l80 SUCCESS WITH SMALL FRUITS. 



As a rule, however, bare feet were nothing against a '' lady " 

 in the estimation of the young men. At any rate, all who 

 could spare a berry ticket speedily found a partner, and, as 

 we rode away from the farm, the last sounds were those of 

 music and merriment, and our last glimpse was of the throng 

 of dancers on the green. 



The confused uproar and rush of business around the Old 

 Dominion steamship made a marked contrast. To the 

 ample wharves every species of vehicle had been coming 

 all day, while all kinds of craft, from a skiff to a large two- 

 masted schooner, waiting their turn to discharge their freight 

 of berry crates and garden produce, reached half across the 

 Elizabeth river. The rumble of the trucks was almost like 

 the roar of thunder, as scores of negroes hustled crates, 

 barrels and boxes aboard. Most of the time they were on 

 a good round trot, and one had to pick his way with care ; 

 for, apparently, the truck was as thoughtful as the trundler. 



As the long twilight fades utterly into night, the last crate 

 is aboard. The dusky forms of the stevedores are seen in 

 an old pontoon-shaped boat on their way to Portsmouth, 

 but their outlines, and the melody of their rude song, are 

 soon lost in the distance. The ship, that has become like 

 a huge section of Washington Market, casts off her lines, 

 and away we steam, diffusing on the night air the fragrance 

 of a thousand acres, more or less, of strawberries. 



It was late in the night that followed the next day before 

 we reached New York, but on the great covered wharf, to 

 which was given a noon- day glare by electric lights, there 

 was no suggestion of the darkness and rain without. Vari- 

 ous numbers, prominent on the sides of the building, in- 

 dicated the lines of transit and the commission houses 

 to which the immense, indiscriminate cargo was assigned. 

 With a heavy jar and rumble that would not cease till the 



