ay that when I lock my door I do not
feel any anxiety, and I really pity you poor fellows who have no shell at
all."

He had hardly got the last word out of his grisly throat, when suddenly
there was a great splash, and away darted the tai and herring, never
resting their fins or tails a moment till safe out of danger.

The Sazaye drew in his flap in the twinkling of an eye, and keeping as
quiet as possible, wondered what the noise was. Was it a stone, or a net,
or a fish-hook? He wondered if the tai and herring were caught.

"Surely they must be," thought he. "However I'm safe, thanks to my castle
shell," he muttered.

So drawing his trap tighter he took a long nap. When he woke up, quite
refreshed, he cautiously loosened his trap and peeped out.

"How strange every thing looks, am I dreaming?" said he as he saw piles
of fish, clams, prawns and lobsters lying on a board all around him.

"Ugh, what is that?" clapping himself shut as a great black-nosed and
long-whiskered dog poked his muzzle near him.

Poor shell-fish! There he lay in a fishmonger's shop, with a slip of
paper marked "ten cash," (1-10 of a cent,) on his back. A few hours
later, purchased by a laborer's wife for his dinner, he was stewing along
with several of his relative's in his own juice. The castle, of which he
was so proud, serving first as a dinner-pot, then as a saucer, after
which it was thrown away in a heap and burned into lime.

[Illustration: THE FISH STALL IN TOKIO.]

SMELLS AND JINGLES.

Yedo people are very fond of broiled eels. A rich merchant, named
Kisaburo, who was very miserly with his money, once moved his quarters
next door to the shop of one Kichibei, who caught and cooked eels for a
living. During the night Mr. Kichibei caught his stock in trade, and in
the day-time served them, smoking hot, to his customers. Cut into pieces
three or four inches long, they were laid to sizzle on a grid-iron over
red hot charcoal, which was kept in a glow by constant fanning.

Kisaburo, wishing to save money, and having a strong imagination, daily
took his seat at meal time close to his neighbor's door. Eating his
boiled rice, and snuffing in the odors of the broiled eels, as they were
wafted in, he enjoyed with his nose, what he would not pay for to put in
his mouth. In this way, as he flattered himself, he saved much money, and
his strong box grew daily heavier.

Kichibei, the eel-broiler, on finding this out, thought he woul