2o6 ALONGSHORE w 



common object of the seashore. 'Ah !' he said 

 with a smile of doubtful import, 'does make a 

 fellow say what he wouldn't when he runs his 

 craft aground. Lord, what I have a-heard 'em 

 say! They ought to have been aground on a 

 dark night, like I have, when you don't know 

 which way to shove nor which side to jump out. 

 My senses ! how they'd ha' chackled. An' they 

 wouldn't ha' know'd where they was to, nuther, 

 which I always did, there or thereabout. 



'If us had a-had time an' if the tide had failed 

 a little lower, I'd ha' gone down farther west an' 

 see'd w'er any more copper bolts is rotted out o' 

 the timbers o' thic ol' ship what was wrecked in 

 '63. I'll hae some more o'em one o' these fine 

 days when 'tis dead low water an' long spring 

 tides, an' everything's fitty. They'm there! I'll 

 hae 'em!' 



By a curious compensatory process, the oftener 

 a thing unseen is talked about, the more it becomes 

 to one a sort of myth, a fairy tale. And the 

 greater the faith of the few, the more it seems an 

 illusion to the many. By the force of their faith, 

 indeed, they remove themselves from the every- 

 day world, in which a thing either is, or is not. 

 They speak out of a world in which 'everything 



