caying animal matter, to a considerable depth along the rocky coast. During the summer months it is very abundant, especially where the water is deep; but in winter it is rarely to be found, and it is supposed to burrow in the sand, or to retire to the deeper parts of the ocean. The lobster-the epicure's delight loves to dwell in the deep, clear waters along bold, rocky shores, where it is taken by similar means. About two millions of lobsters are annually imported from Norway, although they are also found in great abundance along the Scottish and Irish coasts. But Mr. Gosse shall tell us how he fetched up the crustacea at Lunday Island. "The form of a lobster-pot," he says, "is generally known, as there are few of our rocky shores where the simple but effective contrivance may not be often seen lying on the beach. Their principle is that of a wire mouse-trap; they are made of strong osiers, with a rounded top, the points bent inwards at the centre, so as to allow of the entrance, but not of the escape, of the lobster. Each pot on being hauled to the surface was pulled on board; the next thing was to take out the prey if any were there. These were of four different kinds-the lobster, the most valuable of them all; the sea cray-fish, or thorny lobster, larger, but in less estimation, the flesh being dry and somewhat hard; the common crab, the value of which is generally appreciated; and the spider crab, or maia, of little value as food, though occasionally eaten. "It was interesting to notice the different habits of these species. The lobster was agile, but cool and thoroughly prepared for war, holding up its large formidable claws, widely gaping, in a reverted position over the back, so that it was rather a dangerous affair to get hold of one. The expertness acquired by practice, however, enabled the fisherman to dash his hand through the entrance of the pot upon the animal's back at the fitting moment, and suddenly to drag him up stern foremost. "The cray-fish, active, but large and unwieldly, seemed conscious that he had no power of defence to be compared with those of his cousin. The claws in this species are small and feeble; but equally unwilling to be made a prisoner, he endeavoured by agility to supply the lack of weapons; flapping round and round the circle of the pot by means of rapid and forcible blows with his expanded tail. We noticed the singular sound produced by this animal when excited. The bases of the antennæ are studded, as indeed is the whole surfacee of the animal, with prickles, and these it rubs with force against the sides of the shelly horn that projects from the forehead, by which a singular grating noise is made, accompanied by a very perceptible vibration. Our friend the captain, who has the misfortune to be deaf, protested that he could hear the sound distinctly whenever he touched the animal with his hand; but I am not sure whether this was not a confusion of senses-a mistaking of the vibration of which his nerves of touch were cognizant for such as would have been appreciable by those of hearing. "The crabs, on the other hand, both the common kind and the spider, were sluggish, inert, and helpless, yet somewhat awkward to take hold of, and to pull out of the entrance, on account of their breadth. The spiders, too, like the cray-fish, are bristled over with stout, sharp-pointed spines. The contrast between the agile power of the lobster and the torpidity of the crab when taken from their proper element is very striking. The former, as I have said, presents his threatening claws to his adversary, like a warrior skilled in the use of his weapons and prepared to use them, leaping and springing about at the same time with a sort of dashing recklessness, as hoping to find some possibility of escape, even from the worst circumstances. The crab seems paralysed as soon as it is taken out of the water. Though furnished with claws of a stony hardness, apparently superior in the power of grasping and pinching to those of his nimble cousin, he rarely attempts to use them; but folding them together, and crumpling up his legs stifly across his breast, he is content to lie passive and abide his fate. You may take him up in your hand, turn him over, and examine him; not a limb will be move; nay, you may even put him in your coat-pocket, and carry him for a mile, and on taking him out find him as patiently resigned as when you put him in." The immense number and variety of crustaceous animals necessitates, as might be expected, a corresponding multiplicity of subordinate divisions. They have been divided into five great sections, including thirteen orders; and to these are added another section and order for certain creatures which appear to unite the crustacea with the arachnida, or spiders and scorpions. Different species of crustacea have different localities, or residences, assigned to them on the surface of the globe. Some are confined to fresh water, others inhabit the brackish waters of estuaries, and others again take up their abode on the shore, where they are periodically covered and left dry by the tide. Some frequent the shallow water in the neighbourhood of the shore, others are found near the bottom of the deeper waters not far from the coast. Some roam freely through the open sea, and others are only to be met with on the dry land. Thus we see that each species has an appropriate kind of residence, for which it is peculiarly adapted by its organisation and habits. But besides this, M. Milne-Edwards has traced out a geographical distribution of these animals. Crabs are completely wanting in the high northern seas; their number increases with the warmer temperature of the waters as we approach the equator, and is greatest in the tropical zone. Here we find the most remarkable and various forms; here they attain a size unknown in our seas; and here they inhabit not only the salt waters, but also the brooks and rivers. Almost the same statement might be made with reference to all the rest of the crustacea. CHRIS THE TEN FAIRIES. HRISTMAS had come, bringing with it the snow-flakes and the frost, short days and long nights, holidays and merry-makings, and rejoicings, and everything that is pleasant and delightful in association with those famous Christmas plants, the holly and the mistletoe. Christmas had come, and boys and girls at school, who had been watching for its approach, hailed its arrival with great glee, and, with their trunks and parcels all duly labelled, set off, per coach or rail, for that dear home of theirs-east, west, north, or south, no matter where, so long as it was lighted by affection and warmed by love. Christmas had come, and there were preparations for great doings everywhere. The tradesmen made their shops-which all the year looked smart-look smarter still. The Christmas markets were a fine sight-beef, poultry, fruit-everything good to eat, and everything that you might well be doubtful --whether it was good to drink, was temptingly set forth. Even the booksellers came out strong, and put such fascinating books in their windows-all pictures and pleasant reading, bound up in gold and crimson-that you were fain to stop and look at them, and buy them, to be sure. The beadles and the pewopeners, too, were busy in the churches, decorating the buildings with Christmas plants, and making them wear their pleasantest aspect against the day when the worthy minister should tell the old, old story, that " unto us a Child was born, unto us a Son was given." Christmas had come, and brought with it hard weather for the poor. Work was scarce, and money was scarce, and very pinched were they who lived by daily labour. The frost that made the fire burn clear sent sharp twinges of pain to the poor and weary; the snow-flakes that fell so rapidly, and set the boys and girls a-laughing, formed but a cold and sorry bed for the homeless outcast, and the wind, which sounded not amiss while a cheerful song was singing or a pleasant tale a-telling, or that bore the chime of Christmas bells far over the land, was pitiless to those who had no shelter. Christmas had come, but let us hope the poor were not forgotten by the rich. Let us hope that those who could give gave, as you and I will do this year, however little we may have to give; and that they remembered Him who, "though He was rich, yet for our sake became poor, that we through His poverty might be rich." Christmas had come, and of all the cheerful gatherings it brought together none were more pleasant than that of Farmer Blake's. He had a great farmhouse, and a great farm round it- such a pond for sliding!--such an orchard for snow-balling!—such a barn for blindman's buff, as you never saw in your life! It was jolly-that is not an elegant word, I am aware, but I can't think of a better-to sit in the chimney corner where the great fire was blazing, sending such a shower of sparks and such a body of flame up the ample chimney, that here in London would have brought all the parish engines to know what was the matter. And when the farmer's family and some of the neighbours--neighbours who lived more than half-a-mile off, but were next-door neighbours for all that-when they and the youngsters all gathered round the fire, and chestnuts were roasting, it was a merry party, I can tell you. Old Farmer Blake-that is to say, Grandfather Blake, Farmer Blake's father-was in himself enough to make any party of youngsters merry. At Christmas time especially did this good old gentleman exert himself to be agreeable, and he never tried in vain. "Grandfather, grandfather, tell us a story?" that was the invariable request. Who can withstand a request made by a dozen pair of pretty lips? Certainly not Grandfather Blake, so that all he had to do was to say "Well, what am I to tell you ?" All the stories of his boyhood, of his schooldays, of his schoolmaster and his school mates, they had listened to over and over again. Sometimes they would ask for one story, sometimes for another, and whatever they asked for Grandfather gave them as well as he could, always, as he himself remarked, seasoning his stories with a grain of salt. What he meant by this was, looking for a moral, so that from the story they might learn some useful lesson. On the particular occasion to which I refer, when Grandfather was asked to tell a story and had put the usual question, "What shall I tell you?" Jenny, a black-eyed lass of five summers, looked up with a strange inquisitive expression, and said— "Grandfather, did you never hear tell of fairies?" "Fairies," said the old gentleman; "ah, I have heard of them, but there's no such thing in nature, darling, and never was since the world began." "I read about them one day in a book," said Jenny," and I liked it very much. They were such little things, those fairies, grandpa', all dressed in green or white, and so small that they could hide in a bell-flower and ride on a bit of thistledown." "I have read about them, too," said James, a lad of thirteen, "but I never had much faith in the story. I took it to be a pretty conceit of the verse-makers and story-tellers." "Why, "But I have known people who believed in fairies, whether they be true or not," said Jolm, who was a year or two younger. there's Widow Macklin, who keeps the park gate, she has told me about them many a time, and shown me places where she says they dance together on a moonlight night." "The Widow Macklin is a silly woman to believe anything of the sort," said Grandfather. "James is right in saying they belong to the verse-makers and story-tellers. Sensible people are too wise to believe in fairies, or anything of the kind; but as Jenny asks me, I will tell you a story about them, with," says Grandfather, "the customary grain of salt." At this the children clapped their hands and made themselves ready to listen. "Once upon a time," says Grandfather, "and a long way off, there were ten fairies. That is to say, there was a king fairy, a stout able-bodied monarch, and a fairy queen, as stout and sturdy as her lord, and not at all like that fairy queen of whom an English author has written so charming a poem. There were their eight vassals or servants. These were of different heights, but of corresponding couples. The king's middle-man, as he was called, was exactly the same height as the queen's middle-man, and the queen's page, the shortest of the company, was as short, but no shorter, than the king's page. All the fairies, including the king and queen, wore a sort of horny helmet to defend their crowns, and very necessary and useful things they found them. Now, the wonders which these ten fairies accomplished exceed everything that was ever written of their race. They crept out into the forest, and felled the stateliest oak that ever stretched its leafy boughs over the rich green grass. They fashioned the oak into a gallant ship, that floated on the waves, and spread its canvas to the wind, and gathered up the riches of the earth from the four quarters of the heaven. They buried themselves in the quarry, and brought up stone and marble. They reared up stately palaces, and ornamented them with sculptured figures. They gathered and mixed up, and melted different sorts of earth, and made thereof glass as clear as crystal. They caused bridges to span the broadest rivers, and tunnels to pierce the loftiest mountains, they managed to sink down to the very bottom of the sea, and to rise up above the clouds in the sky-whatever they determined to do they accomplished, and wherever they went, peace, and comfort, and prosperity went with them. Where the wild beast wandered, and where the wild bird made her nest, there they called up cities, and where no human voice had ever been heard, there they induced whole multitudes to settle, and made them thrive exceedingly. They helped to build the house, to dig up the garden, to sow the seed, to gather the harvest, to mind the sheep, to drive home the cattle, or guide the ship, or to row the boat. They entered into every workshop and assisted the men in their daily toil. They were in the smithy beating the glowing iron on the anvil; they were in the shed sawing planks of wood and smoothing them with the jack-plane; they clustered on the bows of the shears when the tailor cut out a coat, and they drove home the needle when the seamstress stitched at her work. They were as willing to help the poor servant wench scrubbing the floor as they were to sit astride the painter's pencil as he completed some matchless work of art. When the poor boy, far away over the seas, wanted to tell his old father how he was getting on, they manufactured him some paper, they found him a pen, they dipped it into the ink, and guided it as he wrote; and when it was written they bore it away, and carried it over the waves; and, because the old man's eyes were dim, they made him a pair of spectacles out of iron and glass, that he might read his son's note easily, and say, as he was sure to say, God bless the lad!" They were good fairies, were they not?" "But sometimes they did harm. They were known to be very idle, and to content themselves with doing nothing; and they were known to be ill-natured, and to please themselves with doing mischief. They would rob an orchard; they would steal a nest while the old bird was out a-marketing; they would play ugly pranks on the old and the afflicted; they would open a gate and let a cow go wandering from her paddock; they would hide things that were wanted, and make confusion and disorder everywhere. They had been known to do even worse than this; for they would take good steel, which would have made an excellent sickle, and teach John Smith how to fashion it into a sword, and then on some fair plain, and on a beauteous summer's day, perhaps, they would set men fighting, and direct that sword to the heart or throat, and leave dead men upon that plain. Everything that was bad they did, as well as everything that was good; and from the earliest time it was said they had done the same, making one man form harps and organs, and another man slay his brother. Oh, but they were strange fellows, these ten fairies!" "I think," said little Jenny, "I have seen something like them, grandpa'." "Indeed! Where, now, have you seen these fairies?" Jenny lifted up her two hands, and spreading out all her fingers, cried"Here!" They all laughed merrily-grandpa' and all -and when they were quiet again, grandpa' said "Yes, children, Jenny is right, the only fairies I know of are these ten finger fairies on our hands, which, directed by laudable industry can do great good, but which, if viciously employed, do still more harm. Be industrious, children, but be industrious to a good purpose; do those things which are really useful, and in order to do this, look up to God for guidance and for help. No good can come without His blessing, for what says the psalm?" John repeated 66 Except the Lord build the house, they labour in vain that build it." J. T. THE ODD BOY ON PATRIOTS AND TRAITORS. "I write " patriots and traitors. BY request a piece" on | hardly any breath in your body, for the man has won, and success is glory. With Reform demonstrations becoming so many obstacles to progress-with a Fenian outbreak "looming in the distance"-with representatives of the people calling each other dreadful names- -with De Jacobs on the one part, and Merrypebble on the other, growing hot and fierce over what is constitutional and what is not—with meat at a high price and bread at a ditto-with the thermometer gradually rising, and pantomime clowns openly insulting the municipal authorities with iusirnations that they have not paid for their bo-oots, the question becomes important, and I address myself to it with what energy I may. Patriot-Traitor. Just turn the initial of patriot into an R, and the two words are an anagram; so that but a very little change, a mere high-sounding initial, makes the patriot a traitor, and the traitor a patriot. Master Cæsar very like Master Pompey-'specially Cæsar! Did you ever-why, of course you have play at see-saw? A good stout trunk of a tree, with a long deal board laid over it—you at one end, I at the other end; up go you and down go I-up go I and down go you. To my mind it is a beautiful exemplification of the difference and distinction between patriots and traitors: If treason never prospers, what's the reason? 'Cause when it prospers none dare call it treason ! Success is the alchemy that changes the base metal into gold. The traitor, full of stratagems and plots, right willing to overturn the government—to use Sir Leicester Deadlock's language, "Open the flood-gates of society," to tumble the throne in the dust, and fling out king or caiser with bitter scorn,—and no umbrella to keep him dry from the pitiless shower ["First he reigned, and then he mizzled ". -see Punch, 1848], the traitor I see doing all this-not only planning it, but carrying it right through--is a patriot; forsooth, the deliverer of his country. Ring the bells, sound the trumpets, climb the lampposts to see the show, and shout till there is Saith shopkeeper Content, rattling his canisters, "Well done our side! Vive la-anybody! Down with the royal standard and up with the tricolour! Let the Theatre Royal become the National Theatre. Down with the royal arms and inscription, 'Chandler's-shopkeeper to H. M. and the rest of the royal family,' and let the red cap be figured with the motto, "The National Chandler's-shopby appointment!"" Let the pinxits (if that is not a correct plural, never mind-knock it out and read "painters") daub acres of canvas with the story of the progress and triumph of Success; let the effigy of Success be in all the papers, all the print-shops, all the picture-galleries, and always better looking than the original; let us have statues of him on horseback and on foot-as a soldier, as a senator, as a politician; let us see him in wax and bronze-his image and superscription everywhere; let squares, and streets, and bridges, and railways be called by his name; let everybody fall down and worship, and hail him as Deliverer and Defender. He says some ordinary thing, and we say, "How philosophical!" he nods his head, and we say, "How graceful!" he rides like a miller's sack, and we say, "How dignified!" he makes a speech-ready-made for him, and slily hidden in the crown of his hat-and we cry, "What eloquence!" Our opinion is or we say so that he is one of Nature's kings, the true patriot, the friend of his country, the rescuer of his race. pledge him in the rarest vintage-comet wine, perhaps, and come it very strong! But suppose We See-saw, Margery Dawhe did not succeed; suppose he was caught out before he came out, was taken before "the beak," who made out his mittimus. Suppose we heard of his being tried for treason, found guilty, but recommended to mercy on account of mental weakness; suppose we heard of him no more, except now and again that he was in a criminal lunatic asylum. What then should Failure we call him-patriot? No, no. Success equal to patriot. Now I am well aware that a lot of people will object to this, and say that it is a low and sordid view of things. They will look up their histories and show that this one, and that one, and t'other one were genuine patriots, though they lost all things, life included. My answer is, Their cause ultimately triumphed, and when it triumphed, then people began to find out that the much-injured man was a true lover of his country after all. So that it is success we fall back upon in the long run. Wallace lived such a long while ago that we English can afford to be generous. When he lived and fought, and defied us and our king, and "lifted" our cattle, and ravaged the border land, we were wild enough with him. He was in open rebellion to our authority, a traitor; so when we caught him, all London turned out to howl for vengeance, and to send him with scorn to the gibbet. He had failed, and even his Scottish friends were not over well pleased with him on this account. Now Scots and English will join together and sing Burns's song about him in perfect amity; but it is only because we have scarcely more to do with the business of his time than we have with the Trojan war. Success, depend upon it, gives a right for a traitor to be recognised as a patriot; and failure turns patriot into traitor. But, underlying what is said and what is done, I am inclined to the opinion that there is a higher test than public opinion. I think there are true patriots whom my friend of the chandler's-shop could never recognise. There is nothing in them that is showy-they do not catch his eye; there is nothing in them that is loud-they do not catch his ear; they do not require him to pull down one signboard and put up another; they never challenge him to toss his cap in the air, and wet his throat, dry as a sand-basket with shouting, with even the smallest of small beer. They love their country too well to rend it asunder. They work silently and steadily for its true advancenient; they want to make the whole of their countrymen more intelligent, more comfortable, more happy; and to do this thing are well content to cut no conspicuous figure. So I believe, again, there are many quiet, insidious traitors, who with smooth and honeyed words would, for their own pleasure or to win applause, strike a fatal blow at what is good and true. Quiet traitors, plotting quiet treason, that shall never bring themselves to gaol or gibbet. They "go in " for self-self being their sole short creed: "I believe in self, and the true business of man to be selfishness." Allow me to conclude with these practical remarks. I. If you want to be a true patriot, begin by being a good citizen; set a good example of what one man may do, in a quiet way, to help on his fellows: but don't try to pull down a constitution that you may sit on the top of the rubbish heap. II. If you want to be a traitor, guilty of treason of the highest kind, do all you can to sow tares amongst wheat and cockle amongst barley, be watchful of every opportunity to set man against man, house against house, class against class. You may mock at the poor, and scorn the hands that labour; you may, on the other side, denounce the wearers of purple and fine linen, and heap rancorous epithets on wealth and titles. This will serve to do you no further harm than making you contemptible in the eyes of all true men. And of nobody's more so than those of |
