If we place a homeless hermit crab in a rock pool, the behaviour of the creature immediately suggests a feeling of uneasiness--a sense of danger--for it moves about in a very erratic fashion that is quite different from the straightforward and deliberate action of the same animal when properly protected; and very amusing results may be obtained by making it the subject of a few harmless experiments. For instance, drop down before it an empty whelk-shell that is much too large to properly accommodate its body. It will immediately approach the untenanted house, search and probe it well with its antennæ and other appendages, and then, finding it uninhabited, and having no apartment of more suitable size at hand, will abruptly gives its body a turn and hastily thrust itself backwards into it. If at the time of this experiment the advancing tide disturbs the water of the pool, the result is somewhat ludicrous, for the shell, too cumbersome to be controlled by the creature within, is, regardless of its attempts to maintain a normal position, turned over and over as each wave advances and retreats. Again, supposing the shell supplied to be too small for the intended occupant, it will, after the usual examination of the interior, thrust its soft abdomen as far in as possible, and make the best of the unsatisfactory circumstances until a more suitable home can be found. And if, at this distressing period, we drop before it a shell of just the right size--the one from which the creature was originally expelled for instance, it is astonishing how quickly the change of houses will be accomplished. After a brief examination of the shell with the object of determining whether all is right within, during which the crab continues to avail itself of the imperfect accommodation afforded by the previous shell, it rapidly extracts its body from the one and thrusts itself backwards into the other. Its normal habits are at once resumed, all its movements being now suggestive of confidence and contentment.