The chief and most potent enemies of the Crustacæ, are the tempest and the rock. Little in the deep sea, they almost constantly lurk along shore in waiting for their prey. Often, as they lurk there waiting for the oyster to open and furnish them with a breakfast, a hard gale drives them from their ambush, and then their armor becomes their fatality. Hard, and destitute of elasticity, it receives the full and unmitigated shock of every collision; dashed upon the rocks, they leave it, if alive, only with broken weapons and rent armor. Happily for them, they, like the Oursin, can replace an organ, lost or mutilated. So well do they know that strange power, that they voluntarily shake off a claw, if confined by it. It would seem that Nature especially favors servants so useful. To counterbalance the infinite fecundity of other species, the crustacæ have an infinite power of absorption. And they are everywhere; on every coast; ubiquitous as the seas themselves. The Vultures, and other carrion birds, share with the crustacæ the essential office of health preservers. Let some large animal die, and, on the instant, the bird above, and the crab below and within, are at work to prevent it from polluting the atmosphere. The Talitre, that small and skipping crab that we might almost mistake for an insect, burrows in the sands of the sandy shores. Let a tempest drive a quantity of Medusæ or other such prey upon the beach, and you will immediately see the sands all in motion, and myriads of crabs swarming, leaping, hungry, and apparently determined to clear away the spoil before the next flood tide. Large, robust, and full of wiles, the great crabs are a very combative race. So highly are they gifted with the instinct of war that they even resort to noise in order to intimidate their enemies; advancing to the fight they clash their claws together with a noise like that of castanettes. Yet, they are very prudent when they have to do with a stronger enemy. I remember to have watched them from the top of a high rock, when the tide was out. But, high above them as I was, they perceived that they were watched, and speedily beat a retreat; the warriors hurrying sidelong, as is their wont, into their secure ambush. They resemble Achilles far less than Hannibal. When they feel that they are the stronger, they will attack both the living and the dead, and the helplessly wounded man may well dread them. It is related that, on some desert isle, several of Drake's sailors were attacked and devoured by these greedy creatures. No living creature can fight them with equal weapons. The gigantic Poulpe who should enlace the smallest of the crab family, would do so at the risk of losing his antennæ, and the greediest of fish would not venture to swallow so hard a morsel.