Evening public ledger. [volume] (Philadelphia [Pa.]) 1914-1942, 1919-07-29

A LII day long you see them stand waist
IA deep in the surf, fishing. Up on. the
beach each one has large basket containing
CLANS for bait, extra hooks and leaders, a
little can of oil for the reel and any partlcu-
lar doc dads dear to the heart of the indi-
vidual fisherman. And an old newspaper,
all ready to protect the anticipated catch
from the rays of the sun.
Some of them wear bathing suits others
rubber hip boots. or simply old clothes that
won't mind getting wet. If they are very full OF
swank they will have a leather belt with a
socket TO hold the butt of tie rod. Every
now and then you will see them pacing back
ward up the beach, rceling in the. line. They
will muttcr something about big strike
that time, and he got away with the bait.
With Jealous care they spear some more clam
on the hook, twisting it over and over the
barb so as to be firmly impaled. Then, with
careful precision, they fling the line with its
heavy pyramid sinker far out beyond the line
of breakers.
There they stand. What do they think
about, one wonders? But what does any one
think about when fishing? That is one of the
happy pastimeS that don't require much
thinking The long ridges of surf crumble
about their knees and the sun and keen vital
air lull them into Il cheerful browse of the
faculties Do they speculate on the never
ending fascination of the leaning walls of
water, the rhythmical melody of the rasp
and hiss of the water? Do they watch that
indescribable beauty of the breaking wave,
q sight as old as humankind and yet never
so described that one who has not seen 1t
could picture it:
The wave gathers height and speed as it
moves toward the sand. 1t seems to pull
itself together for the last plunge. THE first
oil nm IN a bnoch nrnDablV
didn't break 1t just slid. 1t was only the
second wave that broke-curled over in that
curious way. For our theory-whichs may
be entirely wrong-is that the breaking Is
due to the undertOw of previous waves.
After wave sprawls up on the beach, it
runs swiftly back. This receding under
current-you can feel it very strongly II you
are swimming just in front of large wave
about to break-digs in beneath the ad-
vancing hill of water. 1t cuts away the
foundations of that hill, which naturally
| tOpples over at the crest.
The wave of water leans and hangs for
A delaying instant. The actual cascade may
| begin at one end and run along the length
| of the ridge; it may begin at both ends and
twirl inward, meeting in the middle; it may
| (but very rarely begin in the middle and
| work outward. AS one wave is at its
height, before it falls over, the fisherman sees
| the sunlight cleaning through lt-an ecstasy
| of perfect lucid green, with the glimmer of
| yellow sand behind. Then, for brief mo-
| ment-So brief that the details can never be
| memorzed-he sees a clear crystal screen of
water falling forward. Another instant, and
| it is all boil of snowy suds seething about
| his legs, He may watch it a thousand times,
a million times it will never be old, never
wholly familiar. Color varies from hour to
hour, from day to day. Sometimes blue or
| violet, sometimes green olive or gray The
| backwash tugs at his boots, following out
little channels under his feet The sun
wraps him round like a mantle the salt
crusts and thickens in his hair. And then,
when he has forgotten everything save the
rhythm of the falling waves, there comes
a sudden tug
He reels in, and a few curious bathers
stand still in the surf to see what he has got.
They are inclined to be scornful. 1t is such
A little fish! One would think that such a
vast body of water would be ashamed to
yield only so small a prize. Never mind.
He has compensatiOns they wot not of
Moreover--although he would hardly admit
it himself-the fishing business is only pre-
text How else could a grown man with
grizzled hair have an excuse TO stand all day
padding in the surf?
A musica! friend OF ours says that he Il
composing some jazz to Ne called sTh,