A Tiny Man-o'-War 



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A MONG the tiny ocean tramps that drift 

 f\ along the Gulf Stream into our north- 

 * ^" ern harbors during September days, 

 when the water gets warm and the weather is 

 calm, none is more strange and lovely than the 

 Portuguese man-o'-war. It is an iridescent 

 bubble, courtesying to the ripples as the tide 

 bears it along, while flashes of prismatic color 

 sweep over its surface with every movement of 

 the azure mirror upon which it dances so gayly. 



Under the smiling skies that arch Antillean 

 seas you may behold fleets of them like convoys 

 of tiny toy boats painted in rainbow hues, and 

 after great storms they are sometimes thrown 

 by tens of thousands on the coral beaches in 

 piles and windrows that seem globules of deli- 

 cately tinted glass or huge, irregular pearls, 

 gleaming in purple and green, carmine and 

 gold. 



*$ 70 5 



