Excerpt from The Land and Fresh Water Shells of the British Isles: With Illustrations of All the Species
ON several occasions I have been taken, or (as I would fain hope) mistaken, for a lunatic. On the last occa sion I had wandered forth with the twofold object of escaping for a time from the din and turmoil of our British Babylon, and of enjoying a ramble in search of shells.
Pursuing a path that led across some meadows, I came upon a little band of working men, who, seated under a hedge, were spending their Saturday afternoon holiday in the full enjoyment of the fragrant weed, and of an occasional pull at a soda-water bottle containing a liquid not unlike water in colour, and very like Old Tom in fragrance.
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