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Part 19

Omphalos · Philip Henry Gosse — chapter 19 of 45 · ~2,000 words · public domain

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I tear a piece of bark from the trunk of this half-decayed tree, and have disclosed amidst the rank-smelling damp and rotten wood, a large Julus, a slow-moving creature, with some hundred-and-fifty little twinkling feet. As this specimen has attained its adult condition, it must be at least two years old; for it does not acquire its reproductive organs and perfect development till that age.

This creature has passed through a rather curious history of evolutions. The egg from which it was produced was lodged in a chamber excavated by the parent, a few inches below the surface of the rotten mould. From this egg proceeded a little kidney-shaped body, without limbs or motion, completely enveloped in a swathe of delicate transparent membrane. About a fortnight it remained in this helpless state, during which its organs had been forming out of the constituent cells, by repeated subdivision, and definite arrangement. At length it burst its cerement, and a minute Julus appeared, not more than 1/200th of an inch in length, composed of a head with antennae, and a body of eight segments, of which the first three carried each a pair of legs.

All the multitudinous limbs which we see in this adult have been produced in successive moultings, and all the numerous segments have been produced by the subdivision of the last but one,--that is the joint preceding the anal one,--six at a time.

By the time the little animal was ready for the second sloughing, that is, in about a week after the preceding, three more pairs of feet were seen, which had budded from the fourth, fifth, and sixth segments, but which were as yet closely packed down beneath the investing skin; the seventh segment also was obscurely marked into six divisions. The skin was now thrown off, and these changes were perfected; the little Julus now had six pairs of feet, and thirteen segments.

This process was repeated again and again; the new limbs always developing on the segments last produced, and six new segments being always formed out of the existing penultimate. And by this gradual succession of development, the animal has attained the number of limbs and segments which we now perceive. The antennae and the eyes have likewise passed through successive stages.

We have a right to infer the lapse of a period sufficient to produce these changes, for we see their indubitable results; but our inference would only lead us astray, because we have not allowed for a disturbing influence,--that of the Law of Creation. This is the Julus's first hour of life.

See, on the trunk of that towering Cedrela, a round hole, out of which a large Beetle is in the act of emerging. It is a noble Buprestis, encased in glittering mail, of the most refulgent metallic splendour, crimson, gold, and green. Can we find any clue to his age? Yes: the white grab has rioted and fattened in its burrows in the timber of this tree for many years; ever gnawing away with its horny auger-like jaws the solid wood in tortuous galleries, which constantly enlarged, as it progressively grew, while its wake, as it advanced, was partially filled by its ordure. The old tree is, no doubt, perforated, through and through, by its winding corridors, as large as your middle finger. As soon as the vermin had passed this his nonage, which, as I say, may have occupied a dozen years at least, he sank into his short pupa-sleep, and here we see him paying his first visit to the light of day.

True; this is his first experience of daylight, and indeed of anything; for all the pupa-sleep and the larva-labour were prochronic in this case. The Beetle is just created.

Hark to that hollow roar! There is no mistaking that majestic sound. It is the voice of the many-sounding sea. Yonder through the trees we catch a glimpse of its shining face, and here we are at the verge of the cliffs, against whose feet the waves are breaking in white foam. We will clamber down to the rocks.

In this weed-fringed tide-pool there is a fine specimen of the Shore-crab (Carcinus moenas). It is a male just arrived at the perfection of adult age; its carapace smooth and wholly dark-green in hue, its under parts rufous orange. Its claws. are large and sharp; and the promptitude with which it presents these formidable weapons, extended to the utmost, shows how conscious it is of its warlike powers.

To all appearance this Crab is several years old; I mean in this his present perfect or imago form. When this form was first assumed, the diameter of the carapace was not more than an eighth of an inch; it is now two inches; a great many periodical sloughings of the crust must have occurred to accomplish this sixteen-fold increase.

But four distinct metamorphoses were passed before the commencement of this form. There was the Grapsoid form with the outline of the carapace nearly parallel-sided, and the dentations on the sides. Before this there was the Megalopa form, with the carapace ovate, and the abdomen projecting behind. Before this there was the Zoea form, with the carapace rising into a tall erect spine, sessile eyes, no claws, and the abdomen a slender jointed cord ending in a triangular plate. And before this, there was the egg, which was laid by the mother Crab, and carried by her for a considerable time attached to the false feet of her abdomen.

All these evidences of age, clear and unanswerable though they are, are yet fallacious, because the Crab has been created but this morning.

On this sea-washed branch of a tree, which has been blown off by some tempest, and carried into the ocean, there is a single Barnacle (Lepas). It consists of a hand of many pairs of fringed fingers, protected by a shell of five pieces, and a long flexible cartilaginous stalk, by the lower extremity of which it adheres to the timber.

The shelly valves are all crossed by strongly marked lines running over their surfaces in a direction parallel with each other, and with the outer margins of each valve. These, like the corresponding foliations in the tube of the Serpula, indicate the successive stages of growth; the outlines of every valve having stood at each of these growth lines in succession. On each of the scutal valves in this individual I can count about 260 growth-lines: if we suppose one of these to be made in a week, and the increase to proceed uniformly throughout the year, we must conclude the valve to have been just five years in making.

This animal, like others we have already examined, had, moreover, a history before the first vestige of a valve was formed. It had passed through several metamorphoses; in its pupa stage it had the form of a Cypris, and in this condition it first became adherent to the timber: before this it was a larva, having a general resemblance to another Waterflea, the Cyclops, especially in its younger stages: in this state it moulted several times. Nor was this the beginning of its life; for there was the still earlier condition common to all these classes of animals, viz. that of the egg, which was laid and carried for some time by the parent Barnacle, and at length hatched while within the valves of her shell.

Thus, through a course of several years we are able to trace back the existence of this Cirriped, to its parent of a former generation. But our conclusions are altogether vitiated by the simple fact that this individual is the first of its species; it never had a parent; it never was an egg.

From the rocky pool before us I have picked up a rough pebble, the surface of which is incrusted with a delicate work of stony lace. This fabric, too fine to be resolved by the unassisted eye, consists of the oval cells of a species of Lepralia. There are some hundreds of cells in this patch, which altogether does not cover a square inch of the pebble; and they are all made after one pattern, and set in a very regular manner, in quincunx. Each is a minute slipper-shaped box of stone, with the orifice set round with spines for the protection of the inmate, a transparent, elegant, and sensitive Polypide, which bears on its head a coronet of ciliated tentacles.

I am not going to describe the interesting structure and economy of this atom of life; but merely wish to direct your attention to one point,--the evidence which it affords of the lapse of past time.

Every one of these hundreds of stony cells, together with its living tenant, was normally produced by a process of gemmation; each having budded forth from the side of its predecessor as a knob of clear gelatinous flesh, in the midst of which was developed, first the cell, and then the polypide,--the latter appearing in a rudimentary condition, and gradually acquiring its proper organs, before the orifice of the cell was opened.

I said every one of the cells was thus formed; but I ought to have excepted a single cell, which, though in nowise differing from the rest in form or structure, had a very different origin. This was the primal cell, and its beginning was as follows:

A minute atom of a scarlet hue, and of a semi-elliptical shape, was one day whirling round and round with rapid gyrations in the open sea. It was of soft consistence, covered with strongly vibrating cilia, and furnished with some stouter setae. After enjoying its motile instincts awhile, it settled down on this pebble, and became stationary. Presently it secreted and deposited calcareous matter around at, like a coating of the thinnest glass, the red parenchyma receding from the hyaline wall towards the centre.

Soon an orifice with thickened edges appeared on the upper side, and minute spines grew from the edges, which quickly lengthened. It was now a Lepralia cell, and now the polypide was developed, and protruded its mouth from the orifice, surrounded by its elegant bell of ciliate tentacles. This solitary cell became the parent of hundreds more, by the gemmative process which I have already described.

But the red swimming atom;--whence came that? Well, it was shot out from the interior of a previous Lepralia, the result not of a gemmative but of a generative act. It originated in another patch similar to the one which incrusts this pebble, and that, in like manner, and by exactly similar stages, looked back to an anterior patch, and so on.

Plausible as this inference is, it is false; for the little aggregation of cells and polypides has been called into existence by the Divine fiat, this very instant.

We are still at the sea-shore. Within the long and narrow crevices into which these low-lying ledges of shale are split, innumerable tufts of sea-weed,--olive, purple, and green,--are perpetually waving in the wash of the sea. On one of these branching shrubs of Phyllophora, there is adhering, apparently cast there by accident, an irregular mass of pellucid jelly. It firmly cleaves to the alga, enclosing the bases of several branches within its firm but gelatinous substance.

This knob of jelly is a compound animal of the genus Botryllus, and it has just been created as we see it. In order to understand its nature, look at it more closely.

Enclosed in the clear purplish-grey jelly, in the midst of scattered lighter specks, we see several star-like figures of bright hues, in which yellow and red are predominant; the symmetrical arrangement of which pleases the eye, and reminds us of some ornamental pattern designed by human art. Each star is composed of several (three, seven, ten or more) pear-shaped animals, with their smaller ends meeting in the centre around a common orifice, from which a current of water is discharged.

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