102 LEA.VES FROM THE BOOK OF NATURE. 



so " the seaweed, slimy and dark, waves its arms, so lank 

 and brown," and struggles with the ocean, that pulls at 

 its roots, and tears its leaves into shreds. Now and then 

 the mighty adversary is victorious, and rends them from 

 their home, when they wander homeless and restless, in 

 long, broad masses, towards the shores of distant lands, 

 where often fields are found so impenetrable, that they 

 have saved vessels from shipwreck, and many a human 

 life from the hungry waves. 



These different kinds of fucus dwell in various parts of 

 the ocean, and have their own, well-defined limits. Some 

 cling with hand-like roots so firmly to the rocky ground 

 that, when strong waves pull and tear their upper parts, 

 they often lift up gigantic masses of stone, and drag them, 

 like huge anchors, for miles and miles. Most of them, 

 however, love the coast, or, at least, a firm sea bottom, 

 and seldom thrive lower than at a depth of forty fathoms. 

 Still, they are found in every sea; the most gigantic, 

 strangely enough, in the two Arctics, where they reach 

 the enormous length of one thousand five hundred feet. 

 Occasionally, they cover vast portions of the sea, and form 

 those fabulous green meadows on deep, azure ground, 

 which struck terror in the hearts of early navigators. The 

 largest of these, called the Sargossa Sea, between the 

 Azores and the Antilles, is a huge floating garden, stretch- 

 ing, with a varying width of one to three hundred miles, 

 over twenty-five degrees of latitude, so that Columbus 

 spent three hopeless, endless weeks, in passing through 

 this strange land of ocean-prairies! 



Take these fuci out of their briny element, and they 



