Sea Shells 
of New Zealand 
sculpture of the spire—which, by the way, is a technicality, 
poetical rather than prosaic, yet practical withal—recalls 
the classical drawing and wealth of architectural detail so 
dear to the lover of Grecian art. And for this “feast of 
reason and flow of soul” I tender my humble and devout 
thanks to one poor battered, uneven shell, a stone, as it 
were, rejected of the builders. Well may the words of 
the Lakeside bard recur to us:— 
“A primrose by the river’s brim 
A yellow primrose was to him, 
And it was nothing more.” 
Another unassuming little shell, ebony black in hue, calls 
up from memory’s deeps visions replete with elephants richly 
caparisoned, diamonds and rubies, sunshine, joy and radi- 
ance. Is not this all worth while? Are not life’s most 
precious gifts somewhere within our grasp? Some of us, 
mostly of maturer years, have travelled, maybe, a little 
nearer to the Delectable Mountains and have a clearer 
view of the peaks of that glorious range, but we none 
the less love to linger beside the track, and hold sweet 
converse with those who are nearest. And these are the 
pleasures of memory, with its association of ideas. 
To those too young to have stored up many years of 
memories there is always that joie-de-vivre which is the 
divine right of Youth, and we must see to it that they come 
to their rightful heritage. We must encourage in every 
way the faculty of seeing all that is good and beautiful 
in this best of all possible worlds; of hearing music in 
every sound, from the gentle lapping of the tide to the 
roaring of the surf, and not forgetting the words of the 
wisest of all wise men—‘A merry heart doeth good like a 
medicine.” 
Some captious critics tell us that our New Zealand 
shells are not to be compared to those from tropical waters; 
and, perhaps, in some respects they are right. A riot of 
colour and a tendency to the flamboyant appeal to some, 
while to others they are far too stimulating, not to say 
aggressive, in appearance, and a more subdued mode is 
to be preferred. But whatever shape, decoration, or colour 
scheme is displayed, there is always something to be ad- 
mired, even in the lowliest of shell-fish. There is no single 
species in all the seven seas but presents some superlative 
quality. It may be its highly-glazed or enamelled surface; 
its iridescent and pearly interior; the symmetry and detail 
of its sculpture; the solidity or delicate fragility of the 
shell; the dazzling white, or the intense black, that appeals. 
Everything is of the best, for Nature has no second grade, 
4 
