The term “sea‐cucumber” accurately describes the shape of the Holothuria, which is in general terms a worm‐like cylinder, varying as much as from an inch or two to thirty, and, in exceptional cases, forty inches in length. The skin of the animal is usually thick and leathery; it is crowned by a mouth with a fringe of tentacula, which expand like a flower when it is unmolested. They particularly avoid the glare of light. One large eatable species is common in the Mediterranean, and is used for food in Naples and elsewhere. But it is in the Indian, Malayan, and Chinese seas that the _Holothuria edulis_, known there as the _trepang_, is an important adjunct to the food of the natives. Thousands of junks are employed in the trepang fisheries. The Malay fisherman will harpoon them with a long bamboo terminating in a sharp hook at a distance of thirty yards. In four or five fathoms of water native divers are employed, who seize them in their hands, and will bring up several at a time. They are then boiled, and flattened with stones; after which process they are spread out on bamboo mats to dry, first in the sun and afterwards by smoking. They are then put in sacks and shipped principally to Chinese ports, where they are considered a luxury. The great French navigator, Dumont d’Urville, witnessed the processes employed while in Raffles Bay. An hour after the arrival of four prows all the men were at work ashore cooking them in boilers placed over roughly‐ constructed stone furnaces, after which they were dried on hurdled roofs. Captain d’Urville went on board one of the Malay vessels, where he was received with cordiality by the padrone, or captain. “He,” says that navigator, “showed us over his little ship. The keel appeared to us sufficiently solid; even the lines did not want elegance; but great disorder seemed to reign in the stowage department. From a kind of bridge, formed by hurdles of bamboos and junk, we saw the cabin, which looked like a poultry house: bags of rice, packets and boxes were huddled together. Below was the store of water, of cured trepang, and the sailors’ berths. Each boat was furnished with two rudders, one at each end, which lifted itself when the boat touched the bottom. The craft was furnished with two masts, without shrouds, which could be lowered on to the bridge at will by means of a hinge; they carry the ordinary sail; the anchors are of wood, for iron is rarely used by the Malays; their cables are made of rattan fibre; the crew of each bark consists of about thirty‐seven, each shore boat having a crew of six men. At the moment of our visit they were all occupied in fishing operations, some of them being anchored very near to us. Seven or eight of their number, nearly naked, were diving for trepang; the padrone alone was unoccupied. An ardent sun darted its rays upon their heads without appearing to incommode them, an exposure which no European could hold up under. It was near mid‐day, and the moment, as our Malay