40 DECEMBER OUT-OF-DOORS. 
the plump dark bodies, leaving the shells 
in heaps upon the sand. The collectors of 
these molluscan dainties knew them as qua- 
haugs, and esteemed them accordingly; but 
my’ companion, a connoisseur in such mat- 
ters, pronounced them not the true quahaug 
(Venus mercenaria, — what a profanely ill- 
sorted name, even for a bivalve!) but the 
larger and coarser Cyprina islandica. The 
man to whom we imparted this precious bit 
of esoteric lore received it like a gentleman, 
if I cannot add like a scholar. “We call 
them quahaugs,” he answered, with an ac- 
cent of polite deprecation, as if it were not 
in the least to be wondered at that he should 
be found in the wrong. It was evident, at 
the same time, that the question of a name 
did not strike him as of any vital conse- 
quence. Venus mercenaria or Cyprina 
islandica, the savoriness of the chowder was 
not likely to be seriously affected. 
It was good, I thought, to see so many 
people out-of-doors. Most of them had 
employment in the shops, probably, and on 
grounds of simple economy, so called, would 
have been wiser to have stuck to their lasts. 
But man, after all that civilization has done 
