166 THE POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. 



ally known as the oyster-crab. Fishermen have insisted to me that it 

 was the young of the edible crab. No naturalist, not even a tyro, 

 could make this mistake. Naturalists have named this little crab, 

 Pinotheres ostreum. Usually it is the female that one finds in the 

 oyster. The male is much more rarely met with, and is smaller than 

 the female, and of more sombre coloring. A dull brown is the pre- 

 dominant hue, though the legs are white. On the back is a figure re- 

 markably like an anchor, done in white. But the history of the oyster- 

 crab is imperfectly known. For aught that we have been able to 

 learn, this pretty little crab is a harmless commensal. Whether it is 

 always welcome by its entertainer we cannot say, but this is sure, 

 Pinotheres has always been known as the oyster's bosom friend. 



There is a story that General Washington was very fond of these 

 oyster-crabs, and that, knowing this fact, a lady admirer, at whose 

 house in New York the general was to dine, had an understanding 

 with the different oystermen of the city, and their combined efforts 

 got together half a pint of these diminutive crabs, which were served 

 up and set before that eminent man, greatly to his surprise and de- 

 light. In the season, this little crab is readily obtained put up in half- 

 pint bottles. Now that they have become a staple luxury in the city 

 markets, why do not our epicures call them " Washington crabs ? " 



The Oyster's Enemies. The above must be set down as the rosy 

 side of oyster-life, for they are a much-persecuted race. Though a 

 sober people, always leading quiet lives, yet they seem to be regarded 

 on all sides as possessing no i-ights that others are bound to respect. 

 Let us make a visit to one of these orderly communities in Oyster- 

 dom known as a "planting-ground." We are seated in a boat, and, 

 gliding through the phosphorescent sheen, soon near the oyster-bed. 

 It is a moonlight night, about the close of summer. Hark ! what sin- 

 gular sound is that ? Boom! boom! boom! Almost sepulchral, and, 

 strange to say, it comes up from beneath the waters. One would 

 think they were Nereids' groans. The oystermen, whose capital lies 

 invested there, hear it with sad forebodings of loss, which they can- 

 not well sustain. It is one of a school of visitors who come with 

 marauding purpose. The fishermen call it the big drum. This drum- 

 fish is known among naturalists by the name Pogonias chromis. The 

 acknowledged beat of this scamp is the Gulf Stream, from Cape Cod 

 to Florida; and a terrible fellow is this' Pogonias, for he is recorded 

 as having attained the great weight of eighty pounds. One of twen- 

 ty-five pounds would be but an ordinary affair. Their mouths are 

 furnished with pavements of hard teeth, a little rounding on the top, 

 and set together exactly as are the cobble-stones of the old city high- 

 ways. The function of these dental pavements is to crunch the young 

 oysters, which after being crushed are thus swallowed, shells and all. 

 As these monsters come in shoals, they sometimes inflict serious dam- 

 age on an oyster-bed. Not long ago, at Keyport, New Jersey, a visit 



