with this good counsel, that we should haul up a point or two, and have a scrape on the zostera beds that cover many acres of shallow water in the bight off Preston Valley. But let me introduce my man to you.—A clever fellow is Jone, and though only bred as a fisherman, he is quite an amateur naturalist. There is nobody else in Weymouth harbour that knows any thing about dredging (I have it from his own lips, so you may rely on it); but he is familiar with the feel of almost every yard of bottom from Whitenose to Church-Hope, and from Saint Aldham's Head to the Bill. He follows dredging with all the zest of a savant; and it is amusing really to hear how he pours you forth the crackjaw, the sesquipedalian nomenclature. "Now, Sir, if you do want a Gastrochœna, I can just put down your dredge upon a lot of 'em; we'll bring up three and four in a stone." "I'm in hopes we shall have a good Cribella or two off this bank, if we don't get choked up with them 'ere Ophiocomas." He tells me in confidence that he has been sore puzzled to find a name for his boat, but he has at length determined to appellate her "The Turritella," "just to astonish the fishermen, you know, Sir,"—with an accompanying wink and chuckle, and a patronising nudge in my ribs. Jone is a proud man when he gets a real savant alone in his boat; and he talks with delight of the feats he has achieved in the dredging line for Mr. Bowerbank, Mr. Hanley, and Professor Forbes. I will say, I found him no vain boaster, but able to perform his professions; and can heartily recommend him to any brother naturalist who may desire to
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JONAH FOWLER.