Knowing from observation that many marine objects are cast on shore at the rising of each tide, especially when the weather is stormy, Edward walked along the margin of the incoming wave, ready to pick up anything that might be driven ashore. Sometimes he would observe some object in the water—a fish or a shrimp of some unusual kind—which he desired to capture. He followed it into the sea with a piece of gauze tied on a small hoop; and fished for it until he had caught it. He discovered many new objects in this way.

It is almost incredible what may be got along the sea-margin, by carefully searching the incoming wave. This, however, required unwearied assiduity. Edward discovered many of his rarest insects amongst those driven ashore by the wind. It was thus that he obtained most of his rare Crustaceans. He himself had no doubt, that, had his health been prolonged, he would have discovered many more.

Besides these methods for collecting marine objects, he found that tangle roots were a special hiding-place for many species that were beyond the power of the dredge, and that never entered the traps set by him along shore. They were not, however, beyond the power of the elements. But for the tempest, that tears them from the rocks, and dashes them on shore, such objects would never have been found. Whenever a storm occurred in the Moray Firth, Edward immediately went out, collected the tangle which had been driven in, cut off as many roots as he could carry with him, and carefully examined them at home.

He was also greatly helped by the fishes themselves, as well as by the fishermen. It is true that he had no dredge and no boat. But big fish were themselves the best of all dredgers. They fed far out at sea, at a depth where the dredge could scarcely reach. The fishermen caught them, and brought them into port, full of what they had swallowed. Edward therefore endeavoured to obtain the contents of their stomachs. For this purpose he sent some of his daughters to the neighbouring fishing villages. They went to Macduff and Whitehills twice a week, and to the Banff fishermen daily. The object of their visits was, to search the fishermen’s lines, to bring away the sea-weed and all the stuff that was attached to them, and to secure as many of the fish stomachs as they could find. One of his daughters was sent to Gardenstown, where she lived with a friend. From thence, she sent home her collection of fish stomachs twice a week by the carrier. All this rubbish (as most people called it) was carefully examined by Edward. From these searchings he obtained most of his rarest crustaceans. “It is quite wonderful,” he says, “what is to be got in this way. Indeed, no one would believe it who has not made the experiment.”

Take, for instance, the Cod’s bill of fare. “It is to the stomach of this species,” says Edward, “that I am most indebted for many of the rarest of the testaceous and crustaceous specimens that I possess. I will only mention what I have myself seen: crabs and lobsters of almost every description (except Homarus vulgaris, which I have never yet found), from the prickly Stone Crab (Lithodes maia) up to the hard Parten (Cancer pagurus), and the larger the better. Shells of every sort, particularly Fusus antiquus and Buccinium Undatum; no matter whether inhabited by their original possessor, or by a hermit in the form of a Pagurus,—it is no obstacle to the voracious Cod. Shrimps, fish-lice, sea-mice (Aphrodita aculeata), sea-urchins, with now and then a starfish; ‘Dead Men’s Paps,’ as they are called here (Alcyonium), and Actinias—no matter what they may be attached to, whether a shell or a stone,[44] provided these are not themselves fixtures,—all are gulped by this most unceremonious fish. The eggs, capsules, or purses of the Dog-fish (Scyllium) and the Skate, with the roe and the ova of other species, particularly when deposited on seaweed; the Algæ and the Zoophytes also walk down the Cod’s gullet, so that nothing may be lost. As for the Holothuridæ or Sea-cucumbers, few if any of them escape. Now and then fragments of the Medusæ are swallowed; feathers, with the remains of sea-fowl; and, on one occasion, the skeleton of a partridge, with the wings, feet, legs, and head adhering. Pieces of pewter and of cloth occasionally; and once a cluster of beech-nuts, with part of a domestic fowl. As for fish!—why, the fish does not swim that the Cod, when hungry, will not attack, and, if successful, swallow. In short, nothing seems to come amiss. But this outline of the Cod’s bill of fare does not include all that the animal preys upon and devours. It is enough, however, to show its epicurean propensities. The Cod is extensively fished for along this part of the coast, and may be termed the poor man’s salmon. Great numbers are salted and dried, and in that state are sent to the southern markets. The Haddock, like the Cod, is extensively taken, and largely cured and forwarded south. Like the Cod, the stomach of this species is also a rich mine for the Naturalist, as the reader may already have anticipated from the foregoing list.”[45]

In order to obtain all these products of the sea, Edward went round among the fishermen from Crovie to Portsoy, and pressed them to help him in his researches. He told them that many an object of great interest to Naturalists was daily thrown away. Though it might be of no use to them, it might prove of great use to science. “Oh!” said the fishermen, “we canna tell what the fellow wants: we get so muckle trash upon our lines. Are we to keep it all?”

“Yes,” replied Edward, “keep it all. Lay it carefully aside, and I or my daughters will call for it.” A few of the fishermen did what Edward told them to do; but the others “couldna be fashed.”

Edward published his advice to the fishermen in the Banffshire Journal. “How little trouble,” he said, “would it be for any fisherman who might find a rare fish, crab, shell, or zoophyte, or such like object attached to his lines, to get it examined and named, so that its occurrence might be recorded. This could be done, and then he could, if so minded, dispose of it to the best advantage. Or what great ‘fash’ could it be for them to keep the cleanings of their lines for a like scientific purpose?

“It is quite astonishing what amazing numbers of minute creatures are at times to be found amongst the refuse of only one boat’s lines. No one would believe it, except those who are in the habit of carefully examining such things. The ocean is, as it were, one vast and boundless expanse of life, and the inhabitants thereof about as numberless as the sands by the sea-shore. I have myself, and that too under the most disadvantageous circumstances, picked off from a dead valve of Cyprina Islandica nine distinct species of shells, three different kinds of starfish, and five separate sorts of zoophytes, besides worms and a number of other parasitical animals. Yet this is nothing to what is at times to be met with; and yet such things are, I may say, all but universally thrown away for no other or better purpose than that of being trod upon and destroyed. I will now, in order to show the truthfulness of my statement, enumerate a few of the objects which have thus been cast aside by those who had brought them on shore, but which were again picked up by my gleaners, and thereby redeemed, as it were, for a time from destruction, by being deposited in my collection:—Anomia patelliformis, Circe minuta, Venus casina, Venus fasciata, Tellina proxima, Tellina crassa, Mangelia linearis, Pentunculus glycimeris, Psammobia tellinella, Astarte compressa, Corbula nucleus, Emarginula reticulata, Thracia villiosulca, Chiton lævis, etc. etc.

“Now, I don’t say that these are all new species, but I say that they are amongst the rarest of our shells. The two first named are, if I mistake not, new, not only to us, but new to this northern part of the island. In works on Conchology, no mention is made of either having been previously found on the shores of the Moray Firth, although they are not unfrequent on other parts of the British coast.”

The fishermen of Macduff helped him greatly. Amongst the rare fishes caught by them were the Sandsucker (Platessa limandoides); the Small Spotted Dog-fish (Scyllium canicula); the Blue-striped Wrasse (Labrus variegatus), a very rare fish; a specimen of the Cuttle-fish (Loligo vulgaris), the length of which was four feet, with a splendid Gladius of above fifteen inches long. In enumerating these fishes brought to him by the fishermen of Macduff, Edward asked, “What are our own Banff fishermen and those of Whitehills about, that they never bring in any rare objects of this sort? Do they never get anything attached to their lines worthy of notice—worthy of a place in a Naturalist’s cabinet, or in a corner of the Museum? Why won’t they help us? Just because of their want of Will. They, like many more, go about in what might be termed a state of daylight somnambulism; that is, with eyes and ears both open, and yet they neither see nor hear of any of these things.”

Edward’s appeal was at length responded to. The fishermen began to collect things for him, and they allowed his girls to strip their nets of “the rubbish” they contained. One evening some unknown fisherman sent him a present of a Saury Pike (Scomberesox saurius). Edward’s family were surprised at hearing some person, very heavily shod, ascending the stairs. One said it was a horse and cart; another said it was the Rooshians. The door was suddenly opened and flung bang against the wall, when in rushed—neither the horse and cart nor the Rooshians,—but a little urchin, out of breath, with his mouth wide open. There he stood, staring bewildered round the room; but with a fish of a silvery hue dangling from his hand. After he had regained his breath he roared out, “Is Tam in?” “No.” “’Cause I ha’e a beast till him.” “Fa gi’ed ye’t?” “A man.” “Fatna man?” “Dinna ken!” “Fat like was he?” “Canna tell.” “Fat had he on?” “Dinna mind; only that he had a coat ower his airm.” “Fat said he t’ye when he gi’ed ye the beast?” “Oh, he bade me take it till Tam Edward, and get a penny for’t till mysel.”

The fish was accepted, the penny was given, and the boy tramped downstairs again. On returning home, Edward found a splendid specimen of the above rare fish. The next number of the Journal acknowledged receipt of the fish. In the article describing it, Edward said—“By whom the fish was sent, or where it was found (though doubtless in the neighbourhood, from its freshness), remains as yet a mystery. However, thanks to ‘the man with the coat ower his airm’ in the meantime, and to many others whose kindness and attention, though their gifts are not particularised here, are nevertheless duly appreciated: Likewise, and in an especial manner, thanks to the fishermen generally of the district, particularly to our own and those of Whitehills, not only for their now unremitting attention in securing whatever they deem worthy of notice themselves; but also, and above all, for their very valuable assistance given, and their warm-hearted kindness shown to my young folks when they go a-gleaning amongst them.”

Indeed, Edward’s young folks were of great help to him at this time. Several of his eldest girls went about from place to place in search of rare fish, and they were sometimes very successful. For instance, one of them, whilst living with Mr. Gordon at Gardenstown, went on a zoologising excursion towards the village of Crovie. As the two were rounding the Snook, they observed a small fish being washed ashore. Mr. Gordon kicked it with his foot, thinking it was of no use, and remarking that it was a young sea-cat. “Na,” said Maggie, “it’s nae sea-cat; it’s ower thin for that. I dinna ken fat it is, but I’ll take it and send it hame to my father, for he bade me never to miss naething o’ this kine.” So the fish was sent home, and it proved to be a very fine specimen of Yarrell’s Blenny.

On another occasion she sent home a specimen of the Black Goby or Rock-fish (Gobius niger), which had been taken from the stomach of a friendly cod. This was the first fish of the kind found in the Moray Firth; and of the six species of Gobies found along the coasts of Great Britain, it is the one most seldom met with. Maggie also made a good “find” at Fraserburgh, while on a zoological tour with her father. She was rummaging about amongst the sands, near Broadsea, accompanied by some of her acquaintances, when she observed something sticking up out of the sand. At first she thought it was a piece of tangle. She was about to leave it, when, prompted by curiosity, she gave it a pull, when, lo and behold! instead of a seaweed, she brought out a long spindle-like fish. She at once took it to her father, who found it to be a splendid specimen of the Equoreal Needle-fish (Syngnathus æquoreus), a fish that had never before been found in the Moray Firth.

A thought may here strike the reader. How was it that Edward knew that there were six Gobies found along the coasts of Great Britain? How did he know that the Equoreal Needle-fish had never been found in the Moray Firth before? And, last of all, How was it that he knew the scientific names of the Fishes, the Zoophytes, and the Crustacea, which he collected? The names were, for the most part, Latin. Yet he had never learnt Latin. He must then have learnt them from books. No! He had no books. He often ardently desired books; but he was too poor to buy them. His earnings were scarcely sufficient to enable him to feed and clothe his children. Under such circumstances a man cannot buy books. Sometimes his children fared very badly, especially when he was laid up by illness. At such times they had almost to starve.

How was it then that, under these difficult circumstances, and amidst his almost constant poverty, Edward was enabled to carry on the study of science without the aid of books? He did so by the help of correspondents at a distance. When he collected a batch of objects, he sent them off by post to Naturalists in different parts of the country, for the purpose of obtaining from them the proper names. They referred to their scientific works, and furnished him with the necessary information.

Edward sent his specimens of Crustacea to Mr. Spence Bate, of Plymouth, Devonshire; his fishes to Mr. Couch, of Polperro, Cornwall; and many other objects to correspondents in Norwich, York, Newcastle, Birmingham, and London. The Rev. George Gordon, of the manse of Birnie, Elginshire, was one of his first correspondents respecting the Crustacea. Mr. Spence Bate was then engaged (in conjunction with Professor Westwood) in writing the History of the British Sessile-eyed Crustacea. Mr. Gordon first forwarded to him some of Edward’s specimens, and Edward afterwards corresponded directly with Mr. Bate. Thus he obtained his scientific knowledge, not from the books in his own neighbourhood, but from the books of gentlemen sometimes living at the opposite ends of the island.

There was, indeed, some talk of supplying Edward with books, to enable him to pursue his scientific researches. At a public dinner in Banff, the principal speaker, after paying a high compliment to Edward for his wonderful perseverance, and his devotion to Natural Science, proceeded to describe the great influence which books exercised in developing the powers of the human mind. After informing his audience that they did not know the value of the man they had got amongst them, he said, “Assist and encourage him by all the means in your power, but”—here he paused, and all eyes were turned upon him;—“but,” he continued, “give him no money—(loud cheers). I know him, as you all do, to be no drunkard, no idler, but a sober hard-working man. But still, I again say, give him no money. Give him Books; provide him with the means of reading, and he is just the man to make money for himself.” The auditors thought that they had done sufficient justice to Edward by cheering the proposal of the orator; but it was words—mere words; for Edward neither got a book, nor even the leaf of a book, from any of his local admirers.

How different from this cold counsel, was the enthusiasm of Edward when speaking of his favourite science. In an article which appeared in the Naturalist on the Rayed Echinodermata of Banffshire, after regretting the small amount of observation and research which had been made along the shores of the Moray Firth, he said, “It is a great pity that the Moray Firth was never dredged by naturalists, as I am led to believe it never was, on a scale worthy of its waters. If such were done, and done as it should be, I am quite sure, from what I know, that many a valuable rarity, and, I have no doubt, many new species, would be procured, and better got than those already known. If I were but possessed of half the means that some are, it should not long be so. Wind and weather permitting, I should have it dredged from the one end to the other, over and over again. Alas! that Nature, that fair and comely damsel, whom I supremely admire and love so well, should have called me into existence at the very moment when Want and Starvation stood hand in hand, ready to stamp the unconscious heir of immortality with their accursed brands. Money, it is said, is the root of all evil; but tell me, ye who know, what the want of it is!”

We have already said that Edward, because of his want of books on Natural History, obtained the principal knowledge of the objects which he discovered from gentlemen at a distance. But even this was not accomplished without difficulty. It was not always a pleasant task, and sometimes it was rather expensive,—expensive at least for a poor man. He occasionally encountered disagreeable rebuffs. Some complained that they could not read his writing, and that what he said was unintelligible. Another hindrance was, that when he sent a number of new specimens to Naturalists at a distance, they were often kept, and thanks only were returned. But he was scarcely in a position to resent this conduct. At last he sent none but those of which he had duplicates, preferring to keep them without a name rather than run the risk of losing them altogether.

Mr. Edward Newman of London, editor of the Zoologist, was one of those who helped Edward with books. He also named many of Edward’s Beetles and other Insects, which were sent to him for identification. The correspondence[46] between them originated in Edward’s articles on the Birds of Banffshire, which began to appear in the Zoologist in August 1856. Mr. Newman sent Edward several books on Natural History, together with his own List of British Birds. In February 1858 we find Mr. Newman sending Edward a copy of the Insect Hunters, his most successful book. Mr. Newman said to Edward, “I think it really wonderful that you should have acquired the great knowledge you have obtained under the circumstances in which you have been placed.” Mr. Newman asked for some information about fishes, which Edward promised to supply. The result was, that many new fishes were found in the Moray Firth, simply from Edward’s determination to search, collect, and preserve them.

Edward had also much correspondence with Mr. Alexander G. More, with respect to the distribution of birds in Great Britain during the nesting season. Edward was appointed the observer for Banffshire and the northern part of Aberdeen. He communicated a great deal of information about Birds and Bird-nesting, which was afterwards published in the periodical called The Ibis.

But his most important communications were with Mr. Couch as to Fishes; and with Mr. Spence Bate, and the Rev. A. Merle Norman, as to Crustacea; which will form the subjects of the following chapters.

CHAPTER XV.
DISCOVERIES AMONG THE CRUSTACEA.

The reader will find this chapter, as well as the next, rather uninteresting. But it is necessary that the chapters should be written, in order to show the contributions which Edward made to the scientific discoveries of his day.

Mr. C. Spence Bate of Plymouth, the well-known zoologist, entered into correspondence with Edward in 1856, while the latter was engaged in collecting marine objects along the sea-coast of Banff. It appears that Mr. Bate had sent to Edward some publications on Natural History, and that Edward requested Mr. Bate to name the various Crustaceans which he sent him. To this Mr. Bate willingly assented, and a correspondence began between them, which continued for many years. Most of the letters have been lost, and those which have been preserved “in the box in the lumber garret” are not of very great interest.

Edward seems to have been particularly busy between the years 1861 and 1865. Multitudes of bottles were sent, during that interval, from Banff to Plymouth. The bottles were often smashed in passing through the post. Sometimes there was only a mass of debris to examine. In one batch there was a new species of Leucothoe; in another, part of an Eusirus—“the first British specimen.”

In one of his letters, Mr. Bate says: “There are two minute specimens of a prawn which I do not recognise. They are too much damaged for examination; but if you can find any perfect ones like these, I should like you to send them to me. I will send you shortly a paper that I have recently published in the Annals of Natural History on the “Nest-Building Crustacea.” If you know or meet with any anecdotes relative to these animals, I should be glad if you would communicate them to me, as I am endeavouring to collect all of that kind that I can. I assure you that your letters are always welcome, and much valued.”

In the midst of Edward’s explorations, he discovered a new Isopod, which he forwarded to Mr. Bate. It was specifically named, in honour of the discoverer, Praniza Edwardii.[47] On subsequent examination, and after comparing it with the Anceus, Messrs. Bate and Westwood changed the name into Anceus Edwardii.[48]

The Anceus is only about a sixth of an inch in length. But, in Natural History, size goes for nothing. The minutest animal is equal to the largest, in point of value and interest. The Anceus creeps on the bottom of the sea; but it swims with great rapidity,—propelling itself forward by the quick motions of a series of ciliated fins placed beneath the tail. The Anceus, in its young state, is parasitical, and is furnished with a sharp process at the apex of the anterior lip, to form a strong lanceolate organ, with which the animal cuts its way through the skin of the fish on which it preys. It was at first thought that Praniza Edwardii was a female, and that the male had not yet been discovered. On seeing this stated in the number of the Sessile-eyed Crustacea in which the Praniza was noticed, Edward wrote the following letter to Mr. Spence Bate:—

In support of his views, Edward forwarded some further specimens of the supposed male to Mr. Bate, for his inspection. We have not been able to find Mr. Bate’s answer. It has doubtless been lost, like many of the missing letters. But we gather from a future letter of Edward, that Mr. Bate considered the specimens to be Anceus rapax. “Never having seen a description or plate of that species,” said Edward, “I can say nothing as to that matter. . . . But, call him what you like, I am more than ever persuaded that he is the tight little husband of Praniza Edwardii; and, as such, I now intend to place them together, and to name them accordingly.”

Many of the Crustacea which Edward collected, did not belong to the Sessile-eyed order, which Mr. Bate was studying and classifying. These Crustaceans he sent to other observers. For instance, when Mr. Bate was about to set out for Paris to examine Milne-Edward’s typical Crustacea, he received from Edward a letter containing some Entomostraca which had been collected from the stomach of a mackerel. “I do not,” replied Mr. Bate, “study the Entomostraceous Crustacea myself; so I gave some of those you sent me to Mr. Lubbock, and some to Dr. Baird of the British Museum, from both of whom I hope you will hear.”

In a future letter, Edward sent Mr. Bate some worm-like parasites found on a Short Sun Fish taken near Banff. “The genus,” said Edward, “is very little known in this country. It has hitherto been found only on the Flying Fish. It seems, however, to frequent the Sun Fish. This was not previously known. When once these creatures take a firm hold, it is impossible to shake them off or get rid of them,—they sink so deep into the animal’s body. There are from two to three longish barbs which protrude from the neck, close to the head, and which appear to serve exactly the same purpose as the barb does on the hook. One which I cut out—and no easy matter it was—had its head sunk at least an inch and a half into the fatty ridge of the fish. In the Illustrated London News of July 10th, 1858, there is an illustration given of a Flying Fish with a parasite attached to its back, and having a lot of barnacles adhering to it. The fish here figured is said to have leapt from the sea into the mizen chains of the East Indiaman Monarch, whilst on her homeward voyage from Calcutta. The parasite in that case was quite different from the one I obtained from the Sun Fish. It was there called Pennella Blanvillii.”

In one of his communications, Edward sent Mr. Bate some parasites which he had taken from the gills of a Crab. Many of the Crustaceans found by him were so minute that they could scarcely be examined in detail with the naked eye. Mr. Bate accordingly, with great kindness, made Edward a present of a microscope to enable him to carry on his minute investigations. “It is,” said Mr. Bate, in his letter announcing the departure of the parcel, “what we call a simple microscope, and I think you will find it adapted for examining things out of or in doors. It is made portable, and can be used upon the rocks as well as in a parlour. It is similar to one which I use myself for everything, excepting when I examine into structural anatomy. I was not able,” added Mr. Bate, “to have it prepaid farther than Bristol; so I beg to enclose a few stamps, which I hope will cover it for the remainder of the way.”

Edward at first found a difficulty in managing the microscope, on which Mr. Bate sent him a long letter illustrated by diagrams, informing him how he was to use it. “I am sure,” he said, “you are too sharp a fellow not to understand it thoroughly after these few hints have been given you. . . . I will also send you a pocket lens, which you will find very useful. . . . You will find it convenient during this cold weather (24th November) to bring home anything, and then look at it at your leisure, rather than study it upon the sea-shore.”

Mr. Bate must have been a thoroughly kind and good-hearted man. He may possibly have heard something of the circumstances of Edward, and he was now on the look-out for some higher vocation for the Naturalist than that of “ladies’ shoemaker.” The Rev. George Gordon, also a zoologist, who was in constant communication with Mr. Bate, may have probably informed him of Edward’s ambition, which was, to be appointed curator or sub-curator of some important museum. Hence Mr. Bate’s letter to Edward. After informing him that Mr. Lubbock would shortly ask him to make a collection of Crustacea, and advising him to send certain fishes in proof spirit to the British Museum, he proceeded,—

“I have one thing more to say; but I write in ignorance of your circumstances, and therefore, if I tread upon a corn, pray forgive me. I have been asked if I can recommend a person to the College of Surgeons, whose duty will be to attend upon the Curators and Professors, and make preparations, and do other work in Natural History. The salary is £1 : 10s. a week. If such a thing will suit you, let me know, and I will write to propose you. If the place is not filled up, I think it might be got.”

This letter raised a glimmer of hope in Edward’s breast. Was he really to be rewarded at last for his efforts in Natural History, by an appointment which would bring him into communication with scientific men? It may be mentioned, that Edward had already been appointed keeper of the Scientific Society’s museum at Banff, at a salary of £2 : 2s. per annum. This was of course merely a nominal remuneration, and the occupation did not tend to feed Edward’s thirst for further knowledge in Natural History. He was therefore most willing to accede to Mr. Bate’s proposition; and he sent in his application, accompanied by testimonials, to Professor Quekett of the Royal College of Surgeons.

Unfortunately Mr. Bate had been misinformed as to the nature of the proposed appointment. “I am fearful,” said Professor Quekett, in his letter to Edward, “that some of your kind friends have misinformed you as to the nature of the appointment which is vacant. It is only that of fourth museum porter. The duties are: to keep the room clean, dust bottles, etc., at the wage of a guinea a week. Now, from what I learn of you through your testimonials, and from what I have heard of your reputation and high standing as a Naturalist, I think such an appointment is far beneath your notice.”

Edward’s hopes were once more blighted. Science could do nothing for him, and he returned once more to his cobbler’s stool. He had become accustomed to disappointment; nevertheless he continued to pursue his work as a Naturalist. In fact, he went on working harder than before. As Mr. Bate was only engaged with one branch of the Crustacea—the Sessile-eyed,—and as other Naturalists were engaged in investigating other branches of Marine Zoology, Edward was referred to these gentlemen,—more particularly to the Rev. A. Merle Norman of Sedgefield, Ferryhill, county of Durham; Mr. J. Gwyn Jeffreys of London; and Mr. Joshua Alder of Newcastle-on-Tyne,—all of whom were great sea-dredgers.

Zoologists usually take up some special subject and work it up. They freely correspond with their fellow-zoologists in different parts of the country with the object of obtaining their help,—which is rarely or never withheld. There is a sort of freemasonry amongst Naturalists in this respect. Thus, when Mr. J. Gwyn Jeffreys opened his correspondence with Edward, he said, “No introduction can be necessary from one Naturalist to another.” While artists and literary men form themselves into cliques, and cut each other up in social circles and in newspapers, Naturalists, on the contrary, seem to be above such considerations of envy and uncharitableness.

There is also a fellow-feeling amongst them, and they are ready to help each other in various other ways. Thus, when Edward was informed by Mr. Spence Bate that the Rev. Mr. Norman was working up the British Entomostracous Crustacea, including the Fish Parasites, Edward immediately began to scour the coast, and wade along the waves as the tide came in, plunging into the rock-pools, in order to procure the animals of which Mr. Norman was in search. He did this, regardless of his health, and also regardless of his pocket.

A long correspondence had already taken place between Edward and Mr. Norman; but, in the midst of it, Edward was again laid up by illness, which lasted for about six weeks. The correspondence dropped for a time; but it was afterwards renewed. Mr. Norman, in his letter of May 12th, 1862, observed, “I have been absent from home ever since I received your last note, or I should have answered it before. I am extremely sorry to hear of the cause, your serious illness, which prevented your answering my two last letters, and seemed to end a correspondence from which I had derived so much pleasure,—finding in yourself such a kindred, nature-loving spirit. I am rejoiced, however, that God has mercifully raised you up again after so much suffering, and that you are recovering the blessings of health and strength.

“Many thanks for the promise of your kind offices for me in procuring Fish Parasites. Our knowledge of them is at present but limited, and a large number of species new to our Fauna, may, I am satisfied, be found, if properly looked after. I trust, therefore, that you may extend your knowledge of the Crustacea of the Moray Firth to this branch of the subject.”

It would occupy too much space to detail the contents of the letters which Edward received from Mr. Norman and Mr. Spence Bate while their respective works were in process of publication. But there are several facts in them worthy of being noticed. There was one Crustacean about which some difficulty had arisen. It was the Mysis spinifera, which Edward had first found in the Moray Firth in the year 1858. He had sent it to one of his correspondents, in order that he might give it its name. But it remained unnoticed and unknown for a period of about four years, when it was re-discovered in Sweden by M. Goes, who at once published the fact. “Thus,” says Edward, “the first finder, as well as the country in which this Crustacean was first found, have both been ignored in the records of science.”

Edward discovered many new species, some of which had never been met with before, and others which had not been met with in Britain. Some were recognised and named, but others were not. “The number of specimens I collected,” says Edward, “was immense. It must have been so from the various methods I adopted to procure them, and from the fact that I never lost a single opportunity of obtaining even but one object when it could be got. Labour, time, cold, wet, privation, were nothing, so that I could but secure the specimen that I sought for. . . . There are still several new species which I discovered and sent to gentlemen years ago. All I knew about them, from letters I received in return, is that they were new; but whether they have ever received names, or whether the discoveries have been made public, I do not know.”

Mr. Spence Bate did every justice to Edward in the discoveries which he made of new species, in connection with his branch of the Sessile-eyed Crustacea. In one case, Edward caught only the anterior moiety of a small Crustacean (Protomedeia hirsutimana), and yet Mr. Bate includes it in his list, and gives a drawing of it. Mr. Bate also did every justice to the accurate, description of the habits of the species which Edward forwarded to him. For instance, Edward discovered the Vibilia borealis, a new species, in the Moray Firth, on which Mr. Spence Bate observes—

“Hitherto the species of this genus have been taken only as pelagic, in tropical or sub-tropical latitudes. It is an interesting fact that this species should have been taken off the coast of Banff, from whence it was sent us by that very successful observer Mr. Edward, who, in writing, says: ‘I can say little as to its habits. I took eleven, and kept a few alive for a short time, but observed nothing in their manners beyond that which may be seen in the majority of species. I supplied them with plenty of sand, and also with a few marine plants, but they neither seemed to be burrowers nor climbers, as they never went into the one nor appeared to care for the other. They, however, swam a little. This they do somewhat after the manner of Callisoma crenata; in other words, they rise gradually from the bottom until they reach the top; then, putting on more power, they swim round and round the vessel. With close observation I observed that the superior antennæ were kept pretty well up, and very widely apart, whereas the inferior were always directed downwards. All the legs were kept doubled up. I never saw them stretched out. They would then sink once more to the sand at the bottom. There they would rest sometimes for a few minutes, sometimes longer, when they would again repeat their voluntary evolutions. They did not, however, always rise to the surface. The journey was sometimes performed to about mid-water. They are, when alive, a most beautiful coloured species, variegated not unlike Urothroë elegans, and rivalling that animal in brightness of tints. I took one, however, that was all over a most brilliant red. I have been told that this species has never been found outside the Medusa. However this may be, all mine were. And what appears to be most extraordinary is, that we have had no Medusæ here this season.” Edward found another species, new to Britain, Themisto Crassicornis, which exist in large quantities in July, August, and September. Mr. Bate says, “Mr. Edward informs us that he has seen specimens of these Crustaceans thrown on shore in extraordinarily large quantities. After a storm one night he saw them forming a band an inch and a half deep for thirty yards along the beach.”[49]

Mr. Bate so much admired Edward’s enthusiasm in the cause of Natural History, that he more than once urged him to publish his observations: “I received from you,” he says, “a few days since, a parcel of Eurydice pulchra, in sand, one of which only was alive. I have been much interested in watching its active habits, and the manner in which it buries itself in the sand. . . . I wish that you would write some papers on the habits of these creatures. Keep a few at home under as favourable conditions as possible. I am sure much is yet to be learnt about them. I know no one better fitted to work out the subject than yourself. For instance, get some of the Podocerus capillatus, and find out how it spins the web that makes the nest; and closely watch all their ways.”

Edward might no doubt have written and published many papers in the scientific journals. He might have gained praise, fame, and honour. But what mattered these to him? The principal thing that he wanted was time—time not only for his investigations, but to earn money for the maintenance of his family. He had now a wife and eleven children to support. He earned nothing by science: he earned everything by his shoemaker’s awl. What could the Podocerus capillatus do for his family? Nothing whatever! His entire labours were gratuitous. Properly speaking, Naturalists should be gentlemen of independent fortune. At all events, they should have some profession to live by; whilst Edward had nothing but his wretchedly-paid trade of shoemaking. The wonder is, that, with all his illnesses, arising for the most part from the results of exposure, he should have done so much, and continued his self-sacrificing investigations so long. But he seems to have been borne up throughout by his scientific enthusiasm, and by his invincible determination.