RAZOR-FISH. 253 



approach the edge of the sands, in order to see what 

 those two men are so busy about, as they trudge 

 along the water-line with stooping backs and down- 

 ward gaze. Oh I they are fishermen taking solens, or 

 razor-fish, as they call them. Each carries a light, 

 narrow, but deep spade in his hand, and, as he marks 

 a little jet of clear water that spirts upward from a 

 small hole in the sand, he rapidly thrusts in his 

 instrument, and adroitly jerks out his prey. It is 

 that mollusc, whose long parallel-sided, convex, bi-< 

 valve shell, something like the handle of an old- 

 fashioned razor, is so common on every sandy beach, 

 but which is more rarely seen alive. Here we see the 

 poor creature so unceremoniously brought to light, 

 much too big for its valves to contain, its pellucid 

 body shrinking and quivering, its long white foot, 

 like a finger cut off slantwise, and its siphons still 

 contracting, and discharging the limpid water in great 

 rapidly successive drops. The man scarcely deigns it 

 a glance, thinks nought of its curious structure, cares 

 only for the halfpence it will bring him in the fish- 

 market, jerks it into his basket, and watches for the 

 next jet of water with which the frightened and re- 

 tiring mollusc shall betray its place of retreat. 



We quicken our steps to atone for this momentary 

 delay, for time is precious, and the tide has not long 

 to run ; and time and tide wait for no man. Now we 

 approach the wilderness of boulders that fringe the 

 cliff-foot, huge masses of the coarse red conglomerate, 

 that the combined action of successive winters and 



