Part 5

As another instance of quaint resemblance to inanimate or stationary objects, we have Echinocerus cibarius, a native of the North-west Coast of America, where it was discovered during the voyage of Her Majesty’s ship Plumper; and nothing on earth does this rugose creature so much resemble as a large, uneven, ball of half-baked brick clay, and his claim to the honour of being a Crab, would be laughed to scorn by those who from bashfulness had never shaken hands with him. Australia, that land of oddities, contributes to our store a perfect little sea vagabond, in the person of Pilumnus nespertilis, who is without any exception the very dirtiest and most disreputable-looking little scamp in all king Neptune’s dominions. Cut a frayed-out corner, from a chimney-sweep’s soot-bag, and you have his exact resemblance. Yet who shall say that P. nespertilis is not a gentleman, in spite of his unpromising and unfashionable raiment!

Australia is a land of contradictions, as we all know. Even explorers’ names serve but to mislead and confound the uninitiated. We have “Cape pigeons,” which are no more pigeons than wild geese or storks: “Cape salmon,” which own to no bonds of relationship with the family of Salmonidæ.

The “robins” of the United States of America bear no resemblance to those of England, and enjoy none of the love, protection, and numerous privileges universally accorded to their more fortunate namesakes on this side of the Atlantic. Again, we say advisedly, let no man heedlessly try the strength of his teeth on an “Indian wood-apple,” simply because it is called “an apple.” He had far better make an attempt on an iron cannon-shot of Woolwich pattern at once, than try his powers of mastication on one of these forest fruits. The cherry of Australia, too, has a disagreeable and exasperating habit of growing with its stone outside, and of being highly unpalatable into the bargain; whilst the “pear” of that favoured land would, if duly fitted by a clever cabinet-maker, and properly polished, make an excellent and highly ornamental knob for a street door. A cabbage-tree is by no means bad as a producer of material for the manufacture of hats, and the green tops are occasionally boiled by settlers of vegetarian inclinings; but any one sanguine enough to seek cabbages amongst the cabbage-palms might reasonably be looked for, with bridle on arm, and basket in hand, carefully prospecting the pastures for a “mare’s nest,” with a view to the leading home of the colts and the basketing of such eggs as might remain unhatched. Depend, therefore, that our begrimed little acquaintance is not exactly as stupid as he looks, and that his dirty, hempen jacket, is given him for some wise purpose. Nothing is created in vain; and Columbus, with all his talent and power as a sea commander, gladly availed himself of the services of one of the most tiny Crabs (Planes minutus), who, floating by the good ship, in his tangled bed of Sargossa or gulf-weed, was hauled on board by the bronzed and storm-tossed mariners, by whom he was at once introduced to the chief, the man of demonstration, who crushed in the egg’s end to make it stand upright. “A crab!” said he; “a good and fair harbinger of land, which, with God’s help, we shall soon discover.” And so they did, for the Crab’s tale came true, and the West India Islands were almost immediately fallen in with, and duly investigated.

P. minutus is a roving sailor by nature, and is carried on his long sea-voyages by the masses of weed ever carried onward by the warm and genial gulf-stream, and there is little doubt that members of the family to which he belongs, now naturalized on our own coasts, first travelled hither amongst the meshes of their ocean raft, which knew no return. Such specimens as have been procured on the coasts of England, are not as large or brilliant in their colour, as those captured in more genial climes.

The Floating Crabs, as met with in true gulf streams, are extremely pretty little creatures, measuring about eight-tenths of an inch in length. They are clouded and shaded with rich warm brown, yellow, and buff, and well deserve the consideration of the lover of natural history.

The almost innumerable channels stretching between the coral reefs, lagunes, and palm-clad islands of the Southern Seas are inhabited by legions of Crabs of next to endless species and varieties. Many of these feed luxuriously on the vast numbers of “Trepang,” or sea slug (Holotharia edulis) found in these latitudes. The human crab industriously seeks his share of this half-grub, half-slug, delicacy, and some account of its nature and mode of preparation may not prove unacceptable to the reader. The Bêche-de-mer, as this uninviting looking creature is called by the traders who deal in it, is in immense request in nearly every market in the Chinese empire, as a stock ingredient to be used in the preparation of the rich, glutinous soups and stews, in which the Celestials so much delight. They are also extensively used to mix with little squares of salt pork, sharks’ fins, and pickled bamboo shoots; when thus combined, served up as a stew, and accompanied by diminutive cups of hot “sam shoo,” or rice spirit, John Chinaman, when fortunate enough to get it, yields himself to gastronomic enjoyment, and cares not to call the most important mandarin in the empire, his uncle. As there are brands of high repute amongst wine producers, so are there high and low class slugs in the sea’s great larder, and there are six kinds well known in the trade.

The best are those procured by divers, who prosecute their labours amongst the deep recesses between the reefs, where the water is always of considerable depth. The next quality is taken by nocturnal hunting-parties, who sally forth, torch in hand, and thread the intricate mazes amongst the coral ponds and lagunes, making night hideous by their fiendish shouts, and wild, weird proceedings. The bright moon-light nights so enjoyable within the tropics, are also taken advantage of, for slug-catching purposes, when great quantities of average worth are not unfrequently procured. The inferior sorts are usually gathered by the idlers and children of the islands, who wander about in the rock pools left by the receding tide, and pick up all they can there discover. The trader obtains the various kinds and qualities from the slug-hunters, and at once proceeds to select them according to their market value. Benches are erected, on which they are first cut open with sharp knives, cleansed, and placed without water in very large cauldrons to cook. The juices thrown out by the Trepang are sufficient to prepare him in, and prevent his becoming too dry in the kettle stage of the operation.

From the boiling department they are removed to large wooden sheds, erected for drying them in. Here they are arranged on shelves placed one over the other, where they are constantly turned and most carefully attended to; huge wood fires being kept burning to expedite the process, as it is essential that the slugs should be completely freed from even the slightest suspicion of moisture before they are packed for deposit on board ship. Comparatively few persons have any idea of the immense commercial importance to be attached to this branch of industry; but some rough notion of the enormous number of these questionable-looking dainties annually collected by the Trepang catchers may be formed, when we state, that a single trader from America obtained, during a bartering expedition amongst the Fejee group of islands, in return for the issue of miscellaneous articles and objects of trade, representing no very great value, 25,000 dollars’ worth of Trepang in seven months. And in order to still further show that even this repulsive and insignificant-looking sea-worm is worthy of the consideration of the “grave and staid merchant,” we give the financial return made on one voyage prosecuted for its obtainment:--Peculs of slugs obtained, 1,200; cost of goods and outfit, 3,500 dollars; money return on sales effected, 27,000 dollars. The value of the prepared slugs in the markets of the East may be said to range between ten and sixty dollars per pecul, according to condition, demand, and quality. Advantages even greater than the direct acquisition of money have resulted from this peculiar trade. Discoveries have been made of islands, unknown until the adventurous traders landed on them; and commercial pursuits have been successfully prosecuted with tribes who, in all probability, would have remained hostile to Europeans for ages to come, had not that humble missionary, the sea-slug, opened up the road to friendship, well-reposed trust, and business relationship.

A Pecul weighs 133⅓ lbs., and is a weight common throughout the Southern and Eastern seas.

SHRIMPS AND PRAWNS.

Like our friends the crabs, these are of many species, and inhabit every sea from pole to pole. Our own coast line is pretty generally occupied by them, and very few places of seaside resort fail in affording sport to the Shrimp or Prawn catcher. An error, into which many persons fall, is the confounding of Shrimps and Prawns with each other, although the differences between their general form and appearance are sufficiently marked to strike the most casual observer. The true Shrimp of our waters is the mottled spotted-brown kind, the so-called Sand Shrimp (Crangon vulgaris) the subject of the annexed cut. Besides the difference in colour and the hooked form of the fore-feet, the tremendously formidable-looking weapon with which the head of the Prawn is provided, and from which the Pacific Islanders appear to have borrowed the design for their shark-tooth swords, is absent in C. vulgaris. Its favourite haunts are the wide, open sand flats and the mouths of tidal rivers. The name “sand raiser,” often applied to it by fishermen, is by no means inappropriate, and arises from the curious habit it has of suddenly raising a perfect cloud of fine sand, round itself--firing, so to speak, “a broadside for the sake of the smoke,” and literally throwing dust in the eyes of his enemies.

This designing little Genius, after raising his own sand storm, adroitly scoops for himself a tiny trench in the soft material on which he rests, and then remaining perfectly still, allows the falling grains to cover him snugly in, like a sheep in a snow-drift. Great numbers of Shrimps of this kind, as well as small flat fish, and an endless number of odd waifs and strays, can be taken with the dredge--a contrivance shown in the following cut. The framework is of iron, the two straight bars or bridle rods are made so as to play freely round the end bars of the frame, as at a, whilst a sort of hinge joint admits of their moving up or down, thus insuring close contact between the lower edge of the frame and the bottom, as it is dragged along by a rope, either lowered from a boat or attached to a horse. The extreme end, or purse of the net, is made to untie like the mouth of a bag as at B, which greatly facilitates the removal of its contents when overhauling is needed. The two rings, C C, serve to attach the drag rope to.

An apparatus constructed much on the same general principles, and known as the keer drag, is also in much use. A beam of wood and a set of “yoke lines” serve to keep the body of the net distended, and the purse is secured with a few turns of twine. The dredge we have figured and described may have a much shorter bag of very strong network attached to it, if the nature of the ground dredged over, and the kind of productions sought, should render it necessary. The net we have represented is mainly intended for the taking of small crustaceans, and such other odds and ends of animal and vegetable life, as may be found on smooth ground and the open sand flats. There are a number of patterns for dredges, more or less complicated, to be obtained from their respective inventors. The reader may perchance wish to design one for himself. Let him, however, bear in mind that simplicity of construction, and thoroughly good iron, are two important elements of successful manufacture, durability, and general usefulness.

The seaside visitor not possessed of one of these contrivances will find such a net as that figured in the above cut extremely useful and amusing. It can be made at a very trifling cost, and is easily repaired when broken. In using it the Shrimp fisherman wades steadily onward, and pushes his net steadily before him until it is supposed that the contents are sufficiently abundant, when they are taken out and fresh research commenced. The rugged rock-strewn shores of many parts of the coast of England, Ireland, and the Channel Islands, require fishing in an entirely different manner, both by pole and hoop-nets. The pole-net as shown in the following cut, is a most efficient instrument for the capture of the different kinds of Prawns and other small crustaceans found in the rock-pools, bays, and inlets of the coast line. The frame supporting the bag of the net should be of sound tough iron, and of flat form, but slightly turned up at the point, as at A. A slight groove, like the fullering of a horse-shoe, must extend entirely round both the under and upper surfaces, in order to form a secure rest for a stout piece of copper bell-wire, with which the bag of the net is secured to the frame. Small holes are now to be drilled at short intervals all round the frame in the bottom of the groove, so that the wire may be passed up and down through them, and so fasten on the net, the bottom of which must be so fashioned and constricted in making, as to terminate in the purse B. The pole C is best made of well-seasoned ash, and should be at least twelve feet long, and bent as at D. This is easily done by heat, as ox-bows and many other objects are formed. When Shrimping with the pole-net, it is a good plan to carry a rough, fork-ended wand, with which to probe crevices between rocks, too small or narrow to admit the net. The largest Prawns often take advantage of such retreats, and dart into them on the least alarm. It is well before wading into a promising-looking pool, to cast a sharp, scrutinising glance into it, when the Prawns will frequently be seen, out of their haunts, sailing about amongst the weeds and ledges with extraordinary grace and elegance of movement, their long feelers and hair-like antennæ spreading out and waving in ceaseless play. By introducing the net cautiously, a number of these gadabouts may be taken before sufficient disturbance is caused to send them off to their lurking-places, to which, when really alarmed, they shoot with the speed of an arrow. The fugitives generally seek a place of concealment as near the surface as possible, and it is well, therefore, to seek high up for them. As a dress for shrimping we strongly recommend a wool shirt, tweed jacket and trousers, wide, felt hat, woollen socks, and a pair of easy shoes in which there are plenty of holes for the water to run out through. A good number of narrow-headed, steel nails should be driven into both soles and heels, in order to prevent slipping on the sloping rock-faces, which, when coated with weeds, are far more difficult to maintain a footing on than ice. Never take a watch, keys, or a pocket-knife of any value with you when you go to shrimp, or they will be rusted to a certainty; but a common knife, and a good store of twine for repairs are essentials. Bags and over-handled baskets are both very inconvenient receptacles for such Prawns or Shrimps as you may be fortunate enough to catch--the bags getting wet and hanging about you in an uncomfortable and chilling manner, whilst the baskets appear to take a malignant pleasure in upsetting themselves in some uncomfortable manner, whenever they are left to themselves, even for a few minutes. Nothing is equal to the ordinary creel carried by the river fisherman. A broad piece of woollen web, such as race-horses’ circingales are made of, forms an excellent shoulder-strap, and is far better for the purpose than leather.

As in crab-catching, advantage should be taken of very low tides, and a very sharp look-out kept for Prawns when the young flood begins to make its approach, as all ocean life is then in full activity. The Hoop net before referred to, and represented in the annexed illustration, is used in a very different manner from that just described. Instead of being worked by hand, it is first baited with offal and then deposited in the bottom of such pools as are likely to contain Prawns. A considerable number of these nets are often taken out for use by one fisherman, who uses a long, fork-ended, pole, for laying down and taking them up; the cork bung, or float, which indicates their whereabouts, serving as a sort of button for the fork of the pole to lift them by, as at A. The hoop and net are kept in a proper position by being suspended like a scale pan by three or more cords. Iron or wood may be used for making the hoops, and a stone placed amongst the bait keeps the net steadily at the bottom. Nets of this kind are, in certain localities, used from boats. Shrimp-fisheries of great commercial importance exist in many localities for the supply of the London and other great markets, and it is only necessary to reflect for an instant on the enormous quantities of these crustaceans eaten every day in the almost endless tea-gardens, supper-rooms, and places of public resort in and about London alone, to be convinced that the consumption of shrimps is truly enormous. Billingsgate teems with them. Sieves worked by nimble hands separate the large from the small, and draw the “ad valorem” distinction between St. James and St. Giles. Those coral-like aristocrats, the true Prawns of the family (Palæmon serratus), are not subjected to the ignoble standard of measurement, but are counted carefully and grudgingly out, like a king’s ransom, and estimated by the dozen. Yet it not unfrequently happens that P. serratus in his infancy and youth, so far associates himself with plebeian company as to be boiled in the same pot with his less distinguished associates. (Here we might moralize, but space forbids.) Mixed with a heterogeneous crew of captured crustaceans of many grades, and the water torture gone through, P. S., like many other young gentlemen wearing jackets of a different colour, loses all individuality, and is ignominiously classed among “cup shrimps,” measured out in a vulgar tin half-pint, vended by a costermonger and eaten by a sweep. The countless thousands thus disposed of are not taken with the appliances which a pleasure-seeker or amateur would make use of, but are caught by regular network engines fitted out for the purpose, and worked from boats; and if a stray salmon or two will blunder stupidly into the meshes, to the extreme annoyance of the owners, what can H.M.’s Fishery Commissioners do, but pity their wayward flock for straying into the toils of the shrimp-wolf, and coming to an untimely end in consequence? It should be borne in mind that live shrimps are excellent baits for a number of sea and river fish. The perch, although usually classed among fresh-water fish, delights in a “sniff of the briney.” Brackish water he glories, revels, and thrives in; show him a nice fresh shrimp, and see how soon he becomes your humble servant. Grey mullet, too, have a weakness for shrimp enticements, and we know of no more deadly bait for the lordly salmon, than a freshly-caught Prawn. If any proof of its excellence for this purpose is needed, we have only to advise the sceptic to try it, by trolling as with a minnow. The principal food of Salmo salar and some other migratory members of the family salmonidæ, when on their long sea voyages, mainly consists of crustacea, and the countless myriads of opossum shrimps (Mysis vulgaris) peopling the Northern and Arctic seas, serve to furnish food for the vast shoals of these fish, during their annual visits and migrations to salt water. “The Whalebone,” “Right,” or Greenland Whale, would soon become as extinct as the mastadon, if any shrimp-disease should, in an untimely manner, carry off the lively little opossum. Away among the ice-fields of the far north, where the drifting floes and crashing bergs drift onward before the gale, and where, as winter sets in, the polar bears and Arctic foxes, feel hard times, and are at a loss for a dinner, our huge leviathan acquaintance, the whale, holds high festival; merely opening his cavernous mouth wide enough for a deluge of water to rush in, and then by a sudden effort, sending it out again, through the numerous strainers and fringes, with which nature has gifted him.

“The sounds and seas, each creek and bay, With fry innumerable swarm, and shoals Of fish that with their fins and shining scales Glide under the green wave, in sculls that oft Bank the mid-sea: part single or with mate Graze, the sea-weed their pasture, and through groves Of coral stray; or sporting with quick glance, Show to the sun their waved coats dropped with gold Or, in their pearly shells at ease, attend Moist nutriment; or under rocks their food In jointed armour watch; on smooth the seal And bended dolphins play: part huge of bulk, Wallowing unwieldy, enormous in their gait. Tempest the ocean: there leviathan, Hugest of living creatures, on the deep, Stretched like a promontory, sleeps or swims, And seems a moving land; and at his gills Draws in, and at his trunk spouts out a sea.”

MILTON.

The water passes freely through, but the poor little opossums, by the peck, are left behind, to help in building up the material by the aid of which the goddess of fashion contrives to maintain such an exceedingly good figure. But if the whale devours his legions of opossums, he has not, big as he is, matters all his own way. There is a little crustacean (Cyamus ceti) so much attached to him, that like the old man of the sea, who, when once established on Sinbad’s back could not by ordinary means be induced to come off again, appears quite content with matters as they are, and nibbles away at the skin of his gigantic steed, just as his appetite may require. Thus enjoying all the advantages of noble company, free travelling, and a permanent residence on his own dining-table.

Unlike the ordinary shrimps who carry their eggs about with them but for a time, the opossums carry theirs until the young are sufficiently developed to shift for themselves, when a peculiar valve-like, trap-door arrangement is caused to open, and the young shrimp fry, start in the world of waters, and seek for themselves their own maintenance. Arctic voyagers who are conversant with the habits of shrimps, and who have a knowledge of the peculiarities of M. vulgaris, do not heedlessly trust their salt junk over the side to soak, fearing lest their experiences might be like those of the Norse skipper, who, in a spirit of maritime recklessness, lowered the dinner of his ship’s company to the ocean’s depths, and hauled up, much to his consternation and disgust, a well-nibbled string instead. The opossums and their relations had eaten the rest.

The Indian and Chinese seas yield an endless variety of both the shrimp and prawn families, the latter of a size far beyond anything we see in our more frigid waters (Palæmon carcinus), common to the Indian Ocean and some of the great rivers flowing into it, not unfrequently reaching a foot in length. Those usually sold in the Indian markets are not as large as these, but are still of sufficient size to render them highly attractive; and those who, like us, have eaten prawns in the East, prepared by those who know the secrets of the art, will bear away the remembrance of their flavour as an agreeable souvenir. That is, if the said prawns happen to be free from the curious, and little understood fish poison, with which the denizens of Tropic seas are too often encumbered. In favoured England, no such drawback to the full enjoyment of your prawn-feast need exist; the common difficulty being the obtainment of a sufficient quantity to enjoy.

Many of the rivers emptying themselves into the Carribean Sea, after flowing through Florida, contain at their mouths, within the influence of the salt water, Prawns of very large size. These have been improperly called “The crawfish of America,” but they are true members of the Prawn family (Palæmon setiferus); many of these measure between seven and eight inches in length, and like their relatives in other seas, are by no means bad to eat. Many of our readers will no doubt have observed, when engaged in the pleasant operation of shelling their bright scarlet Prawns, before eating them, that on the carapace of one here and there, exists an oval, bladder-like projection, as though some smooth, transparent, univalve shell, had there closely attached itself. This contains a parasite crustacean. On raising the horny cap, beneath which it shelters, the intruder may be discovered keeping fast hold of the branchiæ, or gills of the prawn, who appears to suffer no inconvenience, or injury, from the presence of his companion. This curious little creature is the Bopyrus crangorum of naturalists; the foregoing illustration represents the common Prawn (P. serratus), with the parasite attached to it. The shrimp form is not exclusively confined to the sea and tidal rivers. Fresh water lakes, ponds, and streams in many parts of the world have their shrimp tenants of one kind or another, many of them highly noteworthy for the beauty of their organization. The fairy shrimp (Chirocephalus diaphanus) is a well-marked example. This elegant little creature is occasionally met with in the fresh water ponds and pools of this country, and can at times be obtained in the neighbourhood of London. Its first appearance strikes the examiner as being most remarkable. The ordinary position assumed by most aquatic creatures, is not to his taste or fancy, so he swims on his back, rising to the surface or sinking away into deep water, just as his will may direct, and gliding here and there, like some tiny elfin boat endowed with vitality. Its colours are most charming and exquisite, clear and transparent, of a delicate sea-green hue; it floats like a shadow through the water, whilst its host of fringed feet, wave and undulate like growing corn, as they send the passing current through them, and by their ciliary movement, glean the particles of nutritive matter floating by. Its long, bright, red horns and tail serve as a foil to set off the other beauties which nature has so lavishly bestowed. The fairy shrimp rarely exceeds an inch in length, and when placed in a vase of clear water forms a most pleasing object for contemplation.

In the pools and ditches of our lanes and fields, we find another curious little crustacean creature, Apus productus, who differs entirely from that already described, in almost every habit but that of swimming on his back. In some localities the stagnant waters swarm with countless myriads of these odd little animals, who have the uncomfortable habit of burying their heads and bodies in the sand or mud, and leaving their ridiculous little tails waving about in the water, like the pendants of sunken wrecks. A. productus appears to enter on the responsibilities of life under more than ordinarily disadvantageous circumstances, being born with only one eye, half a shell-jacket, and, hardest of all, without a tail. All these deficiencies, however, are made up in time, and A. productus flourishes. He is extremely fond of tadpoles, and in the season usually obtains a fair share of his favourite provender. The spawn of both frogs and toads he has a weakness for; but Nemesis, in the form of a water-wagtail, is rarely far off; and as he trots daintily along with his delicate claws in the water and his tail in ceaseless movement, depend on it that the beak is not idle, and that the family of A. P. is paying the penalty by wholesale.

THE COMMON ENGLISH LOBSTER,

(Homarus vulgaris)

As seen on the marble slab of the fishmonger, is very unlike his relatives beneath the waves. The curled up form in which he is seen when so exposed is not that usually assumed in its own element, unless in the act of exerting its immense powers of retrograde motion. These are so great that one sudden downward sweep of its curiously constructed, oar-like tail, is sufficient to send it like an arrow, three or four-and-twenty feet, with the most extraordinary precision, thereby enabling our friend to retreat with the greatest rapidity into nooks, corners, and crevices among the rocks, where pursuit would be hopeless. His eyes being arranged on foot stalks, or stems, are free from the inconvenient trammels of sockets, and possess a radius of vision commanding both front and rear, and from their compound form (being made up of a number of square lenses) are extremely penetrating and powerful. The slightest shadow passing over the pool in which the lobster may chance to be crawling or swimming, will frequently cause one of these sudden backward shoots to be made, and H. vulgaris vanishes into some cleft or cavity with a rapidity of motion which no harlequin could ever, even in his wildest dreams, hope to achieve. Down among the deep channels, between the crags at the sea’s bottom, alarms, except from the sea robbers themselves, are not to be dreaded. Here the lobsters are at home, and in such spots the wicker-trap, before described and figured, or the trunk-net represented in the above cut, may be laid down for them. Nets of this kind are in general use. They are made by fastening a number of stout, wooden hoops to longitudinal bars, and covering them with network. Their internal construction is much like that of the crab-pot, only there are two entrances instead of one, and twine is used in lieu of willows or twigs to prevent the prisoners from escaping. Heavy stones are attached to them as sinkers. Fish offal is used as bait, and corks at the end of lines serve to point out their position and haul them up by. Lobsters are prolific creatures, and it is well that they are so, considering the enormous quantities consumed every day in England alone.

It has been computed that each fully-matured female will produce from 18,000 to 20,000 eggs, and there is little doubt but that with proper management and the expenditure of a very small capital, artificial fecundation of the ova of crustaceans might be most successfully and profitably conducted in this country. Much attention has of late been paid to this subject in France, and many most interesting experiments in connexion with it have been tried. The annexed cut represents a set of chambers, or troughs, which were erected in the College de France, Paris, for the hatching of the eggs of the various crustacea. 1 is the reservoir in which the water is placed; this runs through the tap, 2, into a series of glass troughs in which gravel has been placed; 3, 3, 3, through which it flows and then discharges itself into the main receiver, 4. This apparatus, although very neat and ornamental, is far more costly than there is any need for. Such a contrivance as that represented in the above illustration can be readily put up for a few shillings, and will be found to answer every practical requirement as perfectly as the more costly arrangement, A, is a common tub in which a wooden tap is fixed; B, is a series of shallow earthenware dishes, or pans with lips, such as are sold at almost all earthenware shops for domestic use. The stands may be made from a few boards and fir poles nailed together; very little ingenuity is needed to enable any cottager to hatch out his own young crustaceans from the egg. The common river cray-fish has been extensively propagated artificially, and there appears no limit to the extent to which fish-hatching in all its branches may be carried by the industrious. There appears, comparatively, little trouble in the early stages of the process--the eggs of the female being placed on gravel at the bottom of the pans. The seed of the male fish is then laid on it, and, in due time, favoured by gentle streams of sea-water constantly flowing, the young crustaceans come forth. In rearing them it must be borne in mind that as their food, when in a state of nature, mainly consists of marine worms, fish spawn, and the lesser crustacea, food of a suitable character must be provided until the young nurselings are old enough to turn out in the sea pools to shift for themselves. Our space will not admit of our dealing at any length with this subject, and the few hints we have given are mainly intended to show that important results in this branch of national wealth may be arrived at by the use of very simple means and appliances. The number of Lobsters brought every season to Billingsgate Market will serve to give some idea of the importance of Lobster-fishing, and the sums of money which must change hands in connexion with it. Calculations show that from the coasts of England, Ireland, Scotland, and the Channel Islands, 150,000 Lobsters per season reach Billingsgate Market, exclusive of the supply of Norway Lobsters (Nephrops norvegicus), as represented in the accompanying illustration. These are even more abundantly supplied, and over 600,000 per season are imported. It not unfrequently happens that one day’s supply for that great emporium of sea dainties reaches as high as 25,000; and here at early morning, long before mighty London is fairly up for the day, a scene of bustle and activity may be witnessed which well repays the early riser--

“Double-double, toil and trouble, Fire burn and cauldron bubble.”

Steam in clouds floats above the vast loads of newly-boiled crustaceans and molluscs; carts of every size and pattern block the way, from the castellated conveyances of Messrs. Chaplin and Horne, to the humble donkey shallow: ice, in saw-dusty bales, is jostled against orange-boxes; figs and codfish greet each other like old friends, whilst West India pineapples, haddocks, oysters, and Spanish chestnuts appear determined to make a day of it and go off together.