Year: 1874

Boys who have been born aud brought
up by the sea wonder what sort of fun
they who live inland can possibly have.
To be sure there are the woods and
streams to give them some sort of sport;
il is true, they have squirrel and rabbit
hunting, the delights of cunning, the
pleasure of "goiug in a-swimming,n
where the mill-pond and the pebbly
streamlets sparkle in the sun or glide
under the cool shadows of the willows;
but, rs boy, used TO think that the
poor fellows who never knew salt water,
nor saw the furious breakers dash on the
rocky coast of New England, were much
TO be pitied. And when once, while l
was little chap, | was taken on a visit
to Buckport, il seemed as if | should
stifie in the close air of the country
town, which had no water near il but a
contemplate river flowing past. The
sea seemed so far away that thought /
should lose my breath before could get
back into salt air again. But perhaps /
was home-sick.


When the gale was high and the long
rollers came laundering on the beach,
Aunt Rachael used to take ME by the
hand and lead me along the lonely
shore. It was almost terrible to look
over the immense waves as they came
piling over each other, and to see far out
on the stormy sea the dancing fishing
boats, now riding on the top of the sea
and now disappearing in the watery
trough of the wind-swept ocean. Some
times bit of broken spar would come
tumbling in from the far-off waves to
tell its story of wreck and disaster.
Once, while the gale was bowling and
the breakers were crashing along the
shore, Aunt Rachael snatched from u
foaming wave piece of q ships rail,
with part of a child's night-dress cling
ing to it. Where was the little one who
had worn this garment? And in what
dismal wreck had some distressed
mother tied it to this floating wood
Nothing ever came from the sea to tell
us.


But all was not sad and tragical by
the sea. Such larks as we used to have
by the Back Cove shores On Saturday
afteroons we tore mussels from the rocks
at low tide, or dug clans from the wat
cry sand, and roasted them in fires of
drift-wood. Or we built RATS of the
loose wood along the beach and pad
died about the broad cove. If the frail
craft fell to pieces and let the half-naked
Youngsters into salt water, there were
enough swimmers to save those who
could not swim. Then there were the
ioys of bodybuilding and sailing; and
how eagerly we watched the rude little
crafts as their birch bark sails faded
away in the blue waters Of the bay. In
the drift, along the beach, we found all
sorts of curious things; not only bits of
wreck, but fragments of clothing, Curl
Gus and unknown shells, foreign nuts;
and once the shore was strewn with big
russell apples, lost overheard, per-
hans, from some distressed trading
schooner.


Dearer than all this, even, were the
rude wooden wharves that skirted the
ancient town. The smell Of oakum, the
odor of salted fish and the flavor of the
brine were in the atmosphere of these
delightful places. Here were rusty old
anchors, huge and brown, over which
we climbed, while we marvelled what
thew had seen at the bottom of the great
sea Worn iron chain-cables were piled
up with sun-bleached rigging and frag-
nients of ship-hOuses and cabooses which
should voyage no more. Here was a
battered figIre-head of King Phillip,
which had been scorcbed in the fierce
suns of the Indian Ocean and had lost
its nose in the icy Arctic. Here, once or
twice year, lay the two or three ships