ON THE BEACH AT DAYTON A. 51 



of patience. To the best of my recollection, 

 I never saw him catch a fish there ; and I 

 really came to think it pathetic, the persis- 

 tency with which he would stand, with the 

 water half way to his knees, leaning for- 

 ward expectantly toward the breakers, as 

 if he felt that this great and generous ocean, 

 which had so many fish to spare, could not 

 fail to send him, at last, the morsel for which 

 he was waiting. 



But indeed I was not long in perceiving 

 that the Southern climate made patience a 

 comparatively easy virtue, and fishing, by a 

 natural consequence, a favorite avocation. 

 Day after day, as I crossed the bridges on 

 my way to and from the beach, the same men 

 stood against the rail, holding their poles over 

 the river. They had an air of having been 

 there all winter. I came to recognize them, 

 though I knew none of their names. One 

 was peculiarly happy looking, almost radiant, 

 with an educated face, and only one hand. 

 His disability hindered him, no doubt. I 

 never saw so much as a sheep-head or a drum 

 lying at his feet. But inwardly, I felt sure, 

 his luck was good. Another was older, fifty 

 at least, sleek and well dressed. He spoke 



