For my own part, the more I contemplate the habits of many members of the marine animal kingdom, the more am I astounded at the seeming intelligence and purpose manifested in many of their actions. Prior, apparently, must have been impressed with the same idea, for he says, speaking of animals,—

"Vainly the philosopher avers
That reason guides our deeds, and instinct theirs.
How can we justly different causes frame
When the effects entirely are the same?
Instinct and reason, how can we divide?
'Tis the fool's ignorance, and the pedant's pride!"

This train of thought has been suggested to my mind by viewing the singular conduct of a Shore-Crab, whom I kept domesticated for many consecutive months. Three times during his confinement he cast his exuvium, and had become nearly double his original size. His increased bulk made him rather unfit for my small ocean in miniature, and gave him, as it were, a loblolliboy appearance. Besides, he was always full of mischief, and exhibited such pawkiness, that I often wished he were back again to his sea-side home. Whenever I dropped in a meal for my Blennies, he would wait until I had retired, and then rush out, disperse the fishes, and appropriate the booty to himself. If at all possible, he would catch one of my finny pets in his arms, and speedily devour it. Several times he succeeded in so doing; and fearing that the whole pack would speedily disappear, unless stringent measures for their preservation were adopted, I determined to eject the offender. After considerable trouble, his crabship was captured, and transferred to a capacious glass.

The new lodging, though not so large as the one to which for so long a time he had been accustomed, was nevertheless clean, neat, and well-aired. At its base stood a fine piece of polished granite, to serve as a chair of state, beneath which was spread a carpet of rich green ulva. The water was clear as crystal; in fact, the accommodation, as a whole, was unexceptionable. The part of host I played myself, permitting no one to usurp my prerogative. But in spite of this, the crab from the first was extremely dissatisfied and unhappy with the change, and for hours together, day after day, he would make frantic and ineffectual attempts to climb up the smooth walls of his dwelling-place. Twice a day, for a week, I dropped in his food, consisting of half a mussel, and left it under his very eyes; nay, I often lifted him up and placed him upon the shell which contained his once-loved meal; still, although the latter presented a most inviting come-and-eat kind of appearance, not one particle would he take, but constantly preferred to raise himself as high as possible up the sides of the vase, until losing his balance, he as constantly toppled over and fell upon its base.

This behaviour not a little surprised me. Did it indicate sullenness? or was it caused by disappointment? Was he aware that escape from his prison without aid was impossible, and consequently exhibited the pantomime, which I have described, to express his annoyance, and longing for the home he had lately left?

Thinking that perhaps there was not sufficient sea-weed in the glass, I added a small bunch of I. edulis. Having thus contributed, as I believed, to the comfort of the unhappy crab, I silently bade him bon soir. On my return home, I was astonished by the servant, who responded to my summons at the door, blurting out in a nervous manner, 'O sir! the creature's run awa!' 'The creature—what creature?' I inquired. 'Do ye no ken, sir?—the wee crabbie in the tumler!'

I could scarcely credit the evidence of my sight when I saw the 'tumler' minus its crustaceous occupant. The first thought that occurred to me was as to where the crab could be found. Under chairs, sofa, and fender, behind book-case, cabinet, and piano, in every crevice, hole, and corner, for at least an hour did I hunt without success. Eventually the hiding-place of the fugitive was discovered in the following singular manner: As I sat at my desk, I was startled by a mysterious noise which apparently proceeded from the interior of my 'Broadwood,' which, by-the-by, I verily believe knows something about the early editions of 'The battle of Prague,' The strings of this venerable instrument descend into ill-disguised cupboards, so that at the lower part there are two doors, or, in scientific language, 'valves.' On opening one of these, what should I see but the poor crab, who, at my approach, 'did' a kind of scamper polka over the strings. This performance I took the liberty of cutting short with all possible speed. On dragging away the performer, I found that his appearance was by no means improved since I saw him last. Instead of being ornamented with gracefully-bending polypes, he was coated, body and legs, with dust and cobwebs. I determined to try the effect of a bath, and presently had the satisfaction of seeing him regain his usual comely appearance. The next step was to replace him in his old abode; and having done so, I felt anxious to know how the creature had managed to scale his prison walls. The modus operandi was speedily made apparent; yet I feel certain that, unless one had watched as I did, the struggles of this little fellow, the determination and perseverance he exhibited would be incredible.

After examining his movements for an hour, I found, by dint of standing on the points of his toes, poised on a segment of weed, that he managed to touch the brim of the glass. Having got thus far, he next gradually drew himself up, and sat upon the edge of the vessel. In this position he would rest as seemingly content as a bird on a bush, or a schoolboy on a gate.

My curiosity satisfied, the C. mænas was again placed in the vase, and every means of escape removed.

Here let me mention that I still had a Fiddler-Crab in my large tank, who had formerly lived in companionship with the shore-crab above mentioned. With 'the fiddler' I had no fault to find; he was always modest and gentle, and gave no offence whatever to my Blennies. He never attempted to embrace them, nor to usurp their lawful place at the table, nor even to appropriate their meals. On the contrary, he always crept under a stone, and closely watched the process of eating until the coast was clear, when he would scuttle out, and feed, Lazarus-like, upon any crumbs that might be scattered around.