But we, who are in search of the picturesque should be the very last to lament the fact, and we may even join in the sentiment of the Maire of Granville, and be ‘thankful’ that the great highways of France are under the control of a careful Government; and that her valleys are not (as in England) strewn with the wrecks of abandoned railways—­ruins which, by some strange fatality, never look picturesque.

Granville is a favourite place of residence, and a great resort for bathing in the summer; although the ‘Etablissement’ is second-rate, and the accommodation is not equal to that of many smaller watering-places of France.  It is, however, a pleasant and favourable spot in which to study the manners and customs of a sea-faring people:  and besides the active human creatures which surround us, we—­who settle down for a season, and spend our time on the sands and on the dark rocks which guard this iron-bound coast—­soon become conscious of the presence of another vast, active, striving, but more silent community on the sea-shore, digging and delving, sporting and swimming, preying upon themselves and each other, and enjoying intensely the luxury of living.

If we, nous autres, who dwell upon the land and prey upon each other according to our opportunities, will go down to the shore when the tide is out, and ramble about in the—­

  ‘Rosy gardens revealed by low tides,’

we may make acquaintance with a vast Lilliput community; we may learn some surprising lessons in natural history, and read sermons in shells.  But, amidst this most interesting and curious congregation of fishes—­a concourse of crabs, lobsters, eels in holes, limpets on the rocks, and a hundred other inhabitants of the sea, in every form of activity around us—­we must not forget, in our enthusiasm for these things, the treacherous tides on this coast, and the great Atlantic waves, that will suddenly overwhelm the flat shore, and cut off retreat from those who are fishing on the rocks.

This happens so often, and is so full of danger to those unacquainted with the coast, that we may do good service by relating again, an adventure which happened to the late Campbell of Islay and a friend, who were nearly drowned near Granville.  They had been absorbed in examining the rocks at some distance from the shore, and in collecting the numerous marine plants which abound in their crevices; when suddenly one of the party called out—­

‘Mercy on us!  I forgot the tide, and here it comes.’

Turning towards the sea they saw a stream of water running at a rapid pace across the sands.  They quickly began to descend the rocks, but before they could reach the ground ’the sand was in stripes, and the water in sheets.’  They then ran for the shore, but before they had proceeded far, they were met by one of the fisher-girls, who had seen their danger from the shore, and hastened to turn them back, calling to them—­