MARCH. 



ON THE SUNLIT SHORE. 



March 6. You may enjoy a day of days on the 

 seashore of the east coast when the sun shines 

 warmly in March. Sheltered by the natural amphi- 

 theatre of the sandhills, the wide yellow ribbon of 

 the beach gleams like summer gold between the 

 shimmering blue sea and the silver-grey grass that 

 clothes the shifting slopes. And the embroidery of 

 the ribbon is tangled jetsam of myriad things of the 

 sea, wonderful every one. It is rarely, however, that 

 you can pace the sea-beach on our storm-swept east 

 coast in winter or spring without coming, at every 

 few yards' distance, upon the battered and beak-torn 

 remains of some luckless sea-bird, puffin or guillemot, 

 little auk or razorbill, that the sea winds have driven 

 to their death ashore, and the seagulls and hoodie 

 crows have dissected. In March especially, when 

 spells of sunshine are sandwiched, as a rule, between 

 hurricanes and blizzards, occasions when the shelving 

 beach is not littered with corpses are rare indeed. 



DIFFERENT POINTS OF VIEW. 



As one watches the pretty line of seagulls, flicker- 

 ing white in the sunshine, like the crest of breakers, 

 as they shift out from sandbank to sandbank with 



