Thus an opportunity of close and valuable familiarity with
sea-productions is open to multitudes who have never seen the broad
expanse of ocean, nor searched its prolific shores; and facilities for
extending the bounds of zoological science are everywhere enjoyed,
which till lately were restricted to a very few naturalists, whose
residences were situated on certain favourable spots upon the coast.
Yet both modes of investigation are necessary. He who has never seen
marine animals except in the confinement of an aquarium, cannot but be
conscious of many chasms in his knowledge, which are filled up by him
who is in the habit of collecting his own specimens in their proper
haunts; and who, by finding them _in ferâ naturâ_, can, when he studies
them at leisure in his tanks, make such allowances as are necessary
for the variations in habit which may be dependent on the difference
between their present artificial, and their original natural,
conditions of existence.
While we rejoice then in tanks and vases of crystal water, filled with
the lovely forms and brilliant hues of sea-weeds and sea-anemones, I
invite my readers to accompany me on a few hours’ visit to the charming
creatures at their own homes. The season is propitious; the sun
has just passed the vernal equinox, and the genial warmth of spring
is diffusing new life into the cold blood of the animals that dwell
beneath the waters; the equinoctial storms that lately raged have
blown themselves out, and are succeeded by a quietude whose effect
is delightfully seen in yonder mirror-like ocean: it is the time of
spring-tide; and the near approach of the hour of lowest water will
afford us unusual facilities for finding species only to be invaded
under such conditions.
Let us then scramble down to the beautiful Anstey’s Cove, along the
steep path tangled with briers and ferns; where the swelling buds of
the hawthorn and honeysuckle are already bursting, while the blackbird
mellowly whistles in the fast-greening thicket, and the lark joyously
greets the mounting sun above us. Yonder on the shingle lies a boat,
newly painted in white and green, for the attraction of young ladies
of maritime aspirations; she is hauled up high and dry; but the sinewy
arms of honest Harry Bate, who hearing footsteps has come out of his
little grotto under the rock to reconnoitre, will soon drag her down
to the rippling waves, and, “for the small sum of a shilling an hour,”
will pull us over the smooth and pond-like sea, whithersoever we may
choose to direct him.
“Jump aboard, please, Sir! Jump in, ladies! jump in, little master!”
And now, as we take our seats on the clean canvas cushions astern, the
boat’s bottom scrapes along with a harsh grating noise over the white
shingle-pebbles, and we are afloat.