ON THE KOCK-POOLS OF JOPPA. 165 



One has only to bend down, and peep into the 

 smallest rock-pool, that mimic ocean at his feet, to 

 behold fresh wonders, to which no pen can ever do 

 sufficient justice. Besides the obvious beauty that 

 results from the mirroring of every passing cloudlet 

 on its face, see the host of Serpula plumes that 

 vanish whenever the sky looks frowningly upon them, 

 and again bashfully unveil themselves when all is 

 clear in the deep blue of heaven. Note the pink and 

 purple corallines, and the variegated algae, that cling 

 around, fixing their stems upon its marge, and 

 bending forward, spread their bannered fronds, like 

 silken streamers. Or, again, keep your eye fixed on 

 this little time-worn cavity. Small and insignificant 

 though it appear to the heedless passer by, it con- 

 tains a combination of wonders that no mind could 

 more conceive than hands could execute. Well, in- 

 deed, may the poet ask, 



" Who can paint 



Like nature? Can imagination boast, 

 Amid its gay creation, hues like hers 1 

 Or can it mix them with that matchless skill 

 And lose them in each other, as appears 

 In every bud that blows ] " 



Yet, withal, how few persons are able to appre- 

 ciate or to enjoy these treasures that encompass 

 them at every step. It is not enough that such 

 wonders exist, nay, are so prodigally scattered that 

 little trouble and no expense are incurred in observ- 



