tself--if it happened to be the kind of
thing you want. But if you are not grown-up and do not live by the sea,
but in a nice little villa in a nice little suburb, where all the
furniture is new and the servants wear white aprons and white caps with
long strings in the afternoon, then you won't know anything about your
duty, and if you find anything by the sea you'll think that findings are
keepings.

Edward was not grown-up--and he kept everything he found, including
sea-mice, till the landlady of the lodgings where his aunt was threw his
collection into the pig-pail.

Being a quiet and persevering little boy he did not cry or complain,
but having meekly followed his treasures to their long home--the pig
was six feet from nose to tail, and ate the dead sea-mouse as easily
and happily as your father eats an oyster--he started out to make a new
collection.

And the first thing he found was an oyster-shell that was pink and green
and blue inside, and the second was an old boot--very old indeed--and
the third was _it_.

It was a square case of old leather embossed with odd little figures of
men and animals and words that Edward could not read. It was oblong and
had no key, but a sort of leather hasp, and was curiously knotted with
string--rather like a boot-lace. And Edward opened it. There were
several things inside: queer-looking instruments, some rather like those
in the little box of mathematical instruments that he had had as a prize
at school, and some like nothing he had ever seen before. And in a deep
groove of the russet soaked velvet lining lay a neat little brass
telescope.

T-squares and set-squares and so forth are of little use on a sandy
shore. But you can always look through a telescope.

Edward picked it out and put it to his eye, and tried to see through it
a little tug that was sturdily puffing up Channel. He failed to find the
tug, and found himself gazing at a little cloud on the horizon. As he
looked it grew larger and darker, and presently a spot of rain fell on
his nose. He rubbed it off--on his jersey sleeve, I am sorry to say, and
not on his handkerchief. Then he looked through the glass again; but he
found he needed both hands to keep it steady, so he set down the box
with the other instruments on the sand at his feet and put the glass to
his eye again.

He never saw the box again. For in his unpractised efforts to cover the
tug with his glass he found himself looking at the shore instea