old crabs generally regain their habitations
in the mountains, which are seldom within
less than a mile, and not often above three
miles from the shore, by the latter end of
June, and then provide themselves with
convenient burrows, in which they pass the
greater part of the day, going out only at
night to feed. In December and January
they begin to be in spawn, and are then very
fat and delicate, but continue to grow weaker
until the month of May, which is the season
for them to wash off their eggs. They begin
to move down in February, and are very
much abroad in March and April, which
seems to be the time for the impregnation of
their eggs, but the males about this time
begin to lose their flavour, and the richness
of their juices. The eggs are discharged
from the body through two small round holes
situated at the sides, and about the middle of
the under shell; these are only large enough
to admit one at a time, and as they pass they
are entangled in the branched capillaments
with which the under side of the apron is
copiously supplied, to which they stick by the
means of their proper gluten, until the
creatures reach the surf, where they wash
them all off, and then they begin to
return back to the mountains. It is
remarkable that the bag or stomach of this
creature changes its juices with the state of
the body — and while poor is full of a black,
bitter, disagreeable fluid, which diminishes as
it fattens, and at length assumes a delicate,
rich flavour. About the months of July or
August the crabs fatten again, and prepare
for mouldering, tilling up their burrows with
dry grass, leaves, and abundance of other
materials. When the proper period comes,
each retires to his hole, shuts up the passage,
and remains quite inactive till he gets rid of
his old shell, and is fully provided with a new
one. How long they continue in this state is
uncertain; but the shell is observed to burst
both at the back and the sides, to give a
passage to the body; and it extracts its lirnbs
from all the other parts gradually afterwards.
At this time the fish is in the richest state,
and covered only with a tender membraneous
skin, variegated with a multitude of reddish
veins; but this hardens gradually after, and
becomes soon a perfect shell like the former.
Ic is, however, remarkable that during this
change there are some strong concretions
formed in the bag, which waste and destroy
gradually as the creature forms and perfects
a new crust. This crab runs very fast, and
always endeavours to get into some hole or
crevice on the approach of danger; nor does
it wholly depend on its art and swiftness, for
while it retreats it keeps both claws
expanded, ready to catch the offender if he
should come within its reach; and if it
succeeds on these occasions, it commonly throws
off the claw, which continues to squeeze with
incredible force for nearly a minute after—
while he, regardless of the loss, endeavours
to make his escape, and to gain a more
secure or a more lonely covert, contented to
renew his limb with his coat at the ensuing
change; nor would it grudge to lose many of
the others to preserve the trunk entire,
though each comes off with more labour and
reluctance as their numbers lessen."

Crabs may lie under the accusation of
walking backward, but none can say they
do so when on the line of march from the
mountains to the sea. Then they stop at
nothing, but go right over every obstacle they
find in their way. They have been known,
says Catesby, to enter in at a window, and on
a bed, where people who had never before
seen any were not a little surprised. On
these journeys they feed twice a day, and it
is the sort of food they select which makes
their flesh delicious. Newly-sprung grass,
vegetables, the tendrils of pumpkin vines,
and the shoots of the young tobacco, are
what they prefer, though sometimes they are
less choice, and eat decayed fruit and the
berries of the manchaneel apple. When they
commit this latter indiscretion they become
themselves unwholesome, and should not be
eaten, unless great care is taken to wash the
fat, as well as the other meat, with
lime-juice and water.

Lime-juice is a prominent ingredient in
dressing a land crab. But, first of all, you
must catch him, which is chiefly done by
torchlight. The modus operandi is simple.
Having unearthed your game, move your
torch rapidly before his projecting eyes — he
is speedily dazzled; while in his bewilderment
jerk him on his back; then deftly seize
him by two of his hind legs, and throw him
into the ready sack. You may cook him at
leisure after this fashion:

Select a fine broad-backed toulourou, in
that condition of body when the young skin
is of a pinkish hue, tender and delicate as
moistened parchment, and the animals
themselves bear the name of crabes boursières.
What callipash is to turtle, a greenish
substance called taumalin, which is lodged under
the shell of the back, is to the land crab.
Commence your operations by parboiling the
decapod; then take out the taumalin, the
fat, and all the meat, and, with the eggs of a
fine female crab, mix in a mortar. Then add
half a pint of clarified butter, the yolks of
six eggs, some parsley and fine herbs, a few
heads of pimento, a little orange peel, and
four or five onions cut very fine. Put the
whole into a saucepan, and let it simmer
gently for an hour, squeezing in, from time to
time, the juice of a fresh lime. Garnish with
peppers, green or red — bird's-eye or capsicum—
and serve in a silver dish. As in the
case of lobster, madeira is the only correct
accompaniment.

It would be a mockery to give a receipt
for dressing a British marine crab (however
jolly) after this exquisite dish; though, as
the French proverb says, " Quand on n'a pas