The internal dweller in the front parlour is the Hermit Crab (_Paguras Prideauxii_), a creature seldom contented with its own pretty solid habitation, but ever seeking some further protection, which it generally finds in an empty Whelk-shell. It is, moreover, very particular as to _fit_, and other details; for it has been observed, when looking out for a house, to try and reject many before finally adopting an abode. The inhabitant of the back parlour is the Sea-Worm, _Nereis bilineata_, a creature which, instinctively knowing the voracious propensities of the Crab, and determining to share his abundant feasts, seizes his opportunity, when mine host of the Whelk-shell is pretty well surfeited and in a semi-dormant state, to sneak past the dangerous claws into the “back parlour,” which is the interior of the narrow spiral of the shell—a form of apartment which affords him a most comfortable and convenient home, in which, by the superfluous voracity of the Crab, he is furnished with board as well as lodging. The external tenant of the Whelk-shell is a parasitic Sea-Anemone, known as the Cloak-Anemone, from its power of nearly enveloping the object to which it attaches itself, by means of the extension of its stem or body. It is known in scientific classification as _Adamsia palliata_, having been made a separate genus, and its specific name ingeniously taken from that of the Roman cloak, the well-known pallium of the classical writers. Almost invariably, when the Hermit Crab is discovered inside the Whelk-shell, the _Adamsia_ is found outside; and the Hermit is seldom without his dinner assistant, the prettily-striped _Nereis_. This fact is so well known to fishermen, that when in search of this worm, which is an excellent bait, they never fail to break the shells tenanted by the Hermit Crab, and are seldom disappointed in finding the object of their search in his company. Another parasitic Anemone, still more fond of travelling, the _Actinia parasitica_, often selects the back of the Crab himself (generally _Paguras Bernhardus_), and in that position is hurried along, in the sidling gallop of his steed, in a way that must often prove inconvenient; for in passing under ledges of rock, the Crab, doubtless, only takes his own measure. Yet, in such cases, the Anemone probably knows how to take care of himself; and when _Bernhardus_ becomes skittish and adventurous, “draws in his horns,” as many other bold spirits are obliged to do at certain crises of their career; and in this state, presenting only a semi-spherical mass of tough leathery substance, he can fearlessly allow himself to be driven beneath stony archways, or under impending branches of the marine forests, by his ferocious Jehu, with less chance of injury than the outside passenger of a terrestrial stage-coach passing beneath the low gateway of some inn-yard.