Lancaster daily intelligencer. [volume] (Lancaster, Pa.) 1864-1928, 1886-05-01
TaE MADONNA OF THE TUBS.

I|"I
agtsubuth ssnart Phelps In Barpers.
i Nov there p said Ellen Jane Salt
y Tn iirsd sssin' passel OF folks squealin'
i snail she'll"
u Happened that much the same view of
ne csss was occupying Miss Helen Ritter at
lhe same moment the chief difference being
thaG (he summef boarder's view was not de-
pendent upon expression, while that OF the
u uative " (as usuaD was
II WIS what n called q burning fog that |
day. Miss Ritter was sitting on the cliff un- |
der : japanese umbrella Twenty people |
wevv sittipg under Japanese umbrellas.
He,a she thanked heaven, was Of ivory
color. plain and pale. No turkey red Haunted
nescsly nor purple mandarin sprawled hys-
tsrIcally sgainst indigo skies above her indi.
vidual head. There is a comfort in distinc-
ton, even ifit 20 no further than paper
sun-shade. Miss Ritter enjoyed the added
idiosyncrasy OF sitting under hers alone. She
In July the seaside Ii agreeable in Sep.
tenbes, irresistible in October, Intoxicating
In August one does not understand it one
comes up suddenly against its " other side"
as against peculiarities In the character OF q
friend known for years, and unexpectedly
putting the affection to a vital test
In August the sun goes out and the thick
weather comes In. The landlady is tired,
add the waitress slams the plate the fog
bell tolls and the beach is sloppy the fog-
whistles screech, and one may not go a-sail-
inu the puddings and sauces have grown
familiar, and one has read too many novels
10 stand another, and yet not enough to force
one back, for life's sake, on "course OF solid
reading" In August ones next neghbor is
sure It was mistake not to spend the season
at the mountains. In August the babies on
the same corridor are sick. In August one
has discovered where the milk Is kept, and
frighiful secrets OF the drainage are gossiped
in ghastly whispers by the guests, VINO com
plain of the dinners when the young married
lady who r6wed by moonlight with another
fellow has left the place and temporary de-
ficiency of scandal. In August ones own
particular beach is swarining and useless,
ones especial reef is populated and hideous,
nay, ones very crevice in the rock is discov-
cred aud mortgaged in the current flirtarions.
and all nature, which had seemed to be ones
homestead. becomes ones exile In Au-
gust there are hops, and one wants to go
away. In August there are flies, and the
new boarder.
It's the new boarder who is overaudible
about the snail shells. Down there in the
gorge, where the purple trap glitters at half
tide In great volcanic veins that seem to
pulsate We: through the cliff with the fire i'm
prisoned there-who knows when ?-and
where the beaded brown kelp deepens to
bronze, and then runs to tarnished gold in
the wet, rich, pulpy recedence OF the ebb, the
brown, green, orange, lemon, gray and white
the tiny shells mere flecks of color, moved
sluggishly by their cell OF hidden conscious
ness and will, like certain larger lives that
beneath q mask OF stagnation palptate. The
suails, as / say, interest the new boarder.
He sauuters down in groups, in clans, in
hordes, dehling through the trap gorge
disproportionateiy feminine, sparsely but in
structively masculine, and eternally infan-
tile. He views the attractions of the spot
fra m las cal NIL IN.
differently, and drifts away at the third stage
of feeling, possibly an object of curiosity or
envy, in his turn. to the snail who has to
stay. The first day he screams q must be
pardoned il / use the generic masculine pro-
noun in this connection) at the snails the
second day he observes them without
screaming; the third he doesn't observe
them at all. His number is infinite and his
place is never vacant. His lady types wear
wild roses In their belts, invariably succeede ed
by daisies, and vigorously followed by gol,
den-rod. 1t is an endless procession OF the
Alike, or, we may say, of the great North
American Average.
Decidedly on the fortunate side Of the aver.
age is the element that is creeping into Fair
harbor Zone should say stepping in, for that
end OF averages never creeps, TO be sure-the
element not vociferous over snails, aud
scautily given to floral decoration an ele.
ment represented, Tor instance, by Miss Rit.
ter, who, seeking farharbor for many a
summer because, among other reasons, il
gave her that closest kind of seclusion, isoa
ton in crowd with which one has net his
toric social relations, has sadly discovered oi
late that her dear, rough, plain rocks and
waves and boarding-houses are becoming
ssmi-fasbionable, with a threat eve N OF class
ically abandoning the compound. Already
Fairharbor has her hotel and her daily
steamer, her band and her :. distinguished
VISITORS" her mythical company, organized
tosweep up the huge solitudes at ii ve dollars
foot, roadway forty feet wide thrown in,
and wells il you can find any water in them.
Already she has her landaus and her toilets,
her French maids and her ladies who protect
the complexion. Already the faithful old
stagers, haughtily unconscious, are stared at
for their thick boots and beach dresses and
gorgeous coats of tan, and their way OF sitting
in the sand like crabs after their vigorous
baths, in which they do not jump up and
down, but swim sturdiy, battling with the
sharp North shore waters, and not expected
to scream.
Miss Ritter, a conspicuous figure on the
cliffs edge above the lava gorge might be-
called an unconscious link between Fairhar-
Dor past and Fairharbor to be, possessing
perhaps the better points in both types OF
"summer people," luxnriously dissatisfied
with them, with herself, with the world,
even just now with Fairharbor. In her
white flannel dress and white hat, with the
pale flame-colored tie at her throat, and the
reflection from the pale sun-shade upon her,
she had select, almost severe look, which
was not lessened by any depreciation OF Of
feet in motion when she rose and walked
She had a steady walk, and reminded one of
Gala as she turned her head slowly and
stood full to view, tall and serious.
There was no sunset that night 1t was a
dog-day, damp and dead the fog had thick
ened, aud was crawling in like fate the bell
tolled from the lighthouse two miles away,
and the east wind bore the sound steadily
in.
Already the boarder children, who insist
ed ON going IN the skill, could not De seen an
eighth OF a mile out at the islands edge be.
yond the lava gorge aud the fisherman,
whose children knew better, pushed them
with kiss from his knees as he drew in his
dory for the rescue, to comfort distracted
parent Tin a red paraso) aud another one
Crumored TO be a clergyman, but just now in
a bathing suit), whose inharmonious opin-
ions but harmonious anxiety were the ex-
element of the hour upon tho beach. The
lowed the children to go. The red parasol
had always said they would be drowned.
"Don't ye fret" said the fisherman, with a
slow grin. "1hey stole my old punt an
she leaks so I'll keep 'em busy bailin,, and
they can't get fur. I'll fetch 'em this time.
but next time keep 'em to hum. Wby'
there amt dog in Fairharbor'd set out
rowin' thick as this, thout he he'd To go for a
doctor or see to his travis he'd k,tow better.
But you land-lubbers never do know moth
in ; you don't know enough to know when
10 be eskeered.-H'sre ye, Miss Ritter ?'' as
she passed him, suddenly gliding down the
ciiff, and up the wet, uncordial beach,
"Thats like you, Henry. Your tongue is
bound TO take the edge off your good deeds
somehow, like plated silver, whereas Won
Know, half the time, it's the solid thing nm