1 26 We Go, A-Fishing 



down into glorious days, and from early Octo- 

 ber until Christmas the Blue Point oysterer has 

 an existence which might be envied by any 

 one fond of outdoor exercise. On such days as 

 these, the bay, calm and peaceful, is given up 

 to its rightful owners. The summer visitors 

 have disappeared. The smacks of the fisher- 

 men have resumed their working appearance, 

 the duck-shooters have begun to sound the 

 alarm along the coast, and from sunrise to sun- 

 set, the air, whether it comes from the ocean 

 or from the pine woods of the Long Island 

 plains, is full of a fragrance which cannot be 

 found in the neighborhood of great cities. 

 People talk about the sufferings of the oyster- 

 men, and we hear a good deal about frozen 

 hands, night work, and perilous adventures. 

 As a matter of fact, although I have followed 

 the doings of the bay oystermen with consider- 

 able interest, I have found no evidences of ex- 

 ceptional hardship. It is cold work sometimes, 

 but as compared to the work of a city car- 

 driver it is sport. Although each oyster smack 

 has a comfortable little cabin warmed by a 

 stove, it is a common sight to see the oyster- 



