Chaps. 68-74.

Chap. 68. (45.)—Bodies Which Have a Third Nature, That of the Animal and Vegetable Combined—The Sea-nettle.

Indeed, for my own part, I am strongly of opinion that there is sense existing in those bodies which have the nature [The zoöphytes, or the zoödendra.] of neither animals nor vegetables, but a third which partakes of them both:—sea-nettles and sponges, I mean. The sea-nettle [The wandering urticæ, or sea-nettles, are the Medusæ of Linnæus, the stationary nettle is the Actinia of the same naturalist.] wanders to and fro by night, and at night changes its locality. These creatures are by nature a sort of fleshy branch, [“Carnosæ frondis his natura.”] and are nurtured upon flesh. They have the power of producing an itching, smarting pain, [Many species of the medusæ, Cuvier says, and other animals of the same class, the physalus more especially, cause an itching sensation in the skin when they are touched. This is noticed also by Ælian, Hist. Anim. B. vii. c. 35; and by Diphilus of Siphnos, in Athenæus, B. iii.] just like that caused by the nettle found on land. For the purpose of seeking its prey, it contracts and stiffens itself to the utmost possible extent, and then, as a small fish swims past, it will suddenly spread out its branches, and so seize and devour [This is true, Cuvier says, and more especially with reference to the actiniæ. They have the mouth provided with numerous fleshy tentacles, by means of which they can seize very small animals which come within their reach, which they instantly swallow.] it. At another time it will assume the appearance of being quite withered away, and let itself be tossed [Cuvier says, that this is the case more especially with the medusæ and the physali.] to and fro by the waves like a piece of sea-weed, until it happens to touch a fish. The moment it does so, the fish goes to rub itself against a rock, to get rid of the itching; immediately upon which, the nettle pounces upon it. By night also it is on the look-out for scallops and sea-urchins. When it perceives a hand approaching it, it instantly changes its colour, and contracts itself; when touched it produces a burning sensation, and if ever so short a time is afforded, makes its escape. Its mouth is situate, it is said, at the root or lower part, [“Ora ei in radice.” Aristotle, however, says, Hist. Anim. B. iv. c. 5, and B. viii. c. 3, that the sea-nettle has the mouth situate ἐν μέσῳ, “in the middle of the body.” Hardouin attempts to explain the passage on the ground that Pliny has made a mistake, in an endeavour to suit his similitude of a tree to the language of Aristotle. Cuvier says, that there exists one genus or species of the medusæ, which appears to feed itself by the aid of an apparatus of branches, and is divided into such a multitude of filaments, almost innumerable, that it bears a strong resemblance to the roots of a tree or vegetable. It is this kind, he says, that he has called by the name of “Rhizostomos.”] and the excrements [Aristotle, Hist. Anim. B. viii. c. 3, says the same; though, on the other hand, in the Fourth Book, he says that the animal has no excrements, although it has a mouth, and feeds.] are discharged by a small canal situated above.

Chap. 69.—Sponges; the Various Kinds of Them, and Where They Are Produced: Proofs That They Are Gifted with Life by Nature.

We find three [Cuvier remarks, that there are a great many more than three kinds of sponges, but that Pliny here is only enumerating those which were employed for domestic use.] kinds of sponges mentioned; the first are thick, very hard, and rough, and are called “tragi:” [In the singular, “tragus,” from the Greek τραγὸς, a goat, on account of their strong smell, which they contract from the mud and slime in which they are found.] the second, are thick, and much softer, and are called “mani;” [Probably from the Greek μάνος, “rare,” “in small quantities;” in allusion to the comparative rarity of this kind of sponge.] of the third, being fine and of a closer texture, tents for sores are made; this last is known as “Achillium.” [A term merely used, as Cælius Rhodiginus says, to denote the strength of its texture.] All of these sponges grow on rocks, and feed upon [Cuvier says, that though sometimes shells and small animals are found lodged in the sponge, they do not afford it any nourishment. Having no mouth, it can only live and increase by the inhalation of substances dissolved in the water of the sea.] shell- and other fish, and slime. It would appear that these creatures, too, have some intelligence; for as soon as ever they feel [“Sensere.” Cuvier says, that many observers have stated that this is the only sign of animal life that the sponge affords; but that Grant assures us that it does not even afford that. The fact is, however, that “the sponge itself is a cellular, fibrous tissue, produced by small animals, almost imperceptible, called polypi, and living in the sea. This tissue is said to be covered in its native state with a sort of semifluid thin coat of animal jelly, susceptible of a slight contraction or trembling on being touched; which, in fact, is the only symptom of vitality displayed by the sponge. After death, this gelatinous substance disappears, and leaves only the skeleton or sponge, formed by the combination of a multitude of small capillary tubes, capable of receiving water in the interior, and of becoming thereby distended. Though different in their nature, sponges are analogous in their formation to coral. On being examined with a power of about 500 linear, the fleshy matter of the living sponge is to be distinctly observed, having in its interior gemmæ, which are considered to be the young. These are occasionally given off from the mass of living matter. The greater portion of the mass of sponge consists of small cylindrical threads or fibres, varying in size. The spiculæ are not found within these, but in the large and flattened fibres, and varying in number from one to three or more, imbedded in their substance.” From Brande’s Dictionary.] the hand about to tear them off, they contract themselves, and are separated with much greater difficulty: they do the same also when the waves buffet them to and fro. The small shells that are found in them, clearly show that they live upon food: about Torone [See B. iv. c. 17.] it is even said that they will survive after they have been detached, and that they grow again from the roots which have been left adhering to the rock. They leave a colour similar to that of blood upon the rock from which they have been detached, and those more especially which are produced in the Syrtes of Africa. [This, to the end of the Chapter, is almost verbatim from Aristotle, Hist. Anim. B. iv. c. 17.]

The manos is the one that grows to the largest size, but the softest of all are those found in the vicinity of Lycia. Where the sea is deep and calm, they are more particularly soft, while those which are found in the Hellespont are rough, and those in the vicinity of Malea coarse. [See B. iv. cc. 8, 10.] When lying in places exposed to the sun, they become putrid: hence it is that those which are found in deep water are the best. While they are alive, they are of the same blackish colour that they are when saturated with water. They adhere to the rock not by one part only, nor yet by the whole body: and within them there are a number of empty tubes, generally four or five in number, by means of which, it is thought, they take their food. There are other tubes also, but these are closed at the upper extremity; and a sort of membrane is supposed to be spread beneath the roots by which they adhere. It is well known that sponges are very long-lived. The most inferior kind of all are those which are called “aplysiæ,” [Ἀπλυσίαι, from ἀ, “not,” and πλύνω, “to wash.” These aplysiæ or halcyones, Cuvier says, are a kind of sponge, of too thick and compact a nature to admit of their being washed. It is arbitrarily, he says, that Linnæus has applied this name to a species of the molluscæ, which is, in reality, the sea-hare of the ancients.] because it is impossible to clean them: these have large tubes, while the other parts of them are thick and coarse.

Chap. 70. (46.)—Dog-Fish.

Vast numbers of dog-fish infest the seas in the vicinity of the sponges, to the great peril of those who dive for them. These persons say that a sort of dense cloud gradually thickens over their [Rondelet and Dalechamps absolutely interpret this passage as though it were the dog-fish and flat-fish over whose eyes this cloud comes, and the latter proceeds to describe it as a malady which hinders the fish from taking its own part in the combat. Hardouin, however, detects this absurdity, and justly reprehends it; though it must be confessed that there is some obscurity in the passage, arising from the way in which it is worded.] heads, bearing the resemblance of some kind of animal like a flat-fish, [Cuvier thinks it not improbable that it may have been some of the large rays that were seen by the divers, and more especially, the largest of them all, the Cephalopterus.] and that, pressing downward upon them, it prevents them from returning to the surface. It is for this reason that they carry stilettos with them, [“Stilos.”] which are very sharp at the point, and attached to them by strings; for if they did not pierce the object with the help of these, it could not be got rid of. This, however, is entirely the result, in my opinion, of the darkness and their own fears; for no person has ever yet been able to find, among living creatures, the fish-cloud or the fish-fog, the name which they give to this enemy of theirs.

The divers, however, have terrible combats with the dog-fish, which attack with avidity the groin, the heels, and all the whiter parts of the body. The only means of ensuring safety, is to go boldly to meet them, and so, by taking the initiative, strike them with alarm: for, in fact, this animal is just as frightened at man, as man is at it; and they are on quite an equal footing when beneath the water. But the moment the diver has reached the surface, the danger is much more imminent; for he loses the power of boldly meeting his adversary while he is endeavouring to make his way out of the water, and his only chance of safety is in his companions, who draw him along by a cord that is fastened under his shoulders. While he is engaging with the enemy, he keeps pulling this cord with his left hand, according as there may be any sign of immediate peril, while with the right he wields the stiletto, which he is using in his defence. At first they draw him along at a moderate pace, but as soon as ever they have got him close to the ship, if they do not whip him out in an instant, with the greatest possible celerity, they see him snapped asunder; and many a time, too, the diver, even when already drawn out, is dragged from their hands, through neglecting to aid the efforts of those who are assisting him, by rolling up his body in the shape of a ball. The others, it is true, are in the meantime brandishing their pronged fish-spears; but the monster has the craftiness to place himself beneath the ship, and so wage the warfare in safety. Consequently, every possible care is taken by the divers to look out [Cælius Rhodigonus, B. xxv. c. 16, states that the divers for sponges were in the habit of pouring forth oil at the bottom of the sea, for the purpose of increasing the light there; and Pliny states the same in B. ii. c. 106.] for the approach of this enemy.

(47.) It is the surest sign of safety to see flat-fish, which never frequent the spots where these noxious monsters are found: and it is for this reason that the divers [Cuvier says, that the name of “sacred fish” has been given to several fish of very different character; such as the anthias, or aulopias of Aristotle, B. ix. c. 37, the pompilus and the dolphin (Athenæus, B. vii.), because it was thought that their presence was a guarantee against the vicinity of dangerous fish. The authors, however, that were consulted by Pliny, seem to have given this name to the flat-fish, the Pleuronectes of Linnæus; and in fact, unprovided as they are with any means of defence, their presence is not unlikely to prove, in a very great degree, the absence of the voracious class of fishes.] call them sacred.

Chap. 71.—Fishes Which Are Enclosed in a Stony Shell—Sea Animals Which Have No Sensation—-Other Animals Which Live in the Mud.

Those animals, however, it must be admitted, which lie enclosed in a stony shell, have no sensation whatever—such as the oyster, [It is singular that Pliny, after his numerous stories as to the sensitiveness of numerous bivalves, should make this statement in reference to the oyster; for, on the contrary, as Cuvier says, the oyster, in common with the other bivalves, is extremely sensitive to the touch.] for instance. Many, again, have the same nature as vegetables; such as the holothuria, [Cuvier says, that the different zoöphytes, the sea-star, at least, are far from having the life of vegetables only; for that they are real animals, which have the sense of touch, a voluntary power of motion more or less complete, and seize and devour their prey. It is not, however, very well known, he says, what was the “holothurium” of the ancients. Aristotle, Hist. Anim. B. i. c. 1, ranks it, as well as the oyster, among the animals which, without being attached to any object, have not the faculty of moving; and in his work, De Part. Anim. B. iv. c. 5, he adds, that the holothurium and the pulmo only differ from the sponge in being detached. Cuvier is of opinion, however, that they both belong to the halcyones, the round kinds of which easily detach themselves from the places upon which they have grown.] the pulmones, [Pulmo, “the sea-lungs.”] and the sea-stars. [Or, as we call it, the star-fish.] Indeed, I may say that there is no land production which has not its like in the sea; [“Adeoque nihil non gignitur in mari.”] no, not even those insects which frequent our public-houses [“Cauponarum.” “Caupona” had two significations; that of an inn where travellers obtained food and lodging, and that of a shop where wine and ready-dressed meat were sold. A lower kind of inn was the popina, which was principally frequented by the slaves and lower classes, and was mostly used as a brothel as well.] in summer, and are so troublesome with their nimble leaps, nor yet those which more especially make the human hair their place of refuge; for these are often drawn up in a mass [He alludes to various kinds of sea-animals, called sea-lice and sea-fleas. Cuvier says, that there are some crustacea which have been called sea-fleas and sea-lice, some of which kinds are parasites, and are attached to various fishes and cetacea. Thus, he says, a pycnogonum is commonly named “pediculus balænæ,” or the “whale-louse;” one of the calygæ is called the “fish-flea,” another the “mackerel-flea.” The name of sea-flea, he observes, has been given more especially to a very diminutive kind of shrimp, in consequence of its power of leaping from place to place.] collected around the bait. This, too, is supposed to be the reason why the sleep of fish is sometimes so troubled in the night. Upon some fish, indeed, these animals breed [Aristotle says, that the chalcis is greatly tormented by sea-fleas, which attach themselves to its gills. Cuvier remarks, that a great number of fish are subject to have the gills attacked by parasitical animals of the genus Lernæa or that of the monoculi of Linnæus, which have been divided into many classes since. They have nothing in common, he says, with the land-flea, except the name and the property of living at the expense of other animals.] as parasites: among these, we find the fish known as the chalcis. [The ancients, Cuvier says, speak of their chalcis as being of a similar nature to the thryssa and the sardine (Athenæus, B. vii.), gregarious fishes, which live both in the sea and in fresh water, and the flesh of which was salted. Hence he concludes that it was the same as the Clupea ficta of Lacepède, the “finte” of the French, and the agone of Lombardy, which unites all these characteristics, and is sometimes called the “sardine” of the Lago di Garda.]

Chap. 72. (48.)—Venomous Sea-animals.

Nor yet are dire and venomous substances found wanting in the sea: such, for instance, as the sea-hare [It is mentioned again in B. xxiii. c. 3. Cuvier says, that the sea-hare of the ancients is the mollusc to which Linnæus has injudiciously given the name of aplysia, which Pliny gives to certain of the sponge genus, and to which nomenclature of Linnæus the modern naturalists have assented. (See N., p. 456.) Its tentacles and its muzzle, he says, resemble the muzzle and ears of the hare, closely enough to have caused this appellation. As its smell is disagreeable, and its figure repulsive, a multitude of marvellous, and indeed fatal qualities, he says, have been ascribed to this animal, which fishermen still speak of, but which, nevertheless, are not confirmed by actual experience. The only true fact that can be alleged against it is, that it secretes from an organ, situate in its body, a kind of acrid liquid. As to the Indian sea-hare, the body of which was covered with hair, Cuvier professes himself quite at a loss to know what it might be; but he thinks that this name must have been given to some tetrodon, which may have received the name from the cleft in the jaw and the skin, bristling with fine and minute spines. The sailors, he says, attribute to the tetrodon certain venomous properties.] of the Indian seas, which is even poisonous by the very touch, and immediately produces vomiting and disarrangement of the stomach. In our seas it has the appearance of a shapeless mass, and only resembles the hare in colour; in India it resembles it in its larger size, and in its hair, which is only somewhat coarser: there it is never taken alive. An equally deadly animal is the sea-spider, [Cuvier says, that there is reason to believe that this is the same as the vive of the French (probably our weever), the Trachinus draco of Linnæus. This creature, with the spiny projections of its first dorsal fin, is able to inflict wounds that are extremely difficult to cure; not because they are venomous in any degree, but because the extremities being very minute, sharp, and pointed, penetrate deep into the flesh. See c. of this Book.] which is especially dangerous for a sting which it has on the back: but there is nothing that is more to be dreaded than the sting which protrudes from the tail of the trygon, [Or sting-ray, mentioned in c. 40 and c. 67 of this Book; so called from the Greek τρυγὼν. Cuvier says, that this sting, or spine, is sharp, like a saw; and that when it has penetrated the flesh, it cannot be got out without enlarging the wound. This it is, and not its fancied poisonous qualities, that renders its wound so dangerous; and as for its action upon trees and iron, they are entirely fabulous.] by our people known as the pastinaca, a weapon five inches in length. Fixing this in the root of a tree, the fish is able to kill it; it can pierce armour too, just as though with an arrow, and to the strength of iron it adds all the corrosive qualities of poison.

Chap. 73. (49.)—The Maladies of Fishes.

We do not find it stated that all kinds of fishes are subject to epizoötic diseases, [Νοσήματα λοιμώδη, as Aristotle, Hist. Anim. B. viii. c. 25, calls them.] like other animals of a wild nature: but it is evidently the fact that individuals [Cuvier says, that there are some maladies by which individuals are attacked; but that it is not uncommonly the case that certain species are attacked universally, as it were, by a sort of epidemic. There was an instance of this, he says, in the lake of the valley of Montmorency, where numbers of the fish were suddenly to be seen floating dead on the surface, the skin of which was covered with red spots, while at the same time their flesh had become disagreeable to the taste, and unwholesome.] among them are attacked by maladies, from the emaciated appearance that many present, while at the same moment others of the same species are taken quite remarkable for their fatness.

Chap. 74. (50.)—The Generation of Fishes.

The curiosity and wonder which have been excited in mankind by this subject, will not allow me any longer to defer giving an account of the generation of these animals. Fishes couple by rubbing their bellies [Cuvier says, that this is not the case in general; but that some, more especially those which are viviparous, actually do couple; while, on the other hand, in most, the male does nothing else but besprinkle with the milt the eggs which the female has deposited, as is stated by Pliny a little further on.] against one another; an operation, however, that is performed with such extraordinary celerity as to escape the sight. Dolphins [These belong to the cetacea; which, as Cuvier says, are now universally placed among the mammifera, and not among the fishes. They couple, he says, in the same manner as quadrupeds do in general.] also, and other animals of the cetaceous kind, couple in a similar manner, though the time occupied in so doing is somewhat longer. The female fish, at the season for coupling, follows the male, and strikes against its belly with its muzzle; while the male in its turn, when the female is about to spawn, follows it and devours [As Aristotle says, “from those that are left the fishes are produced.”] the eggs. But with them, the simple act of coupling is not sufficient [Aristotle, Hist. Anim. B. vi. c. 12.] for the purposes of reproduction; it is necessary for the male to pass among the eggs which the female has produced, in order to sprinkle them with its vitalizing fluid. This does not, however, reach all the eggs out of so vast a multitude; indeed, if it did, the seas and lakes would soon be filled, seeing that each female produces these eggs in quantities innumerable. [It has been calculated, Cuvier says, that a female cod, or sturgeon, produces in a year more than one hundred thousand eggs.]

(51.) The eggs [Cuvier says, that the eggs of the common fishes, of toads, frogs, &c., have no shells, but only a membranous tunic; and when they have been once fecundated, they imbibe the surrounding moisture, and increase till they produce the animal.] of fishes grow in the sea; some of them with the greatest rapidity, those of the muræna, for instance; others, again, somewhat more slowly. Those among the flat fishes, [It is probable, Cuvier thinks, that this passage relates more especially to the ray genus, but that there is no very positive knowledge as to the mode in which they do couple. It is probable, he suggests, that they may do it in the manner above mentioned, by the attrition of the belly. As to the turtle genus, he says, it is certain that the male mounts the back of the female; and in some species the sternum of the male is concave, the better to adapt itself to the convex callipash of the female.] whose tails or stings are not in the way, as well as those of the turtle kind, couple the one upon the other: the polypus by attaching one of its feelers to the nostrils [More properly, the physeter, passage, or orifice.] of the female, the sæpia and loligo, by means of the tongue; uniting the arms, they then swim contrary ways; these last also bring forth at the mouth. The polypi, [Cuvier remarks, that this account of the coupling of the cephalopodes is taken from Aristotle. He says, that he is not aware whether modern observation has confirmed these statements, and almost doubts whether, considering the organization of these animals, it is not almost more probable that they do not couple at all, and that the male, as in the case of most other fishes, only fecundates the eggs after they have been deposited by the female.] however, couple with the head downwards towards the ground, while the rest of the soft [Cuvier says, that whatever may be the sense in which the word “mollia” is here taken, the assertion is not correct. The gasteropod molluscs, he says, whether hermaphroditical, or whether of separate sexes, couple side to side. The acephalous molluscs do not couple at all, and each individual fecundates its own eggs. The crustacea couple by attrition of the belly.] fish couple backwards in the same manner as the dog; cray-fish and shrimps do the same, and crabs employ the mouth.

Frogs leap the one upon the other, the male with its fore-feet clasping the armpits of the female, and with its hinder ones the haunches. The female produces tiny pieces of black flesh, which are known by the name of gyrini, [“Tadpoles.” There is both truth and falsehood, Cuvier says, in the statements here made relative to the tadpole. Frogs, he says, produce eggs, from which the tadpole developes itself, with a tail like that of a fish. The feet, however, are not produced by any bifurcation of the tail, but shoot out at the base of the tail, and in the same proportion that they grow, the tail decreases, till at last it entirely disappears.] and are only to be distinguished by the eyes and tail; very soon, however, the feet are developed, and the tail, becoming bifurcate, forms the hind legs. It is a most singular thing, but, after a life of six months’ duration, frogs melt away [Frogs, Cuvier says, conceal themselves in mud and slime during the winter, but, of course, are not changed into it.] into slime, though no one ever sees how it is done; after which they come to life again in the water during the spring, just as they were [“Quæ fuere.” Just in the same state, he probably means to say, in which they were when they were melted into slime, and not as they were when in the tadpole state.] before. This is effected by some occult operation of Nature, and happens regularly every year.

Mussels, also, and scallops are produced in the sand by the spontaneous [All that is asserted here, Cuvier says, about the spontaneous operations of nature is totally false. Everything connected with the eggs and the generation of the mussel, the murex, and the scallop is now clearly ascertained.] operations of nature. Those which have a harder shell, such as the murex and the purple, are formed from a viscous fluid like saliva, just as gnats are produced from liquids turned sour, [“Acescente humore.” Hardouin has suggested that the proper reading may be “arescente humore”—“from moisture dried up;” for, he remarks, Aristotle, in his Hist. Anim. B. v. c. 18, states, that the “empides,” gnats formed from the ascarides in the slime of wells, are more frequently produced in the autumn season.] and the fish called the apua, [The apuæ, or aphyæ, Cuvier says, are nothing else but the fry of fish of a large kind.] from the foam of the sea when warm, after the fall of a shower.

Those fish, again, which are covered with a stony coat, such as the oyster, are produced from mud in a putrid state, or else from the foam that has collected around ships which have been lying for a long time in the same position, about posts driven into the earth, and more especially around logs of wood. [Cuvier says, that some of the shell-fish deposit their eggs upon stakes and piles, which are driven down into the water among sea-weed, and the bottoms of old ships: but that many of them perish from the solutions formed by those bodies in a state of rottenness, or, at all events, are not produced from their decomposition.] It has been discovered, of late years, in the oyster-beds, [“Ostreariis.” This was unknown to Aristotle, who, in his work De Gener. Anim. B. iii. c. 11, expressly denies that the oyster secretes any generative or fecundating liquid.] that the animal discharges an impregnating liquid, [Cuvier says, that at the time of the oyster spawning, its body appears swollen in some parts with a milky fluid, which is not improbably the fecundating fluid. During this season the oyster is generally looked upon as unfit for food; among us, from the beginning of May to the end of July.] which has the appearance of milk. Eels, again, rub themselves against rocks, upon which, the particles [This, Cuvier remarks, is a mere vague hypothesis, as to the reproduction of the eel, without the slightest foundation. Pliny borrows it from Aristotle, Hist. Anim. B. vi. c. 9.] which they thus scrape from off their bodies come to life, such being their only means of reproduction. The various kinds of fishes do not couple out of their own kind, with the exception of the squatina and the ray. [The squatina and the ray do not interbreed, Cuvier observes, any more than other fish; and the Squatina raia, or rhinobatis, (which was said to be their joint production), is a particular species, more flat in form than the squalus, and longer than the ray.] The fish that is produced from the union of these two, resembles a ray in the fore part, and bears a name among the Greeks compounded of the two. [Ῥινόβατος, “the squatinoraia.”]

Certain animals are produced only at certain seasons of the year, both in water and on the land, such, for instance, as scallops, snails, and leeches, in the spring, which also disappear at stated periods. Among fishes, the wolf-fish [“Lupus.” The Perca labrax of Linnæus; see c. of the present Book.] and the trichias [The sardine. See c. of the present Book.] bring forth twice in the year, as also do all kinds of rock-fish; the mullet and the chalcis [See c. of the present Book.] thrice in the year, the cyprinus [This name, Cuvier says, appears so rarely in the ancient writers, that it is difficult to ascertain its exact signification. The moderns, he says, have pretty generally agreed to give it to the carp, but without any good and sufficient foundation. It was a lake or river fish, which, as Aristotle says, Hist. Anim. B. vi. c. 14, deposited its eggs five or six times in the year, and which had a palate so fleshy, that it might almost be mistaken for a tongue, B. iv. c. 8, characteristics that appear well suited to the carp. But then, on the other hand, Oppian mentions it, Halieut. B. i., as a shore fish, implying apparently that it belonged to the sea; and Pliny himself, in c. 25 of the present Book, does the same, by his words, “hoc et in mari accidere cyprino.” The words “in mari,” however, he has added, of his own accord, to the account which he has derived from Aristotle.] six times, the scorpæna [The fish called the sea-scorpion. Aristotle, Hist. Anim. B. v. c. 11.] twice, and the sargus in spring and autumn. Among the flat-fish, the squatina brings forth twice a year, being the only [“Sola autumno, occasu Vergiliarum.” It seems questionable whether the reading should not be “solea:” “the sole in autumn, at the setting of the Vergiliæ.”] one that does so at the setting of the [The Pleiades.] Vergiliæ in autumn. Most fish spawn in the three months of April, May, and June. The salpa brings forth in the autumn, the sargus, the torpedo, and the squalus [See c. of the present Book.] about the time of the autumnal equinox. The soft fishes [Aristotle, Hist. Anim. B. v. c. 11.] bring forth in spring, the sæpia every month in the year; its eggs adhere together with a kind of black glutinous substance, in appearance like a bunch of grapes, and the male is very careful to go among them and breathe [“Prosequitur afflatu.” Aristotle says that it pours over them its ink or atramentum, καταφυσᾷ τὸν θόλον.] upon them, as otherwise they would be barren. The polypi couple in winter, and produce eggs in the spring twisted in spiral clusters, in a similar manner to the tendrils of the vine; and so remarkably prolific are they, that when the animal is killed in a state of pregnancy, the cavities of the head are quite unable to contain the multitude [Philostratus, Hist. B. v. c. 17, says that so full is it of eggs, that after it is dead they will more than fill a vessel far larger than the cavities of its head.] of eggs enclosed therein. They bring forth these eggs at the fiftieth day, but in consequence of the vast number of them, great multitudes perish. Cray-fish, and other sea-animals with a thinner crust, lay their eggs one upon the other, and then sit upon them. The female polypus sometimes sits upon its eggs, and at other times closes the entrance of its retreat by spreading out its feelers, interlaced like a net. The sæpia brings forth on dry land, among reeds or such sea-weed as it may find growing there, and hatches its eggs on the fifteenth day. The loligo produces its eggs out at sea, clustered together like those of the sæpia. The purple, [Aristotle, Hist. Anim. B. v. c. 14.] the murex, and other fishes of the same kind, bring forth in the spring. Sea-urchins have their eggs at full moon during the winter; sea-snails [Our periwinkles.] also are produced during the winter season.