Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1930-09-30

Those grown-up children called
elders" get quite as much enjoyment
out OF treasure trove on the beach as
the little ones. There are all sorts of
colored stones and shells of many
shapes. There are-or at least there
were-a multitude of corks and long
bamboo poles. There are bits of wreck
age, some heavy and long, others light:
there are soap boxes: there are weeds;
at times even jellyfish, and occasionally
no less an inhabitant of the mighty
deep than the devilfsh, whose proper
name we do not know.
The colored stones range from rose
to creamy tone. Many of then are
perfect in shape, having been rubbed
to their state by the incessant rolling
OF the waves and the friction of the
sand. One speculates on their chances
OF having arrived at these shores from
the other side, or else from hundreds of
miles out"
Today one will have to 60 far I'D the
beach to find the big shells which one
used to be able to pick up in front of
the cottages Children put them to
their ear Ito hear he ocean roar" And
the strange part-or at least so the
children thought-was that the shells
still roared after they had been brought
BACK to the city to prop against the
fireplace.
Householders always had to admit to
themselves, although they might have
been ignorant of the theory and pracA
tice of interior decoration, that the
shells looked perfectly out of place in
the city. And every time he felt so he
had q sudden mental picture of how
well they looked on the wet beach with
the glistening water upon them and
the sunshine bathing them Why hadn't
he had enough sense to let them alone?
The small shells were different. They
retained something of their luster in
the city. The clean pink ones in par
ticular always remained pink,
The corks sometimes came I'D bv the
hundreds and thousands. One memo
raole morning the beach was strewn
Tor miles with them. After another
storm bamboo poles Uttered the beach.
were they from some wreck at sea? We
young Searchers never knew. But for
weeks afterward corks and bamboo poles
We're to be seen everywhere.
y X X
The sea is perfectly satisfactory
inf1nity for the landlubber. Mostly
when one thinks Of "infinity" he thinks
OF nothing at all, for the word in the
abstract means nothing. But when a
city man is confronted with the ocean
@AC ACuADCo ILldb mere is an 1nf1nltV
which means something. These spars
flung up on the sand have come from
out there" that satisfying infinity.
There is, he knows, a vast "out
there" which to him is unknown, but
which to others is known, to some ex-
tent at least He sees the far trail Of
smoke as tiny black things, called ships,
sink over the horizon. They are ex-
ploring the mystery of what to him is
the infinite.
He knows that If he were aboard that
boat his infinitude would be ever be-
fore him and would give way at last to
q seaport of the Old World. Maybe all
inf1nities are the same, with an end
somewhere. 1t is the hope of hu-
manity.
He dreams of Lindbergh, alone above
that vast inflnity, ever pushing it be-
fore him, leaving some of it behind
him. Man makes his own inf1nities, and
perhaps as surely ends them. If he is
able to pick up some of the shining
treasures as he goes along, he is lucky.
If he can keep a few, he is happy. If
he can give them away to make others
rejoice, he is blessed.