its
pectoral fins into something of a standing attitude, and with its large
projecting eyes keeps a sharp look-out for the light-coloured fly, on
which it feeds. Should the fly alight at too great a distance for even a
second leap, the blenny moves slowly towards it like a cat to its prey,
or like a jumping spider; and, as soon as it gets within two or three
inches of the insect, by a sudden spring contrives to pop its underset
mouth directly over the unlucky victim. He is, moreover, a pugnacious
little fellow; and rather prolonged fights may be observed between him
and his brethren. One, in fleeing from an apparent danger, jumped into a
pool a foot square, which the other evidently regarded as his by right of
prior discovery; in a twinkling the owner, with eyes flashing fury, and
with dorsal fin bristling up in rage, dashed at the intruding foe. The
fight waxed furious, no tempest in a teapot ever equalled the storm of
that miniature sea. The warriors were now in the water, and anon out of
it, for the battle raged on sea and shore. They struck hard, they bit
each other; until, becoming exhausted, they seized each other by the jaws
like two bull-dogs, then paused for breath, and at it again as fiercely
as before, until the combat ended by the precipitate retreat of the
invader.

The muddy ground under the mangrove-trees is covered with soldier-crabs,
which quickly slink into their holes on any symptom of danger. When the
ebbing tide retires, myriads of minute crabs emerge from their
underground quarters, and begin to work like so many busy bees. Soon
many miles of the smooth sand become rough with the results of their
labour. They are toiling for their daily bread: a round bit of moist
sand appears at the little labourer's mouth, and is quickly brushed off
by one of the claws; a second bit follows the first; and another, and
still another come as fast as they can be laid aside. As these pellets
accumulate, the crab moves sideways, and the work continues. The first
impression one receives is, that the little creature has swallowed a
great deal of sand, and is getting rid of it as speedily as possible: a
habit he indulges in of darting into his hole at intervals, as if for
fresh supplies, tends to strengthen this idea; but the size of the heaps
formed in a few seconds shows that this cannot be the case, and leads to
the impression that, although not readily seen, at the distance at which
he chooses to keep the