56 ON THE BEACH AT DAYTONA. 
the help of a horse and a cylindrical wire 
roller. With his trousers rolled to his knees, 
he waded in the surf, and shoveled the in- 
coming water and sand into the wire roller 
through an aperture left for that purpose. 
Then he closed the aperture, and drove the 
horse back and forth through the breakers 
till the clams were washed clear of the sand, 
after which he poured them out into a shal- 
low tray like a long bread-pan, and _ trans- 
ferred them from that to a big bag. I came 
up just in time to see them in the tray, bright 
with all the colors of the rainbow. ‘“ Will 
you hold the bag open?” he said. I was 
glad to help Gt was perhaps the only useful 
ten minutes that I passed in Florida); and 
so, counting quart by quart, he dished them 
into it. There were thirty odd quarts, but 
he wanted a bushel and a quarter, and again 
took up the shovel. The clams themselves 
were not canned and shipped, he said, but 
only the “‘ juice.” 
Many rudely built cottages stood on the 
sand-hills just behind the beach, especially 
at the points, a mile or so apart, where 
the two Daytona bridge roads come out of 
the scrub ; and one day, while walking up the 
