250 AN HOUR AMONG THE TORBAY SPONGES, 



ing in April, one calmly lays aside study, correspond- 

 ence, work of all sorts, and resolutely says, " Stay you 

 till to-morrow ; to-day I go hunting ! " Winter is 

 over and gone ; at least we persuade ourselves that it 

 is : the day has opened in cloudless glory. " Will it 

 last ?" some one endowed with the bump of cautious- 

 ness asks. " Of course it will, for are not we going 

 anemone-hunting?" However, to make all sure, we 

 can put umbrellas and shawls and cloaks into the 

 carriage. The worms and molluscs will have come 

 into the shallows by this time, after the winter, for 

 the depositing of their spawn ; and will be sure to be 

 found under the stones and in the crannies. The 

 tide, too, will be of unusual excellence ; it is the full 

 moon after the equinox, the very best spring-tide of 

 the half-year. We may expect an immense reach of 

 coast to be laid bare soon after the sun begins to 

 decline from the meridian. The wind is off-shore, 

 and has been so for some time ; so that there will be 

 no sea running, and we may explore to the very verge 

 of low-water. Everything is propitious : why do we 

 tarry ? We do not tarry, for the carriage is ready, 

 and we bundle in, the whole household, all intent on 

 a day's hilarity ; 



" All agog, 

 To dash through thick and thin." 



But what need of a carriage, seeing I reside at 

 Marychurch, with a capital shore, varied with cove 

 and headland and cliff, with sand and shingle and 

 boulders and rocky ledges all round me, approached at 



