Evening star., 1932-06-30
THIS AND THAT
BY CHARLES E. TRACEWELL.

, return and go home a year later just
I as they are coming back again.
1 His majority vote goes to the former
plan. because this would enable him to
/ settle down almost as an 'old resi-
/ denter." and have considerably more
than half a year. almost three-fourths
of one, to himself and the sea, and ths
vestige of town.
| The Summer crowd is a part of any
seaside resort, and Jones would want
( to be there to see it come in, just as the
villagers and the visitors go down to
the station every evening at 1880 o'clock
to watch the train come in.
Does that old train still come in?
Years have gone by, and the auto
mobile has made great advances, since
Jones stood on the wooden platform
and watched that evening train come in.
He supposes it still does, but probably
with not so many passengers.
The station is down in a sort of
pocket, about two blocks from the beach.
No breeze from the sea reaches there,
except when a great storm sweeps in
from the northeast. The nor'easter
carries everywhere.
On ordinary nights, however, COM
plete calm enshrouds the railroad sta
ton. with its wooden platform, its
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board walk leading up to the post office.
Man or child, the visitor is disap-
pointed upon his first arrival in this
station.
So this is the Seashore!
And where is that great breeze they
talk about so much?
! One shifts the air eagerly, intent on
! inhaling an entire ocean at one breath.
All that arrives Is a moist, slightly
sour smell of damp sand.
Silently one trudges along the walk,
catching heels in the cracks.
| Occasionally slight traces of enthusi-
asm salute the nostrils-some place,
somewhere out yonder, something is
going on which
Then ones head bobs above a certain
level. as one steps full on the great
boardwalk
All!
A great blast of dampy, salty air,
right out of the kingdom; Of Neptune,
catches one by the nose; 1t pulls and
hauls at ones clothes attempts to bic v
ones hat into kingdom come, and
flaunts ones necktie out to one side
like a banner.
Well, well, well
This is the sea breeze, and no
mistakel
The visitor faces to the right, into
that sharp gust, so vigorous, yet so
balmy.
He catches glimpses Of long. moving
| lines Of white, which next day shall
reveal to him as the always moving
ever fascinating foam of the breakers
His ears catch gratefully the boom
ing crashes of those mighty heaves
of water, those long SurgeS which are
forced in by the movement Of an
entire ocean and which come to rest
here on the beach because there is NO
other place for them to go.
Jones remember those sensations,
caught in childhood almost in infancy,
never to be lost, any more than his
desire for a full year OF that life is
ever ended
The noise of the surf is not a noise,
but a music, a sort Of ground bass,
which swells and recedes, according to
the invisible baton of a still more in
visible leader.
To face into the gale, hair blowing,
without one danger of getting grain
of dust in the eye
There is no dust therel
That glorious air comes filtered over
| thousands of miles of salty water.
washed and cooled by system coeval
with the everlasting hills.
! 1t has something in it for the mind
and the body and the soul: it speaks
of energy colossal, of something vaster
| than eternity. even.
| In the city, far away, Templeton
Jones bares his head. and those who
happen to notice him may think he Is
simply taking off his hat to ease his
old head. What they do not know is
that for moment he smells salt air.