34 
THE NEW YORK AQUARIUM JOURNAL, 
towards the atrial sac. From the latter cavity, 
the water is duly expelled by means of the con¬ 
traction of the muscular mantle already men¬ 
tioned. 
As is well known, in the higher animals the 
heart has the double function of propelling pure 
blood through the body, and of sending im¬ 
pure or venous blood to the breathing-organs 
for purification. Fo. this double purpose, a 
complicated heart is usually provided. But it is 
very curious to note that although the Sea-squirts 
possess a heart of a very rudimentary kind, it 
nevertheless perfectly performs the duties of the 
heart of much higher beings. The Sea-squirt’s 
heart is a simple dilated tube, which opens at 
either end into blood-vessels ; and when a living 
Sea-squirt is watched, the heart is seen to propel 
the blood for so many beats in one direction— 
say to the breathing-sac to be purified—and it 
may be observed next to reverse its action, and 
propel the blood, for an equal number of pulsa¬ 
tions, in the opposite direction — namely, 
through the body. 
When this natural and periodical reversion of 
the heart’s action in the Sea-squirts was first ob¬ 
served, it was justly accounted a fact of very 
singular and anomalous nature in the history of 
these organisms ; and it may be asserted to be 
without a parallel in the whole animal creation ; 
whilst, at the same time, it shows us how ad¬ 
mirably nature may, by an ingenious process, 
enable a simple organ to perform the work of 
more complicated machinery. 
As regards sensibility to outer impressions, and 
the power of appreciating what is going on 
around them, Sea-squirts cannot be said to pos¬ 
sess any very prominent share of instincts or 
intelligence. A distinct nervous system exists in 
these creatures, but the organs ot sense appear 
to be limited to a few spots of pigment or col¬ 
oring matter, which exist just within the mouth- 
opemug, and to a circlet of tentacles or feelers 
which occupy a similar position to the masses of 
color. The latter are probably rudimentary 
eyes, and exercise an imperfect or unspecialised 
sense of sight, whilst a hearing-organ is also 
known to exist. 
Certain near relations of the common Sea- 
squirts that swim about freely in the ocean, and 
which thus exhibit a higher and more active 
existence than our rooted slay-at-home creatures, 
have a more perfect development of the nervous 
system and organs of sense. Amongst these free- 
swimming Sea-squirts, none are more extraor¬ 
dinary than the Salpa, which are met with as 
long chains of connected individuals, and also 
as single or solitary beings. And it has been 
found that the solitary Sa/pcB are the progeny of 
the chain of individuals, whilst the chain Salpa 
in turn spring fr^m the solitary forms. It is 
thus, Chamisso remarked, as if the children 
were always unlike the parents, but resembled 
their grandparents. Other compound Sea- 
squirts are represented by the Pyrosomae , which 
exhibit animal phosphorescence and light up the 
sea at night with a weird gleam. 
In the accompanying illustration, a group of 
“social” Sea-squirts are exhibited connected 
together by stalks. 
Curiously enough, however, the young of the 
Sea-squirts begins its existence as a tadpole-like 
being, which is developed from the egg of the 
parent and adult form. This active little tadpole 
swims about freely by means of its long tail, and 
at an early stage develops suckers on its head. 
By means of these it ultimately fixes itself to 
some foreign body ; the lineaments of the em¬ 
bryo gradually disappear, the tail drops away, 
and the features of the rooted, sac-like, adult 
sea-squirt soon become apparent. — Cassel’s 
Monthly. 
The New York Aquarium is already in much 
better condition thm that of the famous Brighton 
Aquarium was for many months after it was 
opened to the public.— N. V. Sun. 
FISH IN FACT AND FABLE, 
2 . 
MEDUSA. 
WRITTEN EXPRESSLY FOR THE AQUARIUM JOURNAL. 
Submarine life in the blue waters of the Med¬ 
iterranean Sea has an interest peculiatly its own. 
Many of the genera and species there existing 
are found elsewhere more fully developed, but 
nowhere else do they form a uniting link between 
the interests of the Naturalist and those of the 
Traveler.the Scholar and the Poet. Twenty-five 
hundred years ago the great sea was the grand 
highway of travel for the civilized world. To 
the Greek poets—Homer and Hesiod, Aeschjlus 
and Pindar—it was emphatically “ The Sea.” 
At that time Science had made few researches 
into its living wonders, but Poetry and Ke.igion 
had peopled its clear depths with a marvelous 
race of beings. Gods and Goddesses, Nymphs, 
Nereids and Sirens, were the most familiar den¬ 
izens of the mighty deep, and lived in history 
and song, while fishes, ol which doubtless many 
varieties were known, were of small interest, ex¬ 
cept lor practical use as food. 
Now, however, the descendants of these very 
fishes, with Testacea, Crustacea and Mollusks, 
crowd the waters with swarming liie, and their 
peculiarities of structure and habits are the theme 
of frequent study and research, while their pre¬ 
decessors have laded away into the misty regions 
of myth and fable. Yet so inextricably is their 
memory interwoven with their old abodes that 
they have left behind them their names, borne, 
in many instances, by their successors, and al¬ 
ways suggestive of the legends in which they 
bore their parts. 
The Acalepha, lying on our beaches after 
storms, or floating about by thousands in our I 
summer Waters, is to us only a Jelly-fish. True, ~t 
it is a curious studv, with its disk shaped body, 
so largely made up of water that, on drying, 
it is reduced to a mere film of membrane; wiih 
its central mouth and its stomach, which seems 
to do all the work of a heart; with its beautiful 
colors and its numerous and exquisitely delicate 
tentacles. After these have become familiar, 
however, its attraction is gone. It is food for 
Fish but not for Fancy. Call it the Medusa, 
however, and follow it into all its various haunts 
along the Mediterranean shores, and the case 
is at once altered. The “long, vibrating tenta¬ 
cles” of the naturalist stretch themselves out into 
the hundred vipers which, tradition tells, encir¬ 
cled the head of Medusa, the princess and chief 
of the Gorgons. These Gorgons, so the sloty 
runs, were creatures with the faces of women, 
but covered with scales, and having tails of ser¬ 
pents. They had but one eye and one tooth, 
which were common to them all, and used by 
the one most needing them. They had, too, a 
strange and awlul kind of beauty, which turned 
every luckless mortal who gazed upon them into 
stone. 
Then, when Medusa is named, Perseus, her 
conqueror, cannot be forgotten. A gay young 
hero of romance—a son of the mighty Jupiter 
-—he was beloved and favored by the Gods. 
Mercury gave him a sharp sword and winged 
feet; Pluto a helmet of darkness; and the great 
Minerva her own brazen shield, in whose won¬ 
derful brightness all objects shone reflected as in 
a mirror. Armed with these gifts, and eager to 
gain for himself high name and fame, Perseus 
set forth on an expedition against the Gorgons. 
In the brazen mirror he saw reflected the head 
of Medusa and, escaping thus its fearful spell, 
he cut it off and fastened it to the shell, where 
it still retained its old petrifying power. It was, 
by the way, this same “snaky-headed Gorgon 
shield which wise Minerva wore,” of which Mil- 
ton writes in his “Comus.” 
Entering the Mediterranean through the Straits 
of Gibraltar, as the English voyager would nat¬ 
urally do, this legend is one of the first to sug¬ 
gest itself. To the right, on the north-western 
coast of Africa, extend the plains of ancient 
Mauretania, the Morocco or “furfher-west” of 
the present clay. Out of these fertile fields rises 
the stately Mount Atlas, which Virgil describes: 
“Atlas, 
Whose brawny back supports the starry skies;— 
Atlas, whose tread with piny forests crowned, 
Is beaten by the winds, with foggy vapors bound. 
Snows hide his shoulders - from beneath his chin 
The founts of rolling streams their race begin.” 
It is evident that the poet sings not merely of 
a mighty mound of earth. A glimpse ot its 
lofty, snow-crowned summit, brings to his mem¬ 
ory the Grecian myth. He tells of the Atlas 
who, in days of old, was a proud and poweiful 
king. Chief among his treasures were gardens, 
having golden trees bearing golden fruit half 
hidden by golden leaves. Perseus, bearing the 
magic shield, entered his domains and, announ¬ 
cing himsell as the son of Jupiter and the con¬ 
queror of Medusa, demands recognition at court. 
More modesty might have gained him a warmer 
welcome. Atlas, it happened, had been fore¬ 
warned that by a son of Jupiter his precious 
golden fruit would be stolen away. Remem¬ 
bering this warning he harshly relused Perseus 
any of the rites of hospitality, The hero was 
naturally indignant at this treatment, and gave it 
swilt and feartul punishment. He raised the 
awful shield, and one glance at the snake-encir¬ 
cled head of Medusa changed the haughty mon¬ 
arch into a rugged mountain, doomed lorever 
to bear upon its summit the heavens and all the 
stars. 
Each brook once wont to prattle to its banks, 
Lay all instilled and wedged betwixt its banks, 
Nor moved the withered reeds. 
The surges, baited by the tierce north-east, 
Tossing with fretful spleen their angry heads, 
E’en in the foam of all their ma . s.rack 
To monumental ice. KueJTYxe.. . tiei" • . - ~ 
bo stern, so sudden —wrought the grisly aspect 
Of terrible Medusa. 
And, fixed in that fierce attitude, he stands 
Like Rage in marble. 
Leaving the unhappy monarch to his melan¬ 
choly fate, memory busies itself with yet one 
more link in the chain of old romance, which 
twines itself about the new Medusa of the Medi¬ 
terranean. Perseus pursued his journey and, 
like the Knights of the Round Table, rescued 
many forlorn damsels from distress,—last and 
most hapless of them all, the fair Andromeda. 
Her mother, the “starred Ethiop queen,” had 
dared to affirm that her beauty was more dazzling 
than that of the sea nymphs. Upon this insult 
they seized the unoffending Andromeda and 
bound her to a rock to be devoured by a huge 
and voracious sea monster. Perseus saw and 
loved her; for her sake slew the monster, and 
was about joyfully to wed his rescued bride. 
Suddenly, however, Phineus came upon the 
scene and declared that Andromeda had been 
betrothed to him. He was asked, with some 
acuteness, why he had not appeared to claim 
her when she lay bound, a prey to a hideous 
foe. His answer was to hurl his dart at Perseus. 
It missed its aim. Then he and his comrades 
rushed into a deadly fray. They beset Perseus 
and would have slain him when, on a sudden, 
he raised once more the mighty shield. The 
silence of death fell around him. His foes were 
motionless monuments of stone, fresh victims of 
the terrible Medusa head, and Andromeda was 
safely his own. 
These fragments of the Greek mythology con¬ 
nect themselves with only one species of aquatic 
life. There are many such species in the Med¬ 
iterranean and many such quaint old myths, dear 
to the heart of the poet. In the light of these 
facts it is that the peculiar interest, already spoken 
of, still exists—an interest unscientific, perhaps, 
but alive to memory and imagination. 
Joanna S. Nichols. 
