost the 

 alacrity with which, in summer, they withdraw themselves 

 into their shells, and only with apparent difficulty is the 

 operculum or door of their domicile closed against intruders. 

 To witness the continual thumping and pounding to which the 

 Rock is subjected during the winter, one is surprised to find 

 that life in any form should continue to exist under such 

 conditions. A close search reveals exceedingly minute forms 

 of life. Here in this stony basin, originally but a shallow 

 depression in which a stone had lodged, and by the swirling 

 action of the seas converted to its present shape, with its 

 sediment of broken shells, is a small crab, so small indeed that 

 a split pea might easily conceal him. He is not a youngster 

 either, but fully adult, in proof of which we have frequently 

 found them, in the proper season, with their spawn attached. 

 Deep in his little pit he seems quite immune from the furious 

 seas that tumble overhead as the tide makes. Numbers of 



