A STROLL BY THE SEA.

The sea and the land are always at war. When you are at the seaside, with spade and bucket to make "castles" and "pies" of the sand, you can see and hear the battle.

A wave comes rolling smoothly on towards the shore. It reaches the land and can go no further, and then, with a roar and a crash and splash of sparkling foam, it breaks. It spreads into a sheet of foaming water, and, after rushing as far as it can up the beach, it seethes back as the next wave takes up the battle.

What a grinding and tearing, as wave after wave is hurled at the land! That is the battle-cry of the land and sea! Most of the pebbles and the sand on the beach have been won from the land in the great fight. We might call them the spoils of war. Once they formed part of the solid land, the rock or cliff. Now they are loose fragments spread for mile after mile round our coast.

Every wave takes them up and has fine fun with them. Pebbles and sand are picked up, swirled along, and thrown at the shore. They are sucked back as the wave is broken by the land. And then the following wave takes them, grinds them and scrubs them together. Thus they are jostled hither and thither, up and down the coast; and, as a result of the long, long fight, rocks and cliffs become pebbles, sand, or mud.

Now if you look at the pebbles on the shore you see that many of them are smooth and round. Some are as round as the "marbles" you play with. No wonder, for the mighty sea has scoured them with sand and rolled them for miles.

As you know, the sea is not always at the same height. It falls and rises. Twice in every day it ebbs and flows; we call this movement of the sea the tides. At low tide we can explore the very bed of the ocean. We can visit the homes of the living, breathing animals, which, at high tide, are hidden far under water. Between the high-water mark and low-water mark is our hunting-place. There we shall find the play-ground and feeding-ground of many a strange creature.

Here is a stretch of sand, with little channels of water; there is a patch of shingle mixed with numbers of tiny shells. The ebbing tide leaves shallow pools in every hollow of the beach, and these pools are often full of life.

Shrimps dart away and disappear in the sand as if by magic. Small fish and crabs hide from you as best they can. Helpless jelly-fish and starfish sprawl on the wet sand. What are those thin ropes of sand coiled up into little mounds? They remind us of "worm-casts." They are thrown up by a sand-worm, called "lug-worm" by the fisherman. He brings a spade and digs wherever he sees the sandy ropes of the "lug," for this worm makes good fishing bait.

Seagulls love to explore the shallow pools. You may see them walking solemnly about, picking up stray morsels. If you see a screaming group of them you can be sure that one has found an extra large prize, and the others mean to share the feast.

Let us walk down the beach towards the sea. Soon we find ourselves among rocks. Now these rocks are the bare bed of the shore, stripped of all covering. There is no mud, sand, or shingle, so here you see plainly the work done by the restless water. On every side you notice rocks worn to all shapes and sizes. Some jut out as sharp ledges. Others are flat tables, covered with a table-cloth of sea-plants. These clothe the rocks, or hang over the ledges like wet, shining green curtains. Nearly every rock has its crust of barnacles and clumps of mussels. If we are not careful we slip on the wet weeds, and get a ducking in the pools which lie everywhere among the rocks.

Here is the best place of all for sharp eyes to find the animals and plants we seek. Where the hard rock has been worn down into hollows, the falling tide leaves a pool of still, clear water. These rock-pools are the home of many a creature. So let us look for them, until the rising tide sweeps over the rocks once more, and drives us away.

Sea-anemones and seaweeds brighten the pool with their various colours. Pretty shells gleam here and there; and on the face of the rock there are more limpets, barnacles and mussels than we can count.

Where are the other living animals which we came to find? You will not see them unless you hunt for them in the right way. It is a game of "hide-and-seek." They are the "hiders"; and, as their lives often depend on their skill in hiding, you cannot wonder that they know every trick in the game.

There may be crabs, fish, shrimps, and others in the pool. If you look for a moment, and then walk to the next pool, your hunting will not have much result. It is best to lie down and wait patiently, gazing into the clear water of the pool. The little inhabitants are hidden in the dark corners under the rock ledges, or buried under stones and sand; or they may be hiding in those thick clumps of mussels--a favourite lurking-place; or else tucked away in the friendly shelter of the seaweed.

Knowing their dodges, you will soon become clever at finding them. Some seaside dwellers, such as prawns, are almost transparent in the water. Others, like baby crabs, are green or brown like the weed in which they hide. Even the sharp eyes of the seagulls must be deceived by this trick.

What a strange life they lead, these creatures of the shore! At times they are deep under water, and they form part of the teeming life of the ocean floor.

Then the tide falls and uncovers them. They are in the full light of day again, the sun shines on them. Most of them cannot escape to the sea, and so must face the enemies which prowl along the shore looking for prey. So, from one tide to the next, the rock-pool is like a prison containing prisoners of the strangest sort.