as the free-swimming inhabitants of these submarine regions. The members of the great crab family are very conspicuous objects. They scuttle about in all directions, and their little bony eyes squint at us from out of every cranny. There goes a monster belonging to the edible species—take care of his formidable nippers, or perhaps you will have cause to repent your visit to the home of the mermaid. Now he passes edgewise through a narrow chink in the rocks, and so disappears. We are not sorry to be rid of such an ugly customer.
Look at that funny little fellow sitting on that large stone. He is a crab with some points that suggest the notion of a lobster—fringed swimming plates on the last joint of the body, large foot-jaws, and very long feelers. Now he jumps off the stone, and by flapping his tail, swims just enough to enable himself to reach the sandy bottom slantwise, instead of going straight down like some of his clumsier brethren. He now crawls about the sea-floor, evidently in search of something, and now he disappears beneath a loose stone. He does not want much space, for he is as flat and thin as if he had been trodden upon.
The naturalist has brought to light some strange facts illustrative of the domestic economy of this little crab. He usually clings to the under side of some flat stone or ledge of rock, and takes in the food that is brought to his door. His long feelers are constantly groping about for provender, which he
