58 ON THE BEACH AT DAYTONA. 
The smaller cottages were nearly all empty 
at that season. At different times I made 
use of many of them, when the sun was hot, 
or I had been long afoot. Once I was rest- 
ing thus on a flight of front steps, when a 
three-seated carriage came down the beach 
and pulled up opposite. The driver wished 
to ask me a question, I thought; no doubt I 
looked very much at home. From the day I 
had entered Florida, every one I met had 
seemed to know me intuitively for a New 
Englander, and most of them — I could not 
imagine how —had divined that I came from 
Boston. It gratified me to believe that I 
was losing a little of my provincial manner, 
under the influence of more extended travel. 
But my pride had a sudden fall. The car- 
riage stopped, as I said; but instead of in- 
quiring the way, the driver alighted, and all 
the occupants of the carriage proceeded to 
do the same, — eight women, with baskets 
and sundries. It was time for me to be start- 
ing. I descended the steps, and pulled off 
my hat to the first comer, who turned out ta 
be the proprietor of the establishment. With 
a gracious smile, she hoped they were “ not 
frightening me away.” She and her friends 
