56 THE OPEN AIE. 



and death as with a billow on either hand ; their 

 anchors go down to the roots of existence. This is 

 real work, real labour of man, to draw forth food 

 from the deep as the plough draws it from the earth, 

 It is in utter contrast to the artificial work the 

 feathers, the jewellery, the writing at desks of the 

 town. The writings of a thousand clerks, the busy 

 factory work, the trimmings and feathers, and 

 counter-attendance do not touch the real. They are 

 all artificial. For food you must still go to the earth 

 and to the sea, as in primeval days. Where would 

 your thousand clerks, your trimmers, and counter- 

 salesmen be without a loaf of bread, without meat, 

 without fish? The old brown sails and the nets, 

 the anchors and tarry ropes, go straight to nature. 

 You do not care for nature now ? Well ! all I can 

 say is, you will have to go to nature one day when 

 you die : you will find nature very real then. I rede 

 you to recognize the sunlight and the sea, the 

 flowers and woods now. 



I like to go down on the beach among the fishing 

 boats, and to recline on the shingle by a smack when 

 the wind comes gently from the west, and the low 

 wave breaks but a few yards from my feet. I like 

 the occasional passing scent of pitch : they are 

 melting it close by. 1 confess I like tar : one's hands 

 smell nice after touching ropes. It is more like 

 home down on the beach here ; the men are doing 

 something real, sometimes there is the clink of a 

 hammer ; behind me there is a screen of brown net, 

 in which rents are being repaired ; a big rope yonder 

 stretches as the horse goes round, and the heavy 



