If we, _nous autres_, who dwell upon the land and prey upon each other
according to our opportunities, will go down to the shore when the tide
is out, and ramble about in the--
'Rosy gardens revealed by low tides,'
we may make acquaintance with a vast Lilliput community; we may learn
some surprising lessons in natural history, and read sermons in shells.
But, amidst this most interesting and curious congregation of fishes--a
concourse of crabs, lobsters, eels in holes, limpets on the rocks, and a
hundred other inhabitants of the sea, in every form of activity around
us--we must not forget, in our enthusiasm for these things, the
treacherous tides on this coast, and the great Atlantic waves, that
will suddenly overwhelm the flat shore, and cut off retreat from those
who are fishing on the rocks.
This happens so often, and is so full of danger to those unacquainted
with the coast, that we may do good service by relating again, an
adventure which happened to the late Campbell of Islay and a friend, who
were nearly drowned near Granville. They had been absorbed in examining
the rocks at some distance from the shore, and in collecting the
numerous marine plants which abound in their crevices; when suddenly one
of the party called out--
'Mercy on us! I forgot the tide, and here it comes.'
Turning towards the sea they saw a stream of water running at a rapid
pace across the sands.
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