as a big boy,
will, after lying a few hours in the sun leave scarcely a trace on the
spot for their bodies are little more than animated masses of water. At
night, however where a jelly-fish has stranded, the ground seems to crawl
and emit a dull fire of phosphorescence which the Japanese call "dragon's
light."

But the jelly-fish once had a shell, and was not so defenceless, say the
fairy tales. How it lost it is thus told.

* * * * *

In the days of old, the jelly-fish was one of the retainers in waiting
upon the Queen of the World under the Sea, at her palace in Riu Gu. In
those days he had a shell, and as his head was hard, no one dared to
insult him, or stick him with their horns, or pinch him with their claws,
or scratch him with their nails, or brush rudely by him with their fins.
In short, this fish instead of being a lump of jelly, as white and
helpless as a pudding, as we see him now, was a lordly fellow that could
get his back up and keep it high when he wished to. He waited on the
queen and right proud was he of his office. He was on good terms with the
King's dragon, which often allowed him to play with his scaly tail but
never hurt him in the least.

One day the Queen fell sick, and every hour grew worse. The King became
anxious, and her subjects talked about nothing else but her sickness.
There was grief all through the water-world; from the mermaids on their
beds of sponge, and the dragons in the rocky caverns, down to the tiny
gudgeons in the rivers, that were considered no more than mere bait. The
jolly cuttle-fish stopped playing his drums and guitar, folded his six
arms and hid away moping in his hole. His servant the lobster in vain
lighted his candle at night, and tried to induce him to come out of his
lair. The dolphins and porpoises wept tears, but the clams, oysters and
limpets shut up their shells and did not even wiggle. The flounders and
skates lay flat on the ocean's floor, never even lifting up their noses.
The squid wept a great deal of ink, and the jelly-fish nearly melted to
pure water. The tortoise was patient and offered to do anything for the
relief of the Queen.

But nothing could be done. The cuttle-fish who professed to be "a kind of
a" doctor, offered the use of all his cups to suck out the poison, if
that were the trouble.

But it wasn't. It was internal, and nothing but medicine that could be
swallowed would reach the disease.

At last som