4 DEVONSHIRE LANES. 



leaves of the wake-robin, glossy and black-spotted, 

 and great tufts of the fetid iris, a rare plant elsewhere, 

 were springing up from all the ditches. Strange warm 

 damp lanes, so suited for lovers' evening walks, (not 

 exactly at this season to be sure) winding and turning 

 about, ever opening into some other lane, that again 

 presently into another, and all leading apparently 

 nowhere, — with the little birds hopping fearlessly 

 about the hedge-tops and the trees overhead, the robin 

 sweetly singing, the tiny gold-crest peeping into the 

 crevices of the ivy, the yellow hammer and the chaf- 

 finch in their gay plumage twittering almost within 

 reach of your hand ! And ever and anon we pass 

 some thatched cottage in the sheltered bottom, its 

 little garden in front trimly kept, and still bright with 

 the blossoms of the chrysanthemums, the trailing roses 

 over the porch displaying a lingering flower or two, 

 and the indispensable myrtle peeping in at the cham- 

 ber lattice ; while at one of the lower windows sits the 

 venerable dame in a snowy cap of ancient fashion, 

 with horn spectacles on her wrinkled but gentle face, 

 reading her large Bible. Early violets were beginning 

 to peep from their lowly retreats, and very soon we 

 found them in plenty, and the delicate pale yellow 

 primroses quickly bespangled every bank. 



It was in the midst of such rural scenes, and yet 

 within a quarter of an hour's walk of the boundless 

 sea, that I set myself down for a temporary sojourn. 

 I had brought with me a plain but good working 

 compound microscope, a small simple one, and a few 

 books essential to the littoral naturalist. Among 

 them were Cuvier's and Jones's Animal Kingdom, 



