being the oscular openings of the creature provided for the excurrent streams of water! All this time, while the angry war of words went on, Hyalonema stood on its head wait

PLATE VI. EUPLECTELLA SPECIOSA.

(By the courtesy of Dr. Christopher Johnston.)

ing to be classified. Not one of all its angry champions knew enough to put it in its correct position. The conical mass had been, from the first, assumed as its base, out of which the spreading wisp of glass hair was

supposed to spring upward into the water. Finally, Professor Lovén, of Christiana, pointed out the fact, that the Hyalonema had been described in an inverted position. The first suggested that the glass coil was used for the purpose of anchoring the sponge in the mud, and, of course, formed its base.

In 1868, Dr. Perceval Wright brought up a specimen of Hyalonema from a depth of 600 fathoms in Setubal Bay, off the coast of Portugal. This was, perhaps, the first exploit that could be dignified by the name of deep-sea sounding, which was successfully accomplished in the great ocean. At last the embargo was authoritatively declared to be removed from the great valleys and low-lying plains of the ocean's bed, and eager man hastened into the new country to take possession of it. Each new attempt at deep-sea exploration was crowned with fresh discoveries. New and beautiful glass sponges were added to the list, till our modest Hyalonema was quite cast into the shade.

The Holtenia, which was also dredged off the coast of Portugal, is in shape a symmetrical oval or sphere, with a cup-shaped depression in the top. The outer and inner walls of the sponge are formed of a starry silicious net-work. The spicules of which this net-work is made are five-rayed, the sixth ray being rudimentary. The primary axis penetrates the sarcode, while the cross arms spread themselves over the surface, producing a delicate stellate pattern. When living, the interstices of the lacy fabric are filled with a delicately fenestrated matter like white of egg, which is its flesh. This sarcode is forever moving, widening or narrowing the cavities and canals which penetrate it, and gliding over the spicules. A current of water, urged by the motion of the cilia, flows into the openings occurring over the surface, and passes, finally, out of the large osculum, or exhalent cavity, in the top. The upper third of the oval is covered with rigid hairs of the purest glass, which stand up like a frill about it, while the lower third sends down a perfect maze of delicate glassy filaments, softer and silkier, to the eye, than an infant's hair. These constitute the anchoring filaments which characterize the whole family of glass sponges, so far as they are now known.

The two, however, which bear off the palm for exquisite beauty are the Rossella velata and the Euplectella speciosa. [See Plates III. and VI.] The Rossella is not unlike the Holtenia. Its body is of a symmetrical oval form, composed of a beautiful net-work

The glass hair of which these sponges are woven is not transparent, as might be imagined; it is of a pure and lustrous white, giving, in certain lights, an opalescent play of color. The texture is like frost-work, phantom flowers, the finest and filmiest of the real Shetland lace, which is rarely seen in this country; it is so exquisitely delicate and lustrously white as to beggar description, and to make one turn disheartened away from

of glass spicules invested by the sarcode. The chief beauty of this sponge is due to an exquisitely delicate veil, which seems to envelop it in its filmy folds. This appearance is produced by a maze of spicules which stand out from the surface of the sponge at the distance of a centimeter. The primal axis of each spicule partially penetrates the sarcode, and the cross arms interlace to form the veil. From the lower portion of the body tufts of glistening glass hair curve gracefully downward, here and there terminating in a quadrate barb, the more securely to anchor the sponge in the shifting bottom mud. The Rossella looks much like a pine-apple, wanting its crowning tuft of leaves, and its core, woven of fine glass hair, and veiling its loveliness in misty films of delicate spun glass. The Euplectella is even more beautiful than any species yet mentioned. It is brought from the Philippine seas, and the first specimen was described and "figured" as early as 1841 by Richard Owen. This first specimen was called Euplectella aspergillum. [See Plates IV. and VII.] In 1858 the Euplectella cucumer was brought to England [See Plate V.], and later, the most exquisite of all, the Euplectella speciosa, made its entrée into scientific society, the acknowledged queen of the glass-sponges. [See Plate VI.] It is a graceful cornucopia, formed of a delicate lace of a square meshed texture. Every angle is softened and rounded in effect by the weaving and interweaving of other filaments. The meshes are so perfectly regular that graduated series run from top to bottom of the curved vase, making the number in every encircling row the same. There seems to be a regular web and woof to the texture; but, heightening and softening all this formal beauty, a curious little ruffle, standing at right angles to the surface of the vase, runs backward and forward, and round and round the cornucopia to its very lid. Through this delicate and wayward little frill the exquisite precision of the square meshes beneath is seen. The vase is covered with a fretted lid of closer texture than the body of the sponge, and around the smaller end is an embracing tuft of glass hair curving up on every side. VOL. XI.-4.

analogy. In all the world there is perhaps nothing so fairy-like as these wonderful fabrics built up by this formless, structureless life, in the darkness and stillness of the deep

sea waters.

The glass-sponges, it would be seen, are of a particularly hospitable disposition, for most of them possess some "commensal " or humble friend, who always lives with them, and eats at the same table. Commensals differ from parasites in this, that they eat with, and not upon, the creature with which they are associated. They seem, by some mutual understanding, to come to an agreement to "chum together." The investing, leathery membrane of Hyalonema is a colony of such commensals, and, within the vase of the Euplectella, live two little crabs, hopelessly held in their exquisite prison-house, for here they live and here they die without possibility of release. The constant currents of sea water, created by the ciliary movement of the sarcode, brings food to the "commensal" as well as to the sponge.

Of the 140,000,000 square miles which lie under the sea, that which has been fairly dredged may be measured by the square yard; and yet how rich has been the fruit of these few years of deep-sea exploration. Every haul of the dred or s up strange forms of life; some of nge, be

they seem like a weird echo from a remote geologic past. Many of the organisms, now dwelling in the quiet ocean depths, are identical with those in existence when the mighty Mastodon roamed the forests of the Tertiary epoch, and the frightful Megatherium silently waited to drop upon his prey. Others, again, point to a still remoter past: the formation which is now taking place at the bottom of the sea, is, it can almost be said, a continuation of the "Chalk." The Atlantic ooze is formed of multitudes of the tiny shells of foraminifera and globigerina, which, under the microscope, so closely resemble specimens of the "Chalk" that only a trained eye can detect the difference. The glass-sponges have at last unriddled the mystery which has so long puzzled geologists, the ventriculites of the "Chalk."

At the present moment, the exquisite

CHAPTER I.

ANNE MATURIN was an orphan, brought up by her aunt Mrs. Hartley, who was well off, and generous enough to give the solitary girl a home. She was very well and kindly treated, but still there was a shade of difference between her and her cousins. Mrs. Hartley had four children-two boys and two girls-and the difference of treatment to which Anne was subjected was very much what a younger daughter has to submit to while her elder sisters are still reigning in the house. She went out with them only at intervals, when either Letty or Susan happened to be indisposed for some special engagement. She was not quite so well dressed. A number of little occupations which they were not fond of fell naturally upon her, and were considered, without any question as to whether she liked them or not, her duty. Her inclinations, her dislikes, her little ailments, those trifling things which affect only comfort and have little to do either with life or health, were not, perhaps, so instantly or so carefully attended to.

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They

But in all that could really or deeply influence her well-being Anne was as well cared for as if she had been in her mother's house. They were all very kind to her; nay, I use words which have no business here. were not kind; they had no thought of being kind; they were simply her family as nature had made them. When Letty and Susan married, Anne worked at both the trousseaux and danced at both the weddings, and cried when they went away, and again for joy when they came back. But," she said, "I am the only young lady in the house now. I am quite a great person," and felt her own importance, as "the youngest" does, when she finds herself at last promoted and reigning alone. Thus it will be seen that nothing in the least of a Cinderella character was in Anne's thoughts, though indeed there were friends of the family who called her Cinderella, and remarked that her gowns were more flimsy, and that her bonnets lasted longer, than those of the older girls. Letty and Susan both made very satisfactory marriages, and left their old home somewhat

John, the public office man, was like most other young men in public offices, and scarce

"Anne is a good girl," she said, "but if she thinks she can replace my own girls-" "Hush, mamma!" cried Letty, who was a kind soul. "She did not mean to replace us; but I am sure she is a comfort."

And Mrs. Hartley admitted that she was a comfort, though not like her very own. Fortunately, however, Anne did not hear this. She missed the girls very much, and she thought it natural that their mother should miss them still more, and that dreary reflection which comes to so many minds,

"Many love me, yet by none
Am I enough beloved,"

had never entered her young soul. She was happy and light-hearted, and contented with what was given to her. The other state of mind, with its deeper questionings, may be more picturesque and more imposing; but to live with, commend me to the fresh heart which takes what it has and is happy, and grumbles not for more. She was twentytwo when she rose to the dignity of being the only young lady in the house; and what with her aunt to love and care for, and her cousins' brand-new houses to visit and admire, and "the boys" still in the house "for company," Anne Maturin was as cheerful and as pleasant a young creature as eye could desire to see. She was pretty and yet not striking, with the prettiness of youth and health, and roundness and bloom and good temper, rather than with positive beauty of any description. Her nose was not worth speaking of; her mouth, like most people's mouths, was somewhat defective. Her eyes were bright but not brilliant; well opened but not very large. In short, nice, warm, shining, ordinary brown eyes, such as you could find by the-dozen. Her figure light and springy, her hair wavy and abundant. A nice girl,-this was what everybody said of her; pleasant to talk to, pleasant to look at, but no more remarkable than half of the young women who make our lives pleasant or miserable. I doubt much if in any assemblage of such, at kirk or market, you would have noted Anne at all, or found her special advantages out.

Mrs. Hartley had two sons, Francis and John-the one a barrister, the other in a public office.

was the pride of the house. He had gone through a very successful career both at school and college; had made a successful appearance at the bar very early, and bade fair to be a successful man. The successfulness of success was already apparent in him. The further he advanced, the greater became his rate of progress, and the more rapidly he continued to go on. He was only about thirty, and he was already known as a rising man. The Hartleys were all proud of him, though I am not sure that his sisters, at least, were as fond of him as they were proud. were proud. Sisters judge impartially in many cases, and have many little data to go upon unknown to the outside world. Letty and Susan had an impression of his character which they would not for the world have put into words, but which they communicated to each other by little side remarks, saying: "It is just like him," when any incident happened which confirmed their theory. This theory was that Francis was selfish. He liked his own way (as who does not ?), and when his way came into collision with other people's way, never yielded or compromised matters; so at least his sisters said. But Anne held no such doctrine. Since her earliest capabilities of use began she had been the little vassal first, and recently the champion and defender of Francis; and he was always good to her. That is to say, he accepted her services with much kindness, and spoke to her pleasantly, and sometimes even would applaud her gentle qualities, especially in points where she differed from his sisters. I do not know if he had ever in his life exercised himself to procure a pleasure, or done anything else in Anne's behal which cost him trouble.

But

he was always "nice" o his cousin, and she thought immensely f this easy kindness. She was ready to fetch him whatever he wanted-to study his looks, to talk or be silent, according as the humor pleased him. And she could divine his humors much more quickly than even his mother could; for, indeed, Mrs. Hartley was not one of the mothers who sacrifice or annihilate themselves for their children. She was a very good mother-very careful of them and very anxious for their welfare; but withal she retained her own personality and independence. She was very good and indulgent to Francis, but she did not search his looks, and follow tremulously every shade

of meaning on his face, neither did she make everything in the house subservient to her sons. She was the mistress, and such she intended to be as long as she lived.

It was therefore with some solemnity and a little excitement, but with nothing of the intense and painful feeling which often attends such a revelation, that she made a certain disclosure to Anne one wintry spring afternoon, which changed the current of the poor girl's life, though nobody knew of it.

"I am going to tell you some news, Anne," she said; "of a very important kind. I don't quite know whether I am pleased or not; but, at all events, it is something very important and rather unexpected."

"What kind of a thing, aunt ?" said Anne, looking up from her knitting.

Her fingers went on with her work, while her eyes, brightening with expectation and interest, looked up at the speaker. She was full of lively, animated curiosity, but nothing more. No fear of evil tidings, no alarm for what might be coming, was in her peaceful soul.

"What would you say to a marriage in the family?" said Mrs. Hartley.

"A marriage! But, dear aunt, there is nobody to marry-unless," said Anne, with a pleasant ring of laughter, "without my knowing anything about it, it should be me."

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"Nobody to marry? Do you think the boys are nobody?" said Mrs. Hartley, with a little snort of partial offense.

"The boys! Oh, did you mean the boys?" said Anne, bewildered.

She made a little momentary pause, as if confused, and then said, rather foolishly: "The boys' weddings will be weddings in other families, not here."

"That is true enough if you think of nothing but the wedding; but I suppose you take more interest in your cousins than that," said Mrs. Hartley. "Francis came in quite unexpectedly when you were out." "Francis? Is it Francis ?" said Anne, in a hurried low tone of dismay.

"Why not?" said Mrs. Hartley. Why not, indeed ? There could be nothing more natural. He was a full-grown man. But the surprise (surely it was only surprise made Anne quite giddy for the moment. Her head swam, the light seemed to change somehow, and darken round her. She felt physically as if she had received a violent and sudden blow.

"To be sure," she said, mechanically, feel

ing that her voice sounded strange, and did not seem to belong to her-" Why not? I suppose it is the most natural thing in the world, only it never came into my head."

"That is nonsense," said her aunt, somewhat sharply. "Indeed the wonder is that Francis has not married before. He is over thirty, and making a good income, and when I die he will have the most part of what I have. Indeed it is in a sort of a way his duty to marry. I do not see how any one could be surprised."

Anne was silent, feeling with a confused thankfulness that no reply was necessary, and after a pause Mrs. Hartley resumed in a softened tone:

"I confess, however, that for the moment I did not expect anything of the kind. I generally have a feeling when something is going to happen; but I had not the least warning this morning. It came upon me all at once. Anne, I do think, after living with us all your life, you might show a little more interest. You have never even asked who the lady is."

"It was very stupid of me," said Anne, forcing herself to speak. "Do we know her? Do you like her? I cannot think of

any one."

"No, indeed, I suppose not," said Mrs. Hartley. "She is not one of our set. It will be a capital marriage for Francis— though, indeed, a man of his abilities may aspire to any one. It is Miss Parker, the daughter of the Attorney-General, Anne; a man just as sure to be Lord Chancellor as I am to eat my dinner. She will be the Honorable Mrs. Francis Hartley one day— of course the Honorable is not much of itself. If it had been some poor Irish or Scotch girl, for instance, who happened to be a Lord's daughter; but the Lord Chancellor is very different. Fancy the interest it will give him, not to say that it will be of the greatest importance to him in his profession; the Lord Chancellor's son-in-law; nobody can have a greater idea than I have of my son's abilities," continued the old lady; "but such a connection as this is never to be disregarded. I am to call upon Lady Parker to-morrow, and make acquaintance with my future daughter. Perhaps as the girls have both got their own engagements, and Letty would not like me to take Susan without asking her, perhaps I had best take you with me, Anne."

"Oh, thanks, aunt," said Anne, tremulously. "Did you hear anything about the young lady herself?"