[to be continued.]
HOW A CRAB CHANGES HIS CLOTHES.
BY ALLAN FORMAN.
"Say, now, you leave my dinner alone, or I'll tell mamma."
"You can tell, if you have a mind to. I don't care, tell-tale."
No, it was not children that I heard quarrelling; it was only two little crabs. Children never speak so crossly to each other; but those two little crabs scolded and bit down there in the water until— But I am getting ahead of my story. I'll tell you how it was.
I had been out fishing, and as the sun became too hot, I rowed my boat to the shore under the shade of the trees, and sat thinking. I looked down into the water, and saw a little crab holding a clam shell under his mouth with his claw, and eating as fast as he could, at the same time turning his queer, bulging eyes in all directions to see that he would not be disturbed. But soon another crab came up, and tried to snatch away the clam shell. Then ensued the conversation which I have already quoted. I dropped a piece of clam into the water, and the new-comer seized it. He scuttled away under a piece of sea-weed, and cried out in triumph:
"Aha! greedy, you didn't get it, and it is much better than your old shell. Don't you wish you had it?"
"I'll change with you," said the other. "Just see this blue on the edge of my shell. Ain't it lovely?"
"Change! I guess not. Who cares for the blue? You can't eat the blue."
"Of course you can't eat it, but it is pretty. However, there is no use in talking to you about it; you have no love for the beautiful," said the other, tauntingly.
"You needn't put on so many airs. I'm bigger than you are, anyway," snarled the first.
"You won't be long, for I'm growing every day."
"Children! children! what is the matter?" asked the old mamma crab, who just appeared on the scene.
"Mamma, he tried to get my din—"
"I didn't; I only wanted—"
"He's a mean, horrid old thing, and I don't—"
"Why, children," interrupted the old crab, "I am ashamed of you. What is the matter?"
"He tried to take away my dinner," said one.
"He said I wasn't growing big," said the other.
"That did not stop your growth, did it?" said mamma.
"No—o," drawled the little one.
"And now," she continued, "I want you to behave yourselves. Stop such silly quarrelling. You act so much like boys and girls that I am ashamed of you."
"Say, mamma, my clothes are getting too tight for me, and I've bursted a seam in the back of my coat," said one of the youngsters, after a short pause.
"That is all right," answered mamma, assuringly; "you are only going to 'shed.'"
"Am I going to be all soft and helpless, like papa was, and then be taken away and not come back any more?"
"Oh no, I hope not. You must find a quiet place, and hide until you can take care of yourself," answered mamma.
Accordingly the young crab wandered around, and found a nice quiet place under the shadow of a large log; here he half buried himself in the mud, and commenced the operation of changing his clothes. He swelled himself out until the upper shell separated from the lower, then worked his claws slowly backward and forward, and expanded and contracted the muscles of his body; little by little he emerged from his shell, and finally, with one effort, he freed himself entirely from his old clothes. He lay back, exhausted by his exertions. While the crab is soft it is perfectly helpless, and it can be handled without fear of bites. When it first emerges from its shell it is covered with a skin as soft and delicate as yours, but if left undisturbed it will soon harden. If taken out of the water and kept in damp sea-weed, the process of hardening can be delayed for three or four days, when it dies of starvation, as it can eat nothing while soft, and that is the way in which it is brought to the market. But the little crab I saw was fortunate enough not to be disturbed. He lay perfectly still, and in about an hour, if you could have put your finger on his back, you would have felt that it had grown stiff and rough; in between three or four hours the shell reaches the stage known as "paper shell." It is hard and coarse, like brown paper, and the crab begins to show signs of liveliness, and in about seven hours there is no perceptible difference between our recently reclothed crab and his hard brothers and sisters; but if you should catch him you would find him to be lighter in weight, and watery when boiled, and the fat, which in a healthy crab is of a bright yellow color, like the yolk of an egg, is a greenish-brown. But no one had a chance to see the color of the fat in the crab which I was watching, for just as he started to move, a great toad-fish came along and swallowed him at one mouthful.
