During the early portion of last year I had a Hermit-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 perhaps 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 entertainment. It conveys a good lesson in natural history, and also exhibits a striking example of life beneath the waters. The Blennies, I may state, had become very voracious, pugnacious, and audacious; nothing seemed safe from their attacks. I had begun to feed them on the _Cardium edule_ and Mussel, but such diet, after a time, only served to whet their appetite, which certainly appeared to 'grow by what it fed on,' for they darted about through the water in all directions, searching, as I suppose, for other dainties. These efforts were unsuccessful, until they caught sight of the plump, undefended portion of the body of their companion, the Hermit-Crab, who had just left his shell, as above stated. The sight of such a feast must have (figuratively speaking) made their 'mouths water,' One after another these rascally fish dodged round the crustaceous victim, and gripped, and shook his 'continuation' with extraordinary violence. In vain did the crab try to act on the defensive; all his efforts to retaliate were ineffectual, and in this instance it might be truly said that 'might' overcame 'right.' He ran to and fro in great distress, scraping the pebbles and shells about (thus partly creating the clatter that I had heard while sketching), in the hope that he might find an empty univalve in which to deposit his mutilated carcase. When almost breathless and exhausted, he discovered a worn-out Wentletrap, and strove to lift his quivering body into the aperture, alas! without success. His strength failed him, and he fell dead at the very threshold of his new-found home. While watching thus far the above transaction, the writer felt almost inclined to waver in the faith he had long held with others, namely, that fishes and other marine animals are insensible to pain. But the movements of this poor Hermit-Crab were as indicative of severe suffering as anything he ever witnessed in bird or quadruped.