Even in the light of an amusement, the author has something to say in behalf of his favourite study. He believes it to be as interesting, and fully as instructive as many infinitely more popular. For example: The sportsman may love to hear the whirr of the startled pheasant, as it springs from the meadow, and seeks safety in an adjoining thicket. I am as much pleased with the rustling of a simple crab, that runs for shelter, at my approach, into a rocky crevice, or beneath a boulder, shaggy with corallines and sea-weed. He, too, while walking down some rural lane, may love to see a blackbird hastily woo the privacy of a hawthorn bush, or a frightened hare limp across his path, and strive to hide among the poppies in the corn-field; I am equally gratified with the sight of a simple razor-fish sinking into the sand, or with the flash of a silver-bodied fish darting across a rock-pool. Nay, even the trembling lark that mounts upwards as my shadow falls upon its nest among the clover, is not a more pleasant object to my eye, than the crustaceous hermit, who rushes within his borrowed dwelling at the sound of footsteps. In fact, the latter considerably more excites my kindly sympathies, from its mysterious curse of helplessness. It cannot run from danger, but can only hide itself within its shelly burden, and trust to chance for protection. Neither the botanist nor the florist do I envy. The latter may love to gather the 'early flowrets of the year,' or pluck an opening rose-bud, but, although very beautiful, his treasures are ephemeral compared with mine. 'Lilies that fester, smell far worse than weeds.' But I can gather many simple ocean flowers, or weeds that-- 'Look like flowers beneath the flattering brine,' whose prettily tinted fronds will 'grow, bloom, and luxuriate' for months upon my table. They do not want careful planting, or close attention, or even-- 'Like their earthly sisters, pine for drought,' but are strong and hardy, like the pretty wild flowers that adorn our fields and hedge-rows. In the pages of an album, I can, if so disposed, feast my eyes for years upon their graceful forms, whilst their colours will remain as bright as when first transplanted from their native haunts by the sea-shore. The entomologist delights to stroll in the forest and the field, to hear the pleasant chirp of the cricket in the bladed grass, to watch the honey people bustling down in the blue bells, or even to net the butterfly as it settles on the sweet pea-blossom, while I am content to ramble along the beach, and watch the ebb and flow of the restless sea-- 'So fearful in its spleeny humours bent, So lovely in repose--' or search for nature's treasures among the weed-clad rocks left bare by the receding tide.