Dinner over, he wipes his claws on the muddy table-cloth and walks out for his digestion.  Off in the distance he spies a young gentleman crab making love to a beautiful female.  He looks at her with a discriminating eye.  Sees she is fair to look upon, and thinks he would like to be acquainted.  He makes several sideway moves in the direction, ungraceful, but satisfactory to himself, and as he advances his admiration increases, his courage improves; he feels almost heroic.  The observant lover with staring eyes perceives the advancing strides of another gentleman crab, and instantly, seized with jealous fears, clasps his inamorata to his shelly breast with his numerous little legs, holds her tightly so that she can’t fall, and walks off on his hands.

The old cannibal observes the change of base, feels insulted at the implied distrust, and resolves to have satisfaction.  Increasing his efforts, he soon overtakes the runaway lovers, challenges his rival by giving him a dig with his claw, and tells him to “come out and show himself a crab.”  Of course no crab of spirit is going to receive an insult before his beloved and not resent it; with one painful quiver of his little legs, he sets the lady crab down, and then the two amorous lovers proceed to deadly combat.  Love strengthens the young crab’s heart.  Justice nerves his arm; and soon a lucky blow from the sharp claw pierces in a vital part the hardened sinner, who, with a gulp, gives up the contest and his life at once.

An exultant shout bubbles up in the water, and then the heroic defender of crabbed maidenhood leads his beloved to view the remains of this ravager of hard-shell rights.

They rejoice over the fallen adversary a while, and then, to make their happiness more complete, and to prosper his wooing, the victor invites his love to dine on the tender part of the victim.

The invitation is gladly accepted, and they enjoy a delicious meal, rendered doubly tasteful from the fact that they are feasting on an enemy.

The facts deduced from the above history prove that crabs have tastes and feelings just as mankind have.  They are gallant to their females; never engage in combat with the weaker sex; fight and kill each other when angry; love good eating, and are cannibalistic—­which last habit they may have learned from their ancestors of the Feejee Islands.

* * * * *

BAITED BREATH.—­That of the boy who had “wums fur bait” in his mouth.

* * * * *

OCTOBER JOTTINGS.

Attracted by the dulcet strains of a brass band, a day or two since, PUNCHINELLO ascended to the summit of the N.E. tower of his residence, looking from which he beheld a target company all with crimson shirts ablaze marching up the Bowery.  Then, glancing over towards Long Island, he observed that Nature was already assuming her russet robes, which circumstance, combined with that of the target company, reminded him that the shooting season had just commenced.  A few hints to young sportsmen, then, from so old a one as PUNCHINELLO, will not, be hopes, be taken amiss—­not even though, in shooting phrase, a miss is generally as good as a mile.