“I will not promise never to lose anything again,” said she; “but, if you will but forgive me, mamma, I will never again be inattentive to your advice.” Mrs. Merton kissed her; and, telling her that was all that could be expected of a child of her age, proposed a walk to the beach. Agnes gladly complied; and the good-natured landlady seemed quite pleased when Mrs. Merton inquired what road they were to take, to see that the poor little culprit had been forgiven. In compliance with the directions they had received, they walked first up a short lane, till they came to an open shop dignified by the name of a bazaar, opposite to which was another lane which led down a steep hill to the beach. “What a dreadful hill!” cried Agnes; “how shall we ever get up it again? Do look, mamma, at those horses, how they are striving to drag that cart up the hill; and yet it cannot be very heavy, for it is full of nothing but sea-weed. What can they be going to do with so much sea-weed?” “Have you forgotten that I told you sea-weed is often used as manure?” “I had forgotten it, I declare. It seems such a strange thing to use as manure. But look, mamma, what a fine view we have of the sea here? and yet how high we still are above it.” The descent now became more rapid; and Agnes ran down the remainder of the road, which, after various windings, at last conducted them to the beach. When they reached it, and looked back at the cliffs, they found the scene very striking. A long, almost perpendicular line of rocks spread along, as far as they could see, occasionally jutting out almost to the sea, and then falling back in deep bays. The face of the cliff was of a pale brown, or yellow ochre colour, streaked with a deeper or red shade. After looking around for a few minutes, Agnes cried, “mamma, do you remember that scene in the Antiquary, where Isabella and her father are surprised by the coming in of the tide, and in great danger of being drowned? I think it must have been in such a place as this.” Mrs. Merton was about to reply, when Agnes’s attention was attracted by some curious-looking wicker-work cages which lay in a heap at the end of the terrace on which they had been walking. “What can these be?” cried she. A boy who was lying beside them, and tying them together with pieces of string, looked up in her face, without disturbing himself, and answered, “they are lobster-pots.” “Pots!” repeated Agnes: “I think they are more like baskets than pots. And why are these snails put in them?” “They are the bait,” said the boy, without even looking at her this time. “Do look, mamma,” said Agnes, “what enormous snails! And here is a large flat snail like that Susan found for me in the kitchen, only it is such a great deal larger.” [Illustration: _Fig. 17._ THE HORNY SNAIL (_Planorbis corneus_). ]