V. 



SLobsters. 



TO-DAY, in the fishmonger's shop, I beheld a large 

 box of lobsters which the early morning train had 

 brought from the far north of Scotland. They were 

 packed into the box with that total disregard of what- 

 ever feelings the lower animals may possess which 

 characterises man in his dealings with life below his 

 own, whether it is represented by fowls in hencoops 

 or by pigs or sheep in railway trucks. The seething 

 mass of blue-black bodies encrusted with the white 

 spiral shells of worms that build limy tubes, was " a 

 sight for to see," as the old ballad has it. Lobster- 

 life seems to take its troubles with equanimity. Be- 

 yond an occasional squirming of a tail or flap of a 

 feeler, all was quiet within the box. One veteran 

 crustacean, perched in a coign of vantage above the 

 others, was working his jaws one of many pairs as 

 if still under the delusion that he was cosily nestling 

 under his rock in the sea, and baling out the refuse 

 water from his gills by means of the scooplike spoon 

 wherewith he is provided for the purpose in question. 

 His great black eyes, each resting on a short stalk, 

 were staring vacuously at the prospect before him. 

 Mentally regarded, that prospect was not a cheerful 

 one. " Out of the box and into the pot" might well 



