138 THE JERSEY COAST. 
deep and heavy with sand, and hardly distinguishable 
after a heavy rain; the one-story shanty, that had 
been our resting-place, soon faded from view, and 
we had nothing in prospect but the dreary journey 
home. 
At the head of the beach we encountered a bathing- 
party, and were sorely tempted to join the rollicking 
girls ina frolic among the breakers ; but, by exerting 
great self-denial, and shutting our eyes to their attrac- 
tions, much to my companion’s disgust, we kept on 
our course. We dined at the tavern on the road, 
and having bade farewell to Bill, and engaged ano- 
ther team, we reached Crab Town by dusk. 
How changed the village seemed to us! Where 
was the precious and beautiful freight that had paid 
us such delicious toll? Our eyes peered up and 
down the road, and into the windows of the scat- 
tered houses; our ears listened sharply for the music 
of merry voices and ringing laughter; our thoughts 
reverted to that crowded stage, which had so lately 
borne us through the village. The road was vacant 
and desolate ; all sound was hushed and still; grace- 
ful forms, clad in yielding drapery, were nowhere to 
be seen; the dull lights in the windows revealed 
nothing to our earnest gaze. Our lovely companions 
were invisible, although we pursued our search per- 
sistently till late at night, when, weary and discon- 
solate, we crawled up to bed in a dismal hostelry 
kept by Huntsinger. Going sporting into Jersey is 
delightful, but returning is sad indeed. 
