“I was vexed at this, for both came several times within easy shot. All my hopes of procuring the birds being at an end, I then proceeded to view the object in the water round which the birds were hovering, and I was surprised to find it to be the carcase of an animal of a very singular appearance. It was not until I had looked at it for some time that I could bring my memory to bear upon it. I then thought, and I have since been fully confirmed in the opinion, that I discovered in it a specimen, or rather the putrid remains, of the Spinous Shark. It wanted the head, which had been broken off by the fish having been dashed against the rocks by the waves. The tail was also broken off, but still hung by a filament to the body. In shape it somewhat resembled the tail of the common dog-fish, but there evidently had been two fins on the back, nearer to the posterior than the anterior portion of the animal, though these had been broken or rubbed off. The skin, which was of a dark blue colour, and had a leathery appearance, was thickly beset with curved thorns or spines (whence the animal’s name), nearly all of which were more or less damaged. I know of nothing that I could liken these thorns or spikes to, but the thorns or spikes which may be seen on the stem of an old rose bush,—with this exception, that the spikes of the fish are larger. From its position in the water, though close to the rocks, I could not make out its girth in any part whatever; but, from where the head had joined the body to the tip of the tail, it was about two yards in length. Having fully satisfied myself that the present specimen, from its decomposed state and the holes perforated in it by the gulls, was beyond the state for preservation, I again left it, that the impatient birds might once more descend and recommence their banquet.
RETURNS HOME.
“I now wished to get to a sandy beach, at some distance to my left, known as Greenside, from which I knew that a path led to the top of the cliff. On my way thither, I met with a very serious obstacle in the form of a huge rock, whose base extended into the sea; and, as a matter of course, as I could not get round it, I required to get over it. I was then far from being in a condition to climb a rock. However, I had no alternative. The tide, then about to come in, would have shown me no mercy. Accordingly, my gun was once more on my back, and on hands and knees, for feet here were of no use, and with the aid of my mouth, I succeeded in crawling over, and, with some further difficulty, I contrived to reach Greenside. Instead of holding on to Gardenstown, I turned my face towards home, where I arrived betwixt five and six in the evening,—with the impression of the last day of 1850 so deeply stamped upon my body and mind, that it will not easily, if ever, be obliterated from either.”
CHAPTER XII.
RAMBLES AMONGST BIRDS.
The Reverend Mr. Smith must have felt surprised at the graphic manner in which Edward described the birds of the district. The truth is, that Edward, though he had acquired his principal knowledge from observation, had also learnt something from books. Mr. Smith had lent him such books as he had in his library, and also referred him to the articles on Natural History in the Penny Cyclopedia. Although Edward did not accept his friend’s advice as to the study of grammar, yet he learnt enough for his purpose. It is not so much by recollecting the rules of grammar that one learns to write, as by the careful reading of well-written books. After that, grammar comes, as it were, by nature. Besides, if a man feels keenly, he will be sure to write vividly. This was precisely Edward’s position.
Mr. Smith thought it unfortunate that Edward’s contributions to Natural History should be confined to the local newspaper. He asked permission to send an account of his observations to a scientific journal. Edward expressed his fears lest his contributions might not be found worthy of notice. He was always shy and modest: perhaps he was too modest. There are cases in which shyness is almost a misfortune. A man may know much; but, because of his shyness, he declines to communicate his information to others. He hides his secret, and nobody is the wiser for his knowledge. He is too bashful. He avoids those who might be friendly to him, and who might help him. Edward often stood in his own light in this way.
OBSERVATIONS PUBLISHED.
Mr. Smith, however, persevered. He obtained from Edward some notes of his observations, and after correcting them, he offered to send them to the Zoologist, and publish them under his own name. “I have no doubt,” he said, “that the articles would be acceptable to the editor; but, if you do not approve of this plan, I hope you will not for a moment allow me to interfere with you. At all events, I trust that you will have no objection to let the information be known to a much wider circle of readers, and especially of zoologists, than are likely to consult the pages of the Banffshire Journal.”