54 ON THE BEACH AT DAYTON A. 



and it was a relief to me when finally he took 

 off his coat. I left him still panting in his 

 fair one's wake, and hoped it would not turn 

 out a case of "love's labor 's lost." Let us 

 hope, too, that he was not an invalid. 



While speaking of these my companions 

 in idleness, I may as well mention an older 

 man, a rural philosopher, he seemed, 

 whom I met again and again, always in search 

 of shells. He was from Indiana, he told me 

 with agreeable garrulity. His grandchildren 

 would like the shells. He had perhaps made 

 a mistake in coming so far south. It was 

 pretty warm, he thought, and he feared the 

 change would be too great when he went 

 home again. If a man's lungs were bad, he 

 ought to go to a warm place, of course. He, 

 came for his stomach, which was now pretty 

 well, a capital proof of the superior value 

 of fresh air over " proper " food in dyspeptic 

 troubles; for if there is anywhere in the 

 world a place in which a delicate stomach 

 would fare worse than in a Southern hotel, 

 of the second or third class, may none 

 but my enemies ever find it. Seashell col- 

 lecting is not a panacea. For a disease like 

 old age, for instance, it might prove to be an 



