One of the shrimps (GONODACTYLUS CHIRAGRA) in my experience found only far out on the reef at dead low-water winter spring-tides, might be taken as a display collection in miniature of those gems of purest ray serene which the dark unfathomed caves of ocean bear.  The emerald-green tail is fringed with transparent golden lace; the malachite body has the sheen of gold; the chief legs are of emerald with ruby joints, and silvery claws; the minor as of amber, while over all is a general sheen of ornamentation of points and blotches of sapphire blue.  Long white antennae, delicate and opaque, spring from the head.  The decorative hues are not laid on flat, but are coarsely powdered and sprinkled as in the case of one of the rarest of Brazilian butterflies, and they live.  Picture a moss-rose with the “moss” all the colours of the rainbow, on which the light plays and sparkles, and you have an idea of the effect of the jewellery of this lustrous crustacean.  Yet it is not for human admiration.  Its glints speedily dim in the air.  To be gobbled up by some hungry fish is the ordinary fate of the species.  Possibly splendour is bestowed upon the shrimp as a means by which certain fish distinguish a particularly choice dainty, and the fish show the very acme of admiration by “wolfing” it.  Thus are the examples of high art in Nature remorselessly lavished.

Quite distinct is the unconscious genius which now demands brief reference to its perfections.  Though a brilliant example of the employment of unattractive deceptive features, it has no individual comeliness—­not an atom of grace, no style of its own.  Every feature, attitude and movement is subordinate to the part it plays.  Death being the penalty, it may not blunder.  Behold, among acres of similar growth, a trivial collection of rough, short weeds of the sea—­grey, green and mud-coloured.  This microcosm glides and stops.  The movement is barely perceptible; the intervals of rest long and frequent.  An untimely slide as the chance gaze of the observer is directed to the spot, betrays that here is the centre of independent life and motive.  The dwarf, unkempt weeds cloak a meek, weak, shrinking crab, whose frail claws and tufted legs are breeched with muddy moss, and whose oddly-shaped body is obscured by parasitic vegetation and realistic counterfeits thereof.  Inspection, however critical, makes no satisfactory definition between the real and the artificial algae, so perfectly do the details of the moving marine garden blend with the fringes and fur of the animal’s rugged and misshapen figure and deformed limbs.  As an artistic finish to a marvellous piece of mummery, in one of the crude green claws is carried a fragment of coral, green with the mould of the sea.  It and the claw are indistinguishable until, in the faintest spasm of fright, the crab abandons the coral, and shrinking within itself becomes inanimate—­as steadfast a patch of weeds as any other of the reef.  Recovering slowly from its fright, and conscious of the necessity for each detail of its equipment and insignia, the lowly crustacean timidly re-grips the coral, and holding it aloft, glides discreetly on its way, invisible when stationary, most difficult to detect when it moves.