Evening public ledger. [volume] (Philadelphia [Pa.]) 1914-1942, 1916-08-09
IN THE LAND or
SCENT LOBSTp,
Where the Last of the ~
American Peasantry cliDs'||
to the Primitive
Life
NERTA1NLY they are Of ~. :.

~ species as the article that !,
lively put before you under a -.
dome, amid the music and tba
a conspiratorial waiter for 4, y
$1.75 and on up. Certainly IL Ia
to broil them on a rusted ov.. w
up on the rocks in the debris ~. WI
ancient wreck than to havs ,s.
done for you. Surely they a..
definitely alive when killed Cso !.
an hour after leaving their matt. ~
than when they have reached :,
after couple of days in a frat
yet-they are not the same. u
is all in the price. But anvbo, ~ !
cent lobster does not taste tho
the normal roof-garden produce ~
ster is not food; 1t is an adven,u,,
for adventure one wants to nav a.
exorbitant price IL he would get N. I
tang and the right taste out OF n
The secret Of this economic anou.,
that the lobster industry of the 49,.
Maine is not yet thoroughly ors,.s
There is big gap between the ina
ent fisherman who sinks his no,s
the silent, untenanted green js,ara.
the market. He lives his three.sco,.
ten without ever seeing a pollcemsr !.
the law Of the land is very much !.
he chooses to make It in those p,l,,'
hamlets on the shore far from n, .
road. That law says you can, :.
Shorts" that is, small HOLSTERS h.,,
does, and it is these that in an srea
way he brings home to sell to N. I
mer people for nickel apiece.
The Last of the Peasants
The fisher folk of that coast AZ,
last of the American peasantry. All,
is through peculiar conditions that !,
survive as such. First of these /, !
geography of the coast. The littonl,
Maine is one long series of penIn,-.
so chopped up that the railroad d 4.
ten or fifteen miles back from the m,
and 1t is in very few places that n
worth while to run branch lines dow
the villages nearest the sea. Comm
cation up and down the tidal river
entirely by motorboat, and as Il d I
best part of days work to 20 I'D \
down the rivers to the railroad tov|
the shore folk are away off the iron n
of civilization. Many of them do no, .
town with streets and electric Ef.'
until they are well along in their tss'
The coast villages potter along. s.aal
ton after generation. Take any gaztsl
that goes back fifty years. The uar
will show that in 1860 the populaton d
certain place was 100. Turn to Ii. !
ures Of 1910 and the population viii
maybe, 107, maybe, 112. No induai
find their way down to the island !
bring the crowds from the cities u
SINNERS on today at the same pace u'
did before the Civil War.
The summer people wonder why ]
natives stay put" so far away from I
ways and electric lights and steam
ing. They think the natives do not
the scenery simply because they 4
talk about 1t, but in that they ars
deceived. These tall, powerful, p
boned men who are silent because Y
have not the patter of the schools ha1
deep feeling for their sea and horiz'r q
toothed with trees. The one great q
of their lives is that they do not i
abreast with modern hygiene. Vds1
the distant dentist are rarity. Thnl
little thought about food, and small !
dren are brought up in stuffy room
salt cod and canned vegetables and ID
and are so often undersized that Il y
marvel that their fathers have grow
to such muscularity on the same n
ment.
Outside World a Nightmare