RAMBLES IN AQUIDNECK.

I.

NEWPORT BEACH.

Newport has many beaches, each bearing a distinctive appellation.  To the one of which we are speaking rightfully belongs the name of Easton; but it is more widely known by that of the town itself, and still more familiarly to the residents as “The Beach.”  It lies east of the city, a mile from the harbor, and is about half a mile in length.  Its form is that of the new moon, the horns pointing southward.

Let us go there now.  No better time could be chosen by the naturalist, for the tide will be at its lowest ebb.  Descending Bath Road, the beautiful crescent lies before us on the right,—­Easton’s Pond, with its back-ground of farms, upon the left.  There is no wind to-day to break the surface of the standing water, and it gives back the dwarf willows upon its banks and the houses on the hill-side with more than Daguerrian fidelity.  The broad ocean lies rocking in the sunshine, not as one a-weary, but resting at his master’s bidding, waiting to begin anew the work he loves.  In the horizon, the ships, motionless in the calm, spread all sail to catch the expected breeze.  The waves idly chase each other to the shore, in childish strife to kiss first the mother Earth.

Turning the sea-wall and crossing a bit of shingle on the right, we stand upon the western extremity of the beach.

At our feet, a smooth, globular object, of the size of a crab-apple, is lying half-buried in the sand.  Taking it in your hand, you find it to be a univalve shell, the inhabitant of which is concealed behind a closely-fitting door, resembling a flake of undissolved glue.

It is a Natica.  Place it gently in this pool and watch for a few moments.  Slowly and cautiously the horny operculum is pushed out, turned back, and hidden beneath a thick fleshy mantle, which spreads over half the shell.  Two long tentacles appear upon its front, like the horns of an ox, and it begins to glide along upon its one huge foot.

Had you seen it thus at first, you could not have believed it possible for so bulky a body to be retracted into so small a shell.  Lift it into the air, and a stream of water pours forth as it contracts.

Two kinds are common here, one of which has a more conical spire than the other.  The animals differ somewhat in other points, but both have a cream-colored base, and a mantle of pale cream clouded with purple.  You may get them from half an inch to three inches in diameter.  Take them home and domesticate them, and you will see surprising things.

I kept one of middling size for many months.  During two or three weeks I wondered how he lived, for he was never seen to eat.  He used to climb to the top of the tank and slide down the slippery glass as though it were a montagne russe.  Then he would wander about upon the bottom, ploughing deep furrows in the sand, and end by burrowing beneath it.  There he would stay whole days, entirely out of sight.