American citizen. [volume] (Canton, Miss.) 1864-1890, 1875-11-27
Onr Bcgs and @irls.
OYSTERS AND THEIR FRIENDS,

THIS summer, while spending few
weeks on the southern coast of Connect
cut, l found was in the neighborhood of
the oyster family, being within a stones
throw of the vast cities which they had
built under the sea.
Miles of streets and blocks of white
stone or shell houses they occupy, under
the salt water; and the fact that they are
not themselves very gossiping set makes
it the reason why they should not be Cos
siped about
When 1 found, to my amazement, that
at every meal / was putting an end to
the usefulness and enjoyment of a dozen
or more lives which had attained the dig
nified age of three, five or eight years, I
wanted to know something of the personal
history of these unhappy victims. So,
next day, when we were tossing up and
down on the waves in a jaunty little sail
boat, asked that brown old Captain to
tell me all there was to know about oysters.
To begin the story, he said the fisher
men go out in their little boats with all
as they row along they scatter them so
that they may fall and make bed under
the water. After a time the eggs or
spawn of many mother-Oyster who lies
hidden away among the rocks and sea-
weed along the shore come floating down
through the water seeking for a home.
They take very naturally to these old oys-
ter-shells and there they cling, beginning
forthwith to build their own shell houses,
each courageous little oyster making a
separate home for himself, although five
or six may be near neighbors just around
the corner of the same old homestead
shell.
Twice every day the tide comes and
goes, washing a thousand tiny particles
of food around the stony houses of these
oysters, who open their doors, take what
they can get and then go back to their dull
little house, keeping inside all the time
waiting to be three years old; for until
that time an oyster is not considered large
enough to eat.
If any grain of sand or other unexpected
visitor intrudes within the shell the brave
little oyster makes the best of his unwel-
come guest, overlooks his faults and
covers up his sharp points by clothing
him with some gentle secretion from his
own patient body. In the South American
pearl oyster this at last results in that
lovely and translucent thing we call a
pearl. In the tropics oysters sometimes
fasten themselves to bushes or low trees,
but their shells contain sufficient water to
nourish them until the tide returns.
When the New England oysterman-
who has made his beds some four or five
years back, and marked them out by long
poles which stand up in the water-wants
to gather his crops for market, or have a
nice little feast at home, out he goes in
that frail little boat, which has served
him many good turn, carrying pair of
huge rakes with long, wooden handles
fastened together in the middle like a
pair of scissors. When he reaches the
bed he stands up in the boat and with
these long prongs feels about under the
water until he discovers cluster of oys-
tiers, which he rakes up with ruthless
hand and pours into the boat, stops a mo-
naent to throw out the seaweed and stones,
and then makes another plunge.
There are other ways of gathering Oys-
tiers for have often stolen out of bed in |
the dawn of the morning, when the tide
was low, and have seen the fishermen
wading up to their waists in water, paw
ing about with short rakes and occasion |
ally pulling up cluster of oysters, which |
they can feel with their feet.
Not far from the oysters are their cousins |
the clams-who content themselves with |
living farther up the beach, buried about !
a foot in the mud, so that in low tide |
when the ground is laid bare they go cut |
and dig them with a shovel, as though |
they were field of potatoes.
bling about in an aimless way, live those |
more distant relatives-the Holsters. For |
these the fishermen put down deep wooden |
baskets, which they call lobster pots. Any |
unfortunate victim who gets into this |
snare can never find his way out again,
struggle as he may; and SO when the
owner goes out in his boat he often finds
his lobster-pOts well filled.
1t is very simple and hard life these
poor fishermen lead forever in the water
and under the veterinary times out for |
a day and night, toiling under the
fiercest suns and tossed on the widest
pillows, which threaten each moment to |
swallow them up forever, their poor |
wives meanwhile looking out into the
only praying that the angry |
waves and the fierce winds may spare their |
lives-never thinking to murmur that
as in the Bible story CT old-they have |
toiled all night and taken nothing. -
N. Y. Observer.