PROMETHEUS IN THE TANK. 103 



be imagined. Such a delicious morceau was per- 

 fectly irresistible: 



' Mercy, mercy ! 

 No pity, no release, no respite, oh ! ' 



At it they went, ' tooth and nail/ First one and 

 then another tore away a mouthful, until in the 

 twinkling of an eye, almost, the martyr crab was left 

 forlorn and dead 



1 A remnant of his former self.' 



During the early portion of last year I had a Her- 

 mit-Crab inhabiting a pretty Purpura, whose shell I 

 wished to sketch as an illustration, it being of 

 peculiar form and colour. On going to the tank I 

 discovered that Pagurus had most apropos vacated 

 his turbinated cot, apparently in consequence of his 

 feeling rather squeamish. Thinking he might per- 

 haps presently recover, or pick up another dwelling, 

 I hesitated not to abstract the shell, in order to 

 make the required drawing. I had not been occupied 

 with my task for more than five minutes, when 

 my attention was attracted by a great excitement 

 and clatter pervading the tank. A hasty glance 

 within the vessel sufficed to explain the cause of the 

 hubbub. 



The brief domestic drama of which I was a 

 spectator, with its somewhat singular denouement, 

 I will now proceed to unfold for the reader's enter- 

 tainment. It conveys a good lesson in natural 



