SHIP AHOY I 



" Ship ahoy! What ship's that? " 



" The Physahe." 



" "Whither bound? 



*'■ Wherever she pleases." 



" Under whose orders? " 



" The King of Portugal." 



Look at the ship, children! You do not see her? There she is, 

 in the picture. She may not look exactly like the ships you are 

 accustomed to seeing, but for all that she is a ship of the line, all 

 manned and equipped and ready for action. 



She is a tight and trim vessel, and sails, I take it for granted, 

 under the orders of the King of Portugal ; at least, she is always 

 called a Portuguese man-of-war. Very trim she is, and very 

 compact, too, for you ^auld hold her in your hand, as far as her 

 size is concerned. If you should try to hold her in your hand, 

 however, you would very quickly find out one reason for her being 

 called a man-of-war, though perhaps it is not the reason generally 

 given. 



You see all those delicate curling threads and tendrils that hang 

 from the beautiful shell-shaped, bubble which floats so lightly on 

 the water? They are the crew of the good ship Physalie. 



Instead of being different parts of one creature they are them- 

 selves creatures, distinct and separate, and yet all living together 

 in such perfect harmony and peace that they seem to belong to 

 one body. 



Each member of the crew has his place and his work. Some 

 spend their time in catching food, and eating it, without, I am 



