Searching the stones

Source A: an original contemporary non-fiction-style account.

Our fossil walk began in the visitor centre, where twelve of us borrowed protective glasses and listened to a guide explain where we could search. We were to use loose stones on the beach and keep away from the cliff face. The centre supplied a small identification sheet and a hammer for each pair. I had booked the morning online as a birthday outing for my daughter. By lunchtime we would return the equipment and eat in the café. The guide checked the tide before leading us down the steps.

For the first half-hour, I found only stones that resembled interesting things when viewed hopefully. My daughter was more patient. She showed every possible mark to the guide, who explained the difference between a shell impression and a stain. We could keep small, ordinary finds, but anything unusual had to be shown to the centre. The guide said recording where an object was found could matter as much as the object itself. I began writing the locations on our sheet instead of stuffing every promising stone into my pocket.

We left with two small impressions and several photographs. Neither find was valuable, and that was not a disappointment. The morning had been organised around looking, asking and learning. Nobody needed us to produce a particular quantity. When my daughter wanted to examine the same patch for another ten minutes, we could do so. The only firm deadline was the guide's return time. Afterwards, her school bag seemed an unsuitable place for something so old, although it was perfectly adequate for carrying it home.

Source B: an original letter in a nineteenth-century voice. This is a period-voice simulation, not an archival document.

My dear cousin, you ask whether my work at the quarry has rewarded me with any of the curious shells for which this district is known. Occasionally it has, though I must remind you that shells are not the purpose for which I am paid. We begin when the foreman calls us, and the stone is required for building. My hammer and basket are tools of employment, not equipment provided for a pleasant excursion. A morning spent admiring one piece would leave a poor account of the day's labour.

Last week I noticed a delicate shape in a block already marked for breaking. I asked the foreman whether I might set it aside. He allowed it, provided I first completed the load awaiting the cart. By the time I returned, another man had moved the block, and I spent part of my meal interval finding it again. A local collector sometimes visits and names such objects for us, but he had not come that day. I wrapped the piece in an old cloth and shall show it to him when he next appears.

Do not suppose I have no pleasure in these discoveries. They interrupt the sameness of the work and make familiar stone seem less familiar. Yet I cannot stop whenever a mark catches my eye, nor can I choose a fine morning and leave when rain begins. The broken rock must be cleared whether it contains wonders or nothing worth describing. I envy the time you can devote to examining a single specimen, though perhaps your room would teach you less about the weight of the whole hillside.

Use details from both sources to summarise what you understand about the differences between the circumstances in which the writers search for fossils.