THE PLEASURES OF MELAN- 

 CHOLY 



THIS wintry November forenoon I was on 

 a sea beach ; the sky clouded, the wind high 

 and cold, cutting to the marrow; a bleak 

 and comfortless place. A boy, dragging a 

 child's cart, was gathering chips of drift- 

 wood along the upper edge of the sand, one 

 human figure, such as painters use to make 

 a lonesome scene more lonesome. A loon, 

 well offshore, sat rocking upon the water, 

 now lifted into sight for an instant, now lost 

 behind a wave. Distant sails and a steam- 

 ship were barely visible through the fog. 

 So much for the world on its seaward side. 

 There was little to cheer a man's soul in that 

 quarter. 



On the landward side were thickets 

 of leafless rosebushes covered with scarlet 

 hips ; groves of tall, tree-like, smooth-barked 

 alders; swampy tracts, wherein were ilex 



