Wherever there are weeds along the shore you can find whole armies of
the Periwinkle--the "Winkle" we all know so well. It browses there,
among the weeds, just as its cousin, the land Snail, browses on your
cabbages. You must have seen the little door with which the Periwinkle
closes the entrance to his house. The land Snail does not own a door,
but he makes one when he goes to sleep for the winter.
The Periwinkle crawls on a broad, slimy foot, which is put out from the
shell. It is stretched on this side or that, and so draws him and his
home in any direction. There are two sensitive feelers in front of his
head; and behind these are two short stalks, on each of which is a tiny
eye. If alarmed, the Periwinkle can shorten his body, and pull it back
into its shell, closing the entrance with the horny door.
But the strangest part of him is the tongue. It is not for tasting, but
for rasping. It is like a long, narrow ribbon, on which are hundreds of
tiny points, all sloping backwards. They are arranged three in a row.
The Periwinkle rasps the seaweed with his tongue, and so scrapes off his
dinner.
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