Delaware gazette. [volume] (Delaware, Ohio) 1855-1886, 1868-04-03

II OF gne nlene8E Bluess 1t was easy tC
see how they were formed. The high
the particles of sand Of which all the
: shore consists, and lets them drop when
its force is spent or when some obstacle
occurs. The surface thus formed is con-
. ttnuallY changing. The lightest breath
Of air alters, to some extent the form oi
these sand -hilis, making them undu-
late almost like the sea. A little way
/ inland found they took the stranWesf
forms. In some rare spots were little
patches Of wild vegetation, but gener-
ally all that could be seen was a long,
tnlck3 coarse grass breaking through
the Band-hills, and binding them light
~ together. Hills of beautifully white
sand, often many feet high, took the
forms Of drifted snow. / could quite
believe what / had heard-that there
was danger to the traveller who found
himself on this wild coast during z
storm. Then the wind would lift into
the air an entire sand heap, carrying it
/ OF bodily, to disperse it at a distance
I with loud noise. / had even heard
I stories Of inland villages buried during
a continuance Of high Winds.
4 Still wandering along, I was struck
/ by the fT5ghGful desolatiOn Of the coast.
I / had long left behind me the patches
1 Of poor hrs, and there were now no tra-
ces of cultivation. For mile after mile
saw no trace Of life on the land but
not been for these, might have almost
/ faucied myself in an African desert. As
/ far as the eye could reach, &c saw the
same dreary prospect inland till il fell
on the hiaher hills, forming q barrier,
I beyond which Ctllage again became pos-
I sible. The heat, beaten back from the
I glaring sand, was intense, and &c was
/ with feeling OF relief that I turned
/ once more IRON the desolate scene to-
I ward the sea,
Undisturbed by human enemies, the
/ gnlls mustered by thousand on the line
1 which marked the falling tide; the sun
4 was getting low, and was surprised 60
i ind now little Of my days walk i had
done. Finding I lost ground by going
round the pools and streams which lay
In my path, I pulled my boots OF, and
/ tying them 20 my knapsacfE, stepped
out barefoot along the cool wet sand.
/ For miles trudged on thus, meeting
[ once or twice with a passing salute from
\ a stout hsherWOman, who, bareleRged
I like myself, was making her way to the
! village I had left behind. The sun was
/ just going down when came across q
4 fisherman who, supper in hand, had
/ strOlled ont of his hut, the only habita-
! tion I had seen fer hours.
Glow far to EauPleC 2" I said, salut-
/ ing him.
He turned round. ''You see that
cape? It's just beyond that at the
rate you're walking, you may get there
E in two or three hours"
"Three hours and I haven't dined.
! Can I stop anywhere on the rOad?'
/ ttNO, it's all bare sand, without so
much as a hut, till you come TO Eaup-
let. Keep right along the line OF the
] Dunes. Hold, you see those Two mem
| Follow them, they're going your road,
and you'll overtake them in half an
/ hour"
] Bidding him goodnight, walked on
| rapidly; three hours more of that
/ dreary coast, in the dark, and on an
4 empty stomach, was not Inviting, and j
meant to shorten the time as much as
4 could.
Before the predicted half hour had
/ gone by, was nearing my two men.
! 1t was growing dusk, but I could see
that they had caught sight Of me, and
| every now and then they turned back
] to look. Still nearer, I noticed that they
/ occasionally. stopped and talked, look
| ing. toward nae and then went on again,
/ evidently slackening their pace, how
! ever, 30 that might Overtake them.
came up with them at last, and they
/ walked on by my side, asking where
I was going, and 50 on.
HE is still there" one of them said /;
| and, looking back, saw the fisherman
where I had left him.
/ was not we'll pleased with my COM
1 paniOns, who, in truth, We're not exact
/ y the kind Of people one would care 70
f-zss5zt I1lIefy place ike the Dunes
at nightfall, They were dressed 10
sheep-skins, with the wool turned out
side, and their caps, of the same mate
rial gave them a ferOcious look. Each
/ carried over his shoulder, a thick heavy
stick, over which hung pieces of cloth,
of all shapes, sizes, and colOrs.
.'What have you on your sticks 2"
asked.
"They are things to cover ourselves
up with; it's cold hereabouts at night. =
f1-~,rn-s1vA sfVrrr r87sor
to Eauplet 2"
"No, we have almost arrived at our
destination" said one, and looked at
his cOmrade, who smiled.
ssStill there, - he said looking over his
shoulder towards the fisherman.
walked fast, but the tramps seemed
determined to keep up with me, for
they kept close at my side. Their ap-
pearancB was anything but PROPOSES
sing; they bad evidently discussed me,
and waited for me. I was armed with
light stick only, and I confess that /
did not feel quite comfortable in their
1Reli,'' I said abruptly, s'I've got
good way to go must say good night
and push on"
a ''GOOd night, messieurs, !" went ahead.
ftGOOd night, y one Of them answered.
tfMOnsieur walks too fast for us."-
! Whereat they laughed.
walked on quickly, an1 looking
back after a while found that I had LEFT
my tramps fairly behind me. looked
back several times in this way, till al
last missed thems twas getting dark
but had they been there I should have
been able to make them out against the
white sand; as I did not see them, I
/ concluded that they had quilted the
| sands on arriving at the destination of
/ which they had spoken. was not sor-
| rY to think so, for there was enough IN
/ their manner and appearance TO give
! me disaRreeRble ideas. As I walked on
| [ reflected that they must have known
/ from my accent that was a foreigner
| my knapsack would show that l was
| tourist only, and therefore unknown
! in that part; the region was desOlate,
\ and as night was falling it was not prob
/ able that a soul would be about. Each
/ of my rufhans was well armed with
4 heavy blugeon, one blow from which
! would have settled me a hollow in the
! Dunes would have done the rest. "Just
rs if it was planned" I thought, as !
| quickened my pace again.
! There dwell in my mind many recol-
| lections OF knapsack walks, of saunter-
! ings in spring time, along green En-
| glish wales, the hedges and trees just in
! their first vivid green, the banks skirt
| ing the road decked with primrose and
vt0lets, or, later in the year, when
/ fields wave with golden harV9stE. ]
still see the spires and domes that show
for miles over the plains. Again, toll
on q hot summers day, up the steep
hill its top once gained, shall have
! for horizon, the sea, the bFeezes from
which already fan my face. Or, il is
evening. and I look down on the ham
/ let lying at my feet catch the cav
l ing of the rocks in the great avenue OF
/ lines hear the crash of the road as
the wagon starts on its way from the
/ inn where it has halted awhile, and the
/ .ls DF n1au1varr04f his Tonvr af4
/ he fUrges a horseshoe but for most,
] the days toll is over, and from the viii
I lage street and green rise shouts and
| laughter; lovers wander in pairs along
the green lanes, and all Is so peaceful
| that sigh, when the heat of the bat
tie is over, I viii come here to rest"
/ From among such remem braces 1
| would not lose the one of that Septem-
Der evening. There was no moon, but
! the stars shone brightly through the
clear air; there was no sound but that
Of the dash of the tide, Rt ebb now, and
far away, and that of my footsteps, as