Animals in splendour and decline E . L. G R A N T
WATSON
Slugs and Snails The slugs and their near relatives are well equipped to prey on tender plants with their long and rasping radulm that move like oscillating bands over supporting cartilaginous humps within the cavities of their mouths. These gastropods, these stomach-footed ones, whose remote ancestors are supposed to have crawled up out of the sea as symmetrical and segmented as worms, have lost their segmentation and have received the command to twist upon themselves, and then twist back again, complicating their internal anatomies. The creative thoughts they manifest have much in common with human embryonic development and they bear within their soft and slimy bodies m a n y amorous secrets. Few land-slugs carry shells, and those that have them only tiny shells that sit like caps on hinder parts, or are hidden under folds of flesh. Snails are remarkable for their horny and calcareous shells, some twisting to the right, and some to the left, capable of containing the whole body when withdrawn. Snails can be well observed in action when persuaded to race on a fiat board, in a dark room, towards a flickering candle flame. Boys of departing and departed generations have found entertainment in snail-racing, each boy cherishing his particular champion, feeding him on tenderest young cabbage leaves. At the starting line they are put down, four or five of them, and there rest awhile, made timid by handling; but in a little time their tentacles are thrust out, eyes are seen to be creeping up hollow sockets, like lifts in a shaft. As the light touches and enfolds them, they turn clumsily, assuming the right orientation, and set out towards the candle-light, each travelling in a straight line. The race can be exciting; owners backing their own snails. The muscular foot is fiat to the surface, and advances with rippling movements. A flow of slime issues from glands near the mouth to make smooth the dry, rough texture of the board. The upper skin of the extended foot and the tail are delicately mottled and embossed, shining in their own moisture. The flesh is neither wholly translucent nor wholly opaque, but seems, in double capacity, both to absorb and reflect the light. Two pairs of tentacles are stretched forward in eagerness of progress, and behind each tapering tail is left a silvery and iridescent track. The shells on the back of each undulate to the r h y t h m of the massive muscles of the foot. I f the exterior of the creature can evoke interest, the interior is the more remarkable, being almost as complicated as t h a t of man or woman. Nay, more wonderful for it combines the organs of both sexes, both potent at the same time, and each seeking its love within a corresponding hermaphrodite. The complexities of such a double sexual life are mirrored in the elaboration of glands, dart-sacs, Cupid's darts, testis, ovary, penis, vagina, spermatophores, spermatheca, sperm-duet and oviduct. Elaborate arrangements, instinctive
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and precise, are for prevention of self-fertilization. The reciprocal fertilization is preceded b y unexpected preparatory events, in which the two snails approach one another and evert the genital openings so t h a t the male and female apertures appear externally. The dart-sacs then contract with considerable force, shooting into the soft body of the other a calcareous, sculptured dart. These are propelled out of the female aperture and can be formed again very quickly b y the lining of the sacs. The darts are launched almost simultaneously. A short time after this preliminary stimulation the snails approach again, and the penis of each individual is inserted into the vagina of the other. They linger for some time in close embrace, so long indeed t h a t they sometimes are caught at disadvantage by a predatory thrush. The mating of slugs is even more remarkable in t h a t it does not take place on the substance of unyielding earth but on a thread of mutually secreted slime, on which the hermaphrodite couple swing unimpeded by anything firmer t h a n the submissive air. Once the writer of this tale had the rare privilege of witnessing such a conjugation. One summer evening as the light was fading into darkness I noticed outside the kitchen of m y house two large yellow slugs, hanging on the thick, twisted thread of their slime. One end was fastened to the ledge of the scullery window, and at the other, more than a foot distant, hung the slugs, spinning slowly, first in one direction, then another. ~irst with surprise, and then with increasing wonder, then in awed and fascinated silence, I watched the unhurrying, rhythmical movements of the hermaphrodite creatures. Their interlocking bodies formed in their close embrace a sphere. Such physical intimacy would not have been possible in any skeletoned animal. Their soft and yielding substances flowed and pressed and were welded one against the other, every changeful curve finding its counterpart. After a period of twisting and spinning on their thread there came out from under the mantle of each slug a process which at first appeared single-ended, but which as it came further out grew to the shape of a forked antler of a stag. I t s substance was soft, yielding and of an exploratory nature. I t might be likened to a fungus, or to the parapodia of an amoeba. The fronds of each branch slid over and into the flesh of its companion with tentative gropings, till each clinging antler-form pressed its way deep into the body of the other. And all the while the creatures spun on their thread, pulsating to the r h y t h m of their own ecstasies. By the light of a torch I watched for an hour or more, whilst over the moist bodies passed risings and swellings as the antler-fronds advanced and retreated binding and involving one with the other. Not only the exposure of the inner organs but the impulses t h a t actuated these organs from within was outwardly revealed; a sensual tenderness was not to be mistaken. No crude, stiff, illadjusted mechanism was there present. The fire of love was in their moisture. I watched until at last, while the nightingale sang intermittently from the thicket, the invading caressing organs were withdrawn, and the surgings of those united bodies moderated. They parted, and each lowered itself on its own strand of slime to the earth. This physical union of the slugs was more closely intimate than any physical union of higher animals or humans; only in the realm of psychic feeling m a y human lovers be suspended on invisible cords of their own making, revolving to mutual emotions, their androgynous souls united in ways denied to the rigidity of formal bodies. These creatures of dewy grass blades and lettuce-patch, t h a t
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seldom come within the scope of human interest, can incarnate feelings t h a t with ourselves can only find expression in the evasive and unfulfilled. Slugs and snails have probably but a low development of consciousness; they exist within the stream of their own being, knowing neither forward nor back, nor this side nor that, nor time present nor past, only the immediate dimension of n o w : emerging as larvae from glutinous egg cocoon, eating, growing, copulating and dying; yet their physical development is complicated and most elaborate. They have a long digestive tract with buccal cavity, cesophagus, crop, liver and intestine; they have a blood system with a heart t h a t beats, now fast, now slow, according to the season: fifty to sixty pulsations to the minute during warm weather, as few as four or six during winter hibernation; they have an air-breathing lung and a nervous system of numerous ganglia clustered near the head. A remarkable adaptation to the eating of leaves is the ribbon-saw-like radula t h a t pulls to and fro over a humped cartilage within the buecal cavity. Most are purely vegetarian in diet, though there is one genus of slug that is carnivorous. This creature is fairly common in south-western counties. I t feeds on slugs smaller than itself and on earthworms. Eggs are laid in J u l y and August in small holes in the earth, and hatch after about twenty-five days of development. I n the autumn snails lose their appetite and hide clustered together with large numbers of their fellows. Sometimes these gatherings are to be found in crevices of stone or brickwork, sometimes partburied in soil. During hibernation the head and foot are withdrawn into the shell. The edges of the mantle, nearly coalescing, leave a small hole for breathing. From the muscular foot is secreted a tough membrane to keep out intruders. The enemies of slugs and snails are numerous. At all periods of their lives they are eaten by birds, and although the snail's shell can offer considerable protection, thrushes have learnt to break even the hardest shell, and gulp down the nourishing contents. That snails offer good nourishment was made plain during the second world war. I n country districts food was short. Close to m y house lived a young woman with a large family of children. Among these was a young bastard boy; he was unwanted and neglected, and went dressed in ragged clothes far too big for him. He had discovered t h a t snails were good to eat. He spent much of his time looking for them, and when he found them ate them raw and living. His more squeamish half-brothers laughed at his simple habits, but his diet of snails suited him well for he looked, and was, the sturdiest of the lot. Besides birds and gardeners, and poisonous chemicals, snails have a peculiar and remarkable enemy. The glow-worm during its larval life lives altogether on slugs and snails. The beetles, when they emerge, take little food of any kind. The larval glow-worm has sharp sickle-like mandibles, t h a t are far too delicate to tear food in the ordinary way of insects. They are highly specialized for a particular task, and m a y be compared to the hypodermic syringe used b y doctors, for they are hollow. The snail of its choice is usually one of the medium-sized varieties. The glowworm approaches gently while the snail is resting, and very softly inserts the point of the mandibles. Down the hollow centre flows an anaesthetic fluid t h a t without hurting paralyses the snail. And it does more than that, for it can break down and partially digest the organs of its victim. I t turns them into a kind of soup, which in the case of a snail is conveniently held in the shell. Since partially pre-digested soup needs no mastication, all the insect has to do is to suck
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through toothless mouth, with a pumping action of the pharynx. According to the size of each, a snail will last a glow-worm larva several days.
The Toad Homceopaths, scrutinizing external Nature for correspondence, hold the toad as counterpart to the colon. The swollen belly, grey mottlings, short neck, creased skin and slow habit suggest the final stages of digestion within a gorged intestine. The forces t h a t are concentrated in the colon are seen as independent in the shape of the toad. Alas, poor toad, t h a t thou should'st be likened to so unsightly an organ! But not everyone sees toads as such fragments. I f the toad is low and squat and to the casual glance ugly, let our charity raise him as far as our own stature can reach; to appreciation, he is easily responsive. Should he, or more likely she, have found a resting site under a stone in a greenhouse, or under the water-butt, she wilt come out to a friendly call to receive tribute of m o t h or fly. With a quick thrust of tongue she accepts the proffered insect, and with gleaming eyes stares her satisfaction, while her small nostrils open to let air to be drawn into her mouth as she depresses her tongue. With a mouthful of the necessary oxygen she then closes her nostrils, and raising her tongue forces the air into her lungs. With another lowering of her tongue it is back again in her mouth. She now closes her windpipe~ opens her nostrils and expels the air, and thus with each inhalation and exhalation. This slow and elementary method of breathing appears to work satis~ factorily. :Not so good as the raising of the ribs with each intake of air as with the higher vertebrates, but since the toad has no ribs t h a t can be raised a n d deflated it is a good makeshift. Toads like to be stroked down their backs or tickled under their flabby chins; they have been known to respond to such attentions with a croak o f satisfaction, and a toad is not so low in intelligence but t h a t it can recognize the one who feeds and strokes. The sound has the flavour of d a m p places, but in English toads has but little of the full-throated splendour t h a t can fill a tropical night when the love-chants of m a n y toads and frogs mingle. These mating chants can sound to the human ear as the twanging of harp-strings, interspersed with the abrupt drawing of corks from full-bellied bottles, accompanied by vast orchestrations of harsh croakings. The night air throbs with their magic: sounds t h a t rise from the swamp at the farthest background of existence, ejaculations and undisguised sincerity of the abyss. They overwhelmingly pervade the air, the earth and the containing moisture of the dark. As far back as records tell, the utterance of toads and frogs has been associated with the monsters of the underworld, with such creatures of the imagination as thousand-armed polyps, winged serpents and hermaphrodites of the earliest beginning. Theirs is a sound which falling on attentive ears sends a shudder o f fear to the heart, with a question: W h a t says the deep midnight? The night is theirs, and in the morning, we men are only too ready to forget, while the toads and the frogs, now resting in forgotten retreat beneath the sludgy surface of their swamp, hide their distended and flabby bodies from the light. Because t h e y touch the latent fears within our hearts, they have been execrated, and even in such countries as England where toads are few and of small stature, and where their voices are seldom heard, there is a common feeling against them; t h e y
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are looked on as malicious creatures, liable to spit poison. " I ' l l larn ye to be a t o a d " , shouted a small boy as he belaboured the unfortunate animal with a stick. And highly conscious men can share this feeling. For the production of black magic the toad has been one of the chief ingredients of the witches' cauldron. Macbeth's witches mix into their brew "Toad, t h a t under cold stone Days and nights has thirty-one Swelt'red venom sleeping got Boil thou first i' th' charmed pot." l~ere the idea is expressed t h a t venom is generated b y toads, and t h a t this venom is the first to be put into the cauldron in company with such ingredients as the m a w of shark, scale of dragon, root of hemlock, liver of blaspheming Jew, gall of goat, slips of poisonous yew and other fear-provoking objects. No doubt the toad was unnaturally feared and looked on with special horror. Caliban associates toads with bats and beetles in his cursings. Yet Shakespeare had not failed to notice the exceptional gleamingly brilliant eyes of toads, comparing t h e m to the unexpected beauty t h a t can shine out of misfortune. "Sweet are the uses of adversity, Which like the toad, ugly and venomous, Wears yet a precious jewel in his head." No doubt the men of Shakespeare's day feared the toad without reason, and yet there are strange affinities to be found in toads by those who look for evil, transferring their own impulses into the innocent animal. A story is told of a man who came to Dr J u n g to be cured of a partial paralysis. He had a grudge against toads, finding them particularly repulsive. H e found t h a t b y looking at them in a certain way he could kill them. He had found satisfaction in this practice, and had killed several toads. One day a t o a d had looked back at him, and he had become paralysed, thus attesting to destructive qualities in himself projected on to the toad, and now reflected back. I f the collective imaginations of men have in this way endowed the toad with horrific aspect, what can individual s y m p a t h y find? The quiet and friendly personality t h a t lurks under the water-butt outside the greenhouse is a small timid animal t h a t walks abroad b y night to avoid its m a n y enemies. On being picked up it will urinate, but there is no poison in this, as is usually supposed; there are, however, numerous poisonous glands under the rough w a r t y skin, and these, if the skin is broken, probably taste unpleasant to any predator. The toad, like most small animals, has only a very limited field of vision. She lies t0o close to the ground to see far, but yet, though she must have but a v a g u e idea of a h u m a n being, she can associate the approach of the friend who brings her insects with the insects t h a t he bestows. Both male and female toads live most of their lives on land, though the laying of the long string of eggs takes place in water. To this end they take their springtime migration to the pond of their choice. On the way the gravid female is likely to encounter her smaller partner. There is no courtship; the first male t h a t meets a female mounts, without any ado, on her back and clasps her firmly round her neck digging his thumbs in so f r m l y t h a t only the most brutal handling can detach him. From now on the female, carrying her mate, makes her slow but sure progress. At this critical time m a n y a betrothed couple are crushed under the wheels of motor-cars. Arrived at their destination they enter the water together, the male still sitting on the female. The embrace m a y last for days o r
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weeks, and, as she lays her eggs, he impregnates by successive emission of fertilizing elements. The eggs of the toad are distinguished from those of the frog by being laid in long strings that can be found twined round the stems of aquatic plants. Only when she has laid her last batch of eggs do they separate and go their several ways. They soon return to the land, leaving the young tadpoles when they hatch, to fend for themselves. The prodigality of egg-production and subsequent disregard of the young is not shared by other species of frogs and toads, which show many grades of solicitude taken by the parents. Forethought and care are given in varying degrees; some make sheltered nurseries for the developing tadpoles, even though the parents do not stay to watch over the welfare of their progeny. The male and female of a Japanese frog bury themselves in the damp earth at the edge of pond or stream, and make an excavation a few inches above the water level, They block up the entrance, and smooth the interior. The female then produces a froth of slime and air bubbles into which she lays her eggs. The male, who all the while has been clinging to her back, impregnates the eggs as they enter the slimy mass. They leave this retreat not by the way they entered, but by one which clears a passage to the water, so that the young, when they hatch, will find an easy way out. There are tree frogs in South America that make nests of slime in leaves that overhang pools. When the young tadpoles hatch, they wriggle out of this agglomeration and drop from the branches, to finish their metamorphosis in the usual way. Their pattern suggests some kind of fore-knowing in the parents. In a New Guinea species the mother encloses her eggs in a transparent membrane which offers protection as the young develop to the adult form, while still protected by the porous sheath. Adapting to this imprisoned life they breathe through their tails, a habit not uncommon among tree frogs. Another species carries its tadpoles on its back, pressed close to the parental back, clinging with prehensile lips. These spawn in water and wait in near neighbourhood till the eggs hatch. The young crawl to their backs, and thus can be carried from pond to pond, evincing a high degree of correlation between climatic conditions, the behaviour of parents, and the response of tadpoles. What unity holds these in balance? There is a mountain-dwelling frog in the Seychelles. At an altitude of five thousand feet, little water is to be found. The female lays her eggs amongst leaves. When these are hatched the tadpoles wriggle on to the back of the male frog, holding on partly by suction, and in part helped by a gummy secretion produced by the father. These may be considered the nurses of their offspring, carrying them about on their persons, contributing to their safety and convenience. The midwife toad was discovered in France in the act which has given it its name. The male after the manner of its kind seizes the female round the waist. With an appropriate movement of his legs he persuades her to stretch out her legs, and then places his own hind legs between them, and bends up his knees thus forming a space into which the eggs are laid. They are yellow and sticky~ connected by slimy threads. Two to four layers o f t e n eggs are laid. The malethen shifts his hold, grasping the female nearer the neck, and fecundates the eggs. After an interval, he attaches the string of eggs to his own legs, holding the gelatinous mass against his abdomen. He seeks a safe retreat, hides during daylight, and comes out at night to feed. On these nightly walks the eggs a r e damped by dew. After three weeks he takes to water. The tadpoles are n o w
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hatched and bite their way free from the jelly t h a t held them. All is in order, and the species, m a y we say, points a way to higher things. I n a species of Brazilian tree frog the female grows folds of skin on her back, a t first a dish-like receptacle in which the eggs are placed, the male helping her to get them in position. The eggs are few, and remain for the whole of their development on the back of the female. From them emerge, not tadpoles, but little frogs. Another instance of the hatching-ground being placed on the parental back is afforded b y an American toad which lives most of its time in water. The skin on its back instead of forming a fiat dish to support the eggs, grows around and over them, enclosing each egg in a separate cell, covered by a removable lid through which the young can emerge as tiny toads. Several variations on this theme are to be observed in m a n y different localities, as though the generating thought finds expression as in a musical scale. There is one species t h a t has carried the impulsion to protect its young further b y carrying them in their mouths during the period of development. Different modes are adopted b y the life-impulse within this group of closely allied creatures, both on land and in water, nursing their young and sometimes carrying them in protective pouches; foreshadowing more elaborate and more exacting parental cares. Besides showing stages in development in parental impulse, flogs and toads can become on occasion highly adaptable to a changing environment. Although most of them live near water, going down to ponds to spawn, there are some t h a t can sustain long periods of drought. There is a large toad who maintains existence in the arid regions of the west Australian bush. Presumably his ancestors went there when water was not so scarce; but now when no rain m a y fall for as much as nine or fourteen months the toad has adapted to the harsh conditions, and still survives. He has developed specially large sacs under his loose skin which he can fill with water at the time of rainfall. As the shallow water dries up in the heat of the sun, he scratches a deep hole in the mud, and, having moistened the sides of his retreat, abides there in a state of suspended animation, living, so far as he can be said to live, on the water stored under his skin. When he feels the percolating moisture from the next rainfall, he digs his way out, croaks for joy, and finds a m a t e who quickly spawns in the shallow water. His springtime is short, for soon his elaypan shows signs of drying up. He digs himself in again for another long wait. Not only do toads, but all creatures and plants in such arid regions have need to store water. The Aborigines, who do not store water, but know m a n y unexpected places where water is to be found, also suffer from the universal aridity; t h e y seek out the toads, which, if the drought has not been too prolonged, have sufficient moisture in their bodies to slake a human throat. I have witnessed the horrifying sight of toad-squeezing. The laughing savage has no s y m p a t h y for the unfortunate creature, which is thrown aside to die as best he may.
The Crab On sheltered beaches of Bernier Island large companies of yellow sand-crabs scuttle by day or night in echelon formation. Sometimes as m a n y as a hundred together, though more often in twenties and thirties; they move sideways after the habit of all crabs. At the least alarm they collapse on their long legs and crouch with their stalked eyes flipped back into grooves designed for the
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purpose. When the alarm is passed they straighten their legs, flick up their eyes, and continue their sideway course. They need quick senses, for the larger gulls pounce on them and crack their shells, leaving e m p t y shucks to litter the sands, till the next tide comes to wash them away. They can bury quickly, working their ten legs as shovels; for more permanent protection they have funk holes to dive into. There seems no particular purpose in their walks abroad beyond the simple enjoyment of air and sunshine. On further acquaintance these skirmishing parties, ranging between sea and sand-dunes, became an essential feature of t h a t island of solitude and enchantment. They kept to the western beaches, and were not found on the eastern shore where the great swell of the Indian Ocean broke and scattered its inrushing waters on the coral she]f, dispersing through gullies and filling pools. Here in the swirl of waves m a n y other kinds of crabs found their homes in tufts of kelp, or under stones, hiding among coral and sponges. Many were the large sea-crabs and crayfish that we learned to catch t h a t made most excellent meals. The crabs were as much as a foot across, and deep-breasted. To watch one of these in its retreat under the green swirl of rushing water, to see its wide-set eyes, its short and trembling antennae, its powerful claws, and the winnowing movements of its mouth-parts produced a strange sensation. Although a comparatively small animal it affirmed an archaic power and horror, together with a kind of splendour. So still, so watchful, so alert, and always drawing to itself, by the ceaseless fanning of its mouth, small edible things. I f disturbed, its sideways or backward scuttle added to the general uncanniness. Primitive men, for whom all living things are wonder-provoked aspects of themselves, have watched how the crab performs the seemingly impossible feat of drawing its naked body from out its protective shell; they have wondered how it can get its ten legs, its claws, swimmerets and other appendages clear of all intricacies. Several times in the life of a crab, since it is contained in an unyielding armour, this process of skin-changing is necessary. Fishermen and longshoremen know of this critical and tender phase in the life of crabs. They think of the soft crabs as "female", though they are both male and female, which in the unprotected phase are more suitable for bait, since they are more easily pierced b y hooks. Fish will bite at them when the hardshelled phase offers no tempting mouthful. Cancer, the crab, is a feminine, watery sign of twofold aspect. The sun enters this sign of the zodiac in mid-June to pass the summer solstice: a situation hazardous and Jason-faced, causing at one time death to the sun-hero, at another, the death of the monster. Karkanos, the great crab, bit Heracles in the foot when he was fighting the Lern~ean monster, wounding the sun-hero as he stepped into the water, where H y d r a fed on the severed heads of murdered husbands. Hera, angry with Heracles the son of her rival, rewarded her accomplice b y raising him to the heavens. I n another aspect, Cancer devoured the Hydra, as the crab devours all t h a t comes within range of his swift-fanning mouth. Creature of bad import, image of sideways-regression, he is cold-blooded, hiding in holes, yet with claws powerful to pinch the unwary foot. Of two-fold aspect he can represent both sun and moon, advancing and retreating in the imaginations of men. Such imaginations are far outnumbered by the bizarre characteristics of the multitudes inhabiting beaches, pools and muddied mangrove swamps. Those oI rock and coral pools are of great variety, ranging from large crabs, hiding in holes or tufts of kelp, to the minute crabs t h a t seek refuge on coral fronds, the
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females of one species induce, by some secret activity, the coral twiglets to enclose them in living caskets. Within these self-made prisons they find safety. The males, conveniently smaller, can pass in and out to visit their incarcerated spouses. Pea-crabs find protection within the shells of living mussels; they are not parasites, though they enter without permission; they do no harm, but find a relative safety from the vast surround. At low tide, when the molluscs close their valves, they are altogether imprisoned, but when the sea covers them again and the valves are opened they snatch at particles of food brought on currents produced by the contracting and expanding siphons of the bivalves. Hermit crabs hide their tender posteriors in whelk shells, and have peculiar affinities with sea anemones. These they carefully remove from their seats on the rock and place them on their shells. Hidden under the swaying tentacles, the crab is less likely to be crunched up b y prowling ground-fish. The anemones, sometimes co-operating in this strange partnership, will float from their rockseats and swim towards the crab of their own impulse, settling on the shells. W h y they do so no one can tell, though some naturalists assume t h a t in return for the protection offered they receive fragments from the crab's food that float up to their tentacles: but here we are near to metaphysics, since neither crab nor anemone have means of ratiocination. There are delicately structured crabs whose chelse are adapted for holding slender anemones, one in each chela. These they bring close to their mouths and take, with the claws of their first maxillipeds, things to their liking t h a t are there entangled. The anemones lend themselves unprotesting to such treatment. Our human logic can see but small advantage for these creatures used as tools. Spider crabs have long and exceedingly brittle legs and are well provided with spiny carapace; there are soldier crabs, sentinel crabs, and some t h a t lie buried in sand with only eyes showing; others t h a t lurk under stones. The small brightly colourcd Mangrove crab t h a t runs over the mud between the stubborn stems of the mangroves, has one claw much larger than the other, so large t h a t it cannot carry it in the normal forward position without losing its balance. I t must needs carry it held awkwardly over its back. The other smaller chela is used for collecting food fragments. W h a t freak of evolution has produced this too large appendage? Unless it be t h a t the creature is comparable to some human idiosyncracy; representing an over-developed faculty, "too large an intellect in too small a m a n " , a wonderful abnormality, but crippling to the individual. Not only the mangrove crab but all creatures of the invertebrate world m a y be seen as parables of human situations. Crabs and allied tribes of lobsters, crayfish, prawns and shrimps live their early stages as larvm, floating near the surface of ocean, where, with hundreds of millions of other transparent creatures, they exist precariously till ready for the change to adult form, though even then, as already told, they have to shed the hard external skeleton t h a t like a suit of armour enfolds their tender bodies. At each stage of growth their protection must be discarded, till the new skin hardens. Men of past ages have discerned in all creatures parables of human situations. So vividly have they identified themselves with external nature, t h a t all Nature's children have been perceived as intimations of situations that in themselves are less patently defined. But why has Cancer the crab assumed so threatening an aspect? Should a crab stand as high as a horse, its huge face, a hideous parody of the human
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visage, its ever-fanning mouth-parts t h a t suck in all fragments to be tested, whether living or decomposing, to be absorbed or rejected, its claws, its m a n y legs and seemingly unaccountable appendages, these would surely inspire fear. No doubt ancient peoples, looking long and wonderingly at this small monster t h a t can go sideways or backwards, seeming to slip out of time into eternity, have compared it to the sun in his passage among the stars, t h a t at one season has ambiguous movements. They have perceived affinity between the small and the large, and named the crab as ruler of the fourth house in the zodiac, into which men are born to come sooner or later face to face with t h a t inhuman visage.
The Intercontinental Homeopathic Convention This is not a "Letter from America". I t is from a Scot home from America! During the days 12th-17th September 1965, I had the honour of representing Great Britain at the Intercontinental Homeopathic Convention held in Philadelphia. Sir J o h n Weir was originally invited but he was unable to go for health reasons. Then it was thought our worthy President D r Stuart McAusland should be our representative, but he was suffering (in his own words) from '% foul attack of gout, with a foot the size of a pudding", and did not feel t h a t he was fit enough to enjoy the tremendous hospitality of the Americans. He considered that I was younger and fit enough to survive it! On visiting America m y wife and I started with a real advantage---we knew very little about it, so could approach it with an open mind. PREPARATIONS
When we realized t h a t we were representing Great Britain with its reputation for being well-dressed, we both considered t h a t this was an excuse for a spending spree on clothes. My wife was more enthusiastic than I was about this activity. She brought home a couple of evening dresses on approval, for m y selection, and being in an expansive mood at the time I said, "Get them both." The joke was neither of them was worn as on the night of the banquet the ladies wore short frocks. When I looked out m y light suit, which had seen m a n y years of continental travel, m y good lady considered it with a jaundiced eye, and suggested t h a t i f I wore it in America I might be mistaken for a refugee. I had to agree with her, so t h a t started me re-equipping. The flight from London to Boston was uneventful but pleasant. I spent most of the time putting in some finishing touches to m y paper. Meanwhile m y wife paid for a pair of earphones so t h a t she could listen to a cinema-show which