Few people who are in the habit of visiting the sea-shore but must have noticed the empty shells of the animal about to be described. I allude to the Solen, or Razor-Shell, commonly so called from its resemblance to the handle attached to a barber's scythe. This bivalve, improbable as the statement will appear to the uninitiated, is one of the most efficient burrowers to be met with on our shores. By means of its fleshy foot it digs a hole in the mud or sand. Sometimes it retreats from the surface to a distance of several feet, but generally remains sufficiently near to allow its short, fringed siphons to project above the sand. In walking along the beach, left bare by the receding tide, the pedestrian may often perceive little jets of water thrown up at his approach. These jets proceed from the Razor-Fish in question. Although we may be several yards from his burrow, his sense of feeling is so acute, that the faintest vibration of the earth around causes the creature to retire alarmed within his dwelling. In many places the Solen is much sought after by the poor, who esteem it a great luxury. In foreign countries--Japan, for example--it is so highly prized that we are told, 'by express order of the prince of that country, it is forbid to fish them until a sufficient quantity hath been provided for the emperor's table.' The Irish people, when they go out to catch the Solen siliqua, have an appropriate song and chorus which they sing, but whether to amuse themselves or charm the fish 'this deponent sayeth not,' for very obvious reasons. In general, I should think the less noise the more likelihood of success to those endeavouring to capture this animal. 'Who has not seen the picture of the stupid-looking boy going warily out with a box of salt, having been gravely informed by some village wag that if he would only just drop a pinch of salt on the birds' tails he would be sure to catch them. We are all familiar enough with this venerable joke, but not so with its successful application in another case. This time it is the fisherman, instead of the village boy, who carries the box. He cautiously slips a little salt into the hole, which irritates the ends of the siphons, and makes the _Solen_ come quickly out to see what is the matter, and clear itself of this painful intrusion. The fisher, on the alert, must quickly seize his prey, or else it will dart back again into its retreat, whence no amount of salting or coaxing will bring it out again.'