LITERARY WORK IN DEVONSHIRE. 287 



seaward surface of mimic cliffs, would begin. Protected by 

 his tall boots, my father would step into mid-seas, and, 

 stooping under a dripping wall of seaweeds, would search 

 beneath the alga for such little glossy points of colour as 

 revealed interesting forms to his practised eye. If these 

 would not come away under the persuasion of the fingers, 

 he would shout to me, as guardian of the basket, to hand 

 over to him the hammer and the cold chisel, and a few 

 skilful blows would bring away the fragment of rock, with 

 its atoms of animated jelly adhering to it, uninjured and 

 almost unruffled, to be popped immediately into one or 

 other of the jars, according to his decision. This would 

 go on until, with splashings from below, the result of 

 eager pursuit of objects seen almost out of reach, and 

 drippings from above, caused by the briny rain from the 

 shaken curtains of the seaweeds, he would be drenched 

 almost to the skin ; and then, by a violent revulsion, he 

 would seize the net, and sally forth, wading, on to the 

 shallow waters of the sands, skimming the surface for 

 medusae, small fishes, and such other tender flotsam as 

 might come within his reach. Two or three hours of all 

 this fatigue were commonly as much as he could bear, and 

 so much energy did he throw into the business that he 

 would often turn away at last, not satisfied, but exhausted 

 almost to extinction. 



Even as a little child I was conscious that my father's 

 appearance on these excursions was eccentric. He had 

 a penchant for an enormous felt hat, which had once 

 been black, but was now grey and rusty with age and 

 salt. For some reason or other, he seldom could be 

 persuaded to wear clothes of such a light colour and 

 material as other sportsmen affect Black broadcloth, 

 reduced to an extreme seediness, and cut in ancient 

 forms, was the favourite attire for the shore, and after 



