ON THE BEACH AT DAYTONA. 45 
off he went, the younger one in pursuit. 
They passed out of sight behind the trees 
of an island, one close upon the other, and 
I do not know how the controversy ended ; 
but I would have wagered a trifle on the 
old white-head, the bird of Washington. 
The scene reminded me of one I had wit- 
nessed in Georgia a fortnight before, on my 
way south. The train stopped at a back- 
woods station ; some of the passengers gath- 
ered upon the steps of the car, and the 
usual bevy of young negroes came alongside. 
“Stand on my head for a nickel?” said 
one. A passenger put his hand into his 
pocket; the boy did as he had promised, — 
in no very professional style, be it said, — 
and with a grin stretched out his hand. 
The nickel glistened in the sun, and on 
the instant a second boy sprang forward, 
snatched it out of the sand, and made off 
in triumph amid the hilarious applause of 
his fellows. The acrobat’s countenance in- 
dicated a sense of injustice, and I had no 
doubt that my younger eagle was similarly 
affected. ‘“ Where is our boasted honor 
among thieves?” I imagined him asking. 
The bird of freedom is a great bird, and the 
