BUILDERS IN THE SAND. 



Away in Devonshire, and stretching from Dawlish 

 towards Exeter, is such another sandy beach as that 

 which lies before us this winter morning. Only, 

 the Devonshire coast wants that background of pines 

 that stands out so prominently against the light 

 brown of the sand. But for the funereal setting of 

 its firs and pines, and for the hills of Fife in the 

 foreground, the Dawlish prospect might be regarded 

 as being closely imitated on these northern shores. 



We descend from the shelly ridge towards the 

 lower confines of the beach. In a moment or two, 

 we find ourselves amid the damp 

 sand which, cut into miniature 

 valleys by the rills from the land, 

 betokens the recent ebb of the 

 sea. As we walk over the yield- 

 ing sand we see the burrows of 

 the Solens or " razor-shells," whose 

 cast-off products litter the shore 

 at the high-water line. Your 

 "razor-shell" is a skilful bur- 

 rower, and by means of his fleshy 

 foot contrives to mine swiftly and 

 effectively below the surface of 

 the sand, so that pursuit and 

 capture, save by means of the 

 fisherman's iron hook, is a sheer 

 impossibility. 



As we traverse the beach nearer 

 still to the sea, we notice the 

 debris thrown out by the worms, 

 which after airing themselves amid 

 the waves when the tide is in, turn tail and tunnel 

 downwards. They are, in reality, living tunnel- 



Teiebella and its tube. 



