Observe, then the peculiar way in which the outer crust of an old pebble is worn, as compared with that of one which has newly descended upon the beach. This crust or cuticle is highly suggestive, if you can once come to understand it; and as a hopeful indication of progress, you may safely assume that you _do_ understand it, when you find that you can obtain pebbles such as nine persons out of ten somehow never “have the luck” to meet with. Sometimes a stone has parted with its original coating, and has donned another: and this operation may either be complete, or still _in fieri_. In the latter case, there will always be some token; either by the substance not lying evenly, or by a change in the colour of the second envelope, which becomes apparent on chipping off a fragment from its surface. Lose no opportunity of perfecting your judgment upon any form or texture that comes in your way: for upon this will really depend what sort of collection you shall win from the bosom of the coy beach. Nothing is easier, on an average coast, than to pick up a score of showy-looking but inferior stones. Few things will be found more difficult than to bring home, as the fruit of your morning’s walk, two or three valuable specimens. And the cause of this lies not at all in luck, nor altogether in mere labour; for in all departments there are dunces who will still drudge hard. It lies in the presence or absence of sound information on the subject. A good rule is, even early in your apprenticeship, to eschew trumpery. But beware of hasty conclusions. Some collectors will take nothing away with them from the beach which they do not feel quite sure about. This is shallow practice, for it assumes an amount of discernment which nobody possesses. I can see as far into a stone wall in this sense as most people; but I rather like to carry off occasionally an odd-looking stone which, like Bassanio’s happy casket, “rather threatens than doth promise aught.” Such a pebble may turn out a prize. The things which every one should reject without hesitation are those whose character is evident, and with it their little worth. Mediocrity in pebbles is insufferable. Do not assume that the _wet_ portion of a beach necessarily yields the best chances. Many pebble-hunters never get over this early delusion. On a coast which is rarely trodden, the upper range contains the richest store. And in every case, the tide runs twice in the twenty-four hours over banks which now look dry and dusty, as well as over that narrow strip which you see glistening with saline moisture. And while you cannot fail to remark a pellucid stone or fossil which is sprinkled by the wave, if your attention is caught by anything lying high and dry, the latter is probably worth stooping for. Walk rapidly over a poor, unproductive beach; but take your time and make good use of your eyes when you find you are in the land of plenty.